Dark Damsel: Damsel in Distress  b

Chapter 8

     Dark Damsel knew The Photographer to be a dangerous foe.
She moved carefully, not risking giving him an opening.  It
would deny her a quick victory, true, but would also deny
him the same.  She could take him, she knew.  She just couldn't
afford to make any stupid mistakes.  She glanced at the gym
clock.  It was 7:47.  Half an hour until the Police raided
the school.  Half an hour, tops.  They could always come in
sooner.  So, all she had to do was keep The Photographer 
occupied for the minimum 30 minutes.  After that it didn't 
really matter much, not that she thought he would last thirty
minutes.  After that, no matter what, she would have the jewels, 
and shortly thereafter the Police would come charging in.  She 
laughed to herself.  The hell it didn't really matter much.  She 
wanted this man, badly.  He had taken her twice.  There would 
not be a third time.
     The two antagonists circled slowly.  Dark Damsel feinted.
The Photographer countered the feint and then the actual strike.
Once again they circled.  He was as fast as ever, Dark Damsel
noted.  But she was on the top of *her* form.  She was ready
for this battle and he didn't have any flash gun to blind her
this time.
     The Photographer lunged, she blocked; he tried to sweep
her feet out from under her, she jumped and on her way down
caught him with a kick which sent him sprawling.  Rushing
to capitalize on her advantage she was caught in a leg
takedown.
     Breathing harder now, the two rose to their feet.
They eyed each other then began circling again.  The Photographer
moved in swiftly with a series of punches and kicks which Dark
Damsel blocked even as she was forced backwards.  She gasped 
as she backed up into the rack on the wall.  Glancing upwards
she saw the chin-up bar, leapt for it and caught the Photographer
with a double kick to the chest.  He did a back somersault and
was on his feet almost before she dropped to her own.
     "Nice move D.D.," he grinned, then seemed to pause to
reflect.  "D.D.?  Hmmm.  They are very nice, but certainly
not double D's.  But I'm sure all our viewers will enjoy
seeing them."  He laughed as Dark Damsel blushed.  "Nice
ass, too, now that I think about it.  Shall we have a repeat
of last time?  I know you liked it!"
     Stung by his comments, Dark Damsel launched her own attack.
Now it was The Photographer who was hard-pressed to counter.  He 
backed before her onslaught and the pair made a large circle 
around the gym.  The Photographer blocked every kick and punch 
she threw, but Dark Damsel knew she'd get one through eventually.  
     "Yes!" Dark Damsel hissed, as a kick got through and sent
The Photographer stumbling backwards.  It was as she'd thought
it would be.  He was good, but not really in her class.  He'd
been lucky that night at the Beltons' mansion.
     Dark Damsel sidestepped a desperate rush by The 
Photographer and tripped him as he went by.  She smiled.  It
was payback time.  A quick glance at the clock showed it to
be just after eight.  Had it really been going on that long?  
She was getting a little tired.  Best to finish him fast.
     The Damsel pressed her attack, but The Photographer
fended off every blow.  Then he struck through her guard, 
lightly slapping her face.  She swung and he caught her arm,
spun her around and slapped her rear as she went by.
     "Slowing down, are you?" The Photographer asked slyly.
"Getting tired?  So soon?  How'll you last the thirty minutes
if you can't even stop this?"  He slipped inside an angry 
punch and gave her a quick kiss just before back-heeling her
and dropping her to the mat.
     Dark Damsel came to her feet red in the face and spitting
mad.  She'd show the swine!  Another series of kicks and 
punches were blocked and, to her chagrin, she realized that
the Photographer was right.  She was tired; she was slowing
down and her blows no longer carried the weight they had 
before.  Just as quickly, she also realized that this had
been part of the man's plan from the beginning.  *She* was
the one doing all the work.  She glanced at the clock again.
Eight-oh-five.  The Photographer caught her glance and
laughed.
     "Just another ten minutes, you think?  You won't last
five.  And don't expect to be rescued by the Police.  They
aren't coming.  I leaked word that the fence was delayed,
the meet put off until tomorrow."  He grinned at her.
     Dark Damsel felt the first tendrils of fear.  If what
he said was true, she had no back-up.  And she was beginning
to despair of ever winning this fight.  He laughed again, but
she made no reply.  She was breathing too hard and it would
take too much energy.
     The Photographer began his advance and the Damsel was
hard put to stop his blows from connecting.  She twisted, 
turned and blocked.  When he did get through, however, his
blows carried no weight.  He slapped her just hard enough to
sting, just hard enough to let her know he was playing with
her.
     A hand slipped through and fingers pinched her right
nipple before darting back out.
     "Oh, we're going to have fun, you and I," The 
Photographer's voice leered at her.  
     He didn't even sound tired and she could barely keep him
off her.  In desperation she attacked for what she hoped would
be the final time.  Adrenalin fueled the attack and it almost
succeeded.  Almost.
     "Five minutes.  You're finished."
     And she was.  She was sucking in air in great gulps,
backing from The Photographer who batted her tired arms aside
and slapped her hard on the rump as she stumbled and turned.
She swung with what remained of her strength, but he caught
her arm, pulled her to him and kissed her.  She tried to
knee him in the groin but he was gone.  Sweat slipped from
under her cowl and got in her eyes.  It stung and she blinked.
     Dark Damsel never saw the blow that dropped her to the
mat.  Unbelieving, she saw him wait for her to get up.  One
last chance, she had maybe enough for one good kick.  She
glanced up and saw the Rings.  If she could work her way
over to them . . . .  She began backing again, leading him
on.  That's it, keep coming, she thought to herself, letting
herself hope.
     Ding!  The bell.  She'd done it.  The thirty minutes
were up.  Now, even if he won, he lost . . . given that he was
a man of his word.  And if he wasn't, the world would know
about it, know that she'd beaten him at his own game.
     Now!  She jumped up and grasped the rings.  Long ago she'd
trained in gymnastics.  Her father used to watch her, encourage
her.  This would be for him.  
     The double kick was aimed at his head.  It never connected.
The Photographer grabbed her ankles and heaved.  Her fingers
disobeyed their orders to hold on and she let go of the Rings.
At the same time he let go of her ankles and she fell, flat on
her back, her attempts to break her fall futile.
     The breath exited her lungs with a whoosh and Dark Damsel's
eyes went wide with fear.  She couldn't breathe!  She felt 
fingers finding the zipper, undoing her top from bottom.  She 
couldn't breathe!  Her bottoms were being pulled unceremoniously 
from her.  She couldn't breathe!  Her top was unzipped and her
breasts exposed.
     A great gasp and air rushed into her lungs.  She wasn't
going to die!  Yet.  However, she was unable to move, much less
resist as she was rolled over and her top pulled down her arms 
and off.  She was naked now, except for her cowl, which she knew 
was next.  He'd beaten her.  She had given everything she had
and it hadn't been enough.  
     "You're mine!"  The whisper was harsh, triumphant.
     She was like a rag doll as The Photographer put something
about her middle.  Great gulps of air were being drawn into
her lungs, trying to replace the oxygen deficit caused by the
fight then the fall.
     "Kitty!" he called out, and Dark Damsel heard the office
door opening and footsteps closing rapidly.  "Do her up, I'll
set up the cameras."
     Dark Damsel felt Kitty adjusting the garment.  Then she
pulled on something and it tightened.  It was a corset, Dark
Damsel realized.  Kitty quickly and skillfully tightened the
laces until it was unbearably snug.  Dark Damsel could barely
breathe and she needed to breathe so badly.
     "Very nice, D.D.," Kitty snickered.  "Such a fine figure.
But we're not finished yet, oh no."  She began a further 
tightening of the laces though Dark Damsel didn't believe that
the corset could be done up any further.  She was wrong and
her eyes bugged out when Kitty gave her final wrench.  "There,
baby, there," she cooed, then kissed Dark Damsel's cheek.  "You 
look so pretty, so thin!  Let's get you on your feet."
     Kitty helped the Damsel to stand.  Dark Damsel felt a 
passing giddiness, then she followed helplessly as Kitty
dragged her to a mat in the centre of the gym.  Her limbs felt
like they were rubber and they trembled continuously.  She
was so tired she could barely stand.
     "One hour, remember the deal?" the Photographer's voice
was oddly fuzzy.  It suddenly occurred to Dark Damsel that he
had something in his cheeks to change the shape of his mouth,
to disguise his voice.  Why?  To stop her from hearing it so
she'd be unable to recognize it later; or to keep her from
recognizing it now?
     The Damsel shook her head, trying to clear the cloudiness
of her thoughts.  Her body was still demanding oxygen, but the
corset was preventing her from breathing deeply.  She panted,
mouth open.  
     "The briefcase?" she got out between pants.
     "Yours."  I keep my end of a bargain.  "And you will keep
yours!" he declared, turning her to face a camera he'd set up.
"Turn sideways," he ordered and reinforced that order with a 
push.  "Very nice.  The corset pushes up your tits nicely.
That was the first request."
     Request?
     "Ah, I see you don't yet understand.  I picked a school
for its internet link.  You are on streaming video.  Those
who have logged on are passing on their requests and you will
fill them.  Kitty and I'll help if needed."  
     Dark Damsel closed her eyes, then opened them to see 
Kitty focusing the camera on her, slowly panning down then
up again.  The Damsel's face burned.  She thanked whatever
gods there might be that, as yet, The Photographer had not
removed her mask.  She swayed, and would have fallen had not
The Photographer caught her.  He lowered her to her hands and
knees and she continued to pant for air.  Kitty moved to another
video camera and lowered it so that was pointing at the Damsel's
side, level with her.  That was when the Damsel noticed the
monitor in front of her.  She was there on it, on fours, her
breasts hanging down.  Letters formed in a dialogue box.
     "Fuck her from behind."  
     Dark Damsel's eyes widened.  It was too much.  She was on
display, the toy of unnamed, uncounted perverts who were watching
on their computer screens.  
     "No," she gasped.  "I won't."
     "You will," The Photographer contradicted her.  "You will, 
or the briefcase will disappear forever and everyone will know
that Dark Damsel not only cannot be trusted, but that she held 
herself above returning two and a half million dollars worth of 
stolen goods to their rightful owners.  What would your dear
friend Lady Margot say?"
     Dark Damsel froze.  She was caught.  What could she do?
Break her word?  Stay?  She heard a click and looked to see
a masked Kitty place a microphone in front of her.  Her face
was a picture of despair.  She tried to think.  Couldn't.  
     "Oh!" It was too late.
     The Photographer's fingers had pressed against her pussy,
slippery wet with some lubricant.  Then he was lubing her,
thoroughly, mechanically, as if she were nothing more than a
toy.  Her knees were nudged apart and then he was behind her.
She felt the head of his cock at her entrance.
     "Look up!" It was a command.  She hung her head.  "Look
into the camera, slut."  Her face flushed at the remark.  He
lowered his voice so that only she would be able to hear. 
"Would you rather I just took off your cowl?"
     Dark Damsel looked up and into the camera's eye.  Her jaw
dropped, eyes widened and she gasped audibly as he entered her
in one smooth thrust.  "Oh!"  That camera was just atop the
monitor in front of her and she saw herself gasp as he did
the deed.
     "I'm sorry," The Photographer said insincerely.  "You 
weren't ready?  We'll try it again."  He withdrew completely.
"Look up."  Damsel's head had begun to droop.  She complied.
     "Oh!"  He did it again, burying himself to the hilt in
her.  She'd never before seen herself at the moment of
penetration.  Hell, what with her nocturnal activities, there
just hadn't been that many men in her life, anyway.  It was
with a detached interest that she watched herself gasp; watched
her breasts sway as he hit her rump with his stomach.
     "Some women say that penetration is the most exciting
moment in the sex act.  Well, we can't deny you your excitement,
now, can we."  He withdrew.
     "Oh!" Dark Damsel gasped yet again.  The Photographer
withdrew completely than penetrated her once more.  He continued
in this fashion, penetrating and withdrawing until Dark Damsel
was panting again.  She realized, with embarrassment, that her 
body was now providing all the lubrication that The Photographer
needed.  It, too, had betrayed her.  Without bidding, Minx's
words came to her:  "Nothing like a good fight to make you
horny, is there."  Could it be true?  Did she get off on the
battles?
     She couldn't keep her head up but, when she let it droop,
she felt fingers in her hair, pulling it back.  She had no 
choice but to look, to watch herself as she was taken.  It 
was Kitty holding her head for the cameras while The Photographer 
continued moving in and out of her.  But he was no longer 
withdrawing all the way, and his speed had picked up.  Her grunts 
as he moved harder and faster echoed through the gym.
     Movement caught her eyes and she read with horror:
     "Pinch her tits!"
     Kitty complied, pinching at pulling at the nipples of her
swaying breasts until they were hard and distended.  Dark Damsel 
was now gasping for air that wouldn't come.  She began to feel 
woozy and her vision started to blur.  This just couldn't be
happening to her.  Not to Dark Damsel.
     "Say it."  The words came from far away.  
     Dark Damsel slowly focused on the present.  The Photographer
was still, though inside her.  He repeated the words.  Say what?
She looked at the screen.  
     "Asked to be fucked in the ass."
     "Oh, no!"  She couldn't.
     "The cowl?"
     She'd have to.  What did it matter now, anyway.  He'd do it
whether she asked or not.  She was finished.  "Please," she asked
quietly, "fuck me in the ass."
     "I couldn't hear you."
     "Please fuck me in the ass," she said more loudly, reddening
with the shame of it all.  "Oh my God!"  He was pressing in 
relentlessly.  It was no use fighting; she tried to relax her
sphincter.  "Ahh!"  His head slipped in and then he was slowly 
moving deeper within her.  It came to her that he was being very 
gentle, though being remorseless about it.  He wasn't trying to 
hurt her.  
     As he began slowly thrusting, all thoughts vanished from 
her head.  It felt so different.  Not as unpleasant as she had 
feared.  Then he began moving faster again and her breathing
became ragged.  Her arms would no longer hold her and she 
collapsed to the mat.  She glanced up to see the monitor, to
see herself, ass lewdly high in the air, being royally screwed.
She couldn't think.
     When the vibrator touched her clit she jumped.  She bucked
this way and that, trying to get away, but it was no use.  
     "Come for me, baby," Kitty whispered to her.  "Come while
my lover takes your ass.  Yes, you can do it.  Feel it moving
through you, carrying you up and away.  Relax into it, just
relax into it."
     There was something almost hypnotic about Kitty's voice, 
about her own bellows breathing, about the feel of The 
Photographer's cock moving in and out.  But she couldn't, no, 
she couldn't.  It would be the final indignity.  She held 
herself, still, tense, trying to push the excitement down.
     The wail, when it came, was long and loud.  Dark Damsel's
body heaved up, held, then relaxed.  She collapsed completely
to the mat, legs splayed out.  Her vision was gone, there was
only a voice in her ear, pressure on her back, the cock in
her rear.  Everything was going black.
     The Photographer was on top of her, moving very fast,
ramming into her.  "I'm going to come in you, bitch," he
grunted into her ear.  He was moving very quickly, short
fast thrusts.  "I'm coming in you, coming!" his voice
caught and he collapsed on her.
     
     "She's out," Kitty told her lover.
     "Good.  Quickly then, you know what to do."
     "Are you sure?  Isn't this enough?"  Kitty questioned.
     "I'm sure.  Just do it."  The Photographer turned his
attention to the cameras and monitor.  Working with practiced
ease he had the lot packed up and replaced in the trolley in
minutes.  He glanced over to check on how Kitty was doing.
She was doing fine and he wheeled the trolley out of the gym.
     "Sorry, baby," Kitty murmured to the still unconscious
Dark Damsel.  Dark Damsel grunted in her sleep as Kitty did
what was required.  She was almost finished when The Photographer
returned, carrying two video tapes.  He placed them in the
briefcase and closed it.
     "Let's go.  It's almost over," he told Kitty.  "We'll
make the call from the pay-phone at the front door just before
we leave."  He sat the briefcase down beside Dark Damsel and
then Kitty and he moved out of the gym door, removing their
masks as they went.

     Dark Damsel woke, feeling thoroughly used.  In fact she also 
felt full.  What was going on?  The events of the past hour came 
back to her and her eyes snapped open.  She was alone.  The 
briefcase was beside her but The Photographer and Kitty were 
gone.
     Groaning, Dark Damsel sat up.  She was surprised to see
that she was once again dressed as Dark Damsel.  Yes, dressed
as Dark Damsel, but with the corset still on.  She could barely
breathe.  And on top of that, there were dildoes in her pussy
and ass.  She'd have to undo her costume to get them out.
     Getting to her feet, she moved shakily towards the change
rooms.  Suddenly both dildoes started vibrating.  "Oh!" Dark
Damsel gasped.  She moved more quickly for the change rooms
but stopped short as a sound caught her attention.  Sirens.
Sirens and just outside.
     Heavy footfalls sounded in the hall and in moments three
men burst through the doors, guns out and ready.  In the lead 
was Ray Barton.  They stopped short.
     "Dark Damsel!"  Ray stared at her as if he'd never seen
her before.  It took a moment before he could go on.  "We got
your call."
     "My call?"  Dark Damsel was confused.  She had called
nobody.
     Now Ray looked confused.  "Your call for back-up.  You
said something about the Photographer."  He couldn't stop
staring at her.
     Suddenly Dark Damsel realized that the corset was still
on and had changed her shape considerably.  Her waist was
impossibly small, making her hips look larger than they were,
and her breasts were pushed up and out.  Outwardly, she was
someone completely different.  Thank the gods he didn't know 
about what was working *inwardly*.  At that moment the vibrations 
stopped and Dark Damsel breathed a sigh of relief.
     "I came anyway, just in case," she told the detective.
"He was here.  We fought and he got away . . . again."  She
sounded strange, even to her own ears.  With no lung capacity to 
speak of, she was talking in breathless gasps.  "But I have the 
jewels.  She held the briefcase out to him.  "I'd like you to 
take them to HQ."
     Ray took the briefcase from her.  "The Commissioner will
want to talk with you.  We'll give you an escort."  He was 
puzzled by Dark Damsel's frown.  Usually she was happy to go
in and talk with the Commissioner.  He shrugged and together the 
four of them walked from the school.  Her cycle and the two 
unmarked police cars were waiting outside.  That was strange.  
She hadn't left the bike out in sight.  Curious and curiouser.
     "Oh!"  Dark Damsel stopped suddenly.
     "What is it?" Ray asked.
     Dark Damsel couldn't tell him that the vibrators had kicked
in again.  "Just sore from the fight," she told him, which wasn't
all that far out.  "Let's keep this quiet.  I don't want any 
publicity."  What she wanted was to get this over as soon as
possible, then to get back home and remove the corset and 
vibrators.
     Riding the cycle took all her concentration.  The vibration
from the engine along with that of the vibrators was keeping her
in a constant state of arousal.  The corset prevented her 
from breathing properly and pushed her hard nipples against
the cloth of her costume.  She sighed with relief when the
inner vibrations stopped half way to Police HQ.  The vibrators,
she realized were on some sort of timers.

     The Commissioner was waiting for them.  Obviously Ray had
called ahead and the Commissioner had returned to the office
for the occasion.
     "You recovered the jewelry.  That's wonderful," the
Commissioner congratulated her.  I brought our expert along
to verify everything."  He handed the briefcase to another
man who placed it on the desk and opened it.  
     For the first time Dark Damsel saw the video tapes. 
Her name was written on them.  "Those are mine," she told the
men and picked them up quickly.  She refused to be drawn by 
their looks of surprise.
     "Sorry I didn't get the message about the delay," she
informed the Commissioner.  "I was late, too, so I thought
you were already there," she lied. "So I went to the meet,
anyway.  Lucky thing."  
     "Delay?"  The Commissioner looked confused.  "Meet?  What
meet?"
     The man was honestly bewildered and Dark Damsel suddenly
had a black empty feeling in the pit of her stomach.  She had
been set up.  She had been set up and she'd swallowed the bait
hook, line and sinker.  She couldn't let everyone know about 
this.  It would be just too much.
     "You didn't get my mail?" she asked.  The Commissioner
shook his head.  "Damn.  One of the remailers must have been
down.  I didn't have time to wait for confirmation.  Sorry.  It
isn't important now."  She suddenly grimaced as the vibrators
came back to life.  "I'd better go."
     "Before you do," the jewelry expert told her, "I think you
should know that these gems are phonies."
     The world began caving in around Dark Damsel.  It had all
been for nothing.  Wordlessly, she turned and, with tapes in
hand, left.