This story is for those fans of Mr. X who enjoy the perils that plague super heroines trying to protect their secret identities.. Although most of you have heard of neither of them, the famous avenger Domina the Demon Hunter had a half-sister, Penelope, who "enjoyed" a brief but memorable career as a junior super heroine named Penumbra. While not as powerful or arrogant as her older sibling, Penumbra did possess her own special powers. For one thing, she could regenerate almost instantly after being wounded. For another thing, she had an uncanny ability to dig up hard-to-find villains, often without even appearing to try. This happened so often to Penumbra that it was almost as if the evil demons were looking for her! In this episode, a villainous tabloid magnate blackmails young Penny into a compromising position. PENUMBRA VS. TABLOID MAN Or: Bondage Without the Ropes By Dr. Strange B. Love Rupert Mordik sat comfortably at his ornate rosewood desk and smoked a 46 ring Cuban cigar. He looked with satisfaction around his swank penthouse office. He had worked hard to get here. Now he was filthy rich, and was only going to get richer. He owned the Tattler Chain, a vast conglomerate of tabloid newspapers and cable TV stations. He had built his fortune and power by exposing the dirty secrets of public figures. Round the clock, he employed a small army of overpaid reporters poking under rocks, peeping through windows, and grubbing in the trash cans and laundry hampers of his famous "targets." Celebrities feared him. The public ate his product up like McDonalds' hamburgers. Today, he was undertaking a special project which he would oversee personally. So far, except for a few unsubstantiated rumors, he had never been able to get any hard dirt on his next victim. She was the most admired woman in America, if not the most loved. He was going to change that. "A Miss Wilson to see you, Sir," called his secretary over his desk phone. "Have her wait," Mordik answered. "Yes Sir." The CEO wheeled in his plush leather chair and touched a remote. A paneled wall rolled back, revealing a huge HTD TV screen. It flickered to life. A huge gun battle was playing out, somewhere on the lower east side of Gotham City. Automatic gun fire rained through the streets, and dozens of innocent citizens lay wounded or dying. Police and mobsters were going at it in the middle of the main shopping district two days before Christmas. Suddenly, Rat Man and Domina the Demon Hunter arrived, swooping out of the night like angels of darkness. It was over in minutes, as the two heroes waded into Mugsy Malone's nest of thugs and took it out. The police and the crowd cheered. Mordik hit the pause button, freezing a view of the crowd. Toggling and zooming, he brought the picture in close until it focussed on a girl who was down on her knees aiding one of the wounded. She looked about eighteen and she was beautiful. Long curly blond hair in a pony tale fell beside her shoulder as she leaned over. Her black patent leather miniskirt hiked up to reveal long, shapely legs. He zeroed in on her face, then cut and saved the frame. Next he zeroed in on Domina, standing triumphantly on a high balcony next to Rat Man with her fist on one flaring hip. She was as beautiful, sexy and domineering as ever, but Mordik didn't linger on her massive bosom or her skimpy costume. He cut and pasted her face into memory, then exited the crowd scene. Now he put the faces of the two women-- Domina and the blond girl-- side by side on the screen. He programmed a few commands, and the word "ANALYZING" flashed across the screen. Although they were both foxy bitches, their faces couldn't have looked much different. The blond girl had a cute, button nose, a soft oval face, and rosebud lips. In contrast, the raven haired Domina had strong cheekbones, a straight nose, a high forehead, and a wide, sensual mouth. And yet there it was, flashing on the screen: "CONCLUSION: SUBJECTS GENETICALLY RELATED IN THE FIRST DEGREE." The facial analyzer had a 99 percent success rate. This was the fifth time he had run the analysis on these two subjects, always with the same result. Almost without a doubt, the blond girl was Domina's sister or maybe her daughter. Nobody knew Domina's exact age, but Mordik guessed the girl was too old for a daughter. However, it didn't really matter. For his purposes, either would do. He glanced at the monitor for the security cam in the waiting room. The same blond girl as in the video sat nervously on a couch, flipping through a teen magazine. Mordik licked his thick, sensual lips and put his hand on his crotch. She was dressed in a knee length white pleated skirt and blue angora sweater. She kept crossing and uncrossing her legs. She wore high heeled pumps. She squirmed nervously. Good. She was scared as hell, just the way he wanted her. "Show her in, Bentley. We are not to be disturbed. " "Yes Sir." Moments later the massive cherry wood office door opened silently and closed with a precise click. The soft swish of nylon- clad thighs signaled her approach. She stepped from the vestibule into view. She was about five eight or nine. She wore her golden hair pulled back with a barrette. Her green eyes were huge, giving her the look of a startled fawn. Her mouth hung open, the lower lip trembling slightly. Under the soft sweater, he could see she was stacked. The loose fitting skirt failed to hide her first rate butt. Even aside from her immediate value to him, this chick was worth big bucks. Mordik filed that assessment away for later use. "Thank you for coming, Miss 'Wilson'," Mordik said, motioning to the hard wood chair he put in front of his desk for meetings like this. It wasn't useful that his targets to be made to feel comfortable. "Please sit down." Saying nothing, she did as she was told. She crossed her legs properly, accidentally showing him a quick flash of white panty. Mordik laced his fat fingers together and inspected her thoughtfully. Under his silent gaze, her right foot began to bounce up and down nervously. She kept her eyes down. He let her fidget like that, increasing the pressure by doing nothing. Finally, she couldn't take the silence any more. "Mr. Mordik," she began. Her voice was sweet and baby- girlish. "I don't understand. I mean, I'm nobody. Why did you.?" He smiled. "Ah, Miss Lan. er, Wilson. May I call you Penelope? You shouldn't sell yourself short. You're hardly a 'nobody.' This is America, where everyone's somebody. And let me assure you, you're more somebody than most." She frowned prettily, struggling to follow him. "But I don't." "Penelope, you're an intelligent girl. So I'll be direct with you, if you don't mind." She nodded uncertainly. "Too make a long story short, it's not you the Tattler is interested in. I think you know exactly what I mean." A look of panic crossed the girl's face, followed by a scowl of defiance. "I don't know what you're talking about." He grinned like a doting godfather and stroked his chin. "Of course you do. And you are going to lead us to your famous sister's secret headquarters. If you refuse, I have the means to expose her secret identity. And that's not all the dirt I have on her. If you won't help me, she'll pay a price so high she'll wish she were dead." On this last part, Mordik was bluffing. But not for long, he hoped. He continued, "With the pictures I have, I can destroy Domina the Demon Hunter's heroic reputation in less than a week. My readers, numbering in the thousands, will turn against her. She'll be publicly humiliated and destroyed. And when she finds out you didn't do everything possible to prevent it, well, I don't need to say any more now, do I." All the color drained from the blond girl's face. "That's crazy!! She's NOT my sister!!" "You're a very poor liar, Penelope. But let's not waste time with foolishness. I want to show you something which may change your uncooperative attitude. As you no doubt have heard, the people under my employ do world-class journalism. We know how to find things out that people would prefer to keep hidden. Such as.." He clicked the remote. Penelope stared in mute horror at what unfolded on the screen. The light was murky, but she could see clearly enough. There was Assistant District Attorney Diana Lang, her half- sister, slinking down a dark alley. She was dressed as usual in a conservative gray linen suit that hid her stellar body. As the respectable Diana Lang, she was no exhibitionist. The sensible linen skirt fell in such a way that it visually cut her calves in half, making her muscular legs look fat. Her demure white blouse and gray jacket were tailored loose, almost baggy, to dull the visual punch of her powerful breasts. In short, she looked like a dowdy middle aged lawyer who ate more than was good for her. The camera stalked Lang down the alley as she paused by a dumpster, looked around furtively, and began to pull off her clothes. Penelope bit her lower lip as, within seconds, her sister stood almost stark naked in front of the spying lens. She was spectacular, of course. It was the body of a living goddess. All she wore was a pair of skimpy thong panties that barely covered her private treasure. Her breasts were huge, the erect nipples on each as big as a baby's thumb. The sweet cheeks of her powerful, taunting ass were like a double dare. Touch these and die, they said. The naked woman opened her handbag and pulled out a costume, donning it piece by piece. First, the gold tiara with the ruby "D" in the center. Next, the crimson and gold bustier, and then those scandalous skin-tight red, white and blue short- shorts of hers that were cut so low on her hips that they looked like they'd fall right off if she moved the wrong way. Carefully, she bent at the waist to slide on her knee high red spike heeled boots with smooth, caressing fingers. The golden power belt and psychic whip appeared last, clipped carefully around her tiny waist. And there she stood, in her full glory: Domina the Demon Hunter. Captured in the flesh by the probing camera of the Gotham Tattler. Penelope was breathing fast, her chest heaving. A tear trickled down her cheek. "You're a bad, bad person Mr. Mordik," she whined. "You know what will happen if you show people this." "Now, now" he said, grinning from ear to ear. "I appreciate the compliment, but you misunderstand me. I have no interest in telling the world that Assistant District Attorney Diana Lang, only legitimate daughter of chief justice Roy Lang, is none other than Domina the Demon Hunter." "You don't?" she sniffled, looking up hopefully. "Of course not. Despite the Tattler's unfair reputation for cheap sensationalism, we do have the public's best interest at heart. Neither the public's interest, nor mine, would be served by publishing the secret identity of Domina." "Then. then, why did you bring me here?" "Because you are going to help my star reporter get the scoop of the decade." "How can I. " "We'll get around to that, my child. Don't worry. But first, we have. more pressing matters. " She frowned. "What matters? Why did you make me come here, anyway?" Mordik stuck the cigar in the corner of his mouth and stood up, shoving the plush leather chair back with his butt. He was a big man, built powerfully. His heavy jowls spilled over his collar, making it look like he had no neck. "To meet you in person, of course." He grinned as he slid around the desk. "And to discuss our personal business." "I. I don't understand. " "I doubt you're as innocent as you sound," he leered, leaning against the desk casually, directly in front of her. His eyes fastened on her breasts like leaches. "But that doesn't matter. Come here." She stood and started to back away. "I have to go now." "Suit yourself," he shrugged. "But I really thought you loved your sister more than that." Penelope's face turned scarlet. "I DO love Diana. You. you." Mordik arched his bushy eyebrow, then beckoned her with his index finger. The frightened girl fought between panic and rage. She stood there uncertainly, then wheeled and ran for the door. Mordik heard it open, then close. He smiled calmly. Moments later she reappeared, her eyes lowered. She came silently before him and stood there trembling. He rose and reached for her, pulling her into his massive belly. Her waist was so thin his fingers could almost meet around it. The angora sweater was soft as newborn chicken down. He reached underneath it and palmed her breast. She groaned. It was full and firm, at least a C cup. Deftly, he unhooked her bra. "Please.don't" she whispered. Her breath was warm and sweet. She smelled like Ivory soap and mint. He latched his fat lips to her earlobe and nibbled. She drew in her breath. He lowered his mouth to her throat and sucked the soft smooth skin just below her chin. She let out a little yelp. She put her hands against his chest as if to push him away, but she put no strength into it. He admired the hot red welt his lips had left on her throat. He took her wrist and forced her hand to his crotch. She gasped and tried to draw her hand away, but he held it there firmly. He was hard as iron. "Your sister loves you," he purred. "You bastard," she said. But she pressed her palm firmly into his cock When he let go, she kept it there, closing her slender fingers around him. He had purposely put on his lightest, most expensive silk slacks this morning. Through the fine fabric, her touch felt even better than being naked. He hoisted her skirt and cupped her buttocks with both hands. She shuddered. She was wearing some kind of lacy cotton panties. Nice. He began to massage her ass cheeks hard. They were firm, yet girlishly soft. He took his time squeezing them, spreading them, mauling them. She whined at the abuse, but her hand continued to pulse on his cock, responding to the manipulation of her ass. He forced her to her knees and pulled the sweater up over her head. She slipped off the dangling white bra without being told to, letting it fall to the floor. Her tiny nipples floated in big nut- colored areolas. Her skin was golden tan, and when he took off the barrette, her thick curly hair cascaded over her shoulders. She unzipped his fly on her own initiative. His swollen cock was an angry dark purple, but it didn't seem to shock her. She wrapped her fingers about it and stroked it clumsily. He growled and pulled her face toward it. "No," she protested. "Mmmgfffngh." Her lips were warm, soft, and wet. At first she just took in the tip of him, but then he could feel her tongue moving on his shaft. He bent at the knees, lowering the angle, and pulled her face onto him with both hands. "Glmph!" she cried. The little slut took him in all the way to his balls. He began to saw in and out of her, rocking his hips and yanking her hair. He looked down. Her pleading big green eyes stared back up at him. She was crying. The sight almost made him come. At the last second, he pulled out and yanked her to her feet. "Can I go now?" she sobbed. Wordlessly, the CEO spun her around and shoved her face down onto the desk, pinning one wrist behind her back. She didn't struggle. He flipped the pleated skirt up over her back. Oh yes, this was some first rate ass. The garter she wore was white, the nylons sheer. Her legs trembled violently as he pulled down the lace panties. Little by little, as he ran his tongue up and down the backs of her thighs, she spread her ankles. The naked flesh on her inner thigh was tender and damp, a bit salty. He bit it and she let out a muffled cry. But she didn't pull away. He traced the contours of her thighs with his tongue, edging upward, until his nose pressed against her puckery little anus. She moaned. She arched up on her toes, lifting her ass higher. Good girl. Her golden pussy yawned like a whore's come- on. His tongue entered her. She squirmed. She was already sopping wet. If he had known she would be this wet, he would have already been fucking her. But he tongued her anyway, lapping in the musky rich juices. She no longer pretended to resist. She pushed her crotch back into his face and swiveled her hips, clenching her tight little glutes. He stood and shoved his ponderous belly into her ass. "No, please" she cried. "Don't do it!" He smiled. That was his favorite music. A little rape music. He seized her hips. His cock found her cunthole like a pig finds truffle. She was good and tight, but she was so wet that he was in to the hilt after three sharp jabs. Her shoulders heaved from sobbing. As he rocked in and out of her, her sweating breasts squeaked against the polished wood of his desk. He fucked her for about ten minutes. He would have liked to have made it last longer, but he had afternoon appointments. About halfway through he rotated her on the spindle of his cock so that she lay on her back. She spread her legs wide, almost at right angles to her body. The tendons of her inner thighs stretched like taut smooth ropes under the creamy skin. He dug his fingers deep into her ass flesh and slammed his cock into her. She began to make sharp little yelps as her body responded. Her breasts sloshed and jounced. They were bigger than he had thought, at least a D. The nipples were hard as spanish peanuts. He grabbed one and pinched, stretching it like taffee until she moaned. Her belly spasmed, and she tossed her head from side to side, whipping her hair against the ink blotter. She screamed when she came. That was okay. Nobody would hear. Her cunt contracted, squeezing his cock so hard that he almost lost it. After that she was even wetter than before. Her cunt juices squirted out of her with his every thrust and trickled down the crack of her ass. His fingers got slippery. In the final seconds he hoisted her up off the desk and carried her around the office on his prick. She wrapped her arms around his neck, crushed her firm tits against his breast, and burrowed her face in his shoulder. She wrapped her legs around his back. Again and again, he lifted her ass with his hands, then let her weight sink her hot wet pussy down over his prick. His balls contracted. He sank to his knees. She let go of his neck and fell back onto the carpet with a thud. He came in waves, the flood rising from the pit of his balls and gushing into her womb. She moaned. With a final thrust, he emptied the last of his seed into her. He waited for a time, savoring. Then he pulled out with a tight little pop. He stood, pulled up his drawers, stuffed himself into his slacks, and zipped his fly. Preening at the mirror he said, "I have to be going. You take a few days and think over my offer. I'm sure you'll come to the right decision." "What offer? I.I don't understand." Smoothing his hair with the palm of his hand, he glanced down at Penelope. She had raised herself to one elbow and was looking at him with tears still streaming down her cheeks. He smiled evilly, and said, "You figure it out. Before you go make an appointment with my secretary for next Tuesday, same time. And don't be late." He exited through a hidden door in the paneled bookcases. Minutes later as she finished dressing, Penelope Lang heard a helicopter taking off from the roof above her. She stared out the window, trying to deny the flood of cum that dribbled out of her still- twitching pussy, soaking her panties. She watched numbly as Rupert Mordik disappeared over the horizon.