The L-Girl Manifesto

Chapter Five: The Mad Russian

By: L-GirlWriter

There was a little button I pressed on the heels of my boots which activated them. When I pressed the button, the boots started lifting me above the ground, which was a little scary at first because I didn’t know how to stop them, but as it turns out, there were buttons in the toes of the boots that controlled their direction, and a button under the ball of my foot which controlled the thrust, so once I figured that out, it wasn't to hard to operate them. Navigation was a whole other problem. Especially at night, I didn’t know how I would ever be able to find anything. I flew over the island and looked for landmarks that I could identify. Each district on the island had a different landmark that distinguished it, so if I couldn’t fly to the exact location of something, I could at least know that I was in the right neighborhood, and then it wouldn’t be too far to walk. It was something I would have to get used to. At least now I wouldn’t have to keep buying new dresses all the time. I could fly to the scene already dressed in my suit.

I flew back to my lair and locked myself in and went to sleep. I was exhausted, and it was nice to be lying on my own inflatable mattress. I woke up in the middle of the night and cursed myself. I had forgotten all about the modeling agency. I hoped that if I went in the next day they would still take me seriously. I needed money! I needed food, clothes, an apartment perhaps. It was getting desperate, and I didn’t want to have to sell my body. I have had enough things inside me.

I went to the agency the next day and met Tyler.

“You were supposed to come yesterday,” he said. He led me into his office. “What happened?” I got raped, tortured and locked in a cage.

“I had pneumonia.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Are you okay? You don’t seem sick.”

“It got better.”

“There’s some paper work you have to do, just a standard agency contract, and you need a portfolio.”

“I don’t have a portfolio.”

“I don’t expect you to. I have a photographer that I would highly recommend.”

“I don’t have any money.”

“Well, I don’t usually do this, but I might be able to take some photos of you. Seeing that you’re exceptionally pretty.”

“You’re a photographer?”

“It’s a hobby of mine. I would rather be out there taking pictures of you than negotiating contracts.”

“I know it’s silly to ask this, but you’re a handsome man, surrounded by all these gorgeous women all the time. Do you ever sample any of the fruit?” Tyler glanced down at my breasts.

“Why don’t we talk about modeling, Kimmie. You can come by my house tonight. I’ll give you the address. Bring a few different outfits.”

“Did you like the bikini?”

“It was…nice.”

“I’ll bring that then.”

When I came to Tyler’s house that night, the bikini was the only thing that I brought. I wanted him to see me in it. I could tell by the way he looked at me in the office that he wanted me. I know men. They all want me. But Tyler was different. His piercing blue eyes, chiseled jaw, wavy brown hair- I wanted him to have me. After all the pain I’d been through, I wanted someone to make me feel good, to treat my body like it were something special.

Tyler let in me in the door. He lived in another gated community in South Side, and he had a beautiful home.

“You want something to drink,” he said, as he walked me in, “or to shoot?”

“To shoot? You’re not talking about product, are you?”

“Why,” Tyler said, flustered. “Is that a problem?”

“Yes, it is a problem.”

“I’m sorry, Kimmie. All the models shoot up. This is Satin City, after all. I didn’t know.”

“Are you involved with the cartels?” I had to ask. This was Satin City.

“The cartels? I’m an agent, Kimmie. I know I buy product, but I don’t have anything to do with selling it. I swear.” Part of me wanted to get out of there, but then, he was just trying to be friendly. I don’t think he meant anything by the gesture.

“I’m sorry, Tyler. I had to know.”

“It’s alright. I admire you. There aren’t a lot of girls in Satin City that are clean. You want some wine?”

“I’m…really clean.” I said.

“Geez. You don’t drink. You don’t shoot. What do you do for fun?”

“I like tanning.”

“That’s why you have such beautiful skin. I hope that what you brought to model accentuates that part of you.”

“Oh, I think it does.” I pulled the two-piece out of my bag.

“Did you bring anything else?”

“I didn’t.”

“I don’t think I have enough film,” Tyler said. “I’ll take you to my little studio.”

I changed into my little silver bikini and he started taking pictures of me in front of a white board. He told me how to pose. It seemed that he liked having me touching my breasts or my thighs in my poses. "Seduce me," he said, as I lied on the floor, propped up by my elbows, my back arched, my thighs parted slightly, my hands brushing against my breasts, winking at the camera. He told me to stand with my back to him, my legs spread, bending over slightly, and looking over my shoulder at the camera, with one hand resting on my hip. He held me in that pose for several minutes, until he had to change the film in his camera.

"Do you like looking at my ass?" I said. Tyler cleared his throat. "It's okay you know. You don't have to stare. You can touch me if you want. My skin is really smooth." Tyler dropped his camera, literally. It fell to the ground and smashed. He came up to me and squeezed my perky ass, and then he put his arms around my waist and kissed me. We laid on the floor and he peeled off my bikini and made love to me. He worshipped my body, tenderly stroking me and kissing me, and he was gentle when he was inside of me.

"Is it too hard?" He said.

"No, it's perfect." I had the most wonderful orgasm. Not forced, not tortured, just pure pleasure. I don't think Tyler realized how much my body had been abused by cruel men, and how wonderful it was to have a sensitive, tender lover like him. He held me in his arms, and I wanted him to hold me like that forever. I didn't want to go back into the cruel, painful world, where superheroines are tortured and humiliated while criminals jerk their cocks in glee.

I spent the night with him, and in the morning I left and spent the day at the beach. I badly needed work. I hoped that Tyler would come through for me, now that I had my portfolio. Only with that portfolio, I might only be getting one type of modeling job.

I was excited to use my new super-suit. I thought I would try it out that night. I thought about breaking up some small time drug deal, nothing that would get me into any peril, like I used to do before I became L-Girl. I haven't had a chance to beat anyone up, since I kept getting beat up, and I was missing the thrill of it.

That night, I flew in my super-boots to the docks, where all the action took place. I came upon two cars that were parked next to each other, with a cadre of armed men standing around them. There were only five of them, so it would be easy to take them all out. In a corner where they couldn't see me, I practiced my meditation until my nipples started to stand on end, and then I walked over to them. Usually, I rely on my speed, so I would have taken them all out before they even saw it coming. But this time, I was feeling confident in my new suit, and I wanted to exchange a few high-handed phrases with them as I delivered my blows. This was going to be fun.

I approached them out of the shadows.

"Excuse me boys," I said. I gave them my best superheroine pose. My legs spread, my hands on my hips, by back arched, smiling as if as I was already confident of my victory. The men turned to me.

"I hope you boys weren't planning on selling drugs tonight, were you." They just stood there. They weren't even provoked. Were they paralyzed with fear? I walked closer to them.

"What's the matter boys? Are you afraid of a girl in a sexy lycra costume? Don't you want to have your way with me?" I taunted them, but there was still no response. Then I saw a man raising a gun, only it wasn't a gun. The prongs of the taser launched into my breasts, and I fell to the ground spasming as electricity surged through my body. It was impossible. A trap? How could they know about my suit?

I was stunned. The electricity had drained all of my sexual energy. A man got out of one of the cars. He was a balding man with a white beard, dressed in a white suit, with a scar under his left eye. It was Vladimir Stonkovich. The mad Russian. He tortured his own men for fun. God knows what he would do with me.

"Orlov was my cousin," he said calmly. "He would have wanted you to suffer the most slow and painful death imaginable. Put her in the car." They pulled a sack around my head and tied me up, and put me in the trunk of the car. That was a mistake. My hands weren't bound. While they were driving I could practice my meditation, and when they untied the sack I could attack them and escape. They didn't know how quick I was. Even if they had guns trained on me, I could hit them before they had time to pull the trigger. I would have to work real fast. I didn't want to survive an encounter with Stonkovich.

They pulled me out of the trunk and dropped me on a hard, cement floor on my stomach, and started to untie the sack. I was ready. The sexual energies were flowing through my body. It was now or never. Then, I felt the most horrible shock go through my body. All my energy was gone. I laid on the floor helpless as they pulled the sack off me. There was a man standing above me holding a cattle prod. He pressed it against my ass, laughing. My body went into spasms. Then he pressed it against my crotch.

We hadn't gone very far. We were at one of the warehouses by the docks. Stonkovich had prepared a whole torture rig for me. There were chains dangling from the ceiling with cuffs for my wrists, which they hoisted me up and secured me to. Then, below, there were rings screwed into the floor that they tied my ankles to, with my legs partly spread. Stonkovich walked over to me, stroking my bare thighs.

"Very nice," he said. "I've always been a leg man. They look so exquisite in those tight boots." Stonkovich licked his lips as he squeezed my legs. Then he pulled my thigh against his hardening crotch. "There was a girl who had pretty thighs like you," he went on. "After I tortured her, her thighs weren't very pretty anymore. She has to wear leggings now. It's a shame." He shook his head. "You look so delectable in that costume. I really don't want to have to ruin it."

Stonkovich unzipped his pants. He stuck his hot cock between my bare, tan thighs, in my boots and squeezing my thighs against it, and then he started to pump his cock between them. The way his rigid cock rubbed against my inner thigh was intensely arousing. I moaned. Stonkovich's cock felt even harder as he thrust between my thighs, rubbing my skin.. When he came, he made sure he spewed his cum all over my right thigh, dripping down into my boot.

"Dirty little slut," Stonkovich said. He put his pants back on and backed away from me.

"Any of you want a go at her, before we mess her up?" Stonkovich said to his men. They shook their heads. "Don't even want to touch her?" he said.

"We just want to fuck her up," one of the men said.

"Don't be too gentle," he said.

One of Stonkovich’s comrades was holding a hobby knife. He held the blade to the tender skin of my thigh and made a small cut, a little thin red line, almost like a paper-cut. It was so shallow that it stung like crazy, and he drew the blade so slowly, exacting every ounce of pain from it. I gritted my teeth. He made another cut with the knife, and slowly and deliberately, criss-crossed my thighs with thin red lines. It was only with great control that I did not cry out from the merciless sting of the rough blade making its little, torturous cuts under the surface of my skin. When he had covered my thighs with the small lacerations, he wedged my suit and started carving up my ass in the same fashion. It was only after many more stinging cuts that he relented. He walked around me, admiring his work. I stared down at my thighs, which looked like they had been cut up with a fine wire. The whole process had been very painful, and my lip was bleeding from biting on it too hard, however, I had a feeling that they were only just starting with me.

A different thug from the one who cut me was holding a plastic bag with what looked like yellow sugar cubes inside. He was wearing a rubber glove.

"Was is that?" I said nervously.

"Sulfuric acid," he replied. He took out one of the cubes.

"You can't do this," I said. "Not to me. I'm-"

"L-Girl?" Stonkovich said. "I'm sorry, but the fact that you claim to be a superheroine doesn't mean we can't torture and humiliate you. Go ahead, say it."

"I'M L-GIRL!" I screamed.

"Go ahead, Mikhial. Torture her. I want her to see her cry."

Thug number two rubbed one of the acid cubes into a cut on my thigh. It was an intense, scouring, frightful pain. I wailed. He rubbed the crystal in viciously, the sheer abrasiveness of the cube causing me to whelp. The sting was far worse than any of the cuts; it was agonizing, like boiling water was being pored over my leg.

“Please, stop!” I couldn’t take it anymore. The thug set the cube down, and with the hand that wasn’t gloved, he slipped his fingers under my costume and rubbed them against my clit. His fingers were so clever. My body was getting hot as he worked them inside me. I moaned. He removed his fingers. Then he picked up another cube and ground severly it into another cut. The sudden onslaught of pain, just as I was reeling from pleasure shocked me. I couldn’t handle it. I broke down and started sobbing. Stonkovich walked to over to me, while his thug tortured my thighs, and licked the tears off my cheeks.

“This is just the beginning,” he said. “I’m going to break you.”

The sadistic sting of the acid cube, followed by the thug’s pleasuring fingers, which didn’t fail to excite me, and followed again by that abrasive sting as the thug rubbed the cube into another cut, all but destroyed me. There were countless little lacerations on my thighs, and the thug repeated the procedure for each one. He tortured me relentlessly for hours, as I became weaker and weaker, as my throat became raw from screaming. It was when he was scouring my ass that something broke inside of me. My tense body went slack. My head slumped over my chest. When he put his fingers inside of me, I couldn't respond. All my life had gone from me, yet, I was still alive.

Stonkovich was masturbating as he stared at my defeated, broken figure. He spewed cum on my other thigh, mixing it with the blood. I hung from the chains, motionless.

"Finish her," he said. Another one of the thugs held a sledgehammer. He slammed it into my thighs, shattering the bones. I felt the pain, but I couldn't offer any protest. I hung from the chains silent and motionless.

"Not so pretty now, are we," he said. "Gregor, put her out of her misery." The man was holding a machine gun. The other men moved out of the way, and Gregor stepped a distance back from me. He put his finger on the trigger.

"Wait!" a voice called urgently through the warehouse. "Don't kill her." Stonkovich's thugs whirled around, taking out their guns. There was a small group of men dressed in fatigues walking toward them. They had their hands in the surrender position.

"Agent Zero Nine," Stonkovich said. "What in the hell are you doing here?" I couldn't believe my eyes. It was Dick! He had come to rescue me? It didn't make sense, but I was never so glad to see the SPEW in my life.

"It's okay boys," Stonkovich said to his guys. "You can lower your weapons." Dick, or Agent Zero Nine, walked up to Stonkovich and shook his hand.

"I'm sorry Vladimir but this one's ours," he said.

"Well she's about to be very dead. After all the damage she has caused my organization, I cannot permit her to live."

"She didn't kill Orlov," Dick said. "We have the surveillance tapes from Orlov's home. There was someone else there, some woman. We didn't know who she was. We thought maybe you might know."

"I'm sorry dear," Stonkovich said, turning to me. "I didn't know." He turned back to Dick.

"I’m still going to kill her," he said. "I've been having so much fun."

"We have the tapes, Vladimir. Give me the girl, and I'll give you the tapes, and you can find out who really killed Orlov."

"I want something else," Stonkovich said. "A discount."

"How much?"

"Five percent." Dick's men grumbled.

"Kill her," Dick said.

"Fine, two percent. And I'll give you a raise in six months." Dick exchanged glances with his men.

"It's a deal." They cut my ropes and I fell to the ground. Dick handed Stonkovich a flash drive, and then he picked me up and carried me out of the warehouse in his arms. He took me into the back of a humvee waiting outside.

"Are you okay," he said, as the humvee started driving.

"Why did you save me?"

"We saw you being captured. I was going to let him kill you, but I started feeling bad about myself. Your welcome."

"Thank you," I said.

"I'm terminating your agent status," Dick said. "You've had too many fuck ups. This mess you got into the night demonstrates the deepest level of incompetency. This is serious business; I can't have amateurs interfering. I really expected a lot more from you. Your obligations to the SPEW are through. But watch out. The cartels still want you dead."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"It's okay. You're free to do as wish now. Just don't interfere with our business." It was embarrassing, but I couldn't contain my smile. I didn't have to subject myself to torture and humiliation any more. L-Girl was over. I could be Kimmie again. Kimmie the fashion model!

My legs. It was going to be hard to do any modeling with them. I don't know if the burns in my thighs would ever heal. I don't know if I could ever wear a bikini again. My smile vanished.

"Is everything alright?" Dick said.

"I think I need to go to a hospital. My legs are broken."

"You don't want to go to the hospital in your costume. Where do you live?"

"I don't live anywhere."

"We'll get you some fatigues to put on."

"You can have my suit. The boots have some special technology in them that allows me to fly. I don’t know how else I can repay your for this."

"You're a beautiful girl," Dick said,. "Go lead a normal life. There are men who would die to be with you. Find someone special. Don't try to be a hero. That's what we do. Try to be happy Kimmie." He wasn't such a dick after all.