Message-ID: <7955eli$9804161539@qz.little-neck.ny.us> From: Echo Subject: {ASS} Damsel in Distress 6/? by Echo (MF) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <19980416102818.22226.qmail@nym.alias.net> RE Copyright remains with author. This story is *not* to be reposted, posted elsewhere, It is *not* to be made available in any media for profit. You are entitled to one hard copy for your own amusement. **WARNING** as this story progresses we will be heading towards the area on non-cons or semi-cons sex. If this offends, don't get interested now. Note: The WWW site mentioned in this story does *not* exist. The address: darkdamsel@damsel.com does *not* exist Dark Damsel: Damsel in Distress by Echo Chapter 6 End of article -- what next? [npq] alt.sex.stories #4136301 (8 more) From: darkdamsel@damsel.com (Dark Damsel) Subject: Damsel in Distress X-Newsreader: Forte Agent 1.5/32.452 FRIENDS! Come and see me in some HOT situations JPG's MPG's and MORE. I guarantee you will not be disappointed!!! http://www.super-heroine.com/~bzx/dd LUV 2 U ALL. While at the site, drop a line and let me know what you would like to see. Who knows? Your wishes may come true! End of article -- what next? [npq] Renee Jimson closed the newsreader. Her face was like stone. She had looked at four of the alt.sex groups and the post was in each of them. Many would simply erase the post as being spam, but many would follow the link and see what they would see. Renee had followed it, herself, and found that there were now JPGs taken from the MPGs and others which were high resolution scans of photographs. There was a thread on alt.sex.stories.d covering the situation. The authors who had written Dark Damsel stories were in their glory and had reposted them. New chapters were being added; new stories started. The more twisted characters were insisting that the pictures were indeed of Dark Damsel, confirming what they'd thought of her all along: she was a slut meant to be used. Others suggested that the photographer (small p) had found a model who looked similar enough to Dark Damsel to fool those who had not seen the crime-fighter up close and in person. In a blue funk Renee turned off her computer, put all thoughts of her business out of her mind, and stepped out of her apartment building. It was a beautiful summer day. A warm breeze wafted the scent of flowers across the lawn; a few white clouds moved lazily across the sky; the sun shone brightly and the air was fresh and clear. Renee was oblivious to it all. She walked aimlessly, her only enjoyment coming from the respite of being just another woman walking down the street, lost in her own thoughts, anonymous. No one paid any attention to her, except for the odd busker or panhandler. This would all change if her identity as Dark Damsel came out. She'd be able to go nowhere. Even now, if she went out as Dark Damsel there would be all the eyes, watching her, wondering if the nude pictures of her were real, hoping they were. Yes, the public would love to know that it was really her in the photos. Dark Damsel, symbol of justice, of good, would be knocked down to the status of mere mortal. Others would feel better about themselves through the degradation of an Idol. The tabloids, of course, would have a field day. Renee came out of her reverie and saw that she was just a block away from Hub City Police Department Headquarters. Maybe she'd visit 'Uncle Teddy'. He always made her feel better. Yes, that is what she would do. She began walking past a street news stand towards HCPDHQ when she noticed a headline in a paper which read: Dark Damsel: In the Flesh? Heart sinking she picked up a copy and read the article. There was no stopping the snowball now. In the article, the writer wondered at the relationship between the police and the 'unmasked' crime-fighter. Even if the photos were false, the publicity would do the police no good. "Damn!" Renee's voice was just harsh enough to bring the head of the vender around. She shrugged it off and turned towards Head Quarters. "Hello, Ms Jimson," the guard at the front desk greeted her. "Hi, Fred." Fred had been one of her father's friends, oh so long ago. "Think I'll be able to see 'Uncle Teddy'?" she asked hopefully. "And the name is Renee, as you well know," she pouted. Fred laughed as he handed her a visitor's badge, signing her in. "Uncle Teddy," he rolled his eyes, "will probably be very happy to see you. It'll take his mind off of all this Dark Damsel garbage." "Dark Damsel?" Renee tried to sound puzzled. "You haven't heard?" Fred sounded surprised. "Yeah, Dark Damsel. Someone got a model who looks a lot like her and put up some pictures on the internet. Disgusting stuff, I hear. It has all happened before, what with Minx and Sapphire and others, but they aren't as closely connected with us as Dark Damsel is. Also, those pictures were obviously of models, not the real thing." He shook his head sadly and looked down at his hands. "Well, whoever did this sure put us on the hot seat. We have uptight religious rightists up our asses right now, excuse the language." Fred looked around to make sure no one was within hearing distance. "Frankly I'd like to put something up their asses (one ass is particular), and I still have it from when I walked a beat." Renee had to laugh. The picture of grizzled old Fred shoving a nightstick up Reverend Jones' rear (for who else could it be) was comic in the extreme. Reverend Jones, never having seen her, had condemned her for her costume, which was 'so vulgar not even a harlot would be seen in it'. Yes, she might even pay to see that. She told Fred so, which earned her a laugh in return. "And Dark Damsel?" she asked. "What if that was her?" "Renee, I walked a beat for 10 years. I had snitches who you wouldn't want in your building, let alone in your apartment. They helped me do my job. One was a stripper, a decent one. A couple were prostitutes. Did it matter what they did? Hell, no. Even if Dark Damsel is the one in the photos, even if she did it off her own bat, what the hell does it matter?" old Fred asked her earnestly. "She *helps* us. Far as I know she's never broken the law. So, she's a helpful citizen. I'd rather sit across the table and hoist one with her, or with the stripper and prostitutes, than I would with the ever so unhelpful good citizens who are upstairs just now." Fred snorted, "If we had to count on them to help solve crimes, we'd never get anywhere." He broke off as another citizen approached his desk. "Kirpath's office? Third floor. Turn right as you get off the elevator." The man walked away. "Fred?" There was warmth in Renee's eyes as the old policeman turned back to her. "You are a great guy, and if you were five years younger . . ." Fred broke up. When he recovered he looked at his watch. "Go on up. They've been here for 45 minutes. That's about as long as your Uncle Teddy'll put up with such nonsense. He'll appreciate a break." "Renee! What a wonderful surprise," Commissioner Delcourt smiled, standing and opening his arms. Renee hugged the old gentleman tightly. "I hear you've had a busy morning." "Busybodies!" Delcourt sputtered. "As if I cared a rat's ass for their squeamish stomachs. Bah! 'Tarnishes the image of Hub City's Police Department,'" he mimicked the good Reverend Jones. "Now, Uncle Teddy," Renee remonstrated. "Okay, Renee. It gets to be too much sometimes, though." He paused. "So, what can I do for Jack's daughter? You know, there isn't a week goes by that I don't think of him. He was a good man, far to good a man to be gunned down like that." Renee knew Delcourt wasn't just saying that. He kept a picture of Jack Jimson and himself on his desk. They had been fishing buddies, partners, friends. It had been on the day that Jack Jimson was buried, when they handed her the flag which had covered his coffin, that she had determined to become Dark Damsel. One year later, on the anniversary of his death, Dark Damsel had caught her first criminal and begun her long association with the Police Department. "Sorry, I got lost in thought," Renee confessed. "What did you say?" "I asked if there was anything I could do for you." Delcourt returned to his chair and put his feet up on his desk. "Mind you, I'll be just as happy if you merely came to visit. Already you've cheered up my day." The intercom buzzed before Renee could reply. "Commissioner, Officer Nasturant to see you." "Thank you, Sandy, send her in." He turned to Renee, "This won't take to long, have a seat. Rebecca Nasturant walked in with some files in her hand. She went straight to Delcourt's desk, not really noticing Renee. Renee watched her, remembering that this was the woman that Uncle Teddy had the hots for, even if she was only half his age. "Here are the files, sir. I cross-referenced them with known felons and unsolved cases. I think the pattern is clear. With respect to the other matter . . ." Rebecca noticed Renee and stopped short. "Of course. You haven't met," Delcourt stood. "Rebecca Nasturant, may I introduce the daughter of my late partner, Renee Jimson." There was that something in Delcourt's voice and face which asked the pair to like each other. As the two women shook hands Renee felt herself subject of a very intense look. It was as if Rebecca were memorizing her features. "Renee Jimson. Pleased to meet you." She paused. "I feel as if I've met you before . . . no, I guess not." But she had, Renee smiled to herself. They had met when she was Dark Damsel. She would have to be careful. This woman was very sharp. "The pleasure is mine," Renee smiled and Rebecca turned back to the Commissioner. At his nod Rebecca continued. "Yes, sir," she shrugged. If the Commissioner wanted to talk shop in front of a civilian, who was she to say him nay? "As to the other matter, Minx was seen in the vicinity yesterday, but nothing ties her to the crime. I've come up with nothing at all which would suggest that she has anything to do with any criminal organization." Her emotionless, matter-of-fact tone was back again. At the mention of Minx, Renee looked up sharply. She hadn't been too sure how much truth Kitty had told. Now it appeared that rumours of Minx's death had been somewhat exaggerated. Renee breathed a sigh of relief. "Perhaps you could ask Dark Damsel to check her out," Rebecca suggested. "No," Delcourt answered, "right now it might be best for all of us if Dark Damsel maintained a low profile. We are a police department, let's do some police work!" His tone softened almost imperceptibly, "Thank's Rebecca. Good work." "Thank you, sir." Rebecca turned and ghosted out of the room. "Lovely woman," Renee grinned at Delcourt. "Now stop that. She's far too young for me," Delcourt replied, though he seemed pleased at Renee's comment. "Get outa here. You're still a fine figure of a man! She'd be lucky to get you." Renee frowned, "Of course I'm not sure I could get used to calling her 'Aunt Becky', but . . ." She ducked as a pencil was flung her way. "Okay, Uncle Teddy. I give. I was just in the neighbourhood and thought I'd drop in and say hi." Delcourt glanced at his watch. "How about going out with an old man for some lunch. You can catch me up on your life. Met any eligible young men lately?" He took Renee's arm and led her out the door. Renee laughed, but her thoughts went back to the discussion in Delcourt's office. Perhaps it *would* be a good idea if Dark Damsel did lay low for a few days. There was nothing like lack of news to kill a story, though there would be speculation. It might help her through the worst of it, however. The public was quick to forget. "So, Kitty, what's the news?" The Photographer asked his lover as she came through the door. It was dark in the room. Both preferred it that way. "Dark Damsel has, apparently, fallen off the edge of the world. No one has seen or heard of her in three days. The papers think she's given up the crime-fighting gig." Kitty put down the bag of groceries, opened up the refrigerator and began restocking it. "If she has, then we've won." "No!" The word was harsh. "No. Not yet. She has to be taught her lesson. He'd want it that way." "Would he?" Kitty inquired. "Have you asked him? Are you sure about this?" "I don't need to ask him. Remember what he did for us? Think of where we'd be without him." The Photographer's voice became soft. "He gave us life, Kitty, and she took his away from him." He put his arm around the woman's shoulders and squeezed. "Besides, you know he doesn't want us connected with him in any way. But word came to us, didn't it?" Kitty allowed herself to relax into The Photographer's embrace. "Yes, love, it did. But that was almost a year ago and it came from someone who hadn't seen him in well over a year previous to that. So, that word is over two and a half years old at best, possibly three. A lot can change in three years." "We owe him, Kitty." "Yes, love, we owe him." She reached up and stroked his neck as he nestled in behind her, arms around her middle. She ground her ass into him and felt him begin to harden. "You want her, don't you, you bastard?" He laughed. "You had her and gave her rave reviews, remember?." Kitty laughed. "I remember. Oh!" The Photographer had reached up and grabbed her breasts. "Mmm." Kitty licked her lips and pushed the refrigerator door closed. She laughed as The Photographer picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. He dropped her onto the bed, then threw himself on top of her, covering her mouth with his. After a long, hard, deep kiss, they broke apart, both catching their breath. Kitty looked up at him and grinned. "You want her bad. I can tell." She reached down and slapped his ass. "What do you want to do with her?" The Photographer opened his mouth to answer her question, but Kitty put her hand over it and shushed him. "No, love, don't tell me." The Photographer's eyebrows rose in question. "Don't tell me, show me!" She dug her fingers into his ribs and tickled him. The Photographer rolled away on the king-size bed and got to his hands and knees, facing Kitty who was on hers. "You really want me to show you?" he asked, and licked his lips. Kitty grinned. "Come on, big boy, let's see what you've got," she told him lewdly. "I'm Dark Damsel and I don't think you have what it takes." Kitty dropped one eyelid in a slow wink. "Bitch!" The Photographer tore at his pants. In a few moments he was free of pants, underwear and shirt. Kitty was still there, grinning at him. "Whatchya gonna do about it?" she purred at him. The Photographer was up in a flash, standing on the bed. He stood over Kitty and grabbed her t-shirt about the middle, lifted and pulled it over her head. Kitty's hair flew wildly about. He then lifted and her 'til she faced the mirror on the dressing table. "Ooow," she squealed in delight as she was lowered to hands and knees. She looked in the mirror, head up, to see her breasts hanging down, her face framed by the brown hair. She wiggled her ass suggestively and gasped as her lover gave it a slap. The Photographer dropped behind her and grabbed her shorts and pulled. They, and then her panties, came down. Soon both were thrown to the floor. The Photographer knelt between her spread legs and Kitty hung her head in mock shame even while arching her back to give him a good angle. "Ow!" Kitty felt her lover grasp her hair and pull back, lifting her head up. "I want you to watch, bitch," he growled. "Watch yourself as my cock goes into your pussy." Kitty could feel his cock-head at her lips and she obeyed, watching herself in the mirror. Her eyes widened, mouth opened, and she gasped as she felt him penetrate her. "No!" she cried out, getting into the spirit of things, even though she enjoyed the sensation. The sex was rough, hard sex, yet delicious for just that reason. Kitty reached back with her left hand and began to rub her clit. Soon her gasps were echoing through the room, mixed with the grunts from The Photographer. Kitty saw her breasts swaying with every thrust from her lover. Her right arm tired and she collapsed on the bed with her ass still high in the air. Kitty wailed out, shuddering in pleasure. The Photographer stepped up his thrusting and she moaned under the assault. Then he was finishing: one, two, three hard thrusts, then holding himself in her as her legs gave out and he flattened her on the bed. It took a minute for him to recover sufficiently to begin kissing her on her neck and nibbling on her ear. "You were great," he said affectionately. "I enjoyed being Dark Damsel, if only for the moment," she replied, squirming out from under him and turning on her side. "Which brings us to the next question: How do we get her out of hiding and into your clutches?" "I have an idea," he replied as he snuggled in behind her. Kitty wondered what that would be as his breathing evened out and he relaxed into sleep. Whatever it was, she was sure, it would be a good one. End of Chapter 6 of Dark Damsel: Damsel in Distress, by Echo -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us |