When her wrists were freed, Crimson Flare could feel, through a drug-induced haze, the pain diminish in her chest. But the powerful drug did not allow her to focus on her renewed strength, or to use it to escape. She had to struggle to raise her head, and as she looked around her, she saw only bare bulbs, naked wooden slats in the walls, and dusty furniture.
The sagging form of the Guardian of Mitropoulos sat in the center of the floor. Her tights had long been torn from her, ragged remains peeking from beneath her all-to-famous costume and from the tops of the scuffed black leather boots; her bare legs were drawn up and her body swayed slowly under the bare bulbs suspended from the ceiling. The sequins on the crimson-and-gold uniform glittered as reflected light winked off the slowly rocking torso. Her black belt loosely circled her waist. The tip of the useless baton touched the hard wood, lifting one side of the usually loose-fitting leather strap higher up and away from her body. Gloved arms hung uselessly to the floor, where hands with fingers splayed rested but provided no support for the battered Champion of Women. The top of her head was covered by the shiny black vinyl cowl and the familiar black vinyl mask again concealed her identity. She stared dully at the floor; nothing around her seemed to register on her consciousness. Her breathing was shallow, and rapid, as if the heroine had just completed a long-distance race, and loud, through her mouth and rasping in her throat. The exposed areas of her body were streaked in sweat and dirt, all the product of the beatings and rapes she had endured since her capture days before. Her shoulders quivered; Crimson Flare had lost all pretense of heroism now, and she struggled only to prevent her sobs from becoming audible.
The floor on which she sat was old and rough, the filthy, bare boards showing all the evidence of years of scuffling musicians moving to and from these classrooms and practice rooms. The Maid of Mitropoulos had been driven by Nancy’s kicks and tugs to one of the larger rehearsal halls. Behind her, against one of the inner walls of the building, a series of risers, as for a chorus, had been built into the room’s architecture. Nancy now stood on the second level, looking disdainfully down upon the shattered form of America’s Darling.
How Nancy had longed for this moment! It had taken days to accomplish this! This was the scene of which she had dreamed since Chan had deserted her. Chan had left her—her—for this sequined slut. Now look at her! Right in front of her very eyes sat the great Crimson Flare, Guardian of Mitropoulos, Maiden of Might. The heroine who had defeated the powerful gangs of Mitropoulos, who had killed or captured some of the smartest and toughest criminals Nancy had ever known or heard of. There she was, battered and broken, sitting, helpless, waiting for Nancy to decide her fate. The redhead had watched the beating and rape of this heroine; she had seen her humiliated at Ape’s hands; and she had, in a final coup de grace, injected Chan’s serum into the beaten, battered body of this… this Champion of Women.
‘Don’t look a Champion, now, eh, Crimson Flare?’ she taunted. ‘Well, you were certainly never my Champion, anyway, you know.
‘But, of course, you knew that, didn’t you? You always knew that there were some who didn’t admire you. A lot of men who saw you as something to be feared, a threat, and who hated you for that.’ She took a step down the elevated platforms toward her prisoner. ‘Did you ever know how many cops despised you? Did you know how many of the top ranks of the Police Department wanted you out of the way? How many of the cops on the streets would have loved to see what I saw these last few days? The GREAT CRIMSON FLARE! Beaten up and raped! By a common criminal! And a stupid one, at that! Man, they would get a laugh out of that.
‘What I’m about to do could be considered a public service,’ she said, softer, almost to herself. Wearing her usual blue denim outfit, the redhead took another step down to the floor. She walked slowly around Crimson Flare, like a lioness stalking her prey.
‘Ape and I used to talk about you, you know. He never saw anything more than a sequined twat in a skimpy outfit. He used to talk about beating you, raping you, like it would be the easiest thing in the world. He didn’t understand that you were actually stronger than he was. He couldn’t understand that there was anyone who was stronger than he was.’ She was slowly approaching the small figure from behind.
‘Now look at you,’ she laughed. Nancy placed the sole of her boot against Crimson’s back and pushed, pushed just hard enough to send her unresisting body flat onto the floor. A soft grunt issued from the helpless throat of the costumed heroine. Then the criminal proceeded to again circle her prone nemesis, demeaning her, plotting her demise.
Crimson Flare lay on her stomach, her arms stretched straight outward from her shoulders. One satin glove had been pulled down, revealing her elbow and the top of her forearm. Laying face down on the floor, small movements of her head indicated that the heroine was trying to raise her eyes, even though only a little was registering on her drug-addled brain. The remains of her tights peered out from the tops of her black leather boots and from the glittering edges of her costume. The colourless tatters softly reflected the harsh light from the bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling. Her perfect legs were straight and spread slightly, offering a view of her petite, magnificent ass.
Nancy continued to slowly circle her enemy. She stooped at the unresisting heroine’s sagging head, where the redhead cupped the avenger’s chin in her right hand, pulling the masked face from the floor. Looking deep into the eyes behind the mask, Nancy saw only the beginnings of comprehension faintly glimmering.
‘You still don’t really understand how helpless you are. Let’s make it perfectly clear.’ She tightened her grip on Crimson’s chin and lifted. The unresisting Champion slowly rose up, following Nancy's tight grip, pain shooting through her body. ‘Ed! Morly!’
The denim-clad redhead had raised Crimson Flare almost to her knees by using her grip on the masked girl’s jaw. Now the two henchmen came up behind her. A nod from Nancy was all they needed to roughly grab her arms and pull her the rest of the way to her feet. Each inflicted a harsh chicken-wing on the petite heroine and the two strong men planted their feet firmly, awaiting orders. Her legs failed to support her and her body slumped in the grip of the two hoodlums. Crimson simply hung in their grip, almost completely oblivious to Nancy’s diatribe.
‘You see, Crimson Slut, right now I hold all the cards. I know that the drug I gave you will prevent you from using your strength against us for a long time to come. I know that your desire for sex is stronger now than before, since the sexual weakness that we created in you will allow us to take advantage of you regardless of your ability to resist. I know that your scruples will not allow you to use your full strength against us in any case. And I know…’ she paused and moved closer, pressing her chest against Crimson Flare’s.
‘…that is, you showed me earlier…’ Nancy gently tugged the crimson-and-gold costume away from her captive’s chest and reached her hand down the opened top. ‘…how receptive you were…’ Again, her fingers played across the surface of Crimson Flare’s breast, gliding smoothly in small circles around the nipple, which would begin to harden, Nancy knew.
‘…to a little stimulation.’
A shudder gripped Crimson Flare’s body. The petite form of the Champion was rocked by spasms that she could not control. Her body was beyond the control of her drug-clouded mind.
What gripped her now was created by Nancy’s capacity to raise any victim to erotic heights. Nancy’s delicate touch, her facility with the erotic sensibilities of both men and women, a result of her experience and her knowledge of how precisely to drive any partner to stratospheric levels of ecstasy, all combined to overwhelm the helpless heroine. Even without the drug, Crimson would have been hard-pressed to maintain her usual composure. For the unwilling young woman, to some extent it was as if she were watching herself being seduced.
‘I think this is going to be fun,’ Nancy said. ‘I’ve waited for this opportunity for months. Your death will be delayed only long enough for me to enjoy it. And I look forward to enjoying it for a long, long time’ She looked at her henchmen who held the unresisting avenger. ‘Morly, get the camera! And Ed, you’re about to be rewarded. You and I will get her first.’ The shaven-headed giant smiled at his forlorn partner. ‘Morly, when we're through, you'll have her all to yourself.’ This seemed to mollify the other thug, as he smiled at the prospect.
One hulking hoodlum left the room but quickly returned with a camera as large as those used at local TV stations for their news coverage. Morly hefted it onto his shoulder and squinted through the viewer, lining up the opening shot. He seemed to be adept at using the equipment, as he made a few small adjustments to ensure focus and clarity. He handed a microphone to Nancy, who indicated that he should begin his take with Crimson Flare’s boots. As Morly panned up the restrained, quivering form of Mitropoulos’ Guardian, Nancy spoke clearly and rapidly into the mike.
‘You no doubt recognise this heroine, even before you see her masked face and cowled head. Yes, dear viewers, this is America’s Darling, the Maid of Mitropoulos… Crimson Flare. But I doubt you’ve ever seen her like this. Watch, gentle viewers, and see the true nature of your heroine.’ She set microphone aside and ordered Ed, ‘Strip her! Then put her there!’ She pointed to a table, large enough to be a ping-pong table, but thickly padded. Around the edges of the blue surface, a single flat cushion about two inches thick formed a smooth perimeter.
Morly kept the camera at a distance so as to capture the entire spectacle, only zooming in on the appropriate regions of the heroine’s body as they were revealed. For his part, Ed, at first self-conscious about being on-camera, fumbled as he undid the black leather belt that rested on top of her hips. He had to push the unresisting heroine up against the wall behind her to finally remove it and the holster holding her charged weapon. That done, he quickly pulled the glittering uniform off Crimson Flare’s body. Once again, the Maid of Mitropoulos found herself naked before her enemies, save for the tattered remains of her colourless tights. Then even those forlorn remains were torn from the humbled Champion, as Ed completed his task. The unseen audience that was expected to view the heroine’s defeat and torment was given extreme close-ups of first her breasts and then the dark brown hair that covered her sex. Morly’s camera dwelt on the latter in particular. Nancy’s shaven-headed accomplice, Ed, then rushed the powerless Champion of Women toward the table. As he neared the padded pedestal, he simply tossed the hapless heroine toward the waiting surface. When she landed, on her back, the pain shooting through her ribs was so severe that it pierced her clouded brain. Crimson Flare winced visibly. Morly’s camera caught the pained expression on her face, then slowly panned down her body.
‘Get as much as you can to make clear that she is the real Crimson Slut, Morly. I want to post pictures on CRIMNET and make copies of the video for sale. We have a built-in audience.’ Nancy walked directly to the black bag that sat on the floor. She picked it up and carried it to the table where Ed stood guard over the dazed heroine. Reaching in, the redheaded criminal removed, one after another, a collection of menacing instruments whose purpose was at present unclear. ‘I think you’ll enjoy this,’ she said quietly. Neatly setting the implements in a row along the edge of the table, she looked like an operating room nurse preparing instruments for surgery.
‘Hold her arms!’ The large goon at the head of the table immediately obeyed, stretching Crimson’s arms outward and upward in a sort of crucifix. By extending her arms like that, pain again shot through the avenger’s ribs. The combination of the drug and the release from her bonds may have reduced the agony, but the helpless heroine nevertheless could feel shafts of white pain wrapping around her chest. While her captive was thus restrained, Nancy plucked up a collar, to which was attached a long leather thong, barbed with small metal studs. In a matter of moments, it tightly circled the soft and lovely throat of the masked maiden. Through the haze that was only too slowly clearing, the beautiful Guardian of Mitropoulos felt her airways constricted and she gagged. And she also could feel the first barbs of coming humiliation. Morly continued capturing the entire event.
‘Kinda tight, isn’t it, superheroine? Pain is not registering much on your consciousness now, so I figured that, in order to get your attention, I needed to threaten you with something else.’ She pulled at the leash, raising the Champion toward her. Weakly, Crimson tried to pull free of the powerful arms that restrained her own, to get her fingers under the collar that ringed her neck. Unable to do so, her breathing became deeper, harsher. Beneath her mask, her eyes widened. Not knowing what was happening, she tried to speak.
‘No,’ she whispered. ‘Help… me.’
She was not in real danger of dying, of course. Nancy would certainly not allow that. But America’s Darling believed that she was being starved of oxygen and even the painful broken rib did not stop her from gasping for every breath. Nancy first smiled, and then chuckled at the heroine’s desperation.
‘Let’s see what else we have for decoration,’ she said, her eyes passing over the collection of options before her. ‘Ah, yes.’ She picked up a pair of nipple clamps connected by a silver chain. The redhead placed the first clamp over the light pink nipple that centered the aureole on the near side of the Champion’s chest. Screwing the clamp tight, Nancy smiled as the organ reddened. The camera continued to capture the degradation of the Champion of Mitropoulos.
‘Aaaaaahhhhhhhh,’ America’s Darling sighed. ‘Please… ple-please, don't do… thi… this.’ Morly smiled, as he knew the camera mike had captured the pleas from the defeated young woman.
‘Oh, my dear, I’m just starting.’ The camera mike picked up Nancy’s soft response clearly. Through the lens, Morly watched the tight denim stretch across Crimson’s weakly struggling form. Morly focused on Nancy’s hands as she placed the second tit into the waiting clamp. The criminal leader seemed to thoroughly enjoy tightening the clamp around the unresisting nodule. The light pink quickly turned a brighter red, as the cameraman changed the focus from Nancy’s pale hand as it darted out of the frame to the round swelling that topped Crimson Flare’s breast. He tracked along the silver chain that lay across the petite heroine’s chest. Nancy’s hand re-entered the frame as she fingered its tiny links. ‘Yes, this is just the beginning,’ she said. The silver links disappeared into her fist as the denim-clad villainess gripped the dangling chain. ‘They only look dainty,’ she said, pulling upward and stretching the heroine’s round mounds into a more elliptical shape so that they almost filled the frame.
‘Ngg-uugghhh!’ Crimson Flare moaned. Morly quickly pulled back to capture more of the pained heroine.
‘They’re actually quite strong. Here. I’ll prove it to you.’ And Nancy pulled the heroine all the way up to a sitting position as her henchman released her arms. There was a sharp intake of breath from the Champion of Women. ‘Ooh, I'm sorry,’ Nancy smiled toothily. ‘Did that hurt?’ Morly tried to control himself. He realised that the images and sounds he was capturing were worth their weight in gold.
‘Your susceptibility to pain is returning earlier than I expected. But are you coordinated enough to fight back?’ She reached out her hand and slapped the heroine across the face. The sound of the blow echoed in the large rehearsal hall. The sound even jarred Morly’s image as the force of the blow surprised even him. But he should not have been surprised by anything Nancy did, particularly in her treatment of this captive.
The camera continued to roll and, out of camera range, Ed began to remove his pants.
Crimson Flare tried to raise her hand to defend herself, but it only plopped into her lap. When Nancy slapped her a second time, even more forcefully, it rose only a few inches before falling, useless, back to rest atop her bare thighs. ‘No, I guess not,’ Nancy answered her own question.
‘Good. Come with me.’ The redhead now simply pulled the unresisting Maiden of Mitropoulos from the table. Crimson Flare stumbled over the blue perimeter and dropped clumsily to her knees on the floor. Morly followed closely, capturing what he imagined would be the utter humiliation of Crimson Flare. The Champion of Women cried out as Nancy maintained her grip on the links she was using as a handle on the superheroine. The redhead viciously pulled Crimson back to her knees. Still confounded by Chan’s serum, the masked Maiden was unable to resist. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘D—don’t. Oh, god, don’t.’ Ed followed, awaiting his desired opportunity; Morly also followed, circling, capturing the full extent of this spectacle.
‘Oh, yes,’ came the reply. ‘There’s lots of pleasure and pain in your future, heroine.’ Morly was ever so grateful that he had remembered to engage the built-in microphone on the camera’s front.
The redheaded sadist now began pulling downward on the silver chain that hung between the breasts of her captive. ‘Down, you bitch,’ she ordered, as she continued to drag the heroine lower. ‘Kiss my boot!’
Crimson Flare bowed before her tormentor, pulled down by the clamps that securely held her nipples. Though Nancy, too, went to one knee as she dragged her enemy downward, Crimson Flare, dazed and powerless, lowered herself before her enemy. Pleased with her opponent’s posture, Nancy released her hold in the chain and took up the leash that dangled from Crimson Flare’s neck. Wrapping it around her hand, she yanked the heroine’s head toward her dusty tan boot. ‘Kiss it, Crimson Slut.’
Even through the effects of the drug that compelled her, Crimson Flare began to feel a sharp pain in her chest.
Unable to resist, the masked face of the Champion of Women dipped toward the floor. Morly knelt to capture the moment, knowing it would make this video a treasured collector’s piece.
Crimson Flare’s face closed toward the well-worn footwear of her tormentor. Above her, she heard the order, ‘Kiss it, Crimson Slut. You’ve lost! You’re beaten! Let everybody see it! I’ve beaten Crimson Flare!!’ Nancy’s eyes, madly wild, shone as she wrapped the leash around and around her grip.
It was inevitable that the helpless Maiden of Mitropoulos should finally bring her lips to the dirty leather. As soon as contact was made, Nancy screamed at her captive, ‘Kiss it, you bitch!! Kiss my boot!!’ Morly’s camera caught the slight puckering of Crimson Flare’s lips as she did so.
Because of Chan’s serum, which disoriented the mind but also subordinated the will, the heroine was faintly aware of what she was doing, but ultimately so dazed that she could not resist the command. When Nancy shouted an order to kiss it again, the deed, having been done once, was only a little easier the second time.
‘Now,’ the sadistic redhead whispered harshly, ‘lick it clean.’ Morly’s focus pushed in closer as Crimson Flare’s tongue, first tentatively, then with increasing eagerness, performed the commanded task. When the organ receded into her mouth, the heroine could only swallow the offending detritus without complaint. Morly’s camera captured the instant in a tight close-up of the victim’s face.
The masked Champion tasted the gritty sediment as her tongue passed across the tan leather; the dirt and smears disappeared and line after line of aged but pristine leather replaced it. Again and again, Crimson Flare, Guardian of Mitropoulos, Champion of Women, pressed her face close to her enemy’s foot, mouth wider and tongue stretched further each time she renewed her demeaning activity.
Nancy laughed triumphantly as she stared, almost unbelieving. Chan’s serum had shown evidence of breaking the will of the men it had been tested on, but they had usually been able to eventually resume their roles, at least until they died. But this! Crimson Flare had the strength of a dozen men. And yet… and yet she was obeying without question. Could it be because she was a woman? The stuff had never been tested on a woman.
Crimson Flare pressed her face around the sides of Nancy’s boot, still licking away the dust and filth accumulated on the leather. Morly followed her actions closely, recording completely the victory of his mistress.
She loosened her grip on the leash, allowing herself to stand erect before the defeated heroine. She whispered to Morly, ‘Get all of this,’ and the cameraman pulled back to capture the full image of conqueror and victim.
‘Good, Crimson Slut. Now, the other,’ she ordered.
The naked Champion slowly shifted her effort to the other boot. Her small form seemed even more pitiful as her masked face, pressed against the leg of Nancy’s blue denim jeans, served now only as a reminder of her former power and celebration. It brushed lightly against her adversary’s leg, as she licked again and again the filth and dirt from the light brown boot. When she had finished, she vacantly looked up toward the face of her tormentor. She rested on her elbows and knees, her naked body swaying under the bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling. The Champion was relieved that the ache in her chest had diminished now.
But even Morly was shocked by the suddenness of Nancy’s next move. The redhead leveled a powerful kick directly at the head of the still-swaying heroine, which struck her cheekbone. The petite body of Crimson Flare was thrown violently to the floor, where she lay, uncomprehending, stunned, beaten.
‘Ed.’ Nancy was removing her own jeans as the shaven-headed hoodlum approached. Despite their tightness, she pulled herself free of them with surprising ease. A soft red tuft, unevenly shaven, stood out beneath her blue jacket. ‘Lift her up.’
Ed easily lifted the unresisting form of the crimefighter to her feet. Her naked body rested against his large chest, her masked face lolling to one side. Crimson Flare’s petite form rested on the two-inch heels of her scuffed and battered black boots. Her legs, spread wide, angled up from the floor, and her body sagged in the grip of the large man who secured her arms and shoulders. Her masked face and cowled head slowly rolled forward and back, side to side. Morly captured the image of the helpless Champion of Women, being careful not to press too closely with his camera. ‘Ooohh, god,’ he heard her whisper, the muted moan issuing from her still-red lips. As her head swayed and lolled, at the corners of her mouth the camera momentarily picked out evidence of the dirt she had swept from her conqueror’s boots. However, the bruises that had earlier marred that beautiful face were by this time healed, Morly saw. Her skin was shiny with sweat and grimy with filth gained in the mistreatment she had endured since her capture. The glistening silver chain and nipple clamps seemed too bright to be appropriate on this battered and debased figure. Morly’s lens swept down her body, focusing on the evidence of Nancy’s domination. The redhead, clearly at home parading her shaven pussy in front of these men, quickly moved to the collection of sex toys she had laid out earlier. Returning quickly to her helpless victim, Nancy strapped the 14-inch black dildo into place around her own groin. It appeared that the heroine’s trial was not yet over.
One black leather strap wrapped around her hips, allowing the obscene object to lie on top of her red muff. Two other leather belts were secured around the tops of her thighs and would hold it firmly in place while it did its work. While Nancy completed the small task of securing the probe to herself, Morly’s camera continued to gaze unblinking at the trapped heroine. Still dazed, Crimson Flare was barely aware of her new ordeal. Through unfocused eyes the masked girl watched as the smiling Nancy passed into Morly’s frame. When Nancy’s finger pressed against her captive’s clit and rubbed roughly against her labia, the Champion of Women was roused from her stupor, but unable to free herself from Ed, who still held her arms tightly. The camera watched as America’s Darling seemed to slowly become aware of the penetration. Her efforts to resist the new attack stimulated the large hoodlum behind her, his erection already taking shape against the unprotected cheeks of the Guardian of Mitropoulos.
‘Pleasure and pain, heroine. Pleasure and pain.’ Nancy held the fourteen-inch dildo in her left hand, as if aiming it at the vulnerable entrance to her victim. ‘Pleasure and pain,’ she said again. ‘My pleasure, your pain. Hold her, Ed!
‘I go in first,’ Nancy ordered, and Ed paused. ‘Lift her up and put her on me.’ Nancy maneuvered the black dildo into place at the entrance to Crimson Flare’s defenseless sex. Behind the heroine, the large thug pulled up on her arms and shoulders using the double chicken wing he had locked on her. ‘NNnngggghhhkkk!’ she moaned weakly, the pain from her injured ribs cutting through the haze.
Ed might have eased the masked heroine onto the long black probe that Nancy offered, but in fact, his own erection, already pressed between the round, muscular cheeks of the young woman, had already reached the point of pain. He knew that his time was limited if he were to enjoy the fruits of this victory. Even Morly, trying to maintain a distance between himself and the event he was filming, squinting through the eyepiece to capture the full extent of the Champion’s disgrace, felt a distant tingling in his own manhood. This was the most unbelievable thing he had ever witnessed!
In his haste, Ed began forcing the petite heroine onto his mistress’ piece, in order that he could begin pressing his own engorged self into the helpless young woman all the sooner. The only true victim of this haste was the powerless Champion of Women.
‘NNnnnggggggGGGHHHHAAAAAAHHH!!’
The black dildo was pushed deep into the dry, resisting vagina. Crimson Flare could almost feel tissue tearing inside her. Only the tips of her black leather boots touched the floor.
Morly caught the entire scene. He was pulling back to a wider frame as Ed pushed Crimson Flare’s helpless form onto the rigid probe strapped to the redhead. As Nancy pressed herself against the heroine, and the dildo made its way deep inside the vulnerable sex, he closed in and focused on the masked face of the heroine. The shriek that issued from her surprised him, but he continued to film the scene.
Crimson Flare seemed to be suspended on the obscene object, almost unconscious, unresisting, completely devoid of any evidence of life. Her naked body slumped forward, resting against Nancy’s shoulder, her arms now hanging uselessly at her sides as Ed tried to double her humiliation by pressing his own member between the cheeks behind.
It might have been the terror-filled shriek or the difference in size between his engorged member and Crimson Flare’s entry that was available to him, but, whatever the reason, Ed failed to place himself inside the heroine before the combined effects of tactile stimulation (rubbing himself against the smooth surface of her skin), his own adolescent imaginings—very colourful, they were—and the immense buildup of pressure within his genitals created a massive ejaculation, spewing his seed across Crimson Flare’s bare cheeks and up her exposed back. Morly didn’t quite capture all of the moment, though the products—the streaks of white fluid sticking gamely to her, Ed’s shocked disappointment—were clearly captured by his camera. And, truth be told, Morly somewhat enjoyed Ed’s failure. It would, in fact, make his own coupling with the heroine, still to come, all the more enjoyable, he thought.
Nancy, meantime, continued to press the black probe deep into her victim. She savoured the dead weight of the naked girl as it lay against her. So, she thought, this was the Champion of Women, the costumed twat who had taken two of the men she had so carefully cultivated to arrange for her own rise in the underworld. She swung her hips rapidly, shaking the heroine who hung suspended on the dildo in front of her. From somewhere inside the helpless woman gurgled a sound of pain and helplessness. The redhead looked into the grimace that was the face of her victim and saw a broken spirit: eyes closed behind the still-shiny black mask, nostrils flared, mouth hanging agape, filth still clinging at the corners and a curdle of saliva rolling off her tongue onto her jaw. Nancy felt the leather boots of Crimson Flare pressing against the back of her thighs as Crimson Flare tried to ease the pressure and pain inside herself by lifting her body upward. Oh, no, Nancy thought. It’s not going to be that easy. Nothing’s going to be easy for you ever again, bitch.
When she narrowed her stance, Nancy felt the cool leather slide from her. Once again the Champion was suspended in the grip of her enemies and supported on the 14-inch rod that was attached to Nancy’s pelvis. As the boots slipped down her legs, Nancy heard a very satisfying ‘NNnnmmmmggggghhhh!’ emerge from the avenger. Yes, she thought, satisfied, pleasure and pain, heroine.
Nancy felt the body of her victim begin to fall away from her. ‘Ed!’ she ordered. ‘Support her shoulders!’
Flustered by his premature ejaculation that had spent his wad and shriveled his manhood, which now hung limply, Ed first looked up uncomprehendingly at his mistress. Slowly, recognition formed and the large shaven-headed criminal reached out to place his arms under the shoulders and back of the battered young woman. As he felt the satin smoothness of her back, clumps of his own sticky fluids notwithstanding, he felt a new rising in himself. He rested her cowled head against his stomach and stared down at the disguised features. He watched as it slowly rocked back and forth, as if trying to deny what was happening. Her still-red lips formed the word ‘No’ again and again as she sagged between her two enemies.
The brave but battered Champion of Women struggled through the haze that surrounded her. She could feel her strength, could feel it latent in her, but she was not able to call on it to rescue her. Bewildered by the undifferentiated stimuli that pressed in on her, she was utterly unable to understand what was happening to her: the intense pain from her sex, where it seemed that something was tearing away at her insides; the other pain wrapping itself around her chest; the hands that grabbed at her body, trying to direct her first this way, then that; the yellow and white lights, and the golden rings that circled them, that seemed to sway from the ceiling; the taste of dried blood that would not go away and the sensations of muck that seemed to fill her mouth; that other bright light, the one that seemed to be circling her, moving in on her face and her body, then moving away only to reappear moments later.
One of the reasons for Crimson Flare’s success had been her clear-headed approach any predicament. Stacy had often told her that she was smarter than almost any of the enemies she would encounter; ‘stupid people always out-fuck smart people’; but if she kept a clear head, she would solve any problem. However, Chan’s drug had clouded her thinking and, as a bonus, had dragged away her will. Thus, nothing that was happening to her was clear. She could only recognise what her senses told her, that she could neither grasp nor control what was happening. The pain, the exhaustion, the lights, the pawing at her body: all of these had confused the heroine and would not allow for a response. All she could hope for was to clear her brain and begin to fight her way back.
Stacy had taught her how she could use pain. It could cleanse distractions away, or it could be a distraction itself. In the back of her mind, the Maid of Mitropoulos decided that the pain inside her, the tearing, ripping sensation that seemed to go deep into her womb, could be used to clear away all the lesser diversions and become a focus. It would take what keenness remained in her mind, all that she could draw upon against the power of Chan’s evil mixture. It was this focus that produced the shriek that so surprised her attackers.
‘GGGggnnnhhhhhh-hhhrrrruuuuuhhhhssssshhhhhhhkkkkkk!!’
To Nancy, as well as to her henchmen, the ungodly sound marked the beginning of the end of Crimson Flare. It meant that resistance would only diminish as the beaten heroine slowly felt her life ebbing from her. It was the sound of their triumph.
There she was, naked except for her mask and cowl, gloves and boots, suspended on the 14-inch rod that was attached to Nancy’s hips. If not for Ed’s support at her back, this Champion of Women would be poised upside down, head to the floor. What Nancy saw in her face was the definition of defeat. Not even the mask could hide the extent of Nancy’s victory: pain, confusion, even panic. Now driven to exultation, the redhead began a rhythmic, circular movement with her hips, at first slowly pressing herself deeper and deeper into the masked Maiden, smiling as each forward motion elicited a weak groan from America’s Darling. But the slow, grinding action gradually increased in speed and pressure, aided by Ed’s grip on the battered girl’s torso and shoulders. With each cycle, she pushed herself further into her victim. Crimson Flare’s legs involuntarily straightened as her insides felt as if they were being torn away, the scuffed black leather glinting as it swayed in the bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling. Her arms hung useless, their only movement the result of the constant banging the petite body of Crimson Flare absorbed from her attacker.
Ed felt his erection return, but the body he supported was now in no position for him to enter. He could feel the pressure again building within him, strengthened by the tactile and visual stimulation of the woman’s form that he held. In agony, he decided to plead his case. ‘Nancy?’ he queried softly. ‘Can we put her down?’
Without answering, the gangland Queen slowly dropped to her knees, bringing America’s Darling down with her and allowing the shaven-headed criminal to ease the unresisting body of the Avenger of Mitropoulos to the floor. Nancy continued to push herself ever deeper into the battered pussy of her enemy, and centimeter by centimeter, the long black dildo disappeared into the beaten heroine. Ed, gamely holding his own, fairly leapt to straddle the beaten girl and pressed his by-now-pained and engorged manhood into her mouth. The fresh provocation provided by the soft lips and tongue pressing against his member was more than any man could stand. No sooner had those thrilling stimuli touched his organ than he shot his new load. This second emission was as large as the first. Large enough to fill Crimson Flare’s mouth and run down the back of her throat, where the tip of Ed’s prick was pressed. Large enough that even before a fit of coughing gripped the helpless Maiden, white fluid appeared running out of the corners of her mouth, mixing with the caked filth from Nancy’s boots. The first weak hacking failed to expel him and Crimson Flare—Champion of Women, powerful Protector of Mitropoulos—feebly spit up Ed’s manhood. More and more of his cum dribbled from her mouth and even from her nose, covering the exposed part of face with a white film. The effect, Morly saw through his camera, was yet another signal of the avenger’s defeat. Ed’s kneeling form sagged as he heaved in utter exhaustion. Removing himself from her mouth by simply elevating his hips, he placed his clenched fists, knuckles downward, on opposite sides of Crimson Flare’s slowly rocking head. He stared at her, his heart pounding in his chest.
Meanwhile, Morly moved deftly around the threesome, always keeping the beaten and battered figure of Crimson Flare in his frame. From somewhere behind Ed’s exhausted form, Nancy’s voice ordered, ‘Ed. Move off of her. Let Morly get this!’ The thug simply tumbled from his victim. Off-camera, Morly could hear him gasping for breath.
What that camera captured next was Nancy lifting the hips of Crimson Flare from the floor by elevating the dildo at her hips. The heroine had no more control over what was happening to her now than Morly did. The redheaded moll had pressed almost the entire length of the black probe into the small girl lying before her and was now alternately raising and lowering the lower body of her victim by maneuvering her own hips and the strapped-on obscenity. Were it not for the agonised groans that accompanied these movements, the actions would have seemed almost cartoonish. Nancy, her eyes wide and her mouth spread in a ghoulish grin, supported herself on her knees. Her hands held the girl’s hip[s, but only served to steady the petite form as it rose and fell. Nancy’s hips moved forward and back, raised and lowered, and always the defeated form of Crimson Flare followed her, attached by the loathsome object that Nancy had secured to her hips.
Pain was completely surrounding Crimson Flare by this time. Stacy’s advice to find the center of that pain and use it for her own purposes was not an alternative to the hapless heroine. All that was left to her now was to accept the punishment doled out by her antagonist, and then…
And then, what? The Champion’s mind had slowly begun to clear. She could still feel her strength, latent within her. But it was useless against the torture that was being inflicted on her. The agony that accompanied the tearing of her insides and the less painful counterpoint in her ribs combined created a sense of utter helplessness. The heroine saw nothing, heard only the echoing laughter of her enemies, smelled and tasted the salty cum from her most recent attack, mixed with the grit and blood from her earlier defeats; and she felt pain, unendurable, unending pain. How, her brain tried to form the question, could she escape?
It was many minutes before Nancy withdrew the black object from her victim. Crimson Flare’s barely conscious body lay supine on the floor. Her legs were spread, but her knees were bent, so that they formed something like a diamond, or a figure-4. Her arms were extended full out from her body, as in a crucifix. Her body itself was covered in filth and sweat, and even blood was visible at the entrance to her battered sex. Her petite chest slowly rose and fell as she gasped for breath. A deep blue-black blotch marred the otherwise perfect skin of her torso, indicating where Ape’s kicks had done their most severe damage. Her shiny black leather boots were badly scuffed, but evidences of their earlier high polish could still be readily seen, especially high up on the girl’s calves, where the boots fit like a second skin. Her crimson satin gloves still covered her hands and forearms, but only one extended over the elbow now, the other crushed toward her wrist. Very faint remains of the track marks from her earlier ordeal in the subway could still be seen there. Her black vinyl mask reflected the bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling, its high gloss undiminished. Behind the mask her eyelids fluttered and her eyes rolled in their sockets, unfocussed. Likewise, the vinyl cowl covered her hair and the top of her head, shining in the light. But the exposed areas of the face of America’s Darling showed the magnitude of her defeat. Around her still-red lips the combination of caked dirt, saliva, and semen formed an uneven crusty halo, reaching down her chin and even toward her nostrils. The incrustation was a faint grey-brown in colour, its rough surface highlighting the soft and kissable lips they ringed.
Morly took up his camera again, having satisfied his own desires with the heroine, and added a final long pan across her body, ending with a shot of her face, and pulling back to a single shot of the broken and defeated heroine. As he began to shut down the video, Nancy came up behind him. ‘Wait a moment,’ she said quietly. ‘We’re not finished yet.’
What more, thought the cameraman, can we do to her?
‘Let’s start with this. Make sure you get it, Morly.’ Nancy reached down and easily pulled the black vinyl mask from Crimson Flare’s face.
End of Chapter Ten