MISS ADVENTURE

AND THE HOUNDS OF HELL

(Guest-Starring Detective Bianca “Busty” O'Toole)

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction intended for adult entertainment. The author declares any and all elements herein contained that may be construed as works of original creation to be public domain. All characters herein are the creations of the author, and any resemblance to real persons or comic book characters living, dead, or in or out of print circulation is purely coincidental. The character of Miss Adventure in particular has nothing to do with either the fictional columnist of the same name in the Weekly World News, nor a different heroine who makes some appearances in the work of artists on the DeviantArt website. This story is strictly non-commercial, and no profit will be made by the use of these characters or concepts.

To put it mildly, this work is not intended for consumption by minors and contains graphic depictions of forced sex, bondage and other even nastier behaviours. If you are below the adult age in your country, state, province or county then read no further and delete this file from your computer. By reading this disclaimer you agree to take full responsibility for continuing.

The author does not encourage or condone the hateful and criminal things that are done to women in this story. The activities performed in this fictional work should never be inflicted on people in the real world. Feedback is welcome and can be sent to unot39@yahoo.ca or posted to the SHIB forum at http://forum.shib.net/phpbb3.

Preface

Yet another installation in the misadventures of the Adventurist's ill-starred rotating cast of sidekicks. This particular misadventure is a three-parter, and takes place after “Miss Adventure and the Ink of Evil.” Read on, and if you enjoy it... shame on you.

ACT ONE: THE INFORMER

1

Bianca O'Toole's green eyes blaze as she stalks the bright hallways of the Los Diablos Police Department's 43^rd Precinct station-house. The shapely, fresh-faced redhead – her five foot two, 34DD-25-35 frame resplendent in a very tight charcoal power-suit, her fiery curls framing finely chiseled features with full, soft-looking lips – normally inspires amorous thoughts in those looking at her, but today people get hastily out of her way. Although admittedly there's not a man or woman in the hallways that doesn't steal a glance at her full, swaying rump and hypnotically jiggling titties as she strides along like a woman on a mission.

As she walks into a ward room – a little maze of cubicles decorated with antique computers and a collection of even more antique male Detectives, all of them looking fat and ugly and surly and none of them making a move to greet their colleague as she passes them by – her attention is fixed on the office door whose plaque reads Lieutenant Richard Pronger, Vice Squad. The sexy little spitfire doesn't hesitate or knock, she simply barges through it.

“What the Hell are you playing at, Dick?” are the first words out of her mouth as her Lieutenant – a big, balding but still muscular ex-SWAT man – looks up from his paperwork with cool grey eyes.

“Busty,” he grunts, gesturing at a chair in front of his desk. “Thought I might be seeing you. Have a seat.”

“My name,” she grits: “Is Bianca. It's not that hard, you know. And I don't want to sit, thanks, I just want to know what's going on!”

He gives her an appraising look as he sits back in his chair. She feels herself colour slightly in spite of herself as his imperious gaze takes in her curves. “What's going on is police work,” he says. “I don't know what else to tell you.”

“Bullshit!” she replies heatedly. “I hear you're giving the El Infierno case to Higgins and Jackson? That's the best way to make sure no police work gets done and you know it!”

Seeing the heads of a couple of his men come up angrily in the room beyond, Pronger's jaw tightens. “Shut the door,” he says. “And sit... down.”

Checked by the tone in his voice, O'Toole realizes she's making a scene and calms a bit, turning to shut the door and catching hard glares from the two men she just maligned. She shuts it, returns their looks defiantly. It's the truth and you assholes know it! Turning back to Pronger, she finally takes the seat in front of his desk, smoothing her suit as she feels his eyes slide along the smooth, creamy legs she folds under her conservative skirt.

Coming around his desk, Pronger leans against it and looks down at her, picking up a newspaper from the jumble of papers behind him and showing her the headline. BIGGEST PROSTITUTION STING IN YEARS, it shouts, with the subheading Twenty-Seven Johns Busted in a Single Sitting! “This here,” he says: “Is our biggest single collar in five years. You produced it in your third week after coming here. Youngest local cop ever to sit the detective's exam... Christ, are you even old enough to drink?”

“I'm twenty-two, not that that has anything to do with this,” she replies evenly, not looking at the headline. “And why are you saying all this like I did something wrong?”

“I'm saying it,” he grates: “Because nobody ordered any such operation! Nobody told you to go out and do this!” He tosses the paper back on the desk. “Or told you to go out in the field without backup! And for damn sure nobody told you to use the... methods you used.”

Caught off guard, she goes pale. “What... what methods?” She hears the quaver now in her own voice, the way she suddenly sounds unconvincing, but she ploughs on. “You listening to the rumour mill now? It's my word against a bunch of crooks' that I did anything that wasn't regulation!”

Pronger just looks at her levelly, his entire expression saying Don't bullshit a bullshitter. And after holding his stare for a moment, Bianca looks away, blushing fiercely, cursing him inwardly for throwing it in her face. She's spent days trying to block out the memory of the particular methods that she'd used to catch an entire fraternity with its proverbial and literal pants down. Memory tingles along her nerve endings, though: especially in her full, sensitive melons and between her thighs. She gets a flash of what all those big, hard things had looked like waggling around her, suppresses it... and feels her face heating even more.

“I... I had no choice but to do it the way I did,” she finally says. “None of those jerks out there would help. Those kids were banging underage prostitutes and bragging about it on the Internet, the whole thing was viral, somebody had to take them down, and I didn't... it's, I mean... it's not like I enjoyed it or something,” she finishes lamely.

“You had a choice, Busty.” At a renewed flash of anger in her eyes, he cuts her off: “No, you best get used to that nickname, and just be glad it isn't worse. You could have chosen to follow orders, but instead you went off-reservation, and you've created an epic shit-storm! Those kids you busted are sons of City Councillors, Senators, Congressmen... hell, one of them is the heir to the fucking MacroSoft fortune! Their lawyers are threatening to bury this Department under more litigation than we've seen in the past fifty years combined.” Pronger's voice is cold as iron. “That's why we don't freelance undercover work here. That's why your colleagues out there think you're a loose cannon, not to mention a freak. You thought none of them would have your back before? You're persona non fucking grata now.”

The speech cools her ardour considerably. She chews her lip as her boss' words hit home. But she holds firm. “You putting me up for review?” she asks after a moment.

“I should. And I should suspend you from duty, too. I should put you behind a desk for the rest of your time here!” Pronger pauses to let the seriousness of his intent sink in. Then he adds, more thoughtfully: “But I have to admit... you did show some serious guts. And you did what you did with good intentions. That counts for something.” Quirking his mouth a bit sourly: “And the media fucking love it, which means the Commissioner and the Mayor love it. So we can't go crucifying you just now. But I swear to Christ, you go showing initiative again—”

“Understood.” She nods. “I'll follow orders, boss. Want to give me some?”

He hesitates. “Orders to investigate El Infierno, you mean.”

“You know I can crack it!” She lets a bit of the passion back into her voice. “And you know we need it! I watched the six o'clock news last night, I saw the story about disappearing girls and a sex club full of Satanists, and I'll bet the Mayor and the Commish saw, too. I can infiltrate that club, and I can get you solid proof about what's going on inside.”

Pronger thinks for a moment. “I don't know,” he says. “You've got the undercover chops, that much is clear. But I wasn't kidding, nobody on the Vice squad will back you or even be seen with you. And I can't send you out alone.”

“So we go outside the squad,” she says readily. “If I'm a freak, send me out with the freaks.”

“The Masked Avengers, huh?” He snorts. “Talk about loose cannons, I'd never live down asking for help from those cunts. Besides, most of ours are out somewhere in the Pacific right now, fighting, like... Professor Kthulhu or some damn thing. And the further away the better.”

“So we do it unofficial. There's got to be a sidekick or something around who can handle it. And I'd trust superpowered backup over those guys out there any day... no offense.”

“Hm.” After another long moment, Pronger finally says: “Tell you what, I'll give you the contact for that guy who came in from out of town a while back. Whatshisface, the Adventurist. That way we don't have to work through the local chapter, and my boss doesn't have to know.” Registering her widening eyes, her expression of rising elation, he adds hastily: “Look, I'm authorizing you to observe and report, nothing more. Prove to me you can handle that without whipping up any more shit-storms, and we'll take it from there.”

With a decidedly girlish squeal of delight, Bianca leaps up and hugs him, his face going studiously blank as her curvy, nubile young body presses in tight against him. “Thank you thank you thank you! You won't regret it, Dick, I promise!”

“My name,” he says gruffly: “Is 'Lieutenant' or 'Sir.' And Busty, I want your word, no more of those unorthodox methods, you got me?”

But he's not even sure if she's heard that last. She's already out the door, her shapely ass waggling away from him as she races to tackle the case. Watching her go, he feels a serious stirring in the front of his slacks, and he hastily goes back around his desk. No fucking doubt about it, he thinks a little wistfully as he settles in to finish his paperwork. The LDPD's never seen a Detective like that before! It's a pity, really...

2

“I'm sorry, the Adventurist isn't here right now,” says Miss Adventure to the first caller she's had on her watch in the great superhero's mobile Adventure-Haul base. “Would you care to leave a message?”

The petite five foot one Asian beauty has fair, flawless skin and a curvaceous 35DD-23-33 figure, currently reclining at ease in one of the big chairs on the “control deck” of the premier Masked Avenger's massive land-crawler, dozens of screens around her playing back footage from the flying Adventure-Cams whose electronic eyes blanket the sprawling cityscape of Los Diablos. Her hair falls long and straight like lustrous night-black rain around perfectly symmetrical features, her dark brown almond-shaped eyes are slightly distracted, and her firm young barely-legal flesh is just barely clad in a tiny blue thong and matching tube tob that struggles to restrain her proudly-jutting breasts.

The sexy sidekick hasn't seen action yet, but the news of her announcement as the Adventurist's latest backup has graced the covers of all the superhero magazines and plenty more pop-culture outlets besides, along with her mouth-watering form. The photoshoots have been the only opportunity she's had to wear her heroic uniform in public so far – and so she listens with keen interest to the next thing her caller has to say, sitting up suddenly intent in her chair, her attention focusing.

“Immediate backup needed? And who is this, again?” Her high, dainty voice is breathy with excitement. “Is this official?”

“Strictly unofficial,” comes the firm but melodious voice on the other end of the call. “But of utmost importance. Maybe you've heard about the recent prostitution bust?”

“Heard about it!” Miss Adventure's tone is incredulous. “It's practically all the local news feed is talking about! Was that you?”

“This is Detective Bianca O'Toole,” the other woman confirms, her voice low and intense. “And that was my collar. I'm going after bigger fish now, and I need Masked Avengers help. Are you... you know, one of them?”

“I am!” Miss Adventure fairly squeaks the words, sitting bolt-upright in her chair now, her eyes gone wide. “This is the Adventurist's partner, Miss Adventure! Pleased to make your acquaintance, Officer O'Toole! But, uh... did you say 'strictly unofficial'?”

“It's complicated,” comes O'Toole's breezy reply. “Department politics bullshit. Bottom line is, I need someone outside the force to have my back on this investigation. It's heavy... El Infierno heavy. Think you might be up for it?”

Miss Adventure chews her lower lip prettily for a moment, then says: “You already check with the local chapter? Technically I'm not supposed to go out if one of them is... uh... you know, it's a union seniority thing...”

“Look, I can't afford to waste my time with second-stringers,” O'Toole says fiercely. “We both know all the local chapter's best talent is out on that Professor Kthulhu thing. If you're the Adventurist's partner, that means you're the next best thing to having the Man himself, right? And that means it's you I need, nobody else. You up for it?”

Excitement surges through the teen heroine's buxom young body... but with it comes the Adventurist's cautionary voice on his departure. “Remember while I'm gone,” he'd said: “Absolutely no going out on your own. Local law enforcement should be competent to handle any but the most extraordinary circumstance... and your training's only half complete. You may feel ready for active duty, but you're only ready when I say you're ready. And you're not ready. Refer all support requests to the local chapter, you understand? All!”

He'd made her repeat it back, three times. He'd made her solemnly swear.

Powerfully conflicting urges war within her. She does feel ready, she's sick of being cloistered, and she's pretty sure her mentor is way over-protective. But her loyalty to him makes her fight the voice of her instincts and say: “I don't know if I should... you know, Mister A was pretty specific in his orders. I think maybe you should contact the local – ”

“Listen.” Bianca's tone is charged with urgency. “Just between us, you want to know how I made that bust? I did it by straight-up disobeying orders. Sometimes we need to trust our instincts. Right now, at this moment, there's an evil Satanist cult preying on young starlets in Los Diablos, and there are two people who can stop it. Me, and you. What does your gut tell you? What does your heart tell you?”

Miss Adventure hesitates a moment more. She contemplates two possibilities. The first, staying at her post: empty hours of waiting, watching, trying not to worry about Mister A as he battles some weird entity called 'Professor Kthulhu' out somewhere in the Pacific with a legion of other superheroes. And the second: backing up a police investigation. Moving, watching, waiting to storm to the rescue of the single most famous officer of the moment in the LDPD. The headlines: ROOKIE COP AND ROOKIE CAPE BRING SATANIST CULT TO HEEL. The cameras flashing, her picture in all the papers, the surprised but proud look on the Adventurist's handsome face when he finds out he was wrong about her...

The conflict lasts only a few seconds. Its conclusion is foregone. Putting a hand to her Bluetooth earpiece, the Asian hottie smiles. “It tells me I'm in. What do you need, Detective?”

There's a pause on the other end. A breath of relief? After a moment, O'Toole says: “Thank you, Miss Adventure. Thank you. I'm looking forward to working with you. Meet me at the Dunken Donutz on Figueroa and Flowers in one hour and I'll lay it all out, okay?”

“Roger that,” says Miss Adventure. “I'll see you there. One hour.” And she cuts the connection.

The scantily-clad Asian teen beauty sits in silence for a moment, pondering. Is this the right thing to do? A vague disquiet lingers in the back of her mind... but then those imaginary headlines come boiling back up to silence it. How can I afford not to do it? And with that, she leaps up from the chair and goes hustling into the recesses of the Adventure-Haul to suit up. We are doing this, she affirms to herself. Oh yes we are! It's time to roll the dice!

* * *

As she strips away her tube top and thong and admires her own naked form in the mirror – her flat belly, toned but feminine, the dark pubic thatch at the junction of her firm thighs, the huge natural breasts that stand so high and proud from her ribcage, topped with cookie-sized dark brown nipples – Miss Adventure remembers how it all started.

Little Suki Fukusuke was born in Los Diablos, child of three generations of Japanese immigrants all of whom had been relentlessly reminded of their foreignness, the first of whom had actually been interned in the Nevada desert during the Second World War. Despite it all, Suki was as American as any Caucasian spawn of the Midwest, but she'd always hung clannishly close to the other Asian students at high school, their companionship a shield against the unfortunate resonances of her name and the jealous gazes of the white girls who'd declared her a “slut” because she'd developed so spectacularly long before they did.

She'd been the antithesis of the stereotypical Asian over-achiever, getting straight C's and D's all the way down the line – not because she wasn't capable, but because some part of her had rebelled against the punishing scholastic expectations of her demanding parents – right up until the day had come at the onset of senior year when several popular jocks from the football team had invited her to a party. The chance to be part of the cool set had overwhelmed her better sense, she'd gone with them trustingly... and discovered too late that the “party” they'd invited her to was meant to consist of her and them and a strictly non-consensual gangbang, motivated by her reputation as a supposed “slut.”

They'd had her stripped almost naked, right down to her white cotton panties as she'd screamed and struggled amid their taunting laughter, when an Adonis out of myth came to her rescue. He'd set the jackals scattering with nothing more than a look and a glimpse of his heroic physique, and as it had finally registered on her brain that she might not be raped after all, she'd looked up from the muddy field where they'd cornered her and seen him for the first time.

The Adventurist. More than six feet tall, his powerfully brawny form sheathed in red spandex, his eyes compassionate behind wrap-around red shades, short silver hair shining like a halo... he was like something right out of a comic book. He'd held out his hand, and tears of gratitude had streamed down her face as she took it. In that moment, she'd become irrevocably, absolutely his, and it had been like floating in a dream as he led her back to the enormous, tank-like red machine in which he toured the country, his Adventure-Haul.

On the spot, he'd revealed his real identity as the reclusive billionaire Peirce Busch. He'd told her that he saw “potential” in her, that he was willing to take her under his wing. He'd praised the way she'd fought her attackers after all hope seemed lost, said she had “spirit” and “spunk”... and revealed to her that he was looking for someone to take up the mantle of his sidekick.

The word “sidekick” had set stars spinning in the young girl's eyes. She'd seen glamourous images of the previous Miss Adventures, seen the adulation that had been heaped on them despite their weirdly brief careers – and even as he'd warned her frankly that five girls before her had tried and met dreadful fates as yet unknown, the warnings had fallen on deaf ears. She'd grown up looking with yearning at the sexy superheroines of the Masked Avengers, and in that moment she'd known with certainty that she could be one of them.

No, more than just one of them. He was right about her spirit, her spunk. She was special. She could go places no other Miss Adventure had ever gone. She knew it. When she'd said “yes” to his offer, the moment had felt like an epiphany.

And so he'd taken her to a meeting with her parents, had watched the stern pair of them try not to look awestruck at the sight of America's greatest (or at least longest-lived) superhero, had seen the avid gleam in their gazes at the prospect of their stupid, disappointing daughter becoming the pride of the family after all. They'd agreed as quickly as she had... and her training had begun. Not just in high school subjects – in which he'd tutored her more effectively and with better results than any of her teachers had ever done – but in martial arts, criminology, situational awareness, acrobatics, combat driving, stealth and intrusion, all the key disciplines a heroine would need.

A month ago, on her eighteenth birthday, he'd finally revealed the Adventure-Ray, the device which he used to replicate the cosmic accident that had created him, the device that could imbue an object with radiation and confer an echo of his powers on the one who wore it. And now she holds that object in her hands – the blue leather choker with the silver “A” at the throat, the sigil that confers on her the powers of a demi-goddess and puts her in company with the legendary Masked Avengers.

Taking a breath, she puts it on. It's the first step in the transition to truly becoming the Damsel of Daring!

* * *

Immediately, she feels the cosmic power of Adventure flowing through her: giving her superhuman agility, the strength of five men, super-senses that can hear a pin drop a block away or feel the subtlest of vibrations through a floor, a healing factor that can regenerate any wound that doesn't destroy her brain.

Swiftly, she concentrates as the Adventurist taught her to, mastering (more-or-less) the riotous rush of information and sensation bestowed by her super-senses. Without that concentration, her heightened sense of smell could turn everyday cologne into a knockout gas, her heightened sense of touch could make even the feel of clothing unbearably sensuous: but with it, she has an edge that few can match. At the moment it feels a little shaky, she hasn't had quite as much practice as she'd like... but she's sure it'll be fine.

Donning her blue fingerless gloves, the blue six-inch stiletto thigh-highs in which her powers allow her to stand effortlessly, and the sleek blue-tinted aviator goggles that protect her identity, she looks over and smiles at the tiny one-piece slingshot bikini on her cot, the final piece of her devastatingly sexy outfit.

As she puts it on and admires herself in the mirror, there's no denying that she loves the way it looks on her, the straps just barely holding her full breasts in place, the stars coming up over one nipple, the stripes coming up over the other, making her feel patriotic and sexy all at once, riveting every eye wherever she goes. The straps don't quite manage to cover her huge aerolae, but that's so much the better: the point of the outfit is titillate and distract an opponent, leaving them open for the knockout blow. Watching her double-D jugs jostle as she mimes an uppercut in the mirror, she knows it will serve its purpose perfectly.

“Computer,” she says: “Priority command Code Alpha. Fuel and prepare Adventure-Cycle for departure.”

AFFIRMATIVE, comes the dispassionate voice of the Adventure-Haul's computer. ADVENTURE-CYCLE WILL BE PREPARED FOR DEPARTURE IN SEVENTEEN MINUTES.

Good, she thinks. Enough time to cruise the streets for a bit before my meet! Her first chance for an extended cruise on the awesome Adventure-Cycle is not to be missed. She goes back to admiring her eye-popping form in the mirror, imagining how the citizenry of Los Diablos will gape as they watch her spectacular physique zooming past them on the sleek red rocket-cycle. Flexing a bicep and kissing it, she winks at herself and feels her confidence surge.

Get ready, world! You're about to meet the true Miss Adventure!

3

The Detective Bianca “Busty” O'Toole who walks into the Aurora Ballroom – one of Los Diablos' most popular nightclubs – looks vastly different from a few hours before.

She's straightened her red curls – binding them back into a pony-tail – and in place of the conservative charcoal power-suit she'd worn earlier, she's clad for the sunny Los Diablos afternoon in a tight red midriff-baring tube top, tiny black hotpants and red, high-heeled pumps, making her look every inch the low-class tramp. Her cover identity is would-be exotic dancer Blanche Beaumont, who's about to audition for a regular gig as a cage dancer with the club owner... the second false identity she's taken on in order to meet with this particular informant.

As she struts into the club – knowing that her Masked Avengers backup claims to be able to hear even the tiniest nuance of what's happening around her – she swallows a cold knot of anxiety, thinking about her recent meet with the “backup” whose super-senses are supposedly watching over her even now. Miss Adventure had been far more young and inexperienced than she's expected, too much so for something like this – but the Adventurist's sidekick had also seemed supremely confident and assured, and positively ecstatic to be taking on the assignment. Bianca doesn't quite know what to make of it... but she also knows that she doesn't have any other options.

Suck it up, she tells herself. You'll do what you've gotta do. And she tries to ignore the tingling feeling in her proud, beautiful breasts, and in the tight, moist slit between her legs, as she gets ready to meet... the informant. Just... just don't let it get out of hand this time. That's all.

The waitress that greets her is young and pert-breasted, wearing blonde pigtails and scantily-clad in a tight latex approximation of a schoolgirl's uniform. “Can I help you?” says the sexy little thing as she looks Bianca's rich, curvaceous form up and down, her gaze coolly appraising.

“I've got an appointment,” she replies, willing away the hint of breathlessness she hears in her own voice. “Blanche Beaumont. I need to see Mister Long about an audition.”

“One moment.” Bianca feels the blonde's eyes lingering over her curves as the young beauty lifts a cellphone to her ear, hitting a speed-dial key and listening. “Mister Long... yes. A Miss Beaumont to see you?” After a moment, the sexy blonde girl cuts the connections and smiles radiantly... and a little knowingly? “The boss will see you right away. Just go on up to the VIP section.”

“Thanks.” She returns the smile and walks into the spacious, almost cavernous interior of the Aurora, which by nightfall will be transformed into a playground of gyrating bodies and coruscating multicoloured light but for now looks white and sterile, almost like an art gallery. The VIP section is a balcony overlooking the dance floor, a large red-painted shelf standing out from the white around it, reachable by a red stairwell. And Bianca feels her heart start to pound as she sees him sitting at one of the tables, waiting for her.

Mister Long has been the Aurora's owner for five years, and apparently his real name is Mister – conferred on him by his mother to compel respect from those around him. Not that he needs the name for that: almost seven feet tall, built like a linebacker with coffee-coloured skin, chiseled, handsome features, a close-shaven scalp and twinkling dark eyes, he's the kind of man who can intimidate men with a gesture and make women weak in the knees with a look. The very kind of smoldering look whose heat Bianca can feel right now as he glances up from a paper he's perusing and waves to her. He's dressed, as he usually is, in black slacks and a short-sleeved black shirt that shows off his massive biceps.

She waves back, cursing inwardly at the way she feels her breath catch. And as she climbs the stairs, he stands up and comes around the table to greet her.

“Miss Beaumont, is it?” he gives her a smile and a conspiratorial wink, kissing each of her hands in turn as he looks her up and down with frank appreciation and she feels her face heat up. “So pleased to... meet you. I can already see you have a perfect look for the Ballroom.”

“Why, thank you, Mister Long,” she says, keeping her eyes firmly on his face and away from his rock-hard pecs and the massive lump in the front of his trousers – a lump she knows very well is the proof of how apt his name really is. “I'm really excited about the opportunity.”

“Please,” he laughs. “Let's not be formal. Just call me Mister.”

“Okay, then... uh, Mister.”

As he leads her over to the table and offers her a drink, she remembers her first meeting with him. An anonymous tipster had led her to him, and Mister Long had proved to have his ear to the ground in matters concerning the Los Diablos sex trade. He'd slipped her the information that made possible the prostitution sting, but his conditions for meeting her had been strict: he wouldn't talk openly to her as informant to cop. Meetings would have take place under pretexts like this one.

Sitting with him now as he launches into a spiel about the benefits of dancing at the Aurora, she can feel his hot gaze searing into her... and knows he's planning to demand the same “price” for his information as last time. But she's gambling that the wad of bills nestled between her full breasts will be able to change his mind. Let the dance begin. As a slender waitress – wearing a schoolgirl uniform just like the one downstairs – comes by with a gin and tonic, Mister's eyes glitter with curiosity as he slides the drink over to her on its coaster.

“So tell me,” he says, casually sliding a pencil over to her beside the coaster. “What exactly brings Miss Beaumont out today? What are you looking for from the Aurora?”

“It just... sounds fun, you know?” she says in her best airhead voice, taking a long sip of the drink as she turns the coaster over and scribbles the words EL INFIERNO on its underside. She hangs on to the glass, twirling the ice cubes inside it as she slides the coaster back over to him with a meaningful look. “I hear it's a really hot ticket.”

Looking down at the coaster, his expression freezes for a moment. When he looks back up, he's more serious than she's ever seen him. Sliding it back, he says: “I don't know if you really understand what kind of work you're getting into with this. It can get heavy. Very heavy.”

“Nothing I can't handle, Mister,” she says airily, though she gives him a nod of thanks for the warning. Reaching into her top, she peels out a couple of bills, puts them on the coaster and slides it back to him. “Although I guess I might want to know what kind of other opportunities working here might put me onto.”

He stares at the bills for a moment, scratches his jaw... then takes them with a small sigh and pockets them. “Well, there are all kinds of opportunities here, Miss Beaumont,” he says. “But I take it you have chances for exposure in mind?” There's more than a hint of his customary leer in this last, but there's also a serious question in his eyes. Do you really want me to tell you this?

For a moment she hesitates. Something that makes Mister Long this cautious should give anyone second thoughts. But she's already committed, there's no turning back now. She nods.

“Well, we get a lot of talent scouts at the Aurora.” He smiles as some of his usual lighthearted nature reasserts itself, and he gives the big tits straining the front of her tube top a deliberate once-over. “And you've got some fine talents.... so to speak.” He clears his throat. “Ahem. Anyway, some of those scouts work for the movie studios over in Morningwood. Some of them work for... less respectable outfits. And some of them work for a man named Dante.”

“Dante?” she prompts him as he hesitates, forking over some more cash. “Who's that?”

“He's the owner of a certain club.” He taps the name she'd written on the coaster. “And he has a bad reputation. They say he's a producer of rape porn, a pimp and a loan shark and a drug-dealer and a Satanist and a trafficker. And a murderer who carries out human sacrifices.” He looks at her levelly as he adds: “Most times I don't buy that last kind of rumour. But of Dante I believe it. He has some kind of force working for him.”

“Force? What kind of force?” This is something she's never heard before. As Mister Long hesitates again, she produces another couple of bills from her cleavage and slides them over to him. He takes them reluctantly and goes on.

“Something unnatural... you see, the story goes, there was one guy crossed him,” he says. “Owed him money and wouldn't pay, something like that. He argues with Dante on a Friday. Saturday morning comes around and what do you know? They find what's left of him in a dumpster, and he's been mauled by something huge. Head was bitten clean off, he had to be identified from his fingerprints.” His gaze turns inward as he adds: “And he had... burns all over him. Claw marks, scratches, the bite that took his head off, they were all cauterized.”

“Really... really? Really.” The story sounds incredible, and she can't help but let a hint of skepticism show in her voice.

“Yeah, really.” He looks back at her sharply. “It was like something straight out of Hell tore him up. And it's not the last time it's happened, either. Apparently the cops in Homicide have been keeping a lid on it. They don't know what to make of it, but I do. The rumours about Dante and his club... they're all true.”

She frowns. “And knowing all that, you still let his... talent scouts in here?”

He doesn't speak for a moment, until she fishes more bills out of her top and slips them over to him. Then he shakes his head vigorously: “I see anyone I know works for him directly, I boot them. But I can't kick out celebrity starlets – they're what the crowd comes to the Aurora to see.” After a moment he amends, with a wry smile: “Them and my fine babies like you, of course, Miss Beaumont. No, what he usually does is to... convert a girl, somebody rich and famous and influential. He gets some kind of hypnotic power over them. They come here and they find some other babes, and they lure them over to his digs.” He spreads his hands. “After that... sometimes they're seen again, and sometimes they're not.”

She nods. “And who is it that they've been sending lately?” She overcomes another spot of hesitation with the last of the bills tucked between her breasts.

“Some actress, used to be a child star but now she's mostly famous for being drunk and disorderly.” He snaps his fingers, trying to recall the name, then gets it: “Lindsey McLuhan. Seen her in here three times in the last two weeks, always macking on hot starlets. Picked up three porn stars last time, even lured a couple of my girls. She's got to be one of his plants.”

Bingo. I think I see my way in! “That does sound like some heavy action,” she says, excited now. “But I have to admit, it's got me curious. Think she'll come looking tonight?”

He shrugs. “I expect she will.”

“Good. Then Mister, I'll need to be here tonight. As one of your dancers.”

“Will you.” His troubled expression from the discussion of El Infierno clearing, Long's look of lust is reasserting itself with full force. His smile is predatory now as he says: “Will you, now. Well... I think you'll need to earn that privilege, Miss Beaumont.” Her heart hammering again suddenly, she quickly reaches into her top... but there's no money left! And he's already shaking his head! “No no no, you can't buy your way into a position like that, baby,” he says, the lump in the front of his trousers visibly stirring. “You've got to perform. I think it's time for your audition, don't you?”

The tone in his voice sends tingles running down her spine, through her breasts and through the vulnerable, wet softness between her thighs! Looking at him wide-eyed, she thinks: Shit, shit, shit, oh shit! Not again! He... he tricked me! But there's nothing for it. He has something she needs... and he wants what he wants.

“O – okay, Mister,” she says finally, her voice shaky despite her best efforts. “I guess, maybe just a little...” And she drains the rest of her drink in a gulp as he laughs... ready to begin.

4

Parked in the alleyway behind the Aurora Ballroom, Miss Adventure lies draped over the sleek, quiescent form of the Adventure-Cycle, her buxom body glowing with sweat as she takes deep, sobbing breaths to steady herself.

She'd thought she had the trick of sensory control mastered. But she's never ridden the Adventure-Cycle for long trips before, and it's a lot different from short training exercises. The ride over to her meet with Detective O'Toole – and the cruise of the streets prior – had gone well enough. But on the ride to the Aurora, she'd begun to notice that the powerful vibrations of the rocket engine between her legs were hitting her tight, virginal teen quim in a dangerously sweet spot... making her tingle, making her swell and moisten, building a fluttering heat deep inside her, sending shuddering cracks through her control.

She had suddenly felt her heart pounding, her mouth going dry, her pulse racing as the pulsating vibrations worked on her snug twat, making sweet honey drip from her sex and begin to smear her inner thighs and the seat of the bike. The roads became an abstraction as the battle with her own body gradually consumed her attention. She took wrong turns more than once, and stopping at traffic lights became a wriggling, lip-biting, jaw-grinding torture as she fought harder and harder to keep the sensations from pushing her over the edge.

As the Aurora had come into view she was wobbling, weaving, fighting to keep the dam of her resolve from bursting, consumed by the panicked thought that she needed to get off the road. Her pussy had tightened and clutched, ready to burst; she'd started out as a sexy heroine on a state-of-the-art rocket vehicle, but had fast become a horny little barely-legal bitch riding a massive vibrator that was about to bring her off hard. She'd just managed to pull into the alleyway just before the moment of crisis hit her like a freight-train, the rumbling of the engine finally forcing her over the edge!

“Nngggaaahhhh!” she'd wailed pitifully as her juicy pussy clutched and spasmed, splattering its nectar messily around the gusset of her thong and all over the seat, soaking it as she threw her head back in ecstasy. The bolts of sensation ripping through her had made her fingers inadvertently tighten on the clutch, and the bike had hopped forward as its mighty engine revved – making her whole body jolt and arch as a fresh wave of orgasm hit her!

“Awwwwww Gawwwd Auugghhhhhhh! Awwww Fuuuuhuuuccckkk Uhhhhggghhhh!” She'd moaned and writhed and sobbed as she came and came and came.

The Adventure-Cycle has jolted and bucked its way deeper into the alley as it took its rider on a juddering journey to the edge of orgasmic oblivion, the helpless teen beauty nearly passing out from the intensity of her climaxes! Finally she'd managed to kill the engine and the devastating waves of multiple climax abated, leaving her the sweat-slicked, shivering mess that she is now. For some minutes she's been trying to get her body and her senses back under control: the input from everything is haywire, the stink of rotten garbage in the alleyway almost overwhelming her.

It's taken her almost ten minutes to fight back to some semblance of normalcy... though she can't guess what will happen when she starts up the bike again. More than that, though – the experience has her questioning herself. And a terrible realization bursts across her brain.

Jesus, the thought comes clear, absolute, pellucid. Christ! Mister A was right... I'm not ready to be out here. I'm just not ready! Looking up blearily, she realizes she has to find Detective O'Toole, to call the operation off. And in that moment she realizes belatedly that for the last few minutes, she'd been meant to be monitoring what was going on inside the club! A second of pure panic follows as she listens, tries to isolate the sounds, to find Bianca's voice... there!

“ . . . Mister, I'll need to be here tonight. As one of your dancers.” That's Bianca, inside the club... probably well inside it. A moment of despair follows as she realizes that she can't go in without blowing her partner's cover. But then she refocuses her attention as she hears the predatory, slavering tone in the man's response... the obscene, perverted suggestiveness of his words. And then she hears Bianca say, unsteadily, in a suddenly breathy little-girl voice: “O – okay, Mister. . . maybe just a little...”

The appalling truth hits her like a blow. My God, he's going to exploit her... take advantage of her! Going to abuse her! My partner... she's in danger! I've got to help her!

The realization galvanizes her into action. Swiftly, she swings a leg over and jumps off the bike... and promptly slumps to the ground as her shaky knees give way under the weight of her recent ordeal, reacting to the way the straps of her slingshot thong sear lines of tormenting sensation across her dripping cunt and her full, sensitive teats.

On her knees, shivering, tears streaking down her face, Miss Adventure fights, gritting her teeth as she wills her strength and focus back. Got to get in there! Her mind shouts the message urgently at her even as her body refuses to obey, and she concentrates, takes deep breaths, focuses the way the Adventurist taught her.

Get it together, girl, she lectures herself sternly. Get it together! Bianca needs you! I'm coming, Detective... I'm coming! Just... just give me a minute. Just hold on, just for a minute...

* * *

“Dance for me, baby.” The lust is naked in Mister Long's voice. “And make it nice and sexy. That's what we need.”

The music kicks in, a harsh, bass-heavy hip-hop song. “I wanna fuck you in the ass...” croons the singer on the track as Bianca gets up on unsteady legs to try to fulfil Long's expectations. “I wanna fuck you in the ass... I wanna fuck you in the aaah-haaassss...”

Up from her chair and feeling unwontedly shy, Bianca starts to waggle and shake her big, beautiful booty to the beat. Closing her eyes, trying to shut out the thought of Mister Long's lustful gaze all over her curvaceous young body, O'Toole gives herself to the drum machine. Swaying, shaking, winding her sexy form around the pounding, thumping rhythm, she closes her eyes and prays he'll stop this time at letting her dance, letting her titillate him.

She hears him groan as she moves and gyrates, the relentless refrain of the song hammering around her. “I wanna fuck you in the ass... I wanna fuck you in the ass...I wanna fuck you in the ass...” The thumping rhythm judders through her, making her sex hotter and wetter with every bar as she sways and writhes and shimmies.

“Ohhhh yeah,” she hears him say. “Sexier, baby. Make it sexier. Make me want to get freaky with you... that's the secret, baby, that's the key.”

She knows what he wants... and that she has no choice but to deliver. She arches her back more, pushing out her ass, waggling it at him, twerking with a will as the song hammers at her with its perverted, explicit refrain, feeling the hot wetness rise between her taut thighs and her big tits swell against her tight top. She bites her lip as she moves, getting into the rhythm, losing herself in the music that chants its vicious sexual message at her, all the while praying in her mind: Please... please let this be enough... please, God, please....

No such luck. His voice is thick as he says: “Good. Now come here, baby. I want to get a closer look at your form.”

She freezes, closing her eyes tight. Listens to the music throbbing around her. Takes an uneven breath and turns around, and finds Mister Long sitting with his legs wide and the outline of his big eleven-incher clearly outlined in his tight slacks: a thick, hard and powerful cunt-cudgel whose capabilities she knows only too well. Her mouth waters involuntarily as she takes in the sight of his package, even bigger than she remembers it.

Fuck... oh, fuck, I can't let this get out of hand like the first time... But even as she thinks it, she finds herself smiling a little wickedly as she struts her sultry way over to him, still moving in time with the music.

“That's it, thaaaat's it,” he urges lewdly, the massive tent in his trousers getting even bigger as his eyes fixate on her big breasts. “Closer, baby... closer. Closer. I need those big bouncy talents of yours right in my face... just got to see what they look like up close...”

You already know, you filthy bastard, she feels like saying... but she bites it back. She needs his help. She tries to stave off the corrupting memories of their previous encounter, feeling her breath quicken as she moves in closer, closer, until she can feel the distracting nearness of his warm, muscular body. Until she's dancing right in between his legs, shaking and shimmying her proud double-D's right in his face, feeling his hot breath playing over the thin fabric that strains to cover her tits as her nipples stand proudly to attention.

“Nice,” he breathes, and she grits her teeth as she can feels the heat of his mouth less than an inch from her sensitive melons. “You know how to work those titties, baby, I knew you'd know. Now what you gotta do when you're dancing in that cage is... you gotta move like somebody's sucking them, you feel me? Just sucking and licking on those big beautiful titties like they was ice-cream cones... ahhh, fuck it, let me show you what I mean...”

Her green eyes widening, she realizes the moment of truth is here... and she begins to protest. “No... no wait, I, I shouldn't, I mean, I don't think, no wait you can't you can't I can't let this get ahhh.... ahhhhh...”

Her protests trail off into sensual gasps as Mister Long reaches up and takes hold of the bottom hem of her tube top, and with a quick, affirmative yanks pulls the fabric up – baring her creamy tits in one swift motion! She feels her big pink nipples stiffen even more as they're exposed to the air, her hot breasts jiggling as she keeps moving as if in a trance to the beat of the sexually-explicit, almost hypnotic music. But she's breathing hard now, looking down in a confused mixture of alarm and fascination at the big black man's slavering mouth as he contemplates the buffet of firm, bouncing titty-flesh laid open before him like a feast.

No, no, NO, she begs silently, please let this be enough, please don't, oh please OH PLEASE... But it's too late to turn back. A moment more and his wicked mouth lunges at the nearest breast, sending a searing heat through her and making her back arch as he takes a big, wet bite of her massive mammary!

“Ahhhhahhhhh...” she gasps as he hoovers the exquisitely sensitive flesh into his mouth, his tongue twirling expertly in an inward spiral pattern, tracing paths of sexual flame around and around her hot tit until he reaches the almost painfully stiff nipple, flicking at it as though he's tonguing a clit. And poor little Busty O'Toole feels instantly what she always feels when someone starts to play with her tits: her mind fuzzing, her body giving in, her IQ dropping like a stone as her inner slut rises and makes her wriggle and writhe.

She's utterly powerless to stop herself from taking hold of his head and pulling his mouth onto her even harder, offering herself up to the sweet torment of his tongue as conscious thought begins to shred like gossamer in a high wind.

“Ahhhhhh...ohhh Mister... ohhhh Mister ohhh shit Ahhhhhh,” she moans luxuriantly as he switches to her other breast, devouring it hungrily as his hands begin to roam all over her tingling flesh, slipping down to gather big handfuls of her buttocks and drawing her in closer, then sliding back up over her back and around... taking possession of her teats and holding them together as he goes to town on them like a starving man, slicking the heaving mounds with spit as he switches off sucking one and then the other, one and then the other as she writhes in his grasp like a worm on a hook. “Ohhhh Mister that... it feels so... so fuhhh hhhuuhhh hhhahhhh Ahhh-hhhmmpphh! Mmm-hmmphhh...”

He cuts off her sensual moans when he releases her tits and pulls her down into a hot, deep kiss, their tongues entwining in an ancient, spiraling dance of passion as his big, rough hands continue to molest her taut, shivering young body. Tingles of lust race from the tips of her toes to the crown of her scalp as she gives herself to the sensations, all the while feeling the pulsing refrain of the song going through her, making nastier and nastier thoughts whirl through her head as her resistance crumbles. She doesn't – she can't – resist when he grabs one of her hands and moves it down, forcing it to feel the spongy, turgid length of him through his trousers as he finally lets her up for air. She doesn't even consciously realize it when she starts to caress that powerful shaft, running her hand eagerly up and down its prodigious length, squeezing and fondling it with rising urgency.

Breaking the kiss, he grabs her by the hair and impales her on his intent gaze as she wanks his throbbing shaft through his pants. “I think maybe you got what it takes,” he says quietly. “But the biggest part of being one of my dancers is knowing when to get up... and when to go down. How about it baby... you know when to go down?”

He reaches down to his zipper as he says it, pulling it down and letting his rampant, chocolate-coloured meat free. As the hot, spongy cock-flesh meets the palm of her hand, Bianca lets out a gasp of alarm, but when she opens her mouth she hears herself say: “I... I think I do, Mister...”

Long grins, then lets his expression harden. “Prove it, baby,” he says, tugging downward on her hair. “Prove it...”Before she knows what's happened, she's subsided to her knees between his muscular thighs... and she's faced with the naked length of his veiny, chocolate-coloured cock protruding from his fly.

Time seems to slow as the last drags of her resistance float up: no no NO Bianca you shouldn't do it you CAN'T do it... But then she sees a droplet of pre-cum ooze from the purple tip of that mouth-watering dick, and before she can think about it she's lunging forward to catch the taste of that delicious fluid on her darting pink tongue.

A moment later, her eyes are watering as the head of his throbbing shaft invades her warm, wet mouth... and they roll back in her head as she instinctively reaches down between her legs to manualize her dripping sex through the soggy crotch of her hotpants as she starts to suck. “Mmmmmmm... mmmmm-mmmmmm-glllmmmphhhh-mmmmphhhh-gllllmphhhh gllmmmphhh gllmmmphhhh...” come the wet, wanton gulping sounds around his hard cockmeat as her head begins to bob in rhythm with the fingers masturbating her sopping fuckhole.

His fingers twining in her hair, he takes control of the rhythm, forcing her mouth up and down as her spit slicks along his veiny length. “Yeeeahhhh...” he urges throatily, all pretense of sweet seduction fleeing: “Suck that dick, baby... Yeahhhh, suck it... Suck that fucking cock, slut...”

With the last traces of thought spiraling away, Detective Busty O'Toole pants helplessly through her nose, feels the quivering in her wanton, lubricious fuckhole as she frigs herself. Before long her fingers are wriggling urgently down the front of her hotpants as she sucks... and sucks... and sucks... swallowing more and more of his savoury tool, her spit slopping down his shaft in thick streams and dripping down to the big nutsack he fishes out of his pants. Loud choking and gurgling sounds come out as he fucks her face, shoves her hot mouth down and down to the root of his prick, snarling with lust he feels her jerk when his massive cockhead breaches her throat. Long is loving every second of it.

“Lick those nuts, baby, lick 'em,” he pants, and sure enough feels her gamely pushing her tongue out along his shaft to lap at his balls even as she gurgles around his meat, struggling for air, the deprivation intensifying the heat in her dripping cunt as she starts frantically stuffing three fingers into herself. “Yeah... nasty girl, dirty little bitch... knew you wanted it...”

The words echo in her ears as she gets dizzy from lack of oxygen, the walls of her twat starting to clench around her pumping fingers as she replies: “Glllckkkk nnngglllcckkhhh gllckkhhh glllckkhhh gglllckkhhh...” She feels some of her spit erupting painfully through her nose as her informant crudely fucks her throat, can feel more drool running off her chin and down between her big tits as she reaches up with her free hand to stroke them.

Wanted it... slut... nasty girl... dirty little bitch... The fragmentary phrases spin across her dazed brain as her snatch gets wetter, wetter, wetter. She has a weird auditory hallucination of feminine orgasmic screams echoing through the empty club below right at the moment her sex starts clasping and squelching around her pumping fingers until finally she explodes all over them, letting out muffled gurgles of ecstasy, her throat convulsing around Long's dick in time with the spasms in her sugar walls: “Gllllccckkkhh! Glllacckhhhh! Aggllaackhhhh! GLLCCCKHHH!”

She's almost at the point of passing out when he finally pulls her off his dick. She gasps for air and looks up at him with glassy eyes, her pretty features a mess of drool and tear-streaked mascara... and she feels the endorphins hit, spreading a dumb, sappy smile over her face.

He grins down at her, his massive tool twitching with the effort of holding back his load. “You're doing just fine, baby,” he rasps. “Now all I gotta do... is teach you how dance like you're taking a big black dick. That's the kind of sexy you need to deliver... you want me to teach you? Want me to show you how to move that fine ass like it's getting fucked?”

The words come automatically out of her post-orgasmic sexual daze: “Y - yes, Mister... I, I want it...”

Like it always does at times like this, a little voice inside her head tries to remind her that this is going too far... and like always, it's no match for the lust pulsating through her rich body. She doesn't even try to resist as Mister Long turns her around, plants a hand between her shoulder blades and shoves her down on all fours at his feet with her sweet round ass in the air. And as he gets up and looms over her, yanking down her hotpants to reveal her saturated slit and tight brown star, his rampant cock ready to plunder her feminine treasures, she bites her lip as she feels herself get even wetter in anticipation...

5

As she grits her teeth and forces her unsteady legs to straighten back up, the suggestive sounds she can hear underneath the pounding, perverted music make Miss Adventure's sense of panic spike. True, Bianca had warned her that she might have to employ some unorthodox investigation techniques – and given all the givens, she'd be deeply relieved to not have to try to rush into that club to rescue her – but this definitely sounds wrong.

Then she hears, quite distinct from the music, Bianca's first stumbling uses of the word “no”... and the way she gasps as they're ignored completely. And she sets her jaw. There's no choice, she thinks. I have to be ready. I have to go in.

Her knees are still trembling as she sets off toward the club's front entrance. Her breasts and pussy are still painfully sensitive, her whole body thrilling to every current of the air against her nearly-naked skin. And from inside she can catch snatches of sensual moaning, lewd liquid sounds of sucking as Bianca's informant does... something to her that sounds positively devilish, and that makes the echoes of arousal build into pulses of fresh horniness in the rookie teen heroine's erogenous zones. Desperately she tries to keep the sensations at bay, to focus as she opens the door to the club and strides in with the best facsimile of confidence she can muster.

Standing at the hostess' station, the gatekeeper to the blank white space of the club beyond, is a gorgeous blonde, moderately tall at about five foot eight with her long hair in pig tails and her blue eyes regarding the newcomer curiously. She's clad in a tight little shiny top of white latex – short and midriff-baring – with a red latex tie hanging down between her pert breasts, and as she comes around the desk she reveals a tiny little plaid miniskirt also done in latex, white latex knee-socks and shiny black high-heeled pumps. A perverted fetish replica of a schoolgirl, the girl's 36C-26-36 form is knockout hot and makes Miss Adventure catch her breath despite herself. She's never been into girls, but has to admit this one is as magnificent in her own way as Bianca...

“Hello, there,” the schoolgirl says brightly. “I'm Angel. Can I help you? Are you here to audition?”

“Audition?” for a moment the Damsel of Daring stares back blankly, but the sounds coming from beyond shake her out of it. “No. No, I'm Miss Adventure, here on official Masked Avengers business – I, I'm going to need to go in right now and –”

“I'm afraid you can't go in.” Angel shakes her head firmly. “Mister Long is conducting an interview.”

Sudden anger drives everything else into the background as she can see a wicked glint in the blonde's eye. She can hear those sounds, the sidekick thinks: Not as well as I can, but she hears. She knows. She lets her response drip with scorn: “I can hear what kind of 'interview' he's conducting, thanks. Now stand aside. I don't want to hurt you.”

But she can already hear her tone has had no effect on the girl in front of her. There's no acceleration of pulse or heartbeat to indicate fear... though she can see the fascination in the girl's eyes as they roam over her sexy form, taking in the sheen of sweat, the slight tremor in her knees, the dark stain of wetness at the crotch of her thong. She feels exposed under that keen scrutiny as she does hear Angel's heartbeat begin to pick up... with unmistakable arousal.

“That a friend of yours up there?” she asks conversationally now, stepping closer. “She's not in any danger... far from it. She was DTF from the moment she walked in here... just like you, right? Mister Long's just giving her what she wants.”

“I... I don't know what you mean,” says Miss Adventure, finding herself taking a nervous step back. “I'm... I'm giving you one last warning...”

Angel keeps advancing, her hips swaying with her steps, one, two, three, insinuating herself into the heroine's personal space with the warmth of her firm, toned young body. “What do you want, Miss Adventure?” The schoolgirl's voice is breathy now, seductive, her bedroom eyes locking with the heroine's as she licks a forefingers and starts to run it down from her guest's collarbone, down between her big breasts, down across her quivering flat belly as she says: “You want to... have an adventure? How about it? Your Angel can take you on one Hell of an adventure, believe me...”

The Damsel of Daring's body goes rigid at the contact. The wet, teasing fingertip is tracing a trail of sensual fire down and down and down, toward her hot, wet, sensitive pussy mound. For a moment she's speechless, her shaky vestiges of control swiftly cracking. But then she hears a very clear statement from beyond in the ragged, lusty voice of Mister Long: “How about it baby... you know when to go down?”

The reminder of her purpose, of Bianca's plight, breaks the spell. Angel gives a startled cry as a hand with the strength of an industrial vise suddenly clamps onto her wrist, and Miss Adventure pulls her finger away as she grits: “Don't... touch... me... again. You understand? I'm going in.”

Yanking the waitress hard out of her path and sending her sprawling to the floor behind her, Miss Adventure starts to advance again, her stride picking up steam, her tits and ass jiggling and bouncing as she walks out onto the blank white space of the lower level, zeroing in on the red balcony of the VIP section where Bianca's ordeal is getting steadily worse. The Damsel feels like calling out a challenge, but doesn't want to announce her presence to the pervert up there too plainly. She balls up a fist in anticipation of smashing it into the bastard's face.

Then, stepping out from the stairwell at the balcony's base she can see another waitress: a tiny, slender brunette three inches shorter than Angel and sporting an identical latex schoolgirl outfit that hugs a slender little 32B-22-32 frame. She has cute, snub nosed features and is carrying a tray with a single glass on it, and looks at the new arrival curiously.

“Did Mister call for you? I don't think he ordered a three-way--” she starts to say, but Miss Adventure cuts her off.

“Step aside, I won't tell you twice.” The heroine's voice is hard as steel, all her attention laser-focused on her destination. “That is sexual assault going on up there, and I'm putting a stop to it.”

Unfortunately, focused on her goal, she doesn't see the brunette's eyes shift to a point past her shoulder, catching a silent signal from someone and nodding in response. As she draws level, the brunette makes to step aside... and the distracted rookie doesn't see the telltales of building tension in the little cutie's muscles.

And so the thrown face-full of ice cubes she gets a split-second later catches her completely by surprise! “Agh... what the...” The cold shock of the glass-full of ice and melt hits her full in the face, causing her to stagger backward as the surprise momentarily overwhelms her already shaky ultra-senses. Confused, trying to compensate, to regain her concentration as she reaches up to wipe away the dripping ice and water from her face and tits, she doesn't register the glass itself being swung at her temple with murderous intent until right before the impact. Time seems to slow with terrible realization as she wills her muscles into action, knowing it's already too late, no time to do anything except think oh fuck...

CRACK! The heavy glass tumbler hammers into her temple, not propelled with enough force to knock her out but certainly with enough force to daze her and send her stumbling backward, clutching her face in pain. Her head spins as she tries to fight the confusion, the shock, to regain the initiative, but even as she's thinking it, the hard edge of a waitress' tray is colliding with her solar plexus!

“Oof!” the heroine's eyes go wide as the impact nearly winds her, sending her further off-balance as she flails an arm out randomly, desperately trying to connect with her unexpected attacker. But there's no force or leverage behind the blow, and the brunette sidesteps it easily.

WHAMM! The tray comes up and hammers Miss Adventure full-on in the face with a sound almost like a ringing gong, sending her staggering backward again, teetering on her heels, her arms now windmilling desperately as she tries to recover her balance. Oh shit oh fuck this isn't happening it can't be, her whirling mind babbles as she sees the tray coming at her again, and simultaneously feels something sweep into the back of her knees with a jarring impact.

BAAAMMMM! The tray hits again as Miss Adventure's legs are chopped savagely out from underneath her, the heroine letting out a “Whuuughhh!” as she lands flat on her back. Her vision reels in disorientation as she see the brunette step over her, giving her a glorious view up the tiny skirt that discloses that the girl is wearing no panties over her smooth-shaven sex. The girl is tossing aside the tray that now sports a face-shaped dent, and sitting herself down on the heroine's ribcage... reaching up to yank aside the straps of her slingshot thong, freeing the Asian babe's pale, beautiful mounds to full view, her cookie-sized dark brown nipples hardening in the cool air!

“You... you can't hold me...” Miss Adventure starts to warn the slender little thing as she gathers her strength to buck her off... but then, with a look of cruelty in her blue eyes, the brunette smiles, reaches down and takes hold of her nipples, gripping them hard and twisting them viciously!

Miss Adventure's back arches and her mouth opens in a soundless yowl as the mixture of pleasure and pain sears through her like a lightning bolt! AGGHHHHHH... NOOOOOO... Her eyes roll back in her head as nearly every vestige of self-control she'd managed to win back is savagely torn away as the direction of the nipple twist is reversed, her breasts yanked out into huge quivering cones and then released to be slapped hard in tandem by the nubile's hands. AGGGGHHHH...

“Oh, does Miss Chinky Chickadee like the way Brea plays with her big slutty titties?” mocks the slender little sadist with a coy giggle. “Then let's play some more!”

And the brunette commences to torment her tits, raking them with her fingernails, slapping and swatting them and cranking her nipples this way and that, the painful and debilitating onslaught breaking down her resistance, the girl clamping on with her thighs and riding her like a rodeo cowgirl as the heroine bucks and writhes and kicks in instinctive – but unfocussed and ineffectual – attempts to break free. At one point, the Damsel's convulsions hammer the back of her skull brutally into the floor, making her see stars... and after that her movements are more languid as control of her limbs seems to desert her and she just tries to cling to consciousness through the devastating, agonizing waves of breast stimulation.

After a span of time that could be anything from twenty seconds to an eternity, she finally feels 'Brea' release her tits and stand up off of her. Gasping and shuddering as the lewd sounds of Bianca's adventures in deep-throat fellatio echo in her ears and the confusing currents of pain and pleasure riot through her ultra-sensitive nerve endings, Miss Adventure doesn't quite realize what's happening as she feels her wrists pulled above her head and something snapping into place around them. Only a second later, as she sees Angel step into view – the view up her skirt presents a shaven pussy mound just like Brea's, this one glistening with unmistakable arousal – does she understand what's happened. No! I've... I've been handcuffed! Bound!

She feels Brea's weight come down on her wrists now as the dazed heroine tries to struggle afresh. Just a matter of focusing... you've still got your strength, just focus! Gritting her teeth, she gathers herself, bracing to throw the slip of a girl across the room and do her best to break the cuffs – though admittedly the steel clamps feel too strong even for her – but then the brunette leans into frame, looking as playful as a child psychopath pulling the wings off a fly, and wraps her slender and surprisingly strong hands around the heroine's windpipe!

“Uccchhhh... hhhhcchhhh...” Focus flees her as she can hear the blood roaring in her ears... and feel her pussy mound growing somehow wetter, hotter, as hot as the tears streaming from her eyes. The Damsel of Daring's already shaking confidence collapses as overwhelmed feelings of humiliation well up inside her. I trained with the best... why can't I... why am I...

Angel catches her eye. She's fishing in a little black purse as she says: “See, honey-pie? Told you I could take you on an adventure. And this one's just getting started.” Nodding at the heroine's bound wrists, she adds: “I just love handcuffs, don't you? One of my favourite accessories, they're practically the new friendship bracelet. But not as much fun as... these.”

She pulls out a silver tube, phallus-shaped and about five inches long. For a long moment Miss Adventure can't work out what it is... but then Angel twists it and the low sounds of its vibrations fills her ears, and she knows.

The bound beauty goes cold as she thrashes her head back and forth in denial, trying weakly to break the choking pressure at her windpipe as her pussy spasms in response to the mere sound of vibrating stimulus, a squirt of moisture foaming through the soaked fabric of her thong as her hips writhe, her ass spanking the cold hard floor. “Nnnngcchhh... uhhggcchhh...”

“Oooh, you really want this, don't you?” Angel gives her a naughty grin. “Well... your wish is your Angel's command...”

No... NO... Cold panic spears through Miss Adventure as she sees Angel kneel beside her, reaching down to the crotch of her thong and pulling it aside, and blearily she tries to summon the focus to struggle harder... bucking and wriggling, lifting the slender Brea almost clear up off the ground, which only makes the hands at her throat bear down harder, making her head spin and her struggles subside for the crucial moment it takes for Angel to slide the buzzing tool down the front of her thong... and for it to make contact with her swollen pussy-lips and painfully-erect clit!

“AUUGGHHCCCHHHH!” The heroine's body arches as if she's been hit with ten thousand volts of electric current as the first orgasm slams into her, utterly destroying the last vestiges of control! Brea leaps clear of her and the Damsel draws in a shuddering gulp of air as her body jack-knifes under the powerful stimulation, her juices flooding and bursting from her ultra-sensitive pussy as a second climax hammers into her! Twitching, thrashing, her heels drumming against the floor, her eyes roll back in her head as Angel holds on, keeping the vibe in place with wicked, grim determination as the buzzing works its debilitating spell on the vulnerable sex-flesh of her victim, Miss Adventure's head thrashing back and forth and hammering into the floor again and again as another climax wrenches itself brutally through her, then another, then another, shattering her will utterly as she groans like a woman demonically possessed!

“AUUHHAUUUGHHH... AUUGHHHHHH... AWWWW-HAWWWW... AIIIIEEEEEE!” The wrenching moans and screams of ecstasy sound like they're coming from outside her as the vibrator turns her into a writhing virago of multiply-orgasmic eruption, her cunt clutching and squirting and clutching and squirting as the waves of pleasure come on and on and on and on.... “AWWWWW FUUUCCCKKKK AWWW FUUUCKKK AWWWW-HAWWWW FUUUC-HUUUCCCKKKK AWWWWW GAWWWWD AIIIIEEEEE!”

Reality fragments around her, consciousness begins to fade in and out. She can feel fingers gathering up a big handful of her soft, dark hair, can feel herself being yanked backwards and dragged across the floor of the club, the pressure in her scalp an agonizing counterpoint to the rhythmic eruptions of climax in her helpless cunt, her bound hands fluttering, powerless to stop what's happening to any part of her. For a brief moment the pressure of the vibrator against her sex seems to ease, just enough for Angel to swim into focus as the wickedly-grinning blonde strides along beside her... and aims a swift kick at her crotch!

“UUUUHHHUGHHHHH!” The overwhelmed teen rookie convulses in a fresh wave of ecstasy as the kick brings the buzzing vibe into electric contact with the thin membrane of her virginal hymen! Her eyes roll back in her head again as she kicks and thrashes and twitches and spasms in the throes of climax after climax, her nectar leaving a wet trail behind her as she's dragged toward her fate by the deceptively strong and wiry Brea. Oh God oh GOD I CAN'T STOP CUMMING can't stop can't stop CAN'T FUCKING – “AUUUHHAUUGHHHH!”

Her bound arms come underneath her as she flops over onto her belly, still being dragged by her hair, her knees giving way underneath her repeatedly as her balance fails and as the shuddering waves of orgasm keep on coming and coming, the vibe singing a sinful song of surrender through her vulnerable cunt-flesh as the world seems to dim around her.

Through the juddering tides of sensation she very clearly hears Long's voice say “Want me to show you how to move that fine ass like it's getting fucked?” But there's nothing she can do about it. A fragmented glimpse of her surroundings shows that she's being dragged behind the bar and into the brightly-lit kitchens... and she catches a dim glimpse of a pale, muscular-looking man with a goatee in cook's garb standing amid an array of sinks full of dishes, looking at her with a surprised and unmistakably lustful expression that brings on the next powerful wave of wet, squirting climax as she yowls helplessly!

“Hey, Petey,” she hears Angel say with a laugh in her voice. “Happy birthday! We brought you some sweet Asian ass to fuck, you game?”

“Fuck yeah,” a male voice growls in response. “Looks like that bitch needs some seeing to!”

“Just be a dear,” comes Brea's voice from above her. “And fuck this slut nice and hard, yeah? Dirty gook whore came in here fucking begging for it!”

“No no no don't rape me please don't rape me no no NAWWWW AUUHHAUGHH AWWW GAWWDDD!” the overwhelmed heroine frantically tries to protest through the foaming waves of pleasure swamping her... but then Angel's foot smacks into the vibe again, sending more pulses of corrupting sensation deep into her core, and her protests dissolve into throaty cries of lust! “AWWWHAAAAWWW! AWWWWW FFFFUUUUHHUUUUHHHH... AAAH-HAAAGHHH...”

As the world ebbs around her, she can feel drool dripping down her chin. She's making an attempt to reach her bound hands up and wipe away the spittle when a fresh wave of climax smashes into her. The light closes into a pinpoint, disclosing a final glimpse of 'Petey' unzipping his fly to set free at least nine inches of hard, throbbing uncircumcised cock... and caught between that sight and the latest explosion of sensual pleasure, the Damsel of Daring finally faints. Lights out.

6

“Oooohhh...” Bianca's spine arches, pushing her delectable ass even higher as she feels Mister Long's hands reach around her and gather up big handfuls of her hot tits, gripping and massaging them and sending spikes of lust sizzling through her as she feels the blunt head of his weapon lining up with the wet mouth of her tight young cock-socket. A delicious shiver of horny anticipation runs up and down her spine...

... but suddenly she remembers something, a key fact emerging randomly from the soup of desire drowning her mind. My... my backup... Miss Adventure's listening to all this! Her green eyes going suddenly wide, hoping belatedly that the music had covered up the teasing and blowjob action that's happened to this point, Bianca lets the weight of her torso rest on the strong hands grasping her sensitive breasts as she brings up her hands and claps them over her mouth. Can't... I can't let her hear me getting fucked... God, I really hope she didn't hear me sucking his... his big hard... ooohhh... ohhh God that feels...

“Mmmfff...” The added pressure on her exquisitely responsive breast-flesh makes her moan through her hands and her body jolt, the brief instant of lucidity receding as her hot juices anoint Mister Long's cockhead, as her pussy drives back and spreads to accept the first half-inch of him. A powerful shudder runs through her and a pleading moan escapes her throat: “Mmmm-hhmmmfff...”

He gives a low chuckle. “Can't wait to get started, yeah, baby? Aiight then... take it.”

“MMMMMmmm-HHHmmmmphhh!” Her squeal is muffled but still loud as his long, thick and powerful shaft surges into her clutching fuckhole. Her wetness makes it easy for him to drive a full five inches in on his first stroke, a full eight on his second, nine on his third... and then to sheath almost his full length: “MMMmmmhmmphhh! MMMMMPHHHHH! MMMMM-HMMMphhhh! MMMMMMMHHMMMPHHHH!”

“Yeah, you like that, don't you baby?” He breathes in her ear as he fucks her. The informant doesn't waste time, going swiftly into a vigorous rhythmic rutting, his cock-flesh making her squack clasp and quiver and yearn as it pulls out and out until just the tip is inside her... and then cramming her hard full of sinful friction and throbbing heat as he plows it all the way back in, stretching her hole wide and hitting sweet spots that make her juices gush, dripping down his length and splattering the big, hanging balls that slap and slap and slap against her erect clit. He packs the slut's tight pussy hard, fast and nasty, his pace picking up steadily, fucking her boiling honeypot into a froth and delighting in the slapping sounds of his flesh against hers, the way she writhes under the pounding. “Take it, baby... take that fucking dick, you slut... take it awww yeaaahhh fucking take it, bitch...”

“MMMMMHHHMMMPHHHH! MMMMMMPHHHHHH!” she wails into her cupped hands as her eyes begin to roll back in her head, his deep-lancing thrusts bringing her rapidly toward completion. The squelching sound of his prick in her poontang gets louder and louder and louder as the moment comes closer, closer, closer... and then an extra-deep thrust hits the wall of her cervix, and her eyes fly open in a mixture of pain and shock and ecstasy as her pussy explodes all over his pistoning tool! “MMMMMHHHHMPHHHHHH! MMMMM-HHHMMPHH! MMMMMPHHH! MMMMMMMHHHHMMMPHHHHHH!

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he chants through gritted teeth as he keeps pumping. “Cum on that dick, you dumb fucking bitch, cum on it, yeaahhhh...”

His merciless thrusts carry her swiftly back over the edge into a second orgasm and then a third, her mewls and squeals growing wild and hoarse as her head starts to spin. By some miracle he manages to hold his wad through all three determined attempts by her hot wet pussy to milk his churning balls, and as the third climax finishes coursing through her twitching twat he pulls himself free, letting her slump down and shudder in the sweat-soaked aftermath of the tidal waves of ecstasy.

Then he takes her by the shoulders and rolls her over on her back. A fresh endorphin high hits her hard as Mister Long pulls her hotpants all the way off and leans in over her, looking deep into her eyes as her forces her thighs out and back and wraps a big hand around her throat. A euphoric lassitude suffuses her as his wet prick trails across her creamy belly, then down as he shifts his hips and settles in, pushing her pelvis higher and aiming his cockhead at a fresh target. As she feels the probing at the rubbery entrance of her asshole, she feels her cunt juice up again and a delicious shudder go up her back. She feels completely controlled, utterly dominated by the muscular black man about to fuck her tight poop chute... and stroking one of her breasts as she reaches down with her other hand to tease her dripping cunt, she admits to herself that a part of her had hoped it would go this way from the start.

His grip on her throat is loose, just enough to provide a slightly erotic constriction of the airway. “You're almost home, baby,” he tells her. “All you've got to do now is convince me you want this big black dick up your ass. Convince me, baby... tell me how much you want it. Call me Daddy and tell me how much you want it.”

A little frown crosses her face... she'd wanted to be kind of quiet for some reason, hadn't she? But lust and euphoria swiftly banish the hesitation as she looks vulnerably into his eyes and hears herself speak in a sexy little-girl voice: “I want your dick in my ass... Daddy... God, I want you to fuck my ass so bad, Daddy...”

“Yeah?” he teases her with a feral grin. “What makes you want it so bad, baby?”

“I... I'm a bad girl, Daddy,” she groans, knowing what he wants to hear, her hips twisting as the dirty talk makes her pussy heat up and gush even more: “I'm a dirty little ass fucking bitch, Daddy... need your big black dick in my ass please give it to me Daddy... please... please pound me like a stupid little butt-slut, Daddy, please I need it... please fuck my whore ass...”

“Aiight,” he rasps. “You want it? Here it is, slut...”

“AWWWHHHAUUUGHHHH!” The wrenching cry comes from deep within her as his slippery cockhead breaches her tight sphincter, battering its way into the dank, tight heat of her arse and easily defeating her muscles' instinctive attempt to lock him out. She keeps babbling dirty-talk at him as he grinds into her, sliding home to the root, stretching her wide open and making her feel divinely full; she moans about Daddy's cock and what a nasty skank she is and how she deserves to be abused and degraded and treated like a fuck hole as she masturbates her clit frantically, feeling her juices burst around her fingers as he pulls out and thrusts back in, building swiftly to another climax as the rude, nasty butt-fucking comes harder and faster... harder and faster... harder and faster until... until... until... “AWWWWWWW FUCK MY AAAHHHAAASSSS DADDY FUCK IT FUCK IT FUCK THAT WHORE ASS DADDY FUCKING FUCK IT FUCK IT AWWWWW HHAAAAWWWW AAAAAAUUUGGHHH YEAH DADDY YEAH DADDY YEAHHHHH DAAAADDEEEEEEEE AAAAIIIIIEEEEEEEE!”

He grits his teeth and plows on, holding out as long as he can against the quivering spasms in her tight asshole that echo the repeated eruptions of wild orgasm in her wetly squirting cunt. “Yeah you fucking bitch take it in that tight ass bitch fucking take it all,” he snarls as he rams it home over and over again, as he watches her eyes cross and feels her juices splatter against his belly, proof of her orgasmic submission to the merciless black weapon plundering her tightest place, until finally he feels his sap rising irresistibly, the moment of crisis upon him. “Yeah yeah yeaahhhh I'm gonna cum you fucking bitch here comes my fucking spunk you filthy little fuck-slut... aaaggghhh... AAAGHHH...”

Pulling out and lunging up across her writhing form, he pulls the warm, firm, yielding pillows of her breasts together to form a yielding channel for his cock. His face contorted with lust, he titty-fucks her frantically as she masturbates herself to another body-wrenching orgasm, feeling her ass gaping around the memory of his solid shafting prick as her pussy explodes around her wriggling fingers, driven on to new heights of perverted lust by the feeling of his hands on her tits and his cock driving between them.

Her tongue darts instinctively out to gather up seaweed-flavoured helpings of his copious pre-cum with every thrust until finally, his manhood erupts all over her face, bullet after bullet after bullet of his hot spew splashing all over her, glazing her pretty features and splattering her nose, her forehead, her hair, into her mouth and over her tongue and up her nose as she thrashes in the throes of orgasmic release and swallows down every drop of the baby-making man-batter that hits her palate!

Finally she subsides as echoes of her multiple orgasms judder through her taut young flesh. Her pretty, spunk-soiled face is a picture of fucked-stupid lassitude as she looks up at him, her mind empty of any coherent thought as she waits meekly for Daddy's verdict on her performance, suckling at his still-hard prick and revelling in the taste of her ass-juices all over it as she cleans it off with her wickedly lapping tongue, making it grow and stiffen yet again.

“Not bad,” he grunts finally when his powers of speech return. And then he adds: “For a first round. But there's a lot more where that came from, baby... let's see if you can take it.”

The words bring another naughty little squirt from her cunt as she swallows down a mouthful of his spunk. All she can bring herself to say is: “Yes Daddy... I'll take it... give it to me hard, Daddy, I want it...”

And the vicious, perverted song on the sound system starts up again. I wanna fuck you in the ass... I wanna fuck you in the ass... I wanna fuck you in the ass... Bianca's cunt spasms and squirts around her fingers again as she realizes that this is just the beginning of a very long, very hard audition.

“That's a good little bitch,” says Mister Long as he looks down at her, grinning viciously, his big black cock growing iron-hard again. “That's what I like to hear.”

* * *

The mercy of unconsciousness doesn't last long for Miss Adventure. Only a few second have passed when the world swims back into focus around her, the nightmare reasserting itself.

She's face down on the cold tile floor of the kitchen. Angel has pulled her thong aside, momentarily pulling away the vibe from her vulnerable, gushing twat but also laying her holes bare for the big, muscular cook “Petey,” who's looming over her now, his long, hard cock protruding stiffly from the fly of his pants. Her heart pounding in terror, the heroine opens her mouth to try begging again... and mewls in panic as feels Brea shoving a hard lump of rubber between her teeth, buckling it around behind her jaw – gagging her!

“NNNNGGGHHHHH!” she screams around the ball gag as she tries to surge to her feet – but then a foot hits her square in the gut and she finds out just how much her uncontrolled ultra-senses can amplify pain, folding around it as she slumps back down with her sweet round ass in the air and whimpers. “Nnnggghh-hhnnnghhh... nnnnngghhhh...”

“That's it, bitch,” says Angel, her voice husky with lust. “Just bend over and take it... we can see that's all you're good for...”

“Nnnnghhh!” squeals the Damsel of Daring as Angel lands a hard spank on her ass, making it jiggle, as she jolts and tries to twist away from the pain, only to encounter one of Brea's hands whacking her other ass-cheek with even more gusto. The naughty schoolgirl waitresses laugh as they take turns spanking their hapless captive, the loud rhythmic smacks echoing through the kitchen, her ass writhing desperately in a futile quest for escape from the punishment as it grows pink and the heroine sobs in humiliation, the burning pain in her glutes forming a counterpoint to the arousal still boiling in her sopping virgin cunt. “Nnngghhhh! Nnnngghhhnnngghh! Nnnnggghhh! Nnnnggghhhnggghh! Nnnghhh!”

Through it all, as if part of her hearing is tuned to her partner's voice like a radio frequency, she can hear behind her – as if it were taking place in the same room – the sounds of Bianca getting fucked hard. She can hear clearly the redhead's muffled squeals, Mister Long's taunting “Yeah, you like that, don't you baby,” the slap of flesh against flesh and the wet slick sucking and squelching as the strong black cock rapidly pummels and stretches the tight, slippery pussy... and the sounds are working on her, making her own pussy throb and swell and drip even more. She feels a shiver of mixed dread and anticipation go through her as she feels Petey's presence coming closer, crouching over her, his blunt uncircumcised tool aiming for her tight teen holes... the realization cold inside her that her first outing as a superheroine is going to end with her bound and gagged and sobbing pathetically as she loses her virginity to a stranger's unwanted dick.

“Stretch that ass open,” Petey rasps. “Nice and wide.”

Angel and Brea are only too happy to comply, their hands gathering big handfuls of her soft ass and prising it wide to reveal her tight brown anus. They giggle, one of them sneaking wicked fingers down to gather some of the dripping honey from her hot slit and smear it around the rim of her asshole, pushing and probing slightly at her anal entry and lubing it up in preparation. Miss Adventure pants frantically through her nose, close to hyperventilating, her eyes wide behind her sleek goggles as she cranes back over her shoulder, whimpering as she sees Petey squatting down to line his thick penis up with the entry of her inexperienced poop-chute. No oh God no this can't be happening please no please no... he can't do it he can't put it in please God somebody help me please oh please –

“NNNNNNNGGGHHHHHNNNGGHHHHHHH!” The agonized groan wrenches its way out of her as Petey's hot, thick cock forces its way into her tight sheath. Pain swamps her, radiating up her back as she feels like a log of fire is being shoved up her bowels! Sobbing, screaming around the ball gag, tears run down the teen heroine's face as Petey shoves and shoves his thick member deeper, inch by brutal inch, grabbing her by her long, silky hair and panting and grunting with animal passion as he savours the sensation of forcing his manhood into the dank, hot grip of a barely-legal teen's ass while she mewls helplessly.

“Aggghhh she's fuckin' tight,” he growls as he forces himself in deeper, his hips gyrating as he pushes another inch of fiery agony into the barely-legal bitch's bowels, feeling her shudder in pain as her muscles give way, the wild stimulus of her enhanced senses swamping her and robbing her of the ability to focus, to use her strength to resist. Her spine arches as he shoves himself even deeper, almost half of his length now enveloped in her twitching asshole. “Holy fuck... she's a fuckin' virgin...”

“Not any more,” says Brea, laughing. “Now she's a whore. Tear her ass up good, Petey...”

“Yeah, Petey,” urges Angel: “Punish that bitch... punish her hard...”

As she speaks, her fingers slip down to rub the heroine's erect clit, and Miss Adventure jolts and whines as she feels the heat of pleasure radiating out to mingle confusingly with the agonizing sensations from her raped ass. “Nnnngghhnnnghhhh... nnnggghhhh... NNNGHHHHH...” she moans weakly as Petey's massive prick rips into her and her cunt drips honey all over Angel's playful digits.

Then her snatch gives out a hot little squirt as she hears Mister Long's voice echoing from the other room while he plows Bianca's pussy and chants “take it, baby” and “take that fucking dick, you slut” and “fucking take it, bitch...” The overwhelmed heroine's whole world has been swamped in hard, ravishing man-meat and sexual heat, and she can only moan and take it as Petey's prick thrusts and thrusts until he's finally balls deep in her ass. For a moment he's still, enjoying the tightness around his pole, letting her get used to the mass of him inside her... and indeed the pain does start to alchemize into something else, something darker and more corrupting, something that washes through her in waves as he pulls his hips back and starts to thrust.

“NNNGHHHHH! NNGGHH-NGGHHH-NGGGHHHH-NGGGHHHH-NGGHHHH,” the Damsel of Daring gives little squealing grunts in time with Petey's hard, long strokes. The cook isn't bothering with gentleness, pulling out and slamming in almost his whole length with each stroke, bouncing her off his hips with loud smacks as he yanks her head back hard by the hair. Miss Adventure can feel a cool tingle accompanying the repeated stuffing of her ass, and realizes that her healing factor is trying desperately to keep the ravaging shaft from tearing her apart... and all the while Angel's fingers are working wickedly at her clit, her hips wriggling as she can feel – despite her horrid circumstances – the pressure of fresh ecstasy starting to build in her sopping cunt. “NNGGHHH-NGGHHH-NGGHHHH-NGHHHHH!”

“Goddamn she's fuckin' tight,” snarls Petey as he plows her viciously. “Holy shit... she ain't loosening up at all... she stayin' fuckin' tight...”

Angel doesn't say anything now, and hearing slick, rhythmic sounds coming from the blonde in time with the fingers masturbating the heroine's clit, she realizes the waitress is getting herself off too... no doubt provoked by the hard anal reaming she has a front-row seat for. Brea's hands meanwhile are roaming all over, feathering up her spine and making her arch and shove her rectum back onto the raping cock, reaching into gather big handfuls of her ass and pull her wider, slipping underneath her to squeeze and tease her hot tits – playing her like a harp, each touch sending bolts of sensation through her that make the forced butt-fucking feel better at every stroke, turning up the hot lust boiling in her honeypot and making her whine in helpless denial as she realizes she's about to come off.

“Yeah,” Brea begins to whisper as her hands roam the bound heroine's sweat-slicked body. “You're gonna cum, aren't you, slut? You're gonna cum on that big dick in your tight ass... no point resisting it, we all know you're a dirty bitch... cum on that dick, bitch...”

“NNNGGGHHHHHHHHHH! NNNNGGGHHHNNGGHHHHH!” Miss Adventure wails, jolting and jiggling under the pounding as Petey's thrusts come harder and faster, harder and faster, the fingers on her clit frigging her more and more frantically as her eyes roll back in her head and drool streams around the ball-gag, as she feels her whole body begin to quiver like railroad tracks at the approach of a freight train... and then suddenly she feels her pussy tighten, spasm... and the unwanted pleasure explodes through her, the barely-legal bitch tensing and twitching and writhing as her pussy gives out powerful squirts of her sweet nectar in time with the prick pistoning in her ass! “NNNGGHHHHHNNNGGHHHHHH-HHHHNNNGGHHHHHH! NNNNGGHHHH-HHNGGHH-HNNNGGHHHHHHHHH! NNNNGGGHHHHHHH!”

“Fuuuck yeeeaahhh fuck yeeeeahhhh awwwgghhh... gonna cum...” pants Petey as he hammers frantically at the cherry-tight ass that's pleasuring his pole so snugly, finally driving it home and grinding it around as his balls tighten: “Take my spunk you fuckin' tight-assed bitch take my fuckin' load AGGGHHHHHH...”

“HHHHHHNNNGGHHHH-NNGHHHHHHH!” mewls the sexy sidekick as the hot bullets of slimy spunk erupting deep in her stuffed bowels set her off again, her pussy fountaining repeatedly as Petey's load floods her back passage. As he pulls out with a pop and releases her hair, letting her slump back to the floor, suckling sounds announce that Angel and Brea are cleaning off his cock with their mouths.

Miss Adventure feels a stream of jism bubble out of her defiled derriere and slop over her sensitive pussy. She floats in a cloud of shock and shame as the tides of orgasm recede and reality sets back in. She's face down on the floor of the bar kitchen in a pool of her squirted cunt juices, her slingshot thong askew, her cherry ass freshly ravished and oozing with a stranger's spunk, the pair of ninety-pound mundanes who overcame her purring like malicious kittens as they lick her rapist's long, hard manhood clean. And now, in the cavernous space of the club yonder, she can hear the voice of the Detective she'd come in to try and “rescue” saying: “I want your dick in my ass... Daddy... God, I want you to fuck my ass so bad, Daddy...”

This is some kind of nightmare, she thinks blearily. This can't be real. But the cold tile against her cheek, the sensations still echoing from her pussy and ass, the sounds of Bianca and Mister Long ringing in her ears and taunting her with the belated understanding that she shouldn't have tried to interfere at all... all of it feels horribly real.

“Enjoying your adventure, babe?” prompts Angel cheerfully. “Hope you're ready for another round – I think Petey here's getting hard again...”

“Nnnnnghhhh...” the moan comes out pitiful and pleading as she looks back and sees Petey peeling off his cock's jacket as Brea and Angel kneel on either side of him, lapping at his balls and his turgid shaft with mischief gleaming in their eyes. Petey's look is one of focused lust, and she shivers as she realizes the ordeal is just beginning! “Nnnghhhnnngghhh!” she begs desperately through the gag. “Nnnnhhnnghhhh... hlllnnghhhh... hllllnnhhhhnnnghhh...”

“Hear that, Petey?” Brea says. “She's saying 'more, more, more, please more.' Don't disappoint her.”

“Oh, believe you me,” rasps the cook. “I've got plenty more in store.”

Miss Adventure's heart pounds as she watches his cock swell while Angel coats it in her spit. her ultra-hearing picks up Bianca's voice as clear as a bell, babbling dirty talk while Mister Long fucks her: “Daddy I love your big dick I'm such a nasty skank for your cock... I need it up my ass because I'm a fucking whore I'm a dirty fucking whore FUCK it... give me what I deserve, I'm a filthy fucking slut I'm Daddy's little fuck hole give me what I deserve, fuck my ass fucking fuck it treat me like a fucking FUCK hole YEAH...” The words resonate in the busty teen's reeling mind, and her pussy heats up and swells as she realizes, with fresh shame, that some part of her feels that way... wants more, wants to be pounded and ravaged and degraded again and again!

And so there's more than fear, now... there's also a shiver of delicious anticipation as Petey tells her to roll on her back. And it's that – the urge to surrender – that sends a terror through her unlike anything she's ever felt. A terror that finally rekindles her resistance, breaking the erotic spell that's let these three overpower and have their way with her, as the Adventurist's voice suddenly echoes in her mind. There is nothing more vulnerable, come his words from one of their many training sessions: than an enemy who thinks they have you beaten.

A sudden sense of peace and strength suffuses her at the thought of her mentor... and her trio of abusers look puzzled by the smile that spreads across her face. Until her right foot comes up and hammers with full force into Petey's balls!

7

The cook's face is apopleptic with agony as he drops backward like a felled tree, unable even to get out a scream. Angel and Brea are still staring in open-mouthed shock as Miss Adventure's feet scissor out and catch each of them across the jaw, snapping their heads back and knocking them out cold!

Clambering back to her feet, Miss Adventure feels a wave of elation as soaring as the trough of shame and despair that had preceded it. Closing her eyes, focusing, she finds her will reasserting itself and that she is able to bring her ultra-senses under control after all. The uncontrolled chaos of input and sensation recedes as she pulls the straps of her slingshot thong gingerly back into place, her breasts and sex still painfully sensitive but no longer debilitating.

Looking around and spying Angel's purse on the floor beside the unconscious waitress, she quickly opens it up and rummages through it – her lips tightening at the sight of the vibrator that was very nearly her undoing – and fishes out the keys to the handcuffs. Freeing herself, she pulls out the ball gag, drags Angel and Brea's quiescent forms to a nearby sink and cuffs them together by the left and right wrists around a pipe. She thinks of tying Petey up too – but looking over and seeing the way he's beginning to twitch and gurgle as consciousness and the awareness of pain from his brutalized family jewels returns, she decides he's not going anywhere soon, and simply buckles the gag into his mouth instead.

Running a tap and splashing some water hurriedly on herself, and grimacing as she cleans the creamy reminder of her mishap out of her asshole, the heroine runs her fingers through her dishevelled hair and finally pushes through the kitchen doors and back out into the club. She can hear that Bianca's audition music has started up again – guesses that Mister Long is getting ready for another round of perverted sex. This time as she heads for the red stairwell up to the VIP balcony, the Damsel of Daring feels calmer, clearer about what she needs to do.

It's gotten out of hand, that's obvious, she thinks. But I have to find some way to interrupt it without screwing up what Bianca was trying to accomplish. She abandons any fantasies of punching out the club owner, instead composing her features in a look of polite, slightly vacant inquiry as she comes up and onto the balcony.

The surprising thing about the sight that greets her – Bianca completely naked, her hotpants and tube top discarded and her pretty face glazed and dripping with a load of jizz that she's spooning into her mouth with one forefinger as she shakes and shimmies her creamy-skinned body to the music – is that Mister Long, save for the enormous black prick jutting from his slacks like a yard-arm, is still fully-clothed. Sitting at one of the tables and enjoying the show, stroking that eleven-inch tool, his attention is focused on the sex-addled slut he's plainly planning to stuff full of man-meat in short order as he absent-mindedly says: “Don't need anything right now, Brea, you can take a break.”

Miss Adventure allows herself just the slightest hint of satisfaction at the way he nearly jumps out of his skin when she says: “Not to worry, Mr. Long. Brea's on her break already.”

Staring at her for a moment, unsure of what to say, he finally snaps out of it and hurriedly stuffs his magnificent tool back in his pants, reaching up with a remote to kill the music. Bianca stops in apparent confusion, gathers another dollop of man-cream with a finger and sucking it down as she looks at Miss Adventure without apparent recognition, her green eyes vacant and glassy. But then her expression begins to clear and recognition dawns – and her beautiful features swiftly flush bright red as she pops the finger out of her mouth and says: “Oh.”

“Who the Hell are you?” grates Mister Long, managing to summon up an impressive show of indignation. “This is a private audition, I told my staff no interruptions.”

“I know, and I'm sorry,” says the teen heroine sweetly as Mister Long's confusion and anger wars with the urge to feast his eyes on her taut, big-breasted young body. “Your staff did try to stop me from coming up. I'm afraid I had no choice but to... stop them from stopping me. I think you might need to call in another cook for tonight.”

His attention snaps into focus as Bianca, cringing now and trying to cover herself, averts her eyes and looks frantically around for her tiny articles of clothing. “The fuck do you mean? What happened to Petey?”

“Well, he was a little, um, forward.” She shrugs. “You know how we Masked Avengers get about that kind of thing. I'm Miss Adventure, by the way – her partner.” She gestures at the redhead now hastily pulling her tiny hotpants back up to veil her wet, swollen and freshly-fucked cunt. “I got an urgent message from the office that I need to relay to her, and anyway I... figured you guys would be done already. Sorry about that.”

“No, no, no,” says Bianca now as she pulls on her tube top and grabs a napkin from the table, wiping with as much dignity as she can at the jism still splattered on her nose and forehead. “We were... uh, just finishing up, we were done...”

“So, you and Mister Long have a deal, then?” Miss Adventure's query is artfully bland. “Because I was just on the line with the Adventurist, he was just telling me that the Professor Kthulhu thing is wrapped up, so you know... he'll be on hand shortly, and he could totally provide some added motivation if we're at any kind of a standstill here.”

The Adventurist's name produces a truly remarkable effect on Long. Suddenly solicitous, he's jumping up from his chair, producing a handkerchief and helping Bianca wipe away the last splatters of spooge from her face and pulling away the gobs of it tangled in her hair. “Oh, there's no problem here,” he says hastily. “You can tell him there's no need, that Miss... uh, Beaumont here gave a splendid audition, she's a cage dancer at the Aurora as of tonight. And of course she and you will have my full support with any other information you might need, it's definitely no problem at all, definitely no problem.”

The gorgeous redheaded Detective gives Miss Adventure a radiant smile of surprised thanks, and gives Mister Long a firm handshake. “Good then, I'll see you tonight then. What time?”

“Seven should be fine,” he says. “And we'll provide you an outfit, don't worry about clothes.”

“I won't.” The blush heats up Bianca's features again, but she's recovered a measure of calm now as she says: “Tonight at seven, then. And for now I guess I'd better go and hear what... the office has to say.”

Bright with a mixture of unidentifiable emotions – but frustration is surely among them – Mister Long's eyes burn into the petite, busty beauties' proud rumps as they each give him a nod of farewell and turn to go back down the stairs.

* * *

“I didn't know that thing in the Pacific was wrapped up,” says Bianca as they emerge into the afternoon sunlight. “And the Adventurist coming back? That's incredible news!”

“It's also a bluff,” Miss Adventure admits ruefully. “There's been no word from the Adventurist or anybody else, I just figured it was time to get you out of there.”

“Yeah.” Bianca blushes furiously. “Uh... thanks for that. I kind of get... a little carried away sometimes. Undercover work can be that way.”

“Did that happen on the prostitution sting, too?” asks the heroine curiously.

“Kind of.” Bianca's ears burn in embarrassment as she confesses: “They were... 'hiring' me for a friend's birthday party, they recorded the whole thing. So we got footage of all twenty-seven of them paying for and then, uh, engaging in sexual activity. Multiple times for each, three or four or five at a time, it... kind of went all night. I thought there were only going to be six of them, but when we got to their place and I found out the truth, I... I couldn't turn back. I guess maybe I didn't really want to.” She sighs ruefully. “Of course I learned later that all we needed was footage of them paying for the sex, not actually doing it. So I... edited the recordings I turned over to the D.A., but the perps won't shut up about all the freaky things we got up to. That's kind of why I had to go outside the Department to get backup on this case.”

“Oh. Wow. The newsfeed didn't say any of that.” The two pause awkwardly as Miss Adventure finally says: “You must be really dedicated to your work.”

Bianca nods. “I am, that's... part of it, anyway. And I'm really glad to have you backing me up. I really am.”

The two fresh-faced beauties share a smile of genuine mutual affection. Then Bianca's expression clears as she adds: “Look, Long told me how we can get into El Infierno. There's an actress, Lindsey McLuhan, who's being used to lure girls in. I'm going to get her attention and be one of the girls she 'lures.' And I need you on the outside to track us, to be emergency support... and maybe to call in the SWAT team if it's needed. If Long is right... there's something very dangerous in that club.” Looking at Miss Adventure, she asks, sounding a little uncertain: “You still in? Knowing what you know about my... uh, methods?”

“More than ever, I'm ready,” says Miss Adventure without hesitating. “Let's get it done. I'll head back to the Adventure-Haul and set the Cams on finding and tracking this Miss McLuhan.”

“Right,” says Bianca. “I think I'm going home and soak in a tub. I'll see you tonight. Thanks again.”

As they part ways, Bianca looks after the Asian teen heroine curiously. She hasn't failed to notice the dark stain at the crotch of her thong, the dishevelled look of her long hair, the distinctive flush of having been freshly-fucked that suffuses her smooth skin. She suddenly remembers what she'd thought was an auditory hallucination of a woman's orgasmic cries at one point in her encounter with Long, and wonders abstractly what the heroine really had to do to get past his staff... but she tries not to follow the train of thought too far as she walks out into the parking lot across the street and searches out her modest little hatchback.

Climbing into the car, the events of her audition replaying themselves in her head, Bianca realizes that – grateful though she is for Miss Adventure's “save” -- her pussy is still profoundly hot and wet and horny, her body still keyed up and frustrated at the interruption, still yearning for another helping of Mister Long's thick black cock... and another, and another, yearning to have that hot meat in any and every quivering, wanton hole. But there's also shame, the humiliation of the confession she just had to make to her partner, the mortifying realization that the Adventurist's sidekick must have heard every slurp and smack and stroke and squelch, every sordid detail of her romp with her informant.

I can't let these feelings rule me, she tells herself. I can't! I've got to be on top of my game tonight... and I will be! And she resolves to spend the afternoon getting the remains of these powerful sexual urges out of her system... in fact even as she drives away she's getting a head start on it, one hand dipping down between her smooth things to stroke the moist gusset of her hotpants as she bites her lower lip in concentration. That's it... just got to get it out of my system...

Miss Adventure, meanwhile, saunters around to the alley and up to the Adventure-Cycle, feeling far more confident than when she'd pulled up – she's faced her first setback, overcome it, made sure the first part of her mission with Bianca O'Toole is a success. Those tantalizing imaginary newspaper headlines are playing in her head again.

She even feels confident enough to have another try at riding the rocket-cycle that had wreaked such havoc on her earlier. Taking a breath and nodding to herself to confirm her freshly-fortified self-assurance, she swings a leg over the Cycle, settles into the seat... and lets the start button read her thumbprint to activate it. VVRROOOMMM! The Adventure-Cycle surges to life, the Damsel of Daring swiftly fights down the feelings in her still-wet pussy... and breathes a sigh of relief as she feels fully in control. I've got this, she thinks with a smile. I'm ready. And she revs the engine in preparation for departure...

“Oooohhh...” She gives a sudden moan as the vibrations hit her in that sweet spot, her clit pulsing and swelling and her love tunnel suddenly clutching as she realizes she isn't quite as recovered as she'd thought. Uh-oh... But she sets her jaw in determination as she starts the bike into motion... then gasps as the engine revs and roars again and she feels the vibrations lance deep into her, hammering through her sensory control, her pussy tightening and clutching again and a familiar wetness flooding around the crotch of her thong. As the Adventure-Cycle rumbles its way out of the alley, she's already writhing, biting her lip, the single thought Oh no not again babbling repeatedly through her mind... and she takes off down the street, the mighty vibrations growl and purr and resonate deeper and deeper inside her sopping teen hole, until... until...

“Ohhhhh OHHHhhhh OhhhhOHHH SHIIIT AuuuuHAAAHHaauuuggghhhhh FUUUUCK!” The throaty cries of orgasm rips themselves from her throat as her cunt clutches and squirts and clutches and squirts all over the bike's seat, her path down the street charted by mewls of ecstasy and sweet splatters of pussy juice as Adventure-Cycle takes her away from the club and repeatedly over the edge of orgasm! “Aaaaahhhaaaawww Gawwwwd Ohhhhh FUUUUCK AAAAIIIEEEEEEE...” her cries grow fainter as she wobbles off into the distance!

* * *

“AWWW-HAWWW FUCK I'm SORRY Daddy I'm SORRY! PLEEEASE DADDY awwww FUCK it hurts IT HURTS please MERCY MERCY MERCY AAAAHHHAAUUUGHHH!”

Angel's disconsolate wails echo through the kitchen, her slender frame jolting underneath Mister Long as he vents his sexual frustration on her tight little ass... and more importantly, punishes her for an unauthorized attack on a Masked Avenger. It's half an hour after he'd dragged the delirious Petey out of the kitchen and had the paramedic stretcher him to Emergency – the poor bastard's balls had been swollen up like grapefruit by that time and he'd been raving like a lunatic through the ball-gag that had been left in his mouth. Mister Long has left it there: he hadn't wanted to know what the guy was saying, and he was pretty sure the cook's career as a lover had come to a savage end. But Angel and Brea he'd left cuffed face-down and ass-up, just where Miss Adventure had abandoned them... and after some thorough spankings had forced them to confess what had happened, his fury had led him to this.

He's pleasured himself plenty of times with their wet mouths and tight little nether orifices, of course, as he's done with every woman in his employ. But this is different. As Angel's shaven cunt spasms wetly around the four fingers he's stuffed up it, her asshole is distended just as wetly around his plundering prick, hot blood lubricating the blonde's anal ravaging. He's never made one of his girls bleed before, much less kept on reaming through the blood... and Brea, cuffed beside her partner-in-crime, is quivering in terror as she watches him rut like a demon into the tight, hot sheath gripping his dick.

His motions are almost mechanical, though, his grimace of ecstasy strangely joyless as with each thrust, he hears the words echoing in his mind: I was just on the line with the Adventurist... he'll be on hand shortly... Even as he quickens his thrusts to the crisis point and listens to Angel's unhinged screams and sobs as her pussy floods its unwilling orgasmic tribute into his hand while his balls pump her shit-chute full of hot jism, a mental vision of the massive red-suited superhero kicking down the doors of his club robs the act of any real pleasure.

Mister Long pulls out and leaves Angel a shuddering, weeping, bleeding mess as he looks at Brea. The brunette whimpers and promptly lets out a hot stream of piss all over the kitchen floor... something else to punish her for, he muses, and maybe to make her clean up with her tongue.

But, first things first. He's put off the call long enough. Looking a stern shut the fuck up at Brea and cutting off the flood of her babbling pleas for mercy, he pulls a cell phone out of his pocket and hits a quick-dial. After a moment he says: “It's Long. I need to talk to him.”

He pauses, waits a moment, his face studiously blank, then says: “Yes, brother. It's me.” Another pause, then: “Yes, she came just as you said she would. You can dispatch your angler, we are go. But, brother... there's a potential complication.” Another pause as the person on the other end speaks, then: “She... brought someone in with her. A Masked Avenger.” Another pause as a voice can be heard faintly, animated and rapid, then he says: “No, it's none of the locals. It's not even anyone all that tough, really... although admittedly she did hospitalize my cook. But it's her affiliations that are the concern... she's the Adventurist's sidekick. And, brother... she's involved him in the investigation.”

Another pause as the voice on the other end is shouting now, the tones of alarm clear. Then he says: “I'm sure of it, brother. I can read people, especially bitches. She let it slip that the Adventurist has wrapped up his adventure in the Pacific and is on his way here. I believe we're in for some serious trouble.” Another pause, and then: “Yes, I'd recommend unleashing everything you have. We can't take any chances... right. Yes, brother... alright. Be vigilant and walk in the Bright Lord's power. I'll see you soon... Dante.”

Hanging up the phone and pocketing it, his thoughts go to Bianca O'Toole and her Masked Avenger “partner,” Miss Adventure. The curves of their lissome young bodies dance in his mind's eye as thoughts of retribution stiffen his cock. Oh yes, he thinks. There will be payback. You had better believe there will be payback. The thoughts put an evil gleam in his eye, and Brea quails as he turns to her.

“Time for your punishment, bitch,” he says to her coldly. “And your first job is to clean up that mess you just made on my floor...”

TO BE CONTINUED...