Message-ID: <22282asstr$947812203@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-Message-ID: <20000113193947.1696.qmail@nym.alias.net> From: Echo Subject: {ASSM} RP {Echo} Damsel in Distress 2/3 (Superhero MF FF Anal Humil) Date: Thu, 13 Jan 2000 20:10:03 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, kelly RE Copyright remains with author. This story is *not* to be reposted, posted elsewhere, etc. It is *not* to be made available in any media for profit. You are entitled to one hard copy for your own amusement. **Note** The internet addresses and sites mentioned in this story are *not* actual ones. Don't waste your time. If under the legal age, don't read further. Dark Damsel: Damsel in Distress, by Echo Chapter 4 Dark Damsel felt slightly nauseous. It had been a long time since she had had that much to drink. Her mouth was dry and she needed water. Stupid to go out drinking, she thought. Whatever possessed her to do that? Ah, well, nothing to do but suffer the consequences of free will. Dark Damsel was lying on her side in a semi-fetal position, hands under her chin. She decided to get up, but her arms didn't obey her when she ordered them to move out. What the hell? She opened her eyes. It was like looking through translucent glass, through a shower door. There was light, but everything was blurred beyond recognition. "Shit," the word rasped out. She was in trouble. Her mind was slowly clearing, more and more pertinent details coming back. She hadn't been out drinking. Then what? Oh, yes. The dart. The *dart*! She tried moving her arms again and felt a tug at her throat. A collar. She was collared! She was collared and her hands were cuffed and attached to the collar by a short length of chain. This was definitely not good. Dark Damsel moved her legs. They, at least, were unfettered, though there was some kind of belt around her middle. What had happened? Where had she been taken? A momentary burst of panic was brought quickly under control. Trapped, perhaps. Yet there was a way out of any trap, she knew. All she had to do was find it. She must begin to explore at once. Before anyone found out she was awake. Dark Damsel tried to roll over onto her knees in preparation for getting to her feet. She couldn't. The belt was attached, in the back, to the wall. It was warm in the room and her head felt hot. The familiar feel let her know that she was still wearing her cowl. Why? Why had it not been removed? The bastard probably wanted her awake for the unveiling, she thought angrily. Movement. There was a shifting of the patterns of light. Someone had come into the room. From her perspective, Dark Damsel now knew that she was lying on a mat on the floor. "Are you all right?" It was a woman's voice, hushed, fearful. Even through the lenses, Dark Damsel could see that the woman was more or less naked and that she was blonde or dirty blonde. "Yes," Dark Damsel rasped. "Help me get out of this." "I can't," the woman's voice trembled. "He'd kill me if I tried." She was close now. Dark Damsel wondered what sort of lenses had been fitted to her cowl to cause the distortion in her vision. "Here." The Damsel felt something touch her lips. It was a straw. Hesitating only a second, Dark Damsel drew in the wonderful, cool water. If there was anything in it other than water, she couldn't taste it. She could have refused to drink, but it would have done her no good. They could just force her. She was helpless for the moment. "Where are we?" Dark Damsel wanted to know. "I don't know." The thin edge of hysteria was creeping into the woman's voice. "I woke up here, just like you." The woman paused. She touched Dark Damsel's costume. "Are you . . . are you really . . . Dark Damsel?" The poor frightened woman wanted reassurance. With Dark Damsel present there was always a chance. The costumed woman replied with a strength she did not feel. "Yes, I am Dark Damsel. Don't worry we'll . . ." "No, oh no . . ." the woman's voice trailed away in a moan. "Another," she whispered, more to herself than anyone else. "He's got another." Another? Another what? Dark Damsel wanted to question the woman, but she had tensed suddenly at the sound of footsteps coming closer. "Please, please listen to me. Do whatever he wants, just do whatever he wants!" It was a heartfelt plea and Dark Damsel was stunned. The woman got up and ran from the room, leaving Dark Damsel to ponder her words. She feigned sleep. The footsteps drew ever closer, then they were in the room. "Good morning, Dark Damsel." The voice was strangely muffled, husked, but there was no disguising the triumph in it. "Come now, I know you're awake. Who do you think sent Kitty in with the water?" Dark Damsel raised her head and peered at the man. "That's better. So, this is the great Dark Damsel," the voice oozed scorn. "You weren't that hard. First at the Beltons', then at poor Peter's. Now, there's a waste of talent. But let him have his petty private life. It is you I'm interested in. And I have you," the triumph was back, "precisely where I want you." "Who are you?" Dark Damsel asked. "Why the personal vendetta?" The Photographer laughed. It wasn't encouraging. "Oh, you'll find out in good time, my pretty pet, you'll find out in good time." He prodded her leg with his foot. Dark Damsel remained still. It would accomplish nothing to kick out at this juncture. Let him believe her beaten. He bent over her and she heard a click at the wall. She was one step closer to being free. He stepped back. "Get up, Dark Damsel," he ordered. The Damsel rolled onto her forearms, and walked her knees forward. The line which had bound her to the wall was still attached to her belt, she realized. Only now it was no longer holding her to the wall. She wondered how much play she had. "Nice ass," the Photographer commented and Dark Damsel blushed, realizing the picture she presented. "Keep going." It took only a few moments for her centre of balance to shift back and enable her to sit up, then stand. She was a little shaky, but all right. She faced the Photographer. "Good. Now, turn around. I want to see your profile." "Go to hell." Dark Damsel had had enough of this. She was becoming angry. No one could treat Dark Damsel like this. The Photographer laughed. "You have no choice in the matter. You *will* do as I say. You'll do what I say, when I say, as often as I say." He sounded supremely confident and Dark Damsel didn't like that at all. She stood still. "Okay," he sighed, the reluctance in his voice feigned. "As you wish." The Photographer pointed something at Dark Damsel. She couldn't make it out through the distortion lenses. There was a tiny click then a muffled whir. What? "Oh!" The line to her belt was being reeled in. It was attached to the ceiling and pulled her back a few paces then began pulling her up onto her toes. Click. It stopped. "Kitty!" The order rang out. Dark Damsel saw the outline of the woman as she came scurrying back into the room. "Take off her boots." "Why?" Kitty whispered to Dark Damsel as she knelt at her feet. "I told you." "Quiet." The single word was cold, harsh. Kitty shut up with a tiny moan and continued to work in silence. Soon Dark Damsel's boots were off and she was standing bare foot on her toes. Dark Damsel had been concentrating on Kitty and when the hand stroked her bottom she gave a little gasp. The Photographer had come around behind her and was running his hand over her. The hand worked its way up until it found the zipper. In designing her costume, Dark Damsel had first tried a one piece body suit. It had been great . . . until the first time she'd had to use a washroom while in it. Then she'd separated top from bottom and joined them with a little zipper. A small lip of cloth covered the zipper and the join was almost invisible. The Photographer had found it. Now he began undoing the zipper. Dark Damsel knew what was coming and wasn't about to take it silently. "No!" She shouted and tried a kick. The Photographer avoided her easily and kicked her supporting leg out from under her. This tipped her over and she hung by her middle unable to reach the floor with her feet. The Photographer laughed. Kitty moaned. Dark Damsel thrashed about for a moment, trying to connect with the Photographer, then gave up. She was helpless. "This one needs a lesson," the Photographer chuckled mirthlessly. "You remember how it was, don't you, Kitty?" Kitty moaned again. "The stool!" While Kitty was getting the stool, the Photographer grabbed the hapless Damsel by the belt, steadied her, then began to undo the zipper. The Damsel could do nothing. She flushed, which added to the redness of her face, when the Photographer pulled the tights and her panties down to her knees. She heard a thunk and looked down to see what appeared to be a stool set up under her. The Photographer sat on the stool. The remote clicked again and Dark Damsel was lowered onto his lap. "Kitty." "Sir?" the poor woman stuttered. "Take them the rest of the way off." Dark Damsel gritted her teeth, but there was nothing she could do. She was going to get a spanking, which rankled enough as it was. Were she to try to stop Kitty from removing her tights it would only get worse, she knew. Bastard, bastard, bastard, she whispered under her breath. When she got free he'd regret this! "Ow!" The first blow caught her unawares. It was a hard nasty slap on her rump. "That was just to get your attention. Now this is how we play. You were a naughty girl," the belittling of her womanhood angered Dark Damsel more than her position, "and naughty little girls have to be punished. How many do you think you deserve?" Dark Damsel refused to answer. She'd be damned if she'd play along with his sick little games. "Very well, since you have no answer, I guess I'll have to decide for myself. How about twenty?" He waited. "No answer? Well, I guess that's not high enough. How about twenty-five?" Dark Damsel paled a little. She'd have to answer . . . too late. "Okay. Thirty. Is thirty enough?" "Yes," Dark Damsel sputtered through her humiliation, "thirty is enough." "Good. Then thirty it is. Next. You will ask for each spank by calling out its number. If you are not fast enough I'll simply fill in the space between calls in any way I see fit. It doesn't count unless you ask for it." The second spank landed, hard as the first. Dark Damsel bore it in silence. The third landed. They hurt! Suddenly Damsel realized that no one was counting. This could continue indefinitely. "One!" she called out and was rewarded with a harsh spank. "Very good. Ask for the next." "Two." It was humiliating, having to ask him to spank her. It was humiliating knowing that she wouldn't be able to stay silent long. Each swat hurt just that little bit more than the previous one. She wasn't sure if she was becoming more tender or if he was hitting harder. "Spread your legs." "What . . . Ah!" Dark Damsel complied as a very forceful blow rocked her whole body. "Eighteen!" She was sobbing now, tears flowing. "Nineteen!" "Twenty!". "Kitty. The paddle." "No, please," Dark Damsel was beaten. There was a whistling sound and Dark Damsel screamed more in surprise than pain, though the pain was there. Damn! She'd forgotten to count. The final ten had her moaning, shouting, crying; her legs jerking, kicking but remaining open. Then it was done. The Photographer pushed her off his lap, but not before she felt the hardness there. He had really gotten off on the spanking. Pervert. She hung from the line, toes just touching the ground, unable to regain her feet. "Kitty. We have other business." "Oh, no. Please, you said . . ." Kitty was in tears, her sobs racking her. Dark Damsel wondered what was going on, but the two of them were gone before she could bring herself to ask. A minute later a gun went off and there was a loud scream. The gun fired once more. Damsel was shocked. She fought her way to her feet in time to see Kitty come running back through the door. "Thank God," she whispered. "Look after her. I have other business," The Photographer snarled as he walked by the open door. Kitty was sobbing as she applied a cream to Dark Damsel's bruised behind. "It's okay, Kitty, it's okay," Dark Damsel tried to comfort the woman. "No, it's not. You don't understand," sobbed Kitty. Dark Damsel softened her voice. "Help me to understand, Kitty." Kitty froze for a long minute. She choked back her sobs. "Okay," she began shakily. "Please, Dark Damsel, remember one thing: Do as he says. He likes taking pictures. He likes posing his girls." She paused. "Girls?" Dark Damsel asked, afraid of where this was leading. "Girls," she confirmed. "But if they are stubborn or he gets tired of them, they disappear. You have to do what he says, please. For your own sake." Kitty broke down and cried. It took her a long while to calm down again. "It's too late for me, so do it for yourself." "What do you mean it's too late for you? What happened?" "He's tired of me. I tried my best, did what he wanted, tried to excite him . . . and it worked. But now . . . " she broke down again. "Kitty, what happened?" "If you don't please him, if you refuse to pose . . . . Oh, Dark Damsel, Minx refused to pose . . ." Minx? He had killed Minx for not posing? Dark Damsel shuddered. Poor Minx. Now she regretted that she hadn't taken Minx up on her offer. It had been plain that Minx had been a little hurt by her rebuff, no matter how she tried to hide behind the bravado. Poor Minx. Now she knew why Kitty had been so upset that she was Dark Damsel and not just a model dressed up as her. He had killed Minx. When she got free . . . if she got free. For the first time Dark Damsel was not so sure that this would end happily. Kitty was crying, on the floor, curled around Dark Damsel's legs. "Kitty. Kitty!" The woman stilled. "Kitty, you've got to help me get out of this." "You don't understand. That's what Minx said. I tried, and I got Minx killed," she shuddered again, then spoke slowly, clearly, each word separate. "There is no escape." Slowly the defeated woman got to her feet. "But I can let you down." There was the now familiar whir and the line attached to Dark Damsel's waist slackened and drooped. "And I can free your hands." There was a click and the Damsel's hands were now free from the collar, though still attached to each other by a little over a foot of chain. "Kitty, listen to me. If there really is no escape then there is no use in my trying to make him happy. The way I see it, if I'm going to die here, I'll die with as much dignity as I can muster. He will get nothing more from me." Dark Damsel was already regretting her acquiescence to The Photographer's spanking ploy. "Minx had the right idea." Kitty stiffened slightly, then relaxed again. Suddenly the woman's arms were around Dark Damsel and she was crying again. "Just do as he says. He made me watch, he made me watch. I saw him kill Minx. That means I'm next. He can't leave me alive." She shuddered and Dark Damsel's arms went around her, holding her tight. "If that's true, Kitty, then help me help you. Perhaps together we can catch him off guard and get away." Dark Damsel could feel the poor frightened woman shaking and held her tight. She murmured calming words to the woman and slowly rocked her back and forth. The crying stopped, the shaking stopped. The woman raised her head from Dark Damsel's shoulder. She leaned back a bit, looking at Dark Damsel, then leaned in and kissed Dark Damsel's neck. It was Dark Damsel's turn to stiffen slightly. Kitty stopped and her hold on Dark Damsel loosened. "Please," she begged, "if I have to go, I want to be close to someone warm one last time; be with someone of my own free will, not because *he* makes me. Dark Damsel felt her heart go out to this woman. It wasn't her fault that she couldn't be brave enough to stand up to The Photographer. Some had it in them, some were just out of their depth. Besides, the woman might be right and there might be no escape. She didn't know the true situation. The Photographer might be just one of many here. Dark Damsel took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. What the woman said made some sort of sense. At least it was an act of defiance. She determined to go along with Kitty's last request. Kitty sighed as the Damsel's arms tightened about her. She melted into the taller woman's arms and something about the trust implied, the surrender, caused Dark Damsel to feel very protective. She would not betray that trust. As Kitty moved her head back and looked up, Damsel bent her own down and met Kitty in a kiss. At first their lips barely touched, then Kitty's parted slightly. The Damsel parted her own and lightly touched Kitty's with her tongue. It was as if a dam burst. Kitty grabbed Dark Damsel's head and pulled down, bringing their mouths tight together. Her tongue speared out to duel with the Damsel's. Both women's breathing became rather ragged as they held each other tight and kissed the longest, most passionate kiss of their lives. It was the affirmation of life in the face of death. They broke apart, panting. Kitty tore at Dark Damsel's costume, pulling her top up from under the belt which trapped her. She found the zipper down the front and pulled it down. Damsel felt the cooler air of the room against her bare breasts, felt her nipples begin to harden, both from the cool air and from the excitement. Somewhere in her mind she knew she was trying to make up for turning down Minx, but right now there was a needy woman in front of her. Kitty pulled her costume up over her head and down her arms 'til it hung on the chain which held her wrists together. Kitty cursed, then went to work at the cuffs. The Damsel was surprised. She had been sure that the cuffs were locked on, but apparently not. The cuffs and chain fell to the floor and Kitty was upon her, kissing, hugging, stroking like a mad woman; determined to get full measure from their encounter. They sank to the floormat, still held in embrace, then Kitty released her and slid down to lick and kiss at Damsel's breasts. It felt so good and Dark Damsel gave a little sigh, which caused Kitty to increase her already fervid attention to Damsel's nipples. Damsel groaned. She twined her hands in Kitty's hair and held her head to her breasts. If only she could see Kitty, look her in the eyes . . . . Damsel stopped and reached up to remove her cowl. Instantly Kitty's hands were on her wrists, stopping her. "No, don't, please don't," she cried out. "He'll whip me. I just can't take any more pain, I can't," she sobbed. "Okay, Kitty, okay," she calmed the shaken woman. Kitty calmed down and went back to work, kissing and fondling Dark Damsel while the Damsel's hands roamed over Kitty's head, petting and caressing. The attention to her breasts was getting Damsel hot. God, but this vixen knew how to treat another woman! The light strokes, the tender kisses, the little nibbles! Dark Damsel groaned again and stretched, finding release in the movement. Kitty kissed her way down Dark Damsel's stomach and the Damsel spread her legs. Kitty gave a little yelp of pleasure and moved right in. Her tongue was so light, merely grazing Damsel's lips, tantalizing. Damsel raised her hips, but Kitty only laughed and kept up the light touches. Every once in a while she'd stop and kiss the Damsel's inner thighs, which had Dark Damsel moaning in a mix frustration and joy. "Ah!" Damsel cried out. Kitty's tongue had tweaked her clit, then that warm, wonderful mouth was all around her, tongue licking, sucking up her juices which were now flowing. In a whirl of activity which had Damsel thrusting, twisting, moaning and crying out little cries, Kitty licked, thrust, kissed and caressed. A finger entered Damsel's pussy and she stiffened. A second finger joined that one and they moved in and out in time to the furious licking that Damsel was getting from Kitty's tongue. Damsel was beside herself, feeling her body climbing the slope to orgasm. She was getting close, oh, so close. "Umph!" The tongue probed her ass, licked at the pucker, then was replaced by a finger which pushed its lubricated way up her nether chute, began moving around inside her. Damsel had had fantasies about that, had played with the area herself, but had never pushed inside. Now she was penetrated for the first time, and Kitty's finger and face rode her as no other had ever done. "Oh!" A second finger stretched her. "OH!" It was too much. Damsel shuddered, her breasts jiggled. A hand snaked up and pinched a nipple. "Oh, God!" The tongue lashed her clit and Damsel went over the falls. A wail escaped her throat and she heaved her belly high, legs trembling, then sank back down into a contented daze. But Kitty wasn't finished with her. Kitty continued to probe and to lick and suck. Damsel was sensitive and tried to push Kitty's head away, but Kitty was having none of that. Damsel struggled to get away, but Kitty, showing a strength that surprised Dark Damsel, held on. Damsel's legs were over Kitty's shoulders, Kitty's arms came around her hips and fingers locked over her stomach. Kitty's mouth was on her womanhood, fastened there, tongue showing no mercy. Dark Damsel bucked and heaved trying to get away, but there was no escape. Then she no longer wanted an escape. Her breath, already ragged, began to catch. Her face was flushed, and everything in her world centred on her pussy. "Yes, yes!" Dark Damsel cried. "Faster, Kitty, faster." Kitty was only too happy to comply and laughed joyously as she pushed Dark Damsel over the edge again. Dark Damsel floated on a sea of contentment. She was so wrapped up in the inner feelings that she didn't notice Kitty, who had been stroking her lightly all over, reapply the wrist cuffs. But when the chain was once again snapped into her collar, Damsel's eyes flicked open. The blurred outline of the other woman, straddling her, sitting on her belly greeted those eyes. "I'm sorry, Damsel, I had to do it. He'd whip me," Kitty explained. Then she moved up Damsel's body and knelt over her. "Now do me." It was half plea, half order. Kitty lowered herself and Dark Damsel caught the aroma of another woman for the first time. She tentatively stuck out her tongue and tasted Kitty. Kitty tasted different than she herself did, but it was far from unpleasant. She gave another lick and felt the joy surge in her as Kitty let out a groan. It was payback time. Kitty had given her such joy that all Dark Damsel wanted to do was to repay that joy. She went to work with a vengeance. Kitty rode Damsel's face like a bronc-buster. She rocked her hips, lowered and raised them, mashed herself onto Damsel's face and cried out her joy. Finally, as she was about to come she reached back and grabbed Dark Damsel's nipples and pulled them hard even as she screamed out her orgasm. Damsel's eyes went wide at the sudden pain as her nipples were pulled, but kept up her assault on Kitty's composure until her partner went over the edge. Kitty collapsed, then dragged herself over to lie face to face with Dark Damsel, her arm thrown over the Damsel's chest. "That was wonderful," she breathed into Damsel's ear, "simply wonderful." Then she pushed at Dark Damsel and Damsel turned onto her side away from Kitty and Kitty snuggled in behind her, her arm over Damsel and cupping a breast. Dark Damsel felt the warmth of satisfaction seep through her. It had been good, so very good. They lay like that for a while, then Kitty slowly made her way to her knees. She gave Damsel's nipples another pinch, which caused Dark Damsel to gasp. Then Kitty gave her a playful slap on her rear, which stung after The Photographer's abuse. "Wha . . .?" Damsel started, then a voice cut her off. "How was she?" The Photographer's voice, laughing, cut through Dark Damsel's content. "Wild!" Kitty called back, all traces of subservience gone. "She's made for this, you know. Has a good tongue, too. I loved the way she wiggled her ass when I stuck a finger up it. Wonder what she'll do around your cock, darling. Should be worth watching." Kitty laughed raucously, and stepped across the room, her hips swaying outrageously. The Photographer was at her side and slapped her bottom. "Still hot?" he asked. "You bet. Let's do it." They both laughed, their laughter cutting Dark Damsel to the quick. She closed her eyes. Her face felt like it was on fire. Chapter 5 Dark Damsel lay on the mat, tears trickling from her eyes. She shook her head, feeling empty inside. How could they have done that to her? Why would they want to? She felt sick. They had used her, tricked her into willingly doing what they had wanted. There was no epithet bad enough for them. She curled up into a ball. She wished she could die. Die? No. Not die. She had to get away. She couldn't let them win. Slowly she uncurled. They had made a mistake, several mistakes in fact. First, she hadn't been refastened to the wall, so she could get up and move around. Second, Kitty had taken the cuffs off of her wrists. If she could do that, then so too could Dark Damsel. Dark Damsel twisted her head down and brought up her right wrist. She felt over the cuff as best she could and finally found a buckle. Her spirits crept up off the floor. Seconds dragged into minutes and the minutes dragged on interminably. She had to hurry. Soon they might be back and then her chance would be gone. How long would they take? "Yes!" Dark Damsel whispered triumphantly. She had done it. Her right hand was free! It was the work of moments to free her left. She felt around the cowl and found the lenses to be glued on. The glue didn't hold and she could see again. Aside from the floormat, the stool and a chair, over which her costume was draped, the room was bare. The walls were an off white and there were no windows. She reached over and touched the wall. They were not made of the usual plaster or particle board or anything else she'd seen. That accounted for the lack of an empty room sound. They were some sort of acoustic tiles, Dark Damsel guessed. She turned her attention to the belt. Again it was merely buckled on and it took but seconds to free herself. They had been overconfident. That would be the end of them. Too many mistakes and you lose. They were going to lose. Once again Dark Damsel would win. Dark Damsel strode over to the chair and picked up her costume. Her panties were missing, a trophy perhaps. Bastards! She sat and slipped her legs into the costume bottom and pulled them up. Something felt wrong. She growled in frustration as she realized that they had been split along the crotch. "Damn!" she spat out the word as she slipped her arm into her top. As she pulled the top on and zipped it up she cursed again. Small holes, about the size of a dollar coins, had been cut out of her top, exposing her nipples. Sick Bastards! They were cut, no doubt, in preparation for the pictures for which she would never pose. Rage welled up in Dark Damsel's mind. They would pay! Her boots, also, were gone. The rage died as Dark Damsel realized she'd have to get out of the building barefoot, with nipples and pussy exposed. Well, at least she would be getting out, something which she'd almost given up on. Dark Damsel slipped out into the hallway. There was another door open. She stepped over to it and took a quick look in. Her pouch was hanging over a chair back. She breathed a sigh of relief as she opened the secret pouch at the bottom and found her keys still in their place. The main cavity of the pouch had been emptied. Half of her mind wanted her to seek and find Kitty and The Photographer to make them pay. The saner half realized that she was at too much of a disadvantage. She didn't know the layout, nor how many people she'd have to go up against. It could be suicide. Growling, she turned and headed for the exit. The door was bolted from the inside, but there was no alarm attached. Dark Damsel slid the bolt open and disappeared into the dark. The Photographer had lied. It had not been morning when she'd awakened. She caught her bearings at the first corner. She was not, she realized, very far away from the 'Garage on 5th'. It was the closest safe place, and she grimaced. So, it was either face Ray and his men (hopefully otherwise engaged) or barefoot it two miles to her nearest hideaway. There was no real choice. Across the street from the building Dark Damsel had been imprisoned in, a window closed silently. Two figures drew back from the portal. "There she goes, better late than never," Kitty said as she sat back, yawning, "I thought she'd be faster than that." "You got out in half the time. Still," the Photographer mused, "you didn't have the psychological battering." His voice had lost the blurred edges. It was clear. "I'm not so sure we should have let her go. She won't be that easy next time." "Darling," The Photographer murmured, "you know why we're doing this. The steps have to be followed. Otherwise it wouldn't be any fun. Now she knows she's not safe when she's out in costume. Now she knows just how easily she can be taken. We give her a few days to get used to the uncertainty, then we step it up. By the time we're finished she'll never again wear the costume of Dark Damsel." "And you'll enjoy her body like I did," chuckled Kitty. "You'll love it." Laughter filled the dark room. "Let's get dressed, darling. We have much left to do tonight." "After I wash this stuff out." Ray's eyes widened as Dark Damsel came through the door. For a second he was too stunned to do anything but stare. Then he averted his eyes. Damn. She had been so cautious, so intent on getting to the station unseen, that the relief in opening the door had caused her to forget to cover up. "Get me something to wear, will you Ray?" she asked as she slipped by him and into the small washroom. A minute later there was a light tap on the door. She opened it and a hand came through, holding a pair of coveralls. Dark Damsel gratefully accepted them and in a trice was once again decent. "Thank's Ray," she said as she stepped out of the washroom, rolling up the sleeve cuffs. The pants cuffs had been likewise rolled up. Ray was once again sitting behind his desk. He looked up, wondering just what the hell had happened but polite enough to not ask. "We have your bike again," he told her. "You have to stop leaving it lying around." "Where did you find it?" the Damsel wanted to know. "Outside Peter Lepcher's Photography Shop. He called us last night just after 11:00. Said you'd left just a little earlier. He didn't appreciate being hauled down to the station and questioned half the night." "When did you let him go?" Damsel asked, wondering if he'd been a very good actor and had misled her. Ray punched some codes into the computer. "About 2:30. He was picked up by a woman." He scrolled down and Dark Damsel felt her anger starting to rise. "A detective followed them home, to his registered address. He left and went to work about 11:00 this morning and . . ." Ray picked up the radio. "Alpha fourteen, this is House Seven, over." "House Seven, Alpha fourteen. What's up?" The radio crackled. "Status of subject?" "At residence. Left work two hours ago. He made us around two o'clock this afternoon. He's been very careful to not do anything suspicious. About an hour ago the bast- . . . oops, the subject brought us out coffee. He hasn't left the residence. Waves to us every fifteen minutes or so. I'd like to . . ." The detective decided he'd better not say what he'd like to do. Ray looked over at Dark Damsel. Her shoulders slumped and she shook her head. "Alpha fourteen, subject still about?" "Yep. Just waved to us again." There was suppressed anger in the voice. "Good. Go knock on the door, thank him for the coffee and wish him a very good night." "What!?" "Oh, and tell him the object thanks him for his aid in recovering her property." "She there?" "Affirmative." "Awright! Alpha fourteen out." Dark Damsel smiled at the enthusiasm in the detective's voice. "Who was that?" she asked "Charlie Foster," Ray replied. Charlie had spent a lot of time at the Garage and felt a fatherly interest in Dark Damsel. "He doesn't usually pull night shifts anymore," Ray explained. "Thank him for me," Dark Damsel said softly. "Will do." Ray was quiet for a moment, made as if to say something then changed his mind. "Cycle's ready to go." "Thanks Ray . . . for everything. It's personal and I don't know why. Anyway, he caught me, but I got away. He was going to try to make me pose, hence the, uh, damage to my costume," she hoped that Ray had not seen the split in her pants, "but I got away before he could do this." She looked Ray square in the eyes. "I'm going to get him, Ray. If it's the last thing I do." Ray's jaw was clenched. He relaxed it. "Perhaps it is time to stop going it alone. Bring us in. Keep us informed. You know that if you want us, we'll be there." "I can't, Ray." And she couldn't. It would mean admitting that the Photographer had beaten her, that Dark Damsel's time was done. She walked out of the office and into the Garage. Her cycle was waiting for her. "Oh, by the way, how did you boys make out at the apartment?" "Too late," Ray replied, sounding a little dejected. "But we'll get them, sooner or later." He watched as she started the cycle and drove out onto the street. Five hours later, Ray decided to call it a night. He cleaned up around the office and washed out his coffee cup. His hand moved to switch off the computer then froze. What had Dark Damsel said? 'It's personal.' He sat down in front of the keyboard and typed an address in the browser. It took him three tries to get it right. The connection was fast and it wasn't long before he had what he wanted . . . or didn't want. "Son of a bitch!" he exclaimed. "Son of a fucking bitch!" When Renee woke, the sun was streaming through the window. It had been a somewhat uncomfortable night. Her backside still hurt whenever she put any pressure on it--like sitting down or rolling over onto her back. The Photographer had given her a thorough spanking. Something she would remember for a while. She heard a low cough. There was someone in her apartment! Like a flash she was out of bed and pulling on her robe. She opened her bedroom door and glanced out into the hall. Every muscle was tense as she crept forward. "Oh hell." It was Brenda's voice and Renee relaxed. Of course. Brenda would be looking after the business. Renee walked casually into the living room/office. "How's it going." "Hi. Late night, kitten?" Brenda managed to throw a leer into her voice. Renee laughed. "Late night," she agreed. Brenda would damn well know that she hadn't been home all day and would suspect that she'd spent the previous night with her new 'boyfriend'. "So, give me the gory details, girl. Is he good in bed?" Renee laughed again. "You're incorrigible, Brenda." Brenda waited, expectant. "Okay, okay, let's just say it was a night I won't soon forget." "Yesss!" Brenda pumped her fist into the air. "So, should I be out scouting for a bridesmaid's dress?" She grinned at Renee, knowing full well what the answer would be. "Girl, you have to get serious sometime, and I can hope for you, can't I? "Thank's Brenda, but I'm not ready for that kind of commitment yet." It was good to have friends. "Okay, but when you are old and grey and alone and I'm there with my twenty-three great grandchildren, don't expect any sympathy from me!" She laughed at the thought. "I have everything on track. Nothing for you to take care of. Have a day off. Recover," she winked. "I, on the other hand, have a class." She got up and put on her jacket. "Later." "Later." Renee went into her exercise room and went through her morning routine. Then she moved into practice with fighting forms: blocks, kicks, punches and rolls. By the time she had finished she was sweating profusely. "Good one, Nietzsche," she told the tiger happily. The workout *had* been good. "Now, let's check the mail." While cooling down and waiting for the computer to boot up she continued to do the odd stretch. She fired up her mail program. There was one message from her nym account. She placed it in the encrypted part of her drive and decoded it, wondering what Commissioner Delcourt had to say. The message popped up and Renee frowned. How would the spammers get her nym address? The only place she ever used it was to send mail to Delcourt. "Super Sex" the subject read. She was about to delete it then changed her mind. It had come to her address. How? She opened the message. "Check out our bevy of Super Lovelies! Something for everyone, guaranteed! Click here for a surprise." The address was a numerical one. Almost against her will, Renee clicked on the address and was transported to a page which featured Dark Damsel's face. Her hands began to shake as she read the screen. "Hi Darling. Did so enjoy last night. Let's do it again. Real soon, Kitty. PS: Click on Dark Damsel's mouth to continue--such an instrument of joy." Again Renee hesitated. Then she clicked. She was back at the superheroine site, on the new Dark Damsel page. She clicked on the "New" button and was taken to a page which listed three downloadable mpg files. They were labeled: dd1, dd2, and dd3. Each file was large, very large. They were also available as a suite, compressed. The compression wouldn't make them much smaller, but it would mean only one download instead of three. Renee cursed and began the download. While that was happening she took a quick shower. Back from the shower, with Nietzsche beside her for moral support, Renee sighed as the download finished and she logged off. A minute later, uncompressed, the files awaited her. She took a deep breath and clicked on "dd1.mpg". She gasped. There was Dark Damsel, hanging from a rope tied to a belt about her middle. Three cameras had been used. One from the rear, one from the front and one from the side. Renee watched in shock as the man in the picture pulled down her bottoms, exposing her ass. He was dressed in loose fitting shirt and pants, all the better to disguise his build. His head was never in the picture. Renee swallowed as she watched herself (as Dark Damsel) lowered onto his lap and as her bottoms were pulled off by Kitty. Kitty was just an indistinct shape at the side of the frame, the focus was on Dark Damsel's bare bottom. "How many do you think you deserve, this time," The Photographer's husky voice came through the speakers, "ten, twenty or thirty?" "Please, thirty." Dark Damsel replied. "Are you sure?" "Yes." "Okay, as you wish." "Thank-you." Renee seethed in indignation. She had been taped and her responses had been edited to fit The Photographer's sick sense of humour. She watched as the Photographer struck Dark Damsel and her head came up and body arched. His left hand was planted firmly in the middle of Damsel's back and her ass was nicely presented. Renee flinched as she saw each blow land, heard herself count out the strikes. "Spread your legs for the camera, dear." On the screen Renee watched in mortification as Dark Damsel spread her legs. It was a good view of her pussy, she had to admit. Clear, good focus. She shook her head sadly, but couldn't even look away as the paddle came out and as her legs kicked, showing everything. The second file, dd2.mpg, showed Dark Damsel's breasts appear as Kitty helped her out of her top, then cut to Dark Damsel on her back writhing in pleasure as a blond head worked on those breasts and then went down between her legs. It ended with Dark Damsel wailing out her orgasm, her belly in the air, breasts jiggling, Kitty's fingers clearly in her ass. With great reluctance, Renee fired up the third mpg file. As she suspected, it showed Dark Damsel's face being ridden by Kitty, whose head was never in the frame. It showed her tongue stretching out to meet Kitty's pussy, then Kitty pulling at Damsel's nipples as she came. The file ended with Dark Damsel on her side looking (apparently) into the camera; a contented smile on her face; her lover behind her, one arm draped over her, hand cupping her breast. To all appearances, Dark Damsel was a willing participant in all three scenes. Renee turned off her computer. There were tears in her eyes. She picked up the stuffed tiger and hugged it. "What doesn't kill me makes me stronger, Nietzsche?" she asked the little toy. "How could this make me stronger? How could they do this to me? Why?" Renee's thoughts went back to the counter on the first page of the Dark Damsel spread. Visitors since 28 June: 2004. Two thousand and four! 'Word of mouth' would see that number shooting skywards. How could she go out again, be seen again in the guise of Dark Damsel? The things they would say about her! Oh God, why? "Well, my dear?" "Got her!" Kitty was ecstatic. "The first download came from the Police computer. I don't know how they got the address, but apparently either Dark Damsel accessed it from there or some cop got lucky. But the second one. That came from Dark Damsel. She followed the link we set up in the e-mail. No question about it." "Nice touch, the fake counter. So, my little hacker lover, you got into her computer during the download?" "Yes, lover, I did," Kitty replied immodestly. "It was easy and I sent us an e-mail. We now have her real account. Now we put out the word?" "Now we put out the word," The Photographer confirmed. "Anything else?" "Well, from there it wasn't hard to hack into her ISP and get her name and address. Our lovely Dark Damsel is Renee Jimson." The Photographer laughed his sinister laugh. "Well, Renee Jimson, welcome to hell!" 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, "Thanks 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 2/3 Comments to: echo @ nym.alias.net -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+