My eyes open and I stare up at violet lilies painted on a lavender ceiling. It takes a moment for me to get my bearings. I am lying on a simple mattress on a wooden floor. I am wearing a silk chemise that extends to the middle of my thighs. The sheer white fabric feels good against my skin. It falls lightly atop my breasts and reveals the bumps caused by my nipples. The memory of what has happened, of how I was raped, enters my thoughts. The bumps grow larger.
My red and black costume, complete with boots and mask, is folded neatly and laying nearby. My cheeks blush at the thought of strangers undressing me. I look down at my arm and note the marks on the inside of my left elbow. The tiny scabs confirm that I have been drugged. My bulletproof flesh is normally impervious to syringes, but after I was raped, after I lost my powers, my captors were able to penetrate my skin with their needles. There are three scabs. I assume that I have been unconscious for three days.
I rise to my feet and stretch. My powers have returned. I feel strong. I feel ready. I walk to the door in bare feet. As I open it, an older woman, Japanese, bows and speaks to me in broken English. “Ah,” she says, “you are awake at last. You should proceed to the Master’s chamber. He wishes to speak with you. Do not delay!”
She enters my room, kneels, and begins cleaning the wood floor with a sponge. I watch her for a moment and then turn away. I proceed in the direction that she has indicated. I am on a balcony walkway and looking down into a beautiful interior garden. The house is immaculate. It is beautiful. It is not what I expected.
A water fountain in the garden imitates the sound of a babbling brook. Sparrows chirp and sing. A hummingbird floats from one flower to the next while golden carp swim in a small pool, below. I pause to look on these things and wonder again where it is that I am. I am a crime-fighter. Too often, my world is one of dark alleys and dens of corruption. I am unaccustomed to such beauty as this.
A young woman wearing a silk kimono sees me and rushes to my side. “This way, this way,” she says while bowing. “The Master awaits your arrival anxiously.”
I walk with her past the garden and up a set of stairs. She kneels next to a sliding door. She opens it for me and indicates that I should enter. The door closes behind me. I am in a large, well furnished office. Windows are shuttered but the room is well lit. A desk sits on the opposite side of the room. It is then that I see familiar faces. Not friendly faces, to be sure, but familiar. It is the middle-aged Japanese man that I remember from the night I was captured. He sits behind the desk and barely acknowledges my presence. Behind him, on either side, are the Izumi sisters. They have changed out of their leather eveningwear, I quickly notice. The white blouses, ribbons, and checkered knee-high skirts that they now wear seem more like schoolgirl uniforms than the attire of highly skilled bodyguards. But the cold stares that they give me clearly indicate that the twins are all about business.
I swallow hard. My skin becomes flushed. I experience an unwanted tingling. It is the Sartak, I know. Part of my curse, my susceptibility to sexual stimulation, is that I will always be more vulnerable to enemies that have raped me before. The memory of how the super-sexy Izumi sisters tormented my lithe body, of how their hands and lips and tongues ravaged my flesh and helped bring me to my climax, is still fresh in my mind. One of the sisters smiles. She can sense my reaction. She can see the points of my firm tits pressing upward like little marbles on the thin fabric of the silk chemise.
I try to ignore the girls. I walk further into the office and stand in front of the desk. I clear my throat, forcing the man to look up and take note of me. I will not be put off. I demand to know what is going on.
“Slaves do not make demands of their masters!” he finally barks while slamming a hand down onto the surface of the desk. “You will speak when spoken to and not before!”
His English is quite good. I assume he understands the stream of profanities that I hurl at him. “I am not your goddamn slave, you fucking bastard!” is the nicest thing I manage to say. His face shows no emotion. “Crude protestations cannot not change the fact that you are a slave. You are bought and paid for. Whether you like it or not, you are now a member of this house. We
are the Nagayasu. I am Masaharu, the patriarch. You will call me Mr. Nagayasu when we are in public and Master when we are in private. From this point forward, and until you earn a more worthy title, you are to be known as Hato. Your name is Hato.”
I look at him, flabbergasted. “You have got to be kidding. My name is Ms. Marvelous and I will make you regret the day you ever set eyes on me!”
I reach across the desk with the intention of grabbing my captor by the collar and giving him an up close and personal demonstration of my power. I am as strong as ten men and he will soon learn that I am not a woman to be trifled with—
A female hand clasps my wrist mere inches from the throat of Masaharu. It is one of the twins. We struggle for a moment, each testing the strength of the other. As I had on the night of my capture, I observe that she is unnaturally strong. But she is not as strong as me. It is her choice not to release my wrist as I pull her off the ground and over the desk. She lands hard at my feet and finally lets go.
The second twin moves with catlike speed and grabs me from behind. Her arms wrap under my elbows. A kick to the back of my legs drops me onto my knees. Her counterpart, still on the floor in front of me, quickly slides a hand between my legs. Her fingers make contact with my crotch and get in several good rubs. I am embarrassed by how quickly my pussy reacts to the touch of this young Asian beauty. Her hand continues to rub me for the next thirty seconds and I begin to get wet. The silk chemise stains with speckles of moisture.
“Enough!” the man commands.
I force my stiffening body to move. I knee the girl in the chops. I stand and wrench my arms free of the girl behind me. I slug her in the stomach and back away. I know that I have to get out of here. There is no point in fighting the twins on their home turf. The odds are against me. I need to escape, regroup and collect my senses. Then I will come back for them. When the time is right, I will bring the Izumi sisters and their boss to justice.
I launch myself into the air, flying through the sliding door and splintering it into a million pieces. I streak past the garden and toward the exit. Servants watch but do not try to stop me. I make it to the door. I make it to freedom. I burst through and stand on an elevated porch. A brilliant sun, dropping low in the western sky, shines its warm light on my slender figure. I am high on a hill and I look out over a vast cityscape—
“This is not Megapolis!” I exclaim. “This is… this is…”
“This is Kyoto,” the voice of Masaharu says from behind me. “You are in Japan.” I spin on my heels and stare into the man’s face. “Japan?” The Izumi sisters quickly take me by the arms. Their grip is tight.
“My home,” the man confirms. “But come back inside. Let there be no further violence. Let us talk. Hear what I have to say. Then, if you wish to leave, you may leave.”
I look back over my shoulder toward the unfamiliar city. It frightens me being in such a strange and far away place. I do not know anyone here. No one knows me. I have no place to go. Still… Masaharu places a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Please,” he says.
I relax and stop pulling against the hands that hold me. “Very well,” I finally relent. “I will listen.”
We return to the office. The Izumi sisters no longer hold my arms but continue to watch me closely. I am unsure if they are concerned with the safety of their boss or if they just like lusting after my body. I try my best to ignore them. I do not like the unfamiliar impulses that I feel when seeing their slender, sexy, bodies. I am not a lesbian but these girls have some kind of hold on me.
“It is the Sartak,” I silently remind myself. “Because they raped me, my body reacts to them on some primitive level. It is nothing. Ignore it.” If only it were that easy.
Mr. Nagayasu sits behind the desk and looks up at me. “You are clearly not an ordinary slave,” he says while motioning toward the destroyed door of his office. “I have brought you here for a special purpose. Tell me, Hato, are you familiar with the Kigyourengou?”
“Forgive me,” I reply. “I have little knowledge of your language or your culture.”
“The Kigyourengou is a syndicate of powerful lords, er… businessmen. Although Japan is a democracy and has a prime minister and a parliament, it is the Kigyourengou that possesses true power. We control the banks, the factories, the shipyards, the drug trade, and even, some might say, the government itself. The Nagayasu clan has been a member of the Kigyourengou since the days of emperors and samurai. For two decades, I have led the Kigyourengou. Yet, now, my authority is challenged by another. A young rival has taken something very valuable from me, a treasure that ensures my legacy. I wish you, Hato, to help me retrieve it.”
“Who is this rival? What has he taken?”
“The man is called Takumi Ikeda. He was once like a son to me. I might have adopted him and named him as my successor, but his impatience for power has caused him to go in a different direction. Rather than wait for my time to end, he has formed his own clan and now challenges me for leadership. The matter can only be decided in one way, using the traditional method that has settled such disputes since the beginning of time. We must have the Konbatto.”
“Konbatto?”
Masaharu nods. “A ceremonial combat waged between the two houses involved in the dispute. You see, the clans of the Kigyourengou are so powerful that any war might tear the syndicate apart and risk destroying the country. Both victor and defeated would be left so weak that others could easily step in and fill the void. Consequently, we choose to settle things in a more civilized manner. The Konbatto allows champions to be designated by each house and the battle to be carried out in a proper way. The winner reaps the rewards. The loser must accept its delegation to a lower position.”
“But what does this have to do with me? Surely, you do not expect me to fight for you?” He waves two fingers in front of his face. “Yes, you will assist me. You will fight against Alpha One, though not in the Konbatto.”
“Alpha One?”
“The champion of my rival and the reason that Takumi is so bold as to challenge me. It is an insult-- Alpha One is not even Japanese. He is American, like you. But he is the most powerful warrior slave possessed by any of the Kigyourengou. It is unlikely that you can beat him but you may be able to distract him.”
“Distract him? What do you mean?”
“Alpha One stands guard over the Shinju, the treasure that was stolen from me. You must understand, whoever possesses the Shinju possesses great prestige. Among other things, the owner is allowed to determine the type of Konbatto that will be used to decide the outcome of the power struggle. Since Takumi possesses the treasure, he gets to decide. It swings the odds in his favor. This is unacceptable. Consequently, I wish to retrieve the Shinju, but I need Alpha One out of the way in order to do so. This is where you come in, Hato. Only you have the power to keep him distracted long enough for my other slaves, led by the Izumi sisters, to retrieve the Shinju. This is what I want you to do. I want you to fight Alpha One.”
“Why is the ability to choose the type of Konbatto so important?” I ask. “Why does one kind favor you more than another?”
“There are only two kinds, Hato. The first, and that preferred by Takumi, is a one against one challenge of champions. But since I have no champion capable of defeating Alpha One in single combat, this format does not suit me. The other kind is called Houmentai and pits large groups of opposing warriors against one another in a single battle. You have seen the skill of the Izumi sisters firsthand. Perhaps you can begin to understand why I prefer the Houmentai to a one on one challenge? Even with Alpha One on his side, Takumi cannot hope to match my superior force of highly trained female warriors.”
Masaharu seems amused by the look of surprise on my face. “Yes, Hato, it is true. All of my warriors are women. I find that they are more disciplined and easier to train than men. This is why I was in America. I was acquiring new recruits for my forces.”
He gestures with his hand and a servant leads three young Caucasian women into the room. The girls wear silk kimonos and bow their heads submissively. “Yes,” he says in answer to my unspoken question. “These are the young women that you were trying to rescue. They are my slaves, now, just as are you. And though you have already proven that you possess the ability to leave my house at any time that you wish, I want you to understand that these girls will suffer greatly if you do.”
“You are a despicable man!” I hiss at him.
“An unfair accusation,” he replies, “for my servants are well treated. But I wish you to know that whatever harm comes to these three will be your doing, not mine. Either you will give me your cooperation or they will pay the price of your disobedience. Do we understand one another?”
I glance at the girls and note that they will not even raise their eyes to look at me. It seems that their indoctrination as slaves of the Kigyourengou is well underway. But they do not appear to be harmed in any way and I cannot bare the thought of causing them pain. “Very well,” I concede reluctantly. “I will do as you ask.”
“What?” Masaharu Nagayasu replies sternly. “What did you say?”
I bow my head. “I will do as you ask, Master.”
We exit the van and I position myself at the head of the team. It is a simple plan. We are to acquire the Shinju. I am to confront Alpha One and prevent him from assisting in the defense of the treasure. Behind me stand a dozen female warriors. Leading them are the Izumi sisters. One of the twins pokes me on the back of my shoulder derisively. It is time to go.
Downtown Kyoto is mostly quiet. I walk up the steps, leaving the other girls behind in the shadows. A guard rushes to confront me. The back of my fist knocks him from the walk and into a bed of roses. A second guard meets a similar fate. “Alpha One!” I shout loud enough to be heard by those inside the building. “Alpha One! I come to challenge you!”
There is a commotion inside. The doors eventually swing open and several men charge out. Behind them, walking casually and picking a piece of chicken from his teeth, is the man for whom I have come. His tight-fitting costume hugs a large, muscular frame and literally reeks of American patriotism. Red, white, and blue stripes glitter. A cape drapes like a flag over his back. Stars speckle his chest. I am taken aback. Who does this guy think he is? Captain America?
“Alpha One?”
He scans my athletic figure up and down and smiles. “That’s right,” he says while ogling my boobs. “And you’re… Ms. Marvelous?”
Finally, someone in this country that knows who I am! I place my hands on my hips and strike a pose, showing off my own red and black costume. I know that I look good. My legs are long and taught. A bare midriff is flat and chiseled. My skin is tan and smooth. Long golden hair falls in waves over my shoulders and I feel both beautiful and strong. It feels good to wear my costume once again. It makes me feel like something other than a slave. It reminds me that I am a super-heroine.
I ignore the stares of the guards. They are drooling over the sight of my long body. My costume shows a lot of skin and seems painted on. Every curve and bump of my 34-23-34 figure is on display. But I do not care. I have endured such looks before. Most men, those that wanted to do more than just look, soon regretted it.
“Yes, I am Ms. Marvelous,” I answer. “I have come to challenge you, Alpha One. Do you dare to fight me?”
It does not take him long to decide. “I don’t know what you are doing here in Japan, super-babe, but I’m glad you came. Maybe by beating you, I can finally get some attention from the worthless media. Maybe people will finally start paying attention to Alpha One and I can finally make enough money to buy my freedom and get out of this backwater country!”
I smile coolly. “Just another attention-starved super-hero, huh? What’s the matter, AO, did you have to come to Japan because the people back in America would not give you the attention you think you deserve?”
He frowns. “Let’s just say that it is tough to build a rep when smoking hot chicks like you grab all the media time. But if I beat you—if I rape you, maybe—then maybe reporters like Joel-what’s-his-name Steiner will start writing about me instead of you. Yeah, I can see it now. Alpha One, the man that ended Ms. Marvelous’ career. But don’t worry, super-babe. When it is all said and done and I’m famous, you
can still come around. You can be my super-slut, anytime.”
My cheeks blush and I am glad that I am wearing a mask. Dorky costume aside, the guy is put together like a total stud. Rock-solid shoulders and powerful biceps. A broad chest and narrow waist. Thick thighs and bulging calves. Long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. A good-looking face, too. The only thing holding this guy back, I decide, is his attitude. The media loves super-heroes. Maybe the heroines do get the bulk of the attention, but a guy like Alpha One should still be able to turn some heads.
Still, as he continues to stare at my body, and as the snake in his tight pants begins to visibly worm its way down the inside of his right leg, I begin to consider it more likely that the guy never wanted to be a hero in the first place. He may have wanted fame and glory but he probably did not care how he got it. So instead he came to Japan, to a country known to have few super-powerful, cape-wearing freaks, and tried to make a mark. Now, he wants to leave a mark on me.
I remember the plan. Get Alpha One out of here so that the other girls can lay an old-fashioned Japanese beat-down on the guards. Keep him occupied long enough for the girls to acquire the treasure. Then head back to the Nagayasu compound.
They say that AO is strong but that he cannot fly. I figure the best way to get him away from the building is to give him a lift. I charge forward, duck behind him, and grab his cape. I grip the star-spangled fabric tightly and fly skyward, pulling a loudly protesting super-hero wannabe along beneath me. The guards look up in stunned silence as we disappear into the distance.
“Put me down, you whore!” Alpha One spits in anger.
“All in good time,” I say while changing direction and heading toward a different part of the city. “You and I are going to have a talk, but not here.”
I soon spot a convenient alley where my new friend and I might have some privacy. It is late on a Saturday night and few people are on the streets. High-rises around us glow with a checkerboard pattern of lights. The alley is closed off at the far end and enclosed in shadows. No one will interrupt us here, I figure.
I drop him from twenty feet up, knowing that he is more than capable of handling such a fall if he lands on his feet, and probably all the more so if he lands on his head. I drop softly down to earth nearby. “Listen,” I say as he gets up. “I’m caught up in some kind of Japanese mafia power struggle and could really use your help. I am being forced to do things by this guy who seems to have issues with your boss. He is holding some American girls captive. Maybe if we work together we can figure out a way to get everyone back to America in one piece.”
Alpha One grins at me sadistically. “The only reason that I am in Kyoto is to make a reputation and a few yen. If I help you, what does it get me? No, I think that I would rather just humiliate you.” I gesture at his costume. “But you dress like a hero. Don’t you care about protecting people?” He laughs. “All I want to do is make some money. I’m not going to waste my powers helping others, at least not for free.”
“But aren’t you a slave, too? Don’t you want to fight for your freedom?”
“Takumi treats me real good, better than anyone back in the States ever did. Why blow a good thing?”
“People need champions, not thugs in fancy costumes!”
“I may be a thug,” he replies with a grin, “but I’m a super strong thug. Baby, you aren’t even in my class and I am going to prove it to you and everyone else. I’m going to take that smoking little body of yours and use it like a toy. I’m going to show everyone that you’re nothing but a sex kitten in a killer outfit. Sweetheart, I’m going to rape your oversexed brains out.”
“That is not going to happen,” I state resolutely. “If you persist on this course of action, your plans for fame and fortune will come to an end today, here in this alley!”
“You can’t win,” he insists while staring at my chest. “I know your weakness, gorgeous. Fucking you is going to be a great time. Watching you get all weak and teary-eyed as I unfurl my rock-hard package and penetrate deep inside you is going to make my day. Believe me, babe, I’m bigger than anything you have ever seen before. And who knows? Maybe a reporter or two will make it over here in time to snap off some pictures. I can see the headlines now—Ms. Marvelous balled into submission by the man-god, Alpha One. The story might even make it back to Megapolis. Wouldn’t that be sweet?”
“You are sick!” I shout while rushing forward to attack. “You are a depraved, psychotic, and evil man!”
I leap into the air and drive a side-thrust kick into his chest. He flies backward and slams hard against the wall at the end of the alley. But to my surprise, he rebounds like a lightning bolt and charges back at me looking to land a blow of his own.
I deflect a right and then a left. But fists are not Alpha One’s only dangerous weapons. The sound of his elbow cracking off of my forehead resonates almost as loudly through the alley as it does through my skull. He follows up with a haymaker uppercut that sends me flying through the air for eight feet and sprawling across the ground for four.
It takes longer for me to get to my feet than it does for me to realize that Masaharu was not kidding when he said Alpha One was strong. “Nice one,” I say while rubbing a sore jaw. “But it will take a lot more than that to beat me.”
“I know just how to beat you,” he says while motioning toward his crotch.
My eyes are drawn to the growing bulge pressing outward on the tight-fitting fabric of his gaudy, red, white and blue costume. I swallow hard. Unless Alpha One is packing a sausage from the deli, he has ample reason to boast about the size of his impressive member.
I try to put thoughts concerning the size of his package out of my mind while rushing forward to take the initiative. He gets suckered by a feint and leaves himself wide open for a karate chop across the top of his thick head. A roundhouse kick to the shoulder lands solidly and sends him plowing into the side of a garbage dumpster. I follow up by grabbing his cape and throwing it over his head so that he can’t see. I might have laughed at the sight of him stumbling around had I not been so focused on knocking his block off. My fists beat him down, slamming time and again against his head and shoulders. I drive a kick into his ribs. His knees buckle. He collapses onto the pavement and groans.
“I wish those reporters would hurry up and get here,” I say brashly. “It would tickle me pink if they could see you now!”
Alpha One struggles to his knees. He pulls the cape off of his head and blinks as if trying to get his bearings. “Wow!” he finally says. “You’re a lot tougher than I expected.”
I have to admit that I feel a pang of sympathy for the guy. Despite his threats, perhaps there is still a way that we can work this out amicably. After all, I decide, we are both strangers in a strange land. The sight of his American face makes me yearn for home. It will be a lot easier getting back there if we work together.
“Here,” I say while holding out my hand. “Let me help you up.”
“Thanks…” he replies while taking my hand. But then, as he gets to his feet, he adds something else. “…For making it so easy.”
Too late, I realize that he has removed something from beneath his belt. He tosses it at my face, a handful of white powder, and a cloud forms around my head. My eyes begin to burn. Poison enters my mouth and nose. Tears stream down my cheeks. I cough violently. My head is spinning. I feel weak.
He approaches me from behind. He twists my arm and wrenches it behind my back. I scream in pain as he nearly pulls my shoulder out of its socket. He wraps his free arm around my neck and constricts it across my windpipe. He uses a seven-inch height advantage for leverage and locks the hold in tight. I gasp for air. My eyes roll into the back of my head. I beat on his arm futilely with my free hand. Finally, in desperation, I use my flying power to launch us both high into the air. I am on the verge of unconsciousness as we drop back to earth. At the last moment, I roll us over so that my opponent’s back takes the brunt of the bruising impact…
He releases the arm lock and pushes my limp body off of his chest. I lay on my left hip, partially propped up by my elbow. I can hear him struggling to his feet, behind me. Apparently, the drop onto the hard asphalt has finally done some damage to the guy, but I am probably in worse shape. I force myself up onto my knees and breath deeply, trying to catch my breath. The effects of the poison will wear off soon enough, I figure. My super-enhanced body has a high resistance to narcotics of all kinds. But I do not recover quickly enough—before I can defend myself, Alpha One approaches from behind and again wraps his left forearm around my neck. His right hand clutches the top of my head. He squeezes, not choking off my supply of air, as he had before, but rather the flow of blood to my brain. Almost immediately, I begin to feel lightheaded. Seconds later, I am nearly on the verge of passing out.
The weight of my attacker’s body leans down on me, forcing my legs to fold and my butt to press against the heels of my feet. My hands drop into my lap. The world seems to close in around me.
Everything is going dark and I am not sure if I can go on. But my body can absorb a lot more punishment than most. With a last, desperate act, I thrust myself forward and pull my surprised opponent over the top of my shoulders. Letting loose of me, he flips involuntarily in the air and crashes down on the asphalt surface of the alley.
It was a good judo throw but also pretty lucky. A more talented fighter than Alpha One might have been able to maintain the sleeper hold and pull me over with him. But Alpha One is not that talented, I am coming to realize. He is big and strong and tough but his martial skills are fairly amateurish.
I wait for him to get up, taking the few seconds to gather my senses and prepare for the coming assault. I approach carefully, my left hand poised for defense and my right for attack. I am on my toes, ready to deliver a kick or scamper out of trouble. My head is still spinning from the poison but I have been trained by the best and few can match my fighting expertise.
He growls and throws a slow punch that I quickly slap away. A hard kick to the ribs reminds him not to be so clumsy with future attacks. He tries to grapple me, to take me to the ground and make it a wrestling match, but I turn aside his attempt and punish him with a spinning back fist to the side of the head. I jab him twice, scoring each time. A right cross rattles his teeth. A thrust kick to the top of his thigh makes him wince.
“Give it up!” I caution. “You are no match for me!”
He charges forward, trying to crowd me into a corner. The brick wall of the building is hard and unforgiving. I grunt as he pushes me back into it. My left fist drives into his chest. A right clips him on the jaw. He staggers, giving me the space I need to thrust a mule kick into his stomach and force him back a couple of steps.
But Alpha One is not finished. With a mad rush, he charges forward and grabs for my head with both hands. At first, I think he is going for my throat and raise my hands defensively. But as his fingers intertwine with my golden hair, I discover that he had something altogether different in mind. Using the strength of both arms, he slams my head backward against the wall. He does it a second time and then a third. It hurts. I see stars. I push against his face with both hands. My fingers dig into his flesh. The fight is getting desperate. It is getting down and dirty. I do not know how it will end but the warrior spirit within me is exuberant.
It is rare that I encounter an opponent as strong as me. Alpha One is that and maybe more. He releases my hair and slaps my hands away from his face. He shoves me back against the brick wall. His fingers curl up into big ham fists and slam into my stomach. He hammers me a second time and then a third. I am tough, but each strike seems to drive through my chiseled abdominal muscles and compress my internal organs a little bit more. A fourth blow nearly makes contact with my spine.
I stand there, dazed and unmoving, my feet spread and my legs stiff. I look up into his leering face. He likes the pain and helplessness that he sees in my eyes. He grabs my scalp in his right hand and my throat in his left. It is then that this down and dirty alley-fight takes a sudden and dramatic turn. To my surprise, he smothers my lips with his own. It is a long, hard, torrid kiss that leaves me breathless and is in stark contrast to the beating he has just given me. It is a proposition of pleasure over pain and in both body and mind I seem to prefer the one more than the other. The exuberance of the warrior quickly dissipates, replaced by the hidden desires and fears of a young woman. And as Alpha One finally pulls his face away from mine, he sees my cheeks flushed and my nipples standing erect.
“Sweet as honey!” he declares brashly.
I lash out with a sharp left that is faster than his ability to defend. The leering smile disappears as my knuckles connect with his jaw. His head snaps around and for a moment I think that I have hurt him. A devastating knee lift ramming unexpectedly into my already aching gut indicates otherwise.
My hands fall to my sides. My stomach feels like mush and I can barely remain standing. I know that my Caantonium-enhanced body will recover quickly but for now I am as weak as a kitten. “Don’t fight it,” he says while leaning in on me with the weight of his heavily muscled, six-foot four-inch body. “This does not have to be unpleasant.”
His right hand continues to hold my hair and for a moment I think he is going to lay another kiss on me. Instead, he slides his left hand slowly down and across the bare skin of my abdomen. With surprising tenderness, he rubs my aching stomach for a few moments as if to apologize for the blows he has delivered, but of course he has something more sinister in mind. I gasp as his fingers slide beneath
the stretchy fabric of my bikini bottom and over my trimmed pubes. Almost before I know what is happening, his fingers have slipped between my legs and into my slit.
“Ooooooh!” I exclaim. “How dare you!”
He spreads my pussy lips and expertly caresses my most sensitive spots. His middle finger dips slightly into my vulnerable hole. I struggle weakly, squirming against the wall, but succeed in doing little more than parting my thighs and giving my attacker better access. His hand cups my crotch as his fingers gently work me over. I am getting wet really fast. I know this is bad.
“Don’t squirm,” he suggests. “I’ll bring you off much faster if you just cooperate.” “Cooperate?” I ask myself silently. “Does he really think that I will just stand here helplessly and allow him to rape me?” Apparently he does, though, as his fingers continue to stroke and caress my womanhood for the next sixty seconds. And maybe I do too, as I certainly am not doing much to prevent it.
“Oh, god,” I moan. “I’m getting so hot… never felt… so helpless…”
His face moves close to mine. I can feel his hot breath on my cheek. He tilts my head back and our lips come together again. His tongue slips into my mouth and touches mine. The kiss goes on and on and when he finally pulls away my tongue instinctually follows his. I stand there as if hypnotized, a glazed look in my eyes and the tip of my tongue poking out from between pouting lips and pleading for more.
My breathing becomes ragged. My athletic body is burning with a passionate fire. It is all happening so fast! This man is utterly destroying me and there is seemingly nothing that I can do to stop him!
His middle finger penetrates my wet hole to the knuckle. I have the self-awareness to pull my tongue back in, though my mouth remains open in a seductive pout that seems to invite him to molest me all the more relentlessly. I close my eyes so that I will not have to look on my opponent’s rugged, masculine beauty. “Get it together,” I somehow remind myself. “You are a super-heroine. You have been in tough spots before. You have the strength of ten men. Get it together and make this guy regret ever touching you!”
I try to evaluate my choices. I am pressed tight against the wall, my long legs spread and not able to do much. I know that it will be difficult to find any leverage with my feet so far apart and my attacker leaning in on me. His only real hold on me is the hand in my hair, though. He is not making any attempt to restrain my arms, which are dangling limp at my sides. So I have some range of movement, at least. I can fight back if only I can muster the strength and determination to do so.
And my strength is not really a concern, at least not yet. Even though Alpha One has been playing with my pussy for almost two minutes, my super strong body is still in possession of most of its power. I have mostly recovered from the blows delivered to my midsection. It is not my strength that has failed, I have to admit, but my strength of will. My nipples are rock hard. My pussy is sopping. My clit is swollen and screaming with each rub of my opponent’s fingers across its sensitive bulb. An orgasm is building deep inside me. “Oh, god…” I moan again. “I am so close to coming…”
I know that unless I am truly prepared to become Alpha One’s sex toy—and it embarrasses me to admit that a secret part of me wants nothing less than just that—I need to do something quickly. Again, I consider my options. My hands are free. I can likely hit him but that has not done much good up to this point. But there are other ways to attack an overly aggressive man. Ways that can hurt just as much or more as a set of knuckles to the jaw. And I decide that if Alpha One is going to be so bold as to grab my crotch then perhaps I should return the favor and grab his.
I reach out with my left hand. My eyes remain closed while I grope for the unseen place of vulnerability that I am sure will turn the tide of the battle back in my favor. It is not hard to find and I quickly discover that the man’s package is huge. It protrudes from his tight-fitting costume like a big, warm bulge. I cup his balls in my hand and fully intend to squeeze them into jelly. But I hesitate. The feel of his thick member, burning hot even through the fabric of his costume, makes me weak in the knees. The feel of his engorged shaft, swelling in my hand, causes me to gasp in erotic anticipation. Sexual imagery fills the Sartak-clouded recesses of my mind. Thoughts of being ravaged by this brute and his enormous cock destroy my will to resist. My breasts heave up and down on my chest as I pant uncontrollably. Love juices trickle down my thighs as a wet pussy edges closer to its climax. It has been three minutes. Three minutes of his fingers rubbing, caressing, penetrating me. I moan uncontrollably.
My hand falls back to my side. Fingers scratch at the surface of the brick wall helplessly. I am so near to defeat! I am so near to giving up!
“No!” I shout while refusing to surrender. “I will not be defeated!”
My left hand forms a fist. It cracks off of Alpha One’s head so hard that I fear for a moment that I have broken my knuckles. Stabbing pain shoots up my forearm. But the pain is welcome. It helps to shake me out of my Sartak-induced reverie and remind me of who and what I am. I am Ms. Marvelous. I am a champion of justice.
I strike the man a second time. I think it may be the hardest that I have ever hit anyone in all my life. The impact of my fist against his face echoes through the alley like a gunshot. His left hand comes away from my crotch. A snap from my elbow causes his right to let go of my hair. I am free! A knee to his gut pays back some of what I owe him. He bends over and I crush him on the back of the neck with a karate chop.
Alpha One wilts and drops to a knee. I step away from the wall and try to compose myself. The powerful emotions coursing unchecked through my lithe body—anger, excitement, fear, lust—the powerful emotions I am experiencing leave me feeling lightheaded. But I cannot rest for long. Alpha One is still a dangerous opponent and he will soon be ready to resume the battle.
The man rises to his feet sooner than I expect. “You are as spirited as you are beautiful,” he says while wiping a spot of blood from a bruised lower lip. “It almost makes me wonder if it is worth the risk to try and take you down. We could call it a draw, after all. But I can’t seem to help myself. I must have you!”
I brace myself for what is to come, knowing that my opponent is by now fully under the influence of my pheromones. It is a power that I cannot control and wish that I did not have—chemical attractants that constantly project from my genetically altered body and are capable of driving men wild with passion. I can tell by the look in Alpha One’s eyes and the bulge in his pants that the only thing stronger than his strapping biceps is his overwhelming desire to fuck me.
The look in his eyes frightens me. For though I am a super-heroine, I am also a young, twenty two year old girl. Knowing that this powerful man wants to ravage me causes my arms and legs and tremble. But I am also turned on. My pussy is wet and my nipples hard. “Oh, god,” I think. “What if I cannot prevail? What if I cannot resist him? What if he rapes me? What will happen to me?”