Part One
Victoria Talbot soared over the city of Megapolis in her guise as Victory, the British superheroine. She often used her ability to fly to escape the pressures of her mundane job and today she really needed to get away from a while. She was beginning to hate board meetings, with all the supercilious attitudes, sly looks and demeaning comments. None of the men on the board of the Megapolis branch of the Talbot Banking House actually believed she could do the job of running the place, and few of them actually bothered to hide that view. They simply assumed that she was there at the whim of her father, the founder and owner of the bank. They were wrong, but they seemed determined to make sure she had no opportunity to prove herself. Victoria Talbot on the other hand was not going to give them the satisfaction of seeing that they were getting to her.
If it had just been the bank, she’d probably have quit and gone home to England weeks ago, but Victoria had other responsibilities. Responsibilities that held her here and would continue to do so until she’d finished the job she had to do. Somewhere in Megapolis a very evil woman was planning something, something she had to stop. Unfortunately, her opponent wasn’t the normal run of the mill supervillainess, she was an ancient sorceress from England and, inadvertently, Victoria had let her loose on the world. That act had left her trapped in limbo for over a year, but had also lead to her becoming Victory.
As Victory, Victoria had a lot of powers, mostly flight, strength, invulnerability and very fast reflexes. She’d so far found very little use for her abilities, her first trial leading to her capture and humiliation at the hands of Mongol and his band. She’d not even managed to escape herself, she’d been rescued by one of the people she was hunting!
Thoughts of Gawaine led to her wondering why the woman, possessed by the spirit of one of Arthur’s knights and corrupted by Morgana Le Fey, hovered in her mind so constantly. Victoria had seen her once in the flesh, yet that meeting had made her sure that Gawaine was not like the others, twisted, evil and depraved. Even now Victoria could recall every detail of that meeting and what the woman looked like.
Brown curls that fell to her shoulders, deep brown eyes that had a depth that you could easily get lost in and a pretty, girlish face. A slim, slightly thin body that was curvaceous and incredibly long, sexy legs and arms, with delicate fingers. She had worn a black, shiny, one-piece latex bodysuit that hugged her body, emphasising every curve and nuance of her movements. She wasn’t like the others, yet when Victoria had offered to help her get free of Morgana she had refused, saying that she had a debt to repay. That was perhaps the most hurtful thing about the whole experience, that she couldn’t help someone who obviously needed it.
Mongol and his man had raped her, used her body for their pleasure and were going to do so again. Then Gawaine had appeared and soundly beaten all of them, but after she had dealt with them, Victoria had wanted to help the woman who’d saved her. That she couldn’t was very frustrating and even more frightening. As Victory she wanted to be a heroine and help others, yet she couldn’t even do anything for the woman who’d saved her life and who she felt could be a lot more than a friend!
Victoria soared over the Wellingham River, trying to clear her head of all the frustration and anger that was welling up inside her. She wanted very badly to hit something, anything, but as usual there was never a villain around when you needed one. As she turned south, back towards the Shay Towers Complex, she noticed that someone was waiting for her on the roof of the building her bank had its offices in, someone she both wanted to see and dreaded meeting again.
Victory swept in low, looking around carefully as she came in to land. The woman waiting for her watched her approach and stood out in the open, sunlight shining of black latex. Her brown curls swayed in the wind as she waited calmly for the heroine to land, her stance confident, sexy and slightly challenging.
Victory landed lightly a few feet from Gawaine, her own blonde hair blowing in the breeze and her green eyes studying the young woman waiting for her. The two women stared at each other for several long moments, tension building as they waited for the other to make the first move. Victory let her eyes look over the brown haired woman, she was so lovely, so very special and she was on the wrong side.
In return Victory could see Gawaine assessing her own form, the large breasts, rising and falling rapidly, the slim waist and hips, long, lithe legs and rounded buttocks. The blue leather costume that covered her torso had a plunging neckline showing off her cleavage and was cut high at the sides. The union Jack on the front, along with the red leather thigh boots, high gloves and eye mask made her look mysterious, yet also enhanced the beauty of her body.
“What do you want?” Victory said, trying to sound challenging, yet she could hear the trembling of her voice.
“I thought you could use a chance to talk,” Gawaine said, looking around calmly, “I had a feeling you were a little frustrated.”
“So, are you listening in on my thoughts now?” Victory said. “Is Morgana having a good laugh at my expense?”
“Morgana knows nothing about this,” Gawaine said, “and, no, I’m not monitoring your thoughts, though I am picking up on your emotional state, somehow. By the way, if you continue to act so belligerent, I’ll kick your ass and leave you to feel miserable.”
Victory looked at the young woman, wanting to believe her, yet very aware she worked for her nemesis. “Why would you care what I’m feeling? We’re not exactly on the same side, you know.”
“Damn it, Victoria!” Gawaine said, anger in her eyes. Then she turned away for an instant.
“I’m sorry,” Victory said, stepping forward, only to have Gawaine spin round and hit her with a Bo staff made up of mental energy.
Victory stared at the young woman as she landed on her arse. Gawaine stood over her, the staff glowing blue and her eyes hard.
“You wanted to fight someone,” Gawaine said, “so get up and fight, if you think you’re good enough to take me?”
Victory heard the challenge in the young woman’s voice and, for some reason, she lost her temper. She surged to her feet, swinging her fist at her challenger, but she wasn’t there, she was behind her and the staff impacted into her back, painfully reminding her how unused to physical combat she was. The blow reminded her of her sensei and what he always told her. ‘The fighter who brings unwanted emotions to the battle-circle has already lost.’
Victory spun on her opponent, her anger and frustration draining away as she saw what Gawaine was up to. ‘All right, missy, you want to do this, fine, let’s do it.’
Victory fell into a ready stance and called upon her kickboxing training, countering each move Gawaine made and making the young woman work hard to defend herself. They fought a carefully judged battle, each woman giving the fight their utmost concentration, knowing neither would pull their punches. The circled, probed the other’s defences and attacked, each scoring hits and parrying others. Occasionally one other the other would go down, only to roll to her feet and continue the fight.
Gawaine fought like a professional, knowing her weapon and how to use it. Victory was a little slower, but mostly because of her enhanced strength and reflexes. If she hit the woman with her full strength, she might actually kill her, or knock her from the roof to fall to her death. This was a test of skill, endurance and control, not a match to see who could kill the other with brute force. Victory used her heightened speed to its best effect, only to have it countered by Gawaine’s experience and skill. Victory’s kickboxing moves gave her a slight edge, but Gawaine’s staff gave her reach. They were evenly matched, for the moment, though that could change if Gawaine wanted it too. Her weapons could be solid, but they also could fry a person's nervous systems temporarily.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Gawaine said, sweat running down her face in streams. “Why don’t you stomp the big bad villainess into the dirt?”
“Don’t tempt me,” Victory replied, her face just as wet, “you struck first remember, and it was a very low blow.”
“You … you think that was low, try this!” Gawaine moved liked greased lightning and Victory saw the blow coming, yet couldn’t move fast enough to dodge. The staff hit her in the stomach, knocking all of the breath out of her and sending her flying onto her back. “Surrender,” Gawaine added, pointing the staff at Victory’s throat with both hands.
Victory smiled, nodded as if in assent of Gawaine’s triumph, then flew at her opponent feet first, catching her in the stomach and sending her flying. To Victory’s horror the woman flew right over the edge of the building, stunned by Victory’s attack. Victory didn’t think, just flew to her aid and plunged down the side of the building after her. The pavement grew closer as Victory chased the limp form of the falling woman, but at the last instant she caught her, soaring high into the air with her in one arm, cursing her lack of control.
“Wheeoo!” Gawaine said, “now that was a wild ride! How about a rerun?”
“I nearly killed you?” Victory said, mystified by the excitement and wild look in the other woman’s eyes.
“I know, but what a rush. Besides, I knew you wouldn’t let me fall to my death, you’re too goody goody for that.” Gawaine looked around her, putting an arm around Victory’s neck as she studied the city as seen from above. “Boy, I can see why you love to fly up here, despite the smog. I could get real used to this.”
“You are mad,” Victory said, relieved by the fact the woman was unhurt, but still a little concerned by her reactions.
“I’ve learned the hard way to live life for the day, you might not get a chance to see another one.”
Something in Gawaine’s tone alerted Victory to the fact that this statement might be linked to her past, possibly to the debt she owed Morgana. She wanted to know, yet had she the right to ask?
“Jesus, I love this,” Gawaine said, “I feel so free, as if there’s nothing to fear, nothing to worry about. I envy you, Victoria. This is so way cool. Can we stay up here a while, maybe talk a little?”
“I think we need to,” Victoria said, becoming aware of the woman’s body on her own and not really wanting to let her go.
“How long can you stay up here before getting tired?” Gawaine asked.
“I don’t know,” Victoria said, “I managed to fly here from London under my own power, though I think I did top mach six when I did that. I’m not sure of my limits, yet.”
“Well, that means we can talk, without anyone overhearing, if you want to?” Gawaine’s tone was open, honest, yet there was a deeper level that Victoria sensed, even though she couldn’t place what it was.
Victoria sighed and gained a little altitude, wondering how she was going to handle whatever Gawaine wanted to say.
“Look, Victoria, we both know that there’s something going on between us,” Gawaine said. “When that bastard captured you, I knew you were in trouble, knew you needed my help. You were feeling way frustrated and angry today, you needed someone to work out those frustrations with and I knew it. So lets be honest and admit that there is some kind of link between us.”
Victoria stayed silent, she didn’t know what to say, or do. The fact was that she sensed something similar from Gawaine, though so far she hadn’t acted on those sensed feelings.
“I know you and Morgana have got a major hate for each other, I don’t know why, but one of these days there’s going to be a showdown between the two of you. When that day comes I’ll have to make a decision who to side with, I know that, but what I don’t know is what I’ll do. I owe Morgana a lot, too much to turn my back on her, yet there’s a feeling that if we fought for real, I couldn’t finish the job. I hate being torn like this, but unless something changes, I’m stuck.”
“Why are you so loyal to her?” Victoria said. “What hold has she that you’ll do what she wants, no matter how twisted it is?”
“You really want to know?” Gawaine said. Victoria nodded and Gawaine stared at the horizon as she thought about something. “All right, but remember you asked and what you’re about to learn isn’t pretty.”
Victoria wondered why Gawaine seemed so nervous, but then she forgot all about that as Gawaine kissed her, hard and passionately.
<Tactile Telepathy,> Gawaine said, though inside Victoria’s head. <I just need skin to skin contact, but as I’m wearing all this latex, along with gloves and boots, I don’t have much choice. Besides, this is more fun.>
Victoria reeled at first, unsure of this development, yet excited by both the kiss and the intimate touch of the other woman’s mind. For a brief moment she faltered in flight, then resumed her course, following the prevailing wind and letting the mental impressions sweep over her.
An image formed in her head, an image of a very young girl, perhaps four or five, playing in a London street. She was a pretty child, with brown curly hair and a laughing demeanour. She was playing with a ball and several playmates, laughingly chasing it around the quiet street with her friends. None of them saw the car bearing down on them, or the driver who was too drunk to even see them. Victoria cried out, tried to warn them, but it was no use and the car hit them, sending young, broken bodies flying into the air. Victoria cried out in denial, yet she knew there was no way to stop this horrible scene. She seemed to stare down at the broken, doll-like figure of the brown-haired girl as people ran out to see what had happened and the car sped away.
The next scene was a hospital room, the tiny figure lying in the bed, hooked up to machines that kept her alive, kept her breathing. Her eyes seemed to be lifeless, yet her mind was active, alive. She listened as the doctors told her parents that their daughter was condemned to a life in that hospital bed, her spine shattered and all the nerves that controlled her body dead. She was alive, aware, but she had no control over her body, no way to express her anger, her fear, her need to be held. There was no feeling in her body. It was as if her mind had been locked in a box with a glass lid, all she could do was stare at the ceiling, hearing everything around her, but unable to interact with the world in any way.
Fourteen years later she was still in the same hospital room, still confined to the same bed, her mind active and angry at the world that could leave her like that. She had learned a great deal over the years, listening to those around her, listening to the radio that they left on for her, listening to the thoughts of those who touched her. Through her telepathy she had picked up a great deal of knowledge, but most of it only made her feel worse.
The man who had knocked her down and killed her friends had got away. He hadn’t stopped, hadn’t even slowed down. The police had tried to find him, but the only person who could identify him was lying in a hospital bed unable to pass on what she knew.
Today someone had come to tell her why her parents hadn’t come to see her for a few days. They were dead, their despair, fear and loss of hope had finally been too much and they had been found in their beds, a bottle of pills beside them. The girl wanted to cry, wanted to scream out her pain and denial, but all she could do was lie there and stare at the ceiling, all her emotions trapped in her wrecked body.
Then Morgana came to her. At first the young woman thought she was another doctor, but when she started talking she knew that she was something else.
“Do you want your life back, girl? I can do it, give you back what was stolen from you, give you the power to take your revenge.”
The woman looked to be tall, though she was in fact only a little over five feet in height. Long red-brown hair and dark eyes gave her a fey beauty that was mesmerising. She was dressed in a suit that emphasised her full, voluptuous figure and there was an aura of power around her that gave her words a ring of truth.
The young woman longed to be able to beg the woman to help her, free her form her prison, but felt totally frustrated by her own helplessness. Yet the woman seemed to hear her, seemed to sense what she wanted and smiled.
“I will help you, but in return I demand your loyalty and unswerving obedience.” The woman agreed without a thought and waited, hoping that this wasn’t some illusion conjured up by her frustration and terror.
The woman laid something on her chest, whispering words in a strange language that hinted of English, yet wasn’t quite the same. Fire flooded the young woman’s body, fire, pain and sensations that she had never felt before. Her body healed itself as she writhed in an agony of renewed feeling, her mind unused to the regenerated nerves, the sensations of her atrophied muscles becoming stronger. She must have cried out, for nurses and doctors appeared, all bemused by the writhing, screaming form of the woman who, for fourteen years, had never moved an inch.
As her body renewed itself, a presence formed in her mind, an ancient ancestor, summoned by the woman’s magic. Gawaine, the first of Arthur’s Knights of the Round Table and one of the greatest, as well as his best friend and step-brother. She sensed the honour and courage of his soul, the power of his loyalty to his King and his desire to help others. Then the woman, Morgana came forward again, unseen by the others in the room, brandishing a skull-tipped sceptre that glowed with a sickly green light. The spirit that was Gawaine twisted in torment as his honour was perverted into something darker, his loyalty transferred to the sorceress and his love for Arthur turned into a burning hatred for his descendants.
Victoria came to herself as Gawaine ended the kiss, shaken at what she had witnessed, yet starting to understand this strange woman a little. Inside she wept for the woman and all she had had to endure. The story told her a lot about this woman, but it also made things much harder, much less clear and increased her desire to help her, somehow.
Part Two.
Victoria felt stunned by the revelations, sickened by all that had happened to such a young child and worried by what the vision inferred. Gawaine had bared a lot of herself to Victoria, yet she hadn’t said anything since, allowing Victoria to absorb the vision and think it through.
It was very obvious why Gawaine felt she owed Morgana a huge debt, there was no way Victoria could imagine what it felt like to be given your life back after all that time and pain. Unfortunately, that only made the situation harder. It was obvious that Gawaine was as interested in Victoria as Victoria was in Gawaine. Yet, their positions on opposite sides made any relationship impossible. Though that didn’t make the feelings go away, it made them all the more painful.
“So, what do we do?” Victoria said, unsure of herself and wiping away tears. “How do I help you heal those wounds? Can they be healed?”
“I don’t know,” Gawaine said, staring out at the city skyline, watching the sinking sun as it melted into the sea and the two women flew on in silence for a long time.
“Gawaine, I understand,” Victoria said at last, “I may not like it, but I understand. It doesn’t make anything easier, in fact it makes it all the more tragic in some ways.”
Victoria couldn’t say what was on her mind, couldn’t say the words in her head, express what she felt inside. It was obvious that they were emotionally involved for some reason, possibly to do with their ancestors, possibly because that was their fate. Yet they were enemies, just like Arthur and Morgana when she seduced him to become the mother of his child. Victoria looked at the woman beside her, then came to a decision.
“Gawaine?” she said, waiting for her to look round, then gently pressed her lips against hers.
All of her feelings, doubts and fears flowed through that mental link. For several long moments the two women floated in the air, lost in what turned out to be an exchange of emotional needs, desires and hopes, mixed with fears and doubts for the future.
“Well that’s well and truly screwed up the emotional detachment part of all of this,” Gawaine said, later, as the two women floated high over the city. “Your place or mine?”
Victoria laughed, for the first time in a very long time she laughed without having to force it, or without any sarcasm in the tone. It felt good to just relax and laugh at something that, whilst serious, was also ridiculous.
“I guess we’d better make it my place,” Victoria said at last, as the last of her hilarity faded, you probably already know where that is.”
“Of course,” Gawaine said, lightly, “I keep a close eye on you, that moral code of yours is bound to land you in trouble and you’ll need me to bail you out again.”
Victoria winced as the memory of Mongol and his men intruded on her momentary happiness. She’d come to terms with the rape, but not the humiliation of being captured and having her powers stripped from her. She’d been helpless, at their mercy and totally friendless, or so she thought. Now she had someone watching her back, but that person worked for her greatest enemy. How come none of the other heroines in the city had this problem?
Victoria adjusted her course to take them back over Kensington and eventually to her penthouse apartment in one of the more luxurious blocks. One of the advantages of having a rich, powerful father who doted on his only daughter, especially after losing her for a year. He’d given her a full half-share of the bank, making her the heir to the rest, as well as making her CEO of the Megapolis branch after the previous CEO had been caught with his hand-in-the-till! All of that gave her a very healthy lifestyle, which she enjoyed to the fullest. It also bought her a lot of privacy, which was useful in her alternate line of work.
She landed softly on the patio/veranda/garden and let her guest look around, watching her reactions. Gawaine might think she knew a lot about her, but Victoria wanted to see what her guest was like, what she thought of Victoria’s taste and how she’d react to the wealth around her.
“Welcome to my home away from home,” Victoria said, striding through into the lounge, which was decorated in a homely, yet expensive fashion. The couches were well upholstered, soft and russet in colour. The whole room had a feel of autumn about it, the golds, browns and reds reflecting the falling leaves of that season. The books on the shelves were covered to match that colour scheme, yet over all the effect was warm and welcoming.
Gawaine looked around, astounded and rather overwhelmed by all the opulence and overt shows of wealth. “It’s definitely much, but is it really home?”
“I like it,” Victoria said, concentrating for a moment as her costume faded to be replaced by a russet jeans and a gold t-shirt.
“Now that’s a neat trick, though I’ll bet you don’t wear that outfit to the office.”
“You’d be right,” Victoria said, “and I have to admit that, on occasions, being able to shift my clothes mentally is useful. It saves on having to cart around a change of clothes, or having to hire a car, though there are one or two of my employees who wonder why they never see me driving.” Victoria looked around and sighed as some of her tension drained away.
“I always loved the autumn, the falling leaves, windy days and falling rain.” Victoria stared at a photo of her parents, one with her in it as a child and was lost in a memory of walking down a lane, kicking up the fallen leaves. Happier, less complicated times, times her present companion had never known and probably never would.
“Would you like something to drink?” Victoria said, recalling herself to the present.
“No, I don’t,” Gawaine said. “It dulls my edge and confuses my senses, which can be fatal. Though I could use a shower, that workout was rather intense.”
“Sure,” Victoria said, pointing to a door next to a bookcase. “Through there is the bedroom, and the bathroom is on the other side of the room. There are towels in the bathroom, plus a spare bathrobe if you want it.”
“Thanks,” Gawaine said, taking a last look around. “This place makes my one room convenience apartment look positively spartan. The perks of having a rich family I guess.”
Victoria watched her guest disappear through the door and wondered what the hell she was doing! She had invited someone who was working for her enemy into her home, was letting them use her shower and was actually considering sleeping with her. She dropped into her favourite couch and stared at the photo of her parents.
“What am I doing, daddy?” she said aloud, hoping for some revelation. “This is crazy, I know nothing about her, not really. She’s one of Morgana’s knights, yet she’s saved my life once. I wish I knew what I should do.”
Victoria walked over to the mirror that hung opposite the window, staring at the confused, bewildered woman looking back at her.
“Well, Victoria, it looks like you’ve got yourself in a real mess this time,” she said to herself. “The question is, what do you do next?”
Victoria heard the shower go on and listened for a few moments as she tried to come to terms with herself and her inner torment. At last she made up her mind and said, “Sod it! I don’t bloody care.”
She walked across the room, her t-shirt, jeans and shoes leaving a trail to the bathroom.
Part Three
“I was beginning to think you’d never take the hint,” Gawaine said as Victoria eased into the shower behind her.
“Do you think I take advantage of all my houseguests?” Victoria said, picking up the shower gel and beginning to soap the other woman’s back.
“I don’t know,” Gawaine said, “but I have a feeling I will before too long.” She turned and Victoria found her hands caressing Gawaine’s breasts, rubbing soap into cherry-red nipples and feeling the flesh become firmer as she kneaded those magnificent globes of flesh.
Gawaine’s hand came up to Victoria’s breasts, returning the caress and Victoria sighed as her sensitive mammaries responded to stroking. Lips met in a passionate, searching kiss, tongues chasing each other through a convoluted oral dance. The two women giggled as the other found a sensitive, or ticklish spot. For a time, both forgot that they were enemies, they were two women in need of sexual release.
“I ought to tell you something,” Gawaine said, as Victoria nibbled at one of her ears. “I’m a virgin.”
“I think we can take care of that problem,” Victoria said, “if you’d like me to?”
“Oh yes,” Gawaine sighed as Victoria’s mouth fond a nipple and licked it. “Please, I’ve been waiting for this, wanting you to be the first.”
“I know,” Victoria said, “I just wish I could have given you the same gift.”
“Then who’d show me what to do?” Gawaine said and they laughed, exploring nubile bodies in a frenzy of awakened passion that denied restraint.
They washed each other, using the time to arouse the other to fever pitch, even towelling each other dry was an exercise in eroticism that brought gasps and sighs of exquisite pleasure. Victoria picked up Gawaine and swept her into the bedroom, dropping her onto the bed and diving on top of her.
Her hands slowly explored her lover’s body, her lips following as she covered every inch of bare skin with delicate kisses. Eventually she came to the brown haired mound of Gawaine’s sex and gently let her tongue run along its length, listening to the moans that the woman emitted in response. She was wet, ready for this and Victoria savoured the spicy taste of her juices. This was probably a mistake, but she didn’t care. She wanted to give her lover pleasure, to show her some of what she had been denied for so long. It was wrong, they shouldn’t be doing this, but Victoria didn’t care at the moment. All that mattered was her friend’s pleasure.
Gawaine’s scream of release and the way she thrashed around in ecstatic release was worth every effort, Victoria was very pleased with herself. Gawaine looked very pleased with herself and with Victoria, sitting up and staring at her lover in awe.
“I never realised it would be like that, I … I can’t find the words…”
“Then don’t try,” Victoria said, pressing a finger against Gawaine’s lips. “Just show me how much you appreciate it.”
Gawaine grinned widely and nibbled at the tip of the finger. She pushed Victoria back onto the bed, straddling the blonde woman and began to explore Victoria’s body in the same way Victoria had explored hers. Hands and lips traced a trail down her body, settling on a breast. Victoria gasped as Gawaine began suckling at her breast, remembering that, at present, her breast were her weakness, the milk draining her powers as Gawaine drank down the fluid hungrily. This wasn’t like when Mongol had milked her, this was something wonderful, pleasurable and Victoria gladly allowed Gawaine to drink her fill, marvelling at the sensations that ran through her body.
Gawaine’s mouth and hands continued downwards, going down one leg, then back up the other, to the mound at the juncture of her thighs. The blonde hair caught in Gawaine’s teeth, but the tingle of pain sent thrills through Victoria. Then Gawaine’s tongue found her slit and began licking at it, forcing its way inside and finding the bud of her clitoris. It took very little to make Victoria climax, her body convulsing in wave after wave of pleasure. Gawaine collapsed on top of Victoria, eyes bright with child-like pleasure and a wicked gleam in her eye.
“Now for the main event,” she said and Victoria felt something forming inside her, and inside her companion. “Did you think I could just form weapons with my mind,” Gawaine said, her gasps of pleasure punctuating her words as her hips began to move.
Victoria felt a sharp pain from her lover, realising that the tactile telepathy of her lover was transmitting every sensation and feeling from Gawaine to her. The pain was the loss of her virginity, though it was very obvious that the pain was as much of a turn on as everything else to the brown haired woman. The telepathy was working the other way too and Victoria felt herself falling into the mind-link and their bodies moved together, breast rubbing together in an urgent manner that reflect their desire to give the other pleasure and release. Victoria had to admit the idea of a dildo of mental force was an incredibly cool idea. It made this so much more intimate, so very personal. Gawaine was an incredible lover and Victoria knew that, no matter what, they would have to find a way to have a relationship. It wasn’t going to be easy, but they could work it out, they’d have to.
“Oh god…” Victoria gasped in Gawaine’s ear, “I’m cumming!”
“Me … me too,” Gawaine said, her breath coming in short bursts as her body moved on top of Victoria’s.
Then she convulsed as her orgasm exploded inside her, filling her with indescribable pleasure. She howled in ecstasy as she experienced her own orgasm and the one that filled her lover. Victoria’s reaction was just as intense, as their second climax washed over them, simultaneously making her scream in release, hold her lover close, never wanting to let go as their juices mingled and flowed over their sweaty bodies. Over and over again the pleasure washed over them, each revelling in the joint pleasure of their own and the other’s intense reaction to that pleasure. It seemed as if one orgasm triggered another, on and on until at last they could stand no more and they collapsed in an exhausted heap.
“Oh god, I never realised it could be like that,” Victoria said, “I’m just glad I’ve got a strong constitution.”
“So am I,” Gawaine said, curling up and hugging Victoria, close, “so am I.”
They drifted into exhausted sleep, wrapped in each other’s arms, limbs entwined together.
Victoria woke slowly, her body ached a little, but there was a strong memory of the pleasure she had shared with her lover. She opened her eyes slowly, finding herself looking into the sleeping face of the young woman who was now her lover. On an impulse, she gently stroked the brown curly hair, revelling in the soft, silky feel of it. It felt so sensual, so erotic, it sent tingles through her fingers and into her nipples and thighs. She knew inside that this was impossible, that this should never have happened, yet she didn’t regret it for one moment. She actually felt an exultant pride in what she had done. She was the first. No matter what, she was the one that Gawaine would compare other lovers too.
She disentangled herself carefully, feeling a little reluctance to break the intimate link between them, yet having to get up. She pulled on a robe, went to the bathroom to relieve the urging of her bladder, then went to the kitchen.
Gawaine liked Earl grey, like Victoria, two sugars, and no milk. Victoria stopped, staggered by what her thoughts revealed and what it meant. Just how much had they shared? How would it effect their future together if they shared so much each time?
Victoria started working on breakfast, looking out over the city as the sun rose and thought about all that had happened. Yesterday she had been frustrated and angry at the attitude of her board of directors, now she was wondering about how sharing her life and thoughts with another woman would affect her life. Her life was very complicated, but she had to admit that the unpredictability of it was exciting.
Gawaine was still asleep when she re-entered the bedroom, reflecting on how her brown hair and tanned complexion matched the spring greens and yellows of the room. She was definitely glad she had ordered the king-sized double bed, it looked like they would need a lot of space when they really got used to being lovers.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” Victoria said, settling the tray on the bed and rejoining her lover. “I’ve got fried bread, eggs, beans, a side order toast and raspberry jam, with seeds.”
“What about the tea?” Gawaine asked, slowly opening an eye.
“Earl Grey, two sugars, no milk,” Victoria said, smiling.
Gawaine sat up, letting the silk sheet fall to her waist, unconcerned that her breasts were naked. “I’ll bet you’ve got your usual, eggs, bacon, sausage, tomatoes – fried- and toast, with a bowl of Special K and some fresh strawberries.”
“So you got what I got,” Victoria said, uncovering both breakfasts and picking up her cutlery. “Did you mean for that to happen?”
“There was no way it wouldn’t, not the way we obviously feel for each other,” Gawaine said, before popping the first mouthful of food into her mouth. “Oh, this is very good, and cooked by your own, fair hands. You’ll make someone an excellent wife one day.”
“Not if you become a permanent fixture in my life,” Victoria said, oddly relaxed by the idea of sharing her life with someone who was likely to be her opponent sometime soon.
“Have we got any choice in the matter?” Gawaine asked, with a look that was loving and oddly seductive as well.
“It isn’t going to be easy,” Victoria said, “I understand why you feel you have to help Morgana, why you feel you owe her your life, and I respect you for it. I just wish I thought she was worth that kind of loyalty. You know that we’re going to have to fight for real one day?”
“Yeah,” Gawaine said, “it ought to be interesting.”
Victoria watched her lover eat, then sighed as she realised that this woman was never going to be what she expected. She lived her life on the edge, testing the limits and savouring every experience, no matter how dangerous.
“If she told you to kill me, would you?” Victoria asked, dreading the answer, even though she knew it was in her head, somewhere. They had shared so much through that mental link, experienced so much of each other’s life.
“She doesn’t want you killed,” Gawaine said, mopping up the last of the yellow egg-yolk with the final piece of fried bread. “If you die, she gets cast into limbo again. She wants you humiliated, broken and at her mercy, she thinks she can make you like us. She’s wrong!”
Victoria looked over at Gawaine, surprised and somewhat nonplussed by this revelation.
Gawaine sighed and sat back, her hands behind her head, her breasts thrust forwards. “Morgana and you are linked by the magic of limbo, when she used your body to let her escape, it made her dependant on your life. Part of Nimue’s spell bound her to the life of her descendants, bound her to whoever replaced her and bound her life force to them too. She is, essentially immortal, just as you are, and as long as each of you lives, so does the other.”
“So why can’t she use that staff of hers to twist me like she did you and the others?”
“Because you’re too strong, too bound by your personal honour to allow her magic to bend your personality that way.” Gawaine lay her head on Victoria’s shoulder, slipping and arm around her as she did.
“Why aren’t you as twisted as the others?” Victoria asked.
“I am,” Gawaine said, “though not in the same ways. I’ll kill if I need to, I have no morals, and I’ve hurt others because I wanted to and because Morgana asked me to. I’m not like you, I like things you’d probably find sick, perverted or even evil. Don’t ever think I’m a nice person, I’m not.”
Victoria looked into Gawaine’s eyes, looked into the mirrors of her soul and realised she was telling the truth. Though how that would affect them she had no idea.
“Then why did you come to me, let this happen?” Victoria said, dreading that answer.
“As I remember, you started it,” Gawaine said, a twinkle in her eyes, “though I have to admit I did give you a lot of encouragement. But I did come to you, did give you the opportunity and I did know what could happen.” Gawaine sighed, collecting her thoughts and trying to put them into words. “I can’t keep away from you, just as you can’t stop wanting me. It’s bloody stupid, we both know its going to cause us a lot of pain, but we can’t help it.”
Victoria nodded, knowing her lover was right. For better or worse, they were meant to be lovers and nothing could stop it.
“Besides,” Gawaine said with an evil grin, “how often does a really foxy babe like you ask a girl like me to go for a fly with her? If I’ve got to have a lover, I’m glad she’s a real babe, sexy as hell and just as horny as I am. Last night was so way cool.”
Victoria giggled, despite her worries, Gawaine’s attitude was so simplistic in ways, yet Victoria couldn’t fault it. She just wished she could see things so simply. “So what do we do?” she asked the brown haired woman who was nibbling at her neck.
“Take it one day at a time and see what life throws at us,” Gawaine said, nipping gently at Victoria’s earlobe. “I’m not going to join your crusade against the woman who gave me a second chance to live, you’re not going to abandon your quest for justice. So we do what we can and steal each moment of pleasure when we can.”
Victoria looked down at the face of this oddly pragmatic woman, who was willing to live her life for the day and let tomorrow take care of itself.
“I guess you’re right,” Victoria said, kissing the tip of Gawaine’s nose. “What are you doing tonight? If you think I cook a mean breakfast, wait until you’ve tasted my dinners!”
“You’re going to be busy tonight,” Gawaine said, “so am I.”
Victoria froze, staring at the woman.
“Don’t ask me why,” Gawaine said, “I won’t give you information you already have, even if you don’t know you have it.”
Victoria gasped as she grasped what Gawaine was saying. In her head was the information on Morgana’s next move, somewhere!
“How much did we share?” Victoria asked, suddenly realising what Gawaine might have picked up.
“Everything,” Gawaine said, cupping Victoria’s breasts and teasing the nipple a little, causing a dribble of milk to fall on her finger tip. Gawaine licked the white fluid from her finger and smiled. “I know what you gave me last night, the risk you took, I know about how you can’t hurt iron, though it can seriously hurt you. I said I won’t tell you what you already know, so you decide if you can trust me!”
Victoria looked inside her head, looked at what she had received from Gawaine and sighed in relief. “You won’t tell Morgana, unless she asks you if you know, which she won’t because she doesn’t know you know. You’re playing a very dangerous game.”
“But think of the buzz,” Gawaine said, “it’s living on the edge. I never had a chance to experience life until now, I want to live, I want to love and I want to feel alive. I want to feel like I don’t have to hide my best or my worst from you.”
“You can,” Victoria said, “I may not like what you do, but if this is going to work, I have to accept you as you are. I won’t judge you, I promise, though that doesn’t mean I’m going to give up trying to get you away from that bitch.”
“Ooh, jealousy, I love it.” Gawaine kissed Victoria then, stifling any reply and showing her just how much her words meant.
“Now you have work,” Gawaine said, “and I’ve got to be somewhere. I’ll take a rain-check on that dinner date, if that'’ okay with you.”
“Fine,” Victoria said, “though try and give me a little warning if you can. I don’t want to be stuck in a meeting whilst you’re waiting for me to come home.” Victoria stood up and walked over to her dressing table, opening a small drawer.
“I’ll probably regret this,” Victoria said, tossing two keys to the woman on the bed. “One of those is the key to the elevator, the other to the front door. You can’t fly remember.”
“Let’s just call this place neutral ground,” Gawaine said. “In here, we’re just to young lovers, outside we’ll be what we have to be.”
Victoria nodded, smiled at her lover and headed for the shower.
Part Four
‘Another day, another board meeting,’ Victoria thought as she stared at the hostile faces around the table. ‘They hate me!” she concluded. ‘Hate me for being good at my job, for being my father’s daughter and for being here. They’d love to find a reason to get me removed, but I own fifty percent of this bank, of all of the banks and they’re here only as a courtesy. I wish there was a way to get past this bloody sexist attitude of theirs, or at least to get them to realise what a pain all this is.’
As she listened to the latest figures and profit margin reports, she doodled on her pad, letting her mind remember the night before. Of all the things that might have happened, sharing love with Gawaine was the last she’d imagined she’d be doing. If only she could figure out where, in all the information she’d got, the clue to Morgana’s next move was. She looked down at her doodle and suddenly realised what it was she was drawing.
It looked like a long stick, with some kind of plant with long thin leaves and small, white berries wrapped around it. Mistletoe, she thought as her mind supplied the name of the plant and she recalled where she’d seen it before. The museum, Centerville Museum. They had an exhibition of recently unearthed Celtic artefacts, the staff was one of them. The Staff of the Arch-Druid, that was it. There had been something in the local paper about it a couple of days ago.
Victoria looked up, wondering how soon she could get away from this interminable meeting. She glanced up at the clock, she had a two o’clock appointment and a conference call with her father at four, so it would be late before she could do something about this. Well, it couldn’t be helped, it was the price of having a secret identity.
She settled back to study the figures and listen to the last part of the report, though her thoughts were mostly on what was going to happen that night.
Victory hovered high over the museum, wondering when Morgana was going to make her move. It was almost midnight and Victory knew that she could go without the sleep, it was the dreams she needed, to pure the days frustrations and irritations. Still if she was right, and Gawaine’s cryptic comment led her to think she might be, tonight she’d have the perfect release for her frustrations. There was nothing like beating the crap out of a supervillain to work out a girl’s problems, she just wished they’d hurry up and get here!
Even as she thought this, she noticed three figures on the roof of the museum and smiled to herself. She let herself sink slowly to roof level, dropping onto it silently and waiting as the villains went about their work. No need to spoil their fun, let them get what they were after, then stop them on the way out. Caught red-handed!
The first to emerge was a tall, powerful man with black hair and a rakish moustache. He was wearing a metallic black costume with a symbol of a rampant stag on the back. The stag’s phallus was extremely exaggerated, which actually made Victory smile, it looked ridiculous.
The second man was blond, had a face like an angel and the body of a linebacker. His costume was like his companions, though the symbol on the back was a blood-red cross that had drops of blood dripping from it. She recognised the symbols, and the way they’d been perverted.
“I believe you are Sir Sagramore Le Desirous and Sir Galahad,” victory said, she already knew who the third person was. “Well, ‘gentlemen’, I suggest you surrender peacefully, or I’ll have to beat you up a bit before I turn you over to the police.”
Both men shot upright, span to face her, their faces twisted in surprise and outrage.
“You,” Galahad said, his voice as angelic as his perfect face, “Morgana told us we might have some trouble from you.”
“She was right about that,” Victory said, “though what else did she say about me. I’d hate to think she was spreading rumours.”
“She told us to make sure you didn’t stop us,” Sagramore said, “though she didn’t say how we had to stop you.” Sagramore’s eyes travelled over her body, he licked his lips as he took in her large breasts and the hidden mound of her sex. “We don’t have to fight, a woman as lovely as you should be in bed, with a lover.”
“I intend to be, once we’ve got you two into the hands of the authorities.” Victory’s glare was cold and she purposely avoided looking at the third figure who emerged from the museum. Gawaine was in her trademark black latex bodysuit, but Victory couldn’t afford to be distracted now. They had agreed that outside her apartment they would do what was necessary, though this was the first test of that resolve.
Sagramore moved left, Galahad to the right, whilst Gawaine formed her psychic blade and moved into the centre. On her back was the druid’s staff, which confirmed Victory’s guess as to their reason for being here. She still had to stop them, though and Victory knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Gawaine gave her a look that told her that this time it was for real, no holding back and no hot sex afterwards.
Victory watched all three, keeping Gawaine at a distance as she planned her fist move. Sagramore rushed her, swinging with his fist and Victory sidestepped, right into Galahad’s rabbit punch, which hurt like hell. He was strong, but not as strong as Victory. The problem was he obviously liked to fight dirty and that made him very dangerous. They were also working as a team, which made Victory’s job even harder and them more deadly.
Victory moved quickly, backhanding Galahad with her left hand and watching as he flew back several yards to land at the foot of a ventilation shaft. Gawaine and Sagramore moved far more cautiously, spreading out and making it harder to track their movements.
“Give it up, bitch,” Sagramore said, “you can’t win.”
“Really,” Victory said, the thrill of battle over taking her and heightening her senses. “I’m stronger than you, faster than you and I can fly, what have I got to fear?”
“This,” Sagramore said as his eyes flashed and purple beams of light shot from them to envelop Victory.
Victory felt as if every nerve in her body felt as if it were being scraped with a sharp knife. Pain lanced through her body and she screamed as she fell to her knees. Hands grabbed her hair and pulled her head back, purple eyes met hers and pain became her whole world.
“Get the staff out of here, I’ll deal with Victory,” Sagramore said as Victory reeled under the intense pain ripping her apart.
“Remember what Morgana said, don’t kill her!” Gawaine’s voice was calm, yet Victory thought she heard a slight hint of worry in it.
“I’m not going to kill her,” Sagramore said, “but I’m going to make her wish she was dead.” Sagramore’s laugh was cruel, heartless and the pain increased as the power of his gaze lashed Victory’s mind and flailed her senses. “Now let’s see what you’re hiding.”
He roughly grabbed the top of Victory’s costume and yanked it down, pulling it all the way off and leaving her lying on her back, wearing her boots, gloves and mask.
“Oh yes, I’m going to enjoy this,” he said, dropping onto her stomach and mauling Victory’s breasts with his hands. The pain was gone, but Victory was powerless to stop the man abusing her body, she was in shock and couldn’t move. When his lips surrounded her right nipple she wanted to scream out a denial, to stop him, but she felt her powers leaving her as he sucked at her breast, surprised and delighted at the taste of her milk. Then she felt herself becoming aroused, as she always did when her breasts were stimulated, and knew she was lost.
“That looks like fun,” said Galahad, obviously awake again and a second mouth encircled her free nipple.
Ripples of pleasure shot from her breasts into her thighs and she tried to stifle a moan as a hand explored her damp pussy. Victory cursed the sensitivity of her breasts, the way her powers were leeched from her whenever someone drank her milk and the reactions of her body to the entire process.
Sagramore finished with her breast and moved to her thighs, spreading her legs and forcing his huge manhood into her. She screamed in pain as he thrust it cruelly into her, tearing into her with no regard for her or what he did to her.
“Morgana wants you alive, bitch,” Galahad hissed into her ear, “so we can’t kill you. I’d enjoy killing you, it would take days, possibly weeks, but I can’t, so I’ll have to break your spirit some other way. Open wide!”
Galahad forced her mouth open and pushed his cock into her mouth, thrusting hard until Victory gagged on it. His laugh was cruel, heartless and he seemed to grow even harsher as tears rolled down victory’s cheeks. Her body shuddered under the dual assault, but part of her distanced the savage rape, put herself outside of her body and she felt the warm touch of another mind. There were no words in what she felt, just strength to help her withstand what was happening, along with an outpouring of something that left Victory feeling as if no matter what happened, someone cared and would be there when she needed them. Victory knew who it was she felt and somehow that knowledge helped her withstand the violent abuse of her body.
Sagramore came, pulling out at the last moment and spurting his cum all over her body and laughing as she cringed. Galahad came too, forcing his seed down her throat, then pulling out of her mouth, turned her onto all fours and pushed his stiff manhood into her from behind. Then it happened, something that made the attack worse, yet more bearable. Her body shuddered in delight, in sexual arousal and she moaned in pleasure.
“Do you feel it, bitch, feel my power?” Galahad whispered in her ear as his hands caressed her large, full breasts. “I can make you feel anything I want, anything at all. Pleasure, fear, anguish, dread, ecstasy?”
Victory came! Violently and noisily, her entire body convulsing and shaking in reaction to the power of her orgasm. Galahad thrust harder, deeper and Victory gasped at each thrust. He came after some time, letting Victory fall to the ground, her body still shivering at the power of the emotions coursing through her.
Sagramore appeared over her, his cock erect and ready for action.
“No, please?” Victory whimpered as he turned her over and grabbed her breasts, sandwiching his massive cock between her mounds.
“Don’t worry, Galahad’ll keep you enjoying us and the night is still young.”
Victory wanted to die as her breasts throbbed with anticipation, sent pleasurable sensations through her body and began to lactate once more.
“I never saw a woman with so much milk,” Galahad said, watching his companion as he humped the helpless heroine’s breasts. “I never felt so good, either, or so strong. I feel like I could do anything, or anyone.”
Sticky cum splashed on Victory’s face and Sagramore pulled the heroine to her feet. “Hey, Galahad, what about having like this, you from the front, me from behind?”
Galahad smiled and Victory shook her head in denial of what they planned, but with her strength and invulnerability gone, she was helpless to stop the two men. She felt Galahad enter her sore pussy, whimpering a little, but when Sagramore forced his cock into her arsehole, she screamed in torment, it felt like her was tearing her apart. As they began to move, finding a mutual rhythm that shook Victory, the heroine sagged between them, lost in a haze of pain, pleasure and despair. Sagramore mauled her breasts, he seemed fascinated with them, whilst Galahad forced his tongue into Victory’s mouth, kissing her as if he were a passionate lover and not a rapist. Victory was beyond fighting or even trying to resist, she was lost in pain and humiliation, clinging to the emotional link she had with Gawaine to keep her sane.
None of the three realised they were airborne until Galahad came and happened to look down.
“Well, well, well,” he said, pulling out of Victory and soaring around. “I guess we took more out of her than I thought. I guess sex weakens her and gives her ‘lovers’ her powers.”
“Oh yessss!” Sagramore shouted as he came and held onto the limp woman, still pinching her nipples and exploring her mounds. “I’m going to have to get more of this bitch, she’s hot and has great tits. I think I’m in love, Galahad.”
“In lust, you mean,” Galahad said, an evil gleam in his eyes. “Still I can’t wait to see what Lancelot or Pellinore can do with her.” His voice dropped to a whisper as he floated close to Victory. “If you think Sagramore is big, believe me, you’ve seen nothing yet.”
“Fuck … you…” Victory got out between swollen lips and spat in his oh-so-perfect face. There was blood in her spittle and she felt sore from head to foot, but there was no way she was going to let these bastards know how much they’d hurt her.
“Oh, I’m sure we can arrange for a repeat performance,” Galahad said, watching as Sagramore pulled out of her. “What do we do with her now?”
“Leave her where we found her,” Sagramore said, “remember, she has to find us, not the other way around. You hear that, bitch, we may not be able to kill you, but I think I like this arrangement better. You’re a great lay and I can’t wait for a real gangbang, with the whole gang. Who knows, maybe that frigid bitch, Gawaine, might get turned on by a bit of rough stuff?”
Victory felt herself being lowered to the ground, the cold stone of the roof against her skin and heard the laughter of Galahad and Sagramore as they flew away. How long she lay there she didn’t know, she just wanted to rest, regain her strength and go home, for a long, cleansing shower.
“I told you I wouldn’t be able to help you,” Gawaine said, kneeling bedside Victory’s battered and abused body.
“I know,” Victory said, trying to sit up, but her body wasn’t ready to move yet.
“Here,” Gawaine said, turning her over and resting her head in her lap. “I wanted to kill them when I knew what they were going to do, but I realised that that would just make matters worse.”
“Not your fault,” Victory said, “I was stupid, overconfident and they kicked my arse.”
“I wish that was all they’d done,” Gawaine said, stroking Victory’s matted hair. “Damn it, I hate all of them, but I can’t turn away from Morgana, not without violating something I…”
“I know,” Victory said, laying a gloved finger across Gawaine’s lips. “I know you have to repay the debt, you’re an honourable, dedicated woman with a set of rules I respect. I may not like what you do, but if you love someone, you take them as they are. If you turned your back on your honour, you wouldn’t be the woman I love. Now help me up, we need to get out of here before the police show up.”
Victory staggered to her feet, willing her costume back into place as she did. It came, but slowly and it was as if she were tugging at something trapped in thick treacle.
“Can you stay?” Victory asked, ignoring the soreness and stiffness of her body.
“If you want me to?”
“I want,” Victory said, “I also want a long, hot bath. I’ll let you wash my back if you’re good.”
Gawaine smiled and looked deep into Victory’s green eyes. “Are you really okay?”
“I will be, now you’re here. Let’s go home.”
Victory slid an arm around Gawaine’s waist and leapt into the air. Her flight was shaky at first, a little slow, but she gained altitude gradually and before long she was more herself. Oddly she wondered where her powers had deserted Galahad and Sagramore. ‘Over the Lem River, if there’s any justice,’ Victory thought wickedly and wondered if there was time for a quick nap before work. She had no doubt that she and Gawaine would get reacquainted over the next few hours, in and out of the bath. Gawaine was a wild and voracious lover, exhausting and insatiable.
Victory smiled, realising that she liked that about her lover, just as she liked the fact that she was true to herself despite what she felt. This might actually work out after all.