Spoils of Victory

The nearest guard dropped his gun in surprise, finding his hands unexpectedly occupied with a pair of firm but supple titties. The heroine immediately tried to go after Centurion but the guard kept a firm grasp, and Victory found herself pulled back to him by her plump boobs. His hands instantly seemed to begin fondling her vulnerable melons, drawing an indignant gasp from the heroine.

"By the Twin Hills of Shalimar!" he blurted in English. "It is a WOMAN!"

"How very perceptive of you!" the cocky superheroine snapped, pushing against his shoulders while the second man gave her a toothy grin. "Get your hands off of me!"

The second guard stepped in to assist his compatriot with the struggling girl. Did they think SHE was trying to steal the ruby!? She tried to wrench free, but the two burly men were able to get ahold of her arms with one hand. Without her super strength this seemed more than enough to restrain the young woman. Meanwhile their free hands fumbled about her chest. Admittedly the heroine could not tell if their groping was intentional or just the result of her struggles, however neither man seemed shy in grabbing handfuls of her firm round breasts!

"I can see that you're busy, Victory," the Centurion said flippantly, picking up the Heart of Jullana and dashing back to where his grapple line was still hanging. "Don't bother seeing me to the door. Until we meet again..." He clipped the power reel to his belt and activated it, vanishing back up through the skylight.

While her quarry got away, again, the young heroine found herself wrestled to the ground.

"Unhand me!" Victory pleaded, squirming helplessly in the hands of the security guards. "Thanks to you, the Centurion's getting away!"

Then one big hand clamped down over her mouth, silencing any further protest. Victory was now easily overpowered by the two men; her arms were drawn behind her and firmly pinioned together by a muscular arm. She could feel a hand groping her firm booty as if patting her down for weapons, even as her legs flailed uselessly. Whimpering with hapless frustration, the subdued heroine was lifted back to her feet. One guard held her firmly, one arm having captured both her own, the other securely hand gagging her. Panic boiled in her stomach, without her powers she had no hope of fighting these two and what liberties might two Magristani soldiers take with what they thought was a sexy American jewel thief they'd caught?

"Oh Beauteous One," the other guard moaned, licking his lips greedily as he now reached out to stroke her bottom. "You must be one of those tasty American underwear models we hear so much about."

"AHMED! HASSAN! RELEASE HER AT ONCE!" said a commanding voice. The two guards instantly let go of the superheroine as a tall man in a turban and scarlet robes strode gracefully into the library. He scowled over his pointed beard.

"Ambassador Jafar!" Victory gasped, cupping her hands around her bust.

"I have just spoken with Mr. Howe," Jafar frowned, glancing at the empty display case. "He was informing me that the Izimir Venus has been stolen. And now the Heart of Jullana is missing??" His beady eyes looked Victory up and down. "You must be the invincible American superheroine he was telling me about?"

Having scrambled to recover her halter and belt, Victory now stood pressing the purple garment over her naked chest. She gave the ambassador a blushing grin.

"Yes...um, that's me..." she replied sheepishly. "Could you excuse me for just a moment to, um, put my clothes back on...?"

The Ambassador frowned down at her, making the superheroine feel very small. His right eyebrow twitched. "This is most...disappointing!"

Chapter THREE

The Victorycycle roared through the night, zig-zagging through traffic as its sexy, purple-clad rider enjoyed the way the powerful metal machine throbbed between her smooth thighs. That was TWICE in the same night the Centurion had not only slipped through her fingers but left her in a uniquely humiliating position, once in front of Ambassador Jafar himself! When she caught up to him...

A ringtone chimed in Victory's earphone. The superheroine looked down at the vidscreen mounted in between the handlebars and saw the face of Sasha Cortez. "Victory here," she said. "What news, Sasha?"

"I just heard what happened at the embassy," the pretty Latina sighed.

Victory lifted one aristocratic eyebrow. "I would have captured the Centurion if those stupid MEN hadn't distracted me and gotten in my way!"

"Of course," Cortez replied. "Look, I've just been contacted by a Mr. Gordon Malcolm who says he may have an idea where the Centurion will strike next. Do you want to follow it up with me?

Victory frowned. Gordon Malcolm... There was something about that name... She shrugged it off. "It's not as if we have any other leads. Text me the address, and I'll meet you there."

The address, 1151 Cleary Place, was an old two-story brick factory building that had been converted to apartments. Victory had just parked the Victorycycle and dismounted when Cortez' car arrived. As she got out of her car, the superheroine couldn't help raising an eyebrow. The pretty detective was wearing a pink short sleeved shirt and over it a racy pleated miniskirt of deep purple and black velvet, with a satin ribbon crisscrossing the front tied in a bow.

"It was the only other thing I had in my locker, OK?" she said defensively.

"I didn't say a word," Victory smirked.

The women went inside the building and climbed the iron staircase to the second floor, where they found the door to apartment 2A ajar. Cortez drew her Glock and flattened against the doorframe as Victory burst through the open doorway, ready for anything.

What they found was the apartment of a bookworm, and one which had just been thoroughly ransacked. And the perpetrators were still there... four of the Centurion's henchmen, dressed in white trousers and tunics cut in the style of Roman soldiers!

"What have we here?" Victory said, planting her hands on her shapely hips. "You boys know the drill. Where can I find your master? Don't make me have to beat it out of you!"

"Just try it, superchick!" said one of the thugs, as all four of them drew wooden truncheons from their belts and charged.

Moving like lightning, the sassy superheroine blocked their clumsy blows with her silver bracelets, her supple body flowing with uncanny agility as she caught one by the wrist and flipped him over her, then lashed out with a graceful kick at the next one. The remaining pair, almost mesmerized by the smooth curve of her lovely tush, jumped her a fraction of a second too late as she spun back around, grabbed them, and flung them out the door into the hallway.

"Well now," Victory smirked, cocking her hips and brushing her hands smugly, "are you guys going to be reasonable?"

"Screw this," muttered one of the thugs, as all four of them scrambled to their feet and fled. But instead of going down the narrow staircase, they turned and bolted through a big sliding fire door at the end of the corridor.

"Come on, Sasha, we have to catch them!" Victory said, her long legs eating up the corridor as she followed right on their tails. On the other side of the door, Victory and Cortez found themselves inside a huge, warehouse-sized storage room, where the four men disappeared into in a maze of packing crates. The women silently separated, Sasha going left while the spunky superheroine kept going down a straight, narrow aisle in between tall stacks of crates.

Victory emerged into an open space where two of the thugs were waiting for her with their backs to the brick wall, with no escape.

"Looks like the end of the road for you guys," the heroine said, planting her lean, elegant legs with an arrogant smirk. "I'll ask this one more time. Where's your master?"

"Right here," said the Centurion, suddenly appearing between two crates off to the right.

He was holding a crossbow, about the size of a rifle. He took aim and pulled the trigger. Victory almost laughed, her enhanced reflexes and indestructible bracelets could stop bullets but he was attacking her with a crossbow? The superheroine brought both wrists up before her to deflect the shot, as it flew though the arrow seemed to separate, becoming two, connected by a length of silvery chain... Not an arrow, a bolo! Before Victory knew what hit her, the weighted ends had wrapped the chain around her alluring body several times, pinning her arms to her sides!

"Hey! What the...!" Dismayed (and a little impressed) the heroine scowled at her nemesis, flexing against the binding chain, which seemed inordinately strong.

The two henchmen pounced on the gorgeous supergirl, grinning as they grabbed hold of her. Victory head-butted one, knocking him for a loop, then brought her right leg around in a spinning back kick to the second thug's stomach. But the next thing she knew, the Centurion's strong hands had seized her from behind, encircling her lissome waist as he captured her, holding her body trapped and helpless against him so that without the use of her arms, she couldn't break free.

"Get your hands off of me!" Victory sputtered, heat rising to her face as she struggled desperately in her bonds. "Let me out of this!"

The Centurion laughed. "Why should I do a foolish thing like that?" he said. "This chain is made of titanium, so I don't think even you can break it." His face leaned in closer, his lips almost to her ear. "Besides, Sweet Enchantress, I rather enjoy having my hands on you. Don't you?"

"Nnnoo..."

Victory felt a quiver of arousal run through her body as his hands moved upwards along her torso, gently exploring the rounded shapes of her breasts through the clingy Lycra of her uniform. The nubile young heroine hissed with pleasure as his fingers tightened on her nipples, pinching their hard little bullet shapes. Her green eyes fluttered behind her mask as she squirmed against his muscular frame, trying desperately to resist. Once again she felt his manhood throbbing stiff and rigid against her thigh, making her pussy moist and wet with surrender as her tight little butt rubbed up and down.

"Please no..." she gasped, "please... please don't..."

Just then the other two henchmen who had waylaid and disarmed Sasha Cortez arrived, carrying the pretty detective in between them. Her blouse had been ripped open, showing a glimpse of her black lacy bra, and her tiny velvet miniskirt swirled around her silky thighs as she resisted like a wildcat.

"Victory!" she cried in disbelief. "Not you too!" In a moment of despair the Latina ceased her struggles.

Ashamed the defeated heroine let her head droop. How could she have let this happen, now they were both the captives of the Centurion!

Chapter FOUR

"What have you done with Gordon Malcolm?" Sasha Cortez growled.

The pretty Latina was perched on one of the flat packing crates, her wrists and ankles bound with rope. The mighty Victory was trussed up beside her, only in her case with titanium chains around her body and her ankles.

"There actually IS no Gordon Malcolm," the Centurion seemed oddly perturbed. "A harmless fiction to lure you into my clutches, detective. Unfortunately, I did not count on Victory coming with you. My plans will now have to be altered."

The superheroine could have kicked herself! Of course! He had used the alias Malcolm Gordon before! For a fleeting moment, she even wondered if either of them were his real name.

"Now that you have me," she said out loud, "let Detective Cortez go!"

"I don't think so, Enchantress," the supervillain laughed, "unless you have some means of guaranteeing that she won't come running back with a lot of policemen..."

"I'd say it's a guarantee that I WOULD!" Sasha spat.

"Of course," Centurion seemed lost in thought. "What to do, what to do...If I leave you here undoubtedly you'll escape a prove a fly in the ointment...however having to keep a constant watchful eye should prove equally distracting." Now he turned to the two women was a look a complete frustration. "Like all women you have the innate knack of ruining the best laid plans."

"How about a contest?" Victory proposed. "If I lose, we both agree to remain here and not try to escape. If I win, you surrender." She paused, a flirtatious look on her face. "Unless of course you're afraid that a mere girl would beat you..."

The Centurion looked up. The four henchmen stirred uneasily. "You intrigue me, Enchantress," he said. "As long as you have that power belt, I can't match your superhuman strength. And without it, you can't match my fighting ability. A contest, a game, would solve everything. Would poker suit you?"

"It would suit me fine."

Beside her, Cortez was squirming frantically in her bonds. "Victory," she hissed, "are you sure about this?"

"It's agreed then," the Centurion decided, as he came over and unfastened the titanium chain that held the superheroine helpless. As the bonds fell off her, he took Victory's hands and helped her to her feet. "The game is over when one of us has lost his... or her entire stake."

"Er... but what will we use for chips?" Victory said, glancing down at her costume. "I don't carry money around in this outfit. No pockets."

"We use our clothing as chips."

"You mean STRIP poker?" she gasped, her cheeks reddening slightly.

The four henchmen began to murmur excitedly.

"Naturally," the Centurion said. "Unless you're afraid I'll beat you."

"I'm afraid of nothing," Victory said, proudly thrusting out her marvelous bust. Out the corner of her eye, she saw the henchmen almost drooling with anticipation. "Only... can you send your lackeys away? I have my secret identity to think about."

The supervillain leaned closer, so that his hazel eyes were looking directly into her green orbs. "Jordin Tyler," he whispered, "they're MEN! When you start losing your shirt, do you really think they're going to be looking at your FACE?"

Victory felt her cheeks flush crimson, certain that standing as close as he was, he could feel the heat.

The thugs quickly brought out a card table and two chairs, setting them in the middle of the square space, while they retreated to ringside seats on the crates. The Centurion shuffled the cards and dealt out two hands.

"The game is five card draw. No wilds."

Victory's hand trembled as she picked up her cards. She had two kings, a queen, a four and deuce. She discarded the latter two, and the Centurion dealt her two more. Her heart thumped with joy... a six and another queen!

Smiling, she reached down with one hand to stroke her ankle. "I bet my right boot."

"Things that come in pairs are a set," the Centurion objected. "They both count as one wager."

"No they don't!" Victory replied. "They're individual items!"

The villain shrugged. "I see your bet with by left boot. And raise my right boot AND my helmet."

Frowning, Victory glanced at her cards again. "I'll see your bet with my left boot and my left bracelet," she said, laying down her cards. "Two pair, kings and queens."

The Centurion revealed his own cards... three sevens! Her heart sank. The men all leaned closer as Victory unzipped her boots and took them off, adding her bracelet. The Centurion gently picked up her high heeled boots, stroking the silvery leather for a second, then quickly swept his winnings off the table, piling them on the floor within easy reach.

"Beginner's luck," Victory grumbled, nervously rubbing her bare feet and ankles together underneath the table and wondering how she had let herself get talked into this.

The next hand, the Centurion opened with his helmet. Victory responded with her right bracelet, then reluctantly raised with her hot pants. Her opponent called her bet with his weapons belt, and to her instant relief...her trio of nines won!

Feeling a little more confident, the sassy superheroine picked up her next five cards and looked them over. Another measly two pair... queens and eights. She discarded her nine and got back an ace, no help there. She wagered her right bracelet. He responded his breastplate, then raised the bet with both his boots.

Chewing her bottom lip, Victory bet her hot pants, regretting now that she had insisted on counting pairs of garments as separate items. She needed one more item to match his bet, but with the henchmen watching, she didn't want to risk losing either her mask or her halter top. That left only ... ulp!

"I'll b-bet by power belt," she said shakily. "Call!"

The Centurion revealed a straight... five, six, seven, eight, and nine.

Victory gasped. With a sinking sensation in her stomach, she unfastened her power belt and dropped it on the table, knowing that she was now completely vulnerable, just an ordinary girl surrounded by a decidedly unsavory bunch of men!

Adding her bracelet to the pile, she stood up and slipped her fingers into the waist of her hot pants. Feeling the heat rise again to her high boned cheeks, she glanced over at Centurion's henchmen. The men grinned lecherously, the superheroine had no choice, she slid the sexy Lycra garment off and threw it on the table, quickly sitting back down so that they wouldn't linger on the plain white thong she wore underneath.

She squirmed as she watched the Centurion smugly sweep her garments away from her, including her invincible power belt!

Chapter FIVE

Victory squirmed uncomfortably in her seat, reduced to nothing but her mask, halter top and thong panties. Curling one smooth, silken leg underneath her, she looked across the table at her opponent. The Centurion was calm and infuriatingly confident, as well he might be since all he had lost so far were his helmet and weapons belt.

The beautiful young superheroine picked up the cards he had dealt and her heart fell. All she had was a pair of tens! Delicately biting her lip, she agonized whether to bet her mask or her halter top, then decided on her mask.

The Centurion matched her bet with his breastplate, then with a smirk, raised with his tunic! Victory gave him a pleading look, her frustration clear in the pouty expression. Eventually she called with her halter top.

Her opponent sighed and flipped over his cards. Nothing! His high card was a King, followed by a seven, a six, a four and an ace, so her humble pair of tens won! Victory felt a surge of excitement race up her spine as she watched the Centurion remove his breastplate, then wriggle out of his tunic, revealing his manly chest!

"I guess I'm just too good for you," Victory smiled as she raked in her winnings, beginning to feel as if she might have a chance after all.

"Time to stop beating around the bush, Enchantress," the Centurion said as he shuffled the deck. "The next game is five card stud. We bet on each card as it comes up."

He quickly dealt each of them one card face down, and a second card face up. Victory's was a Queen of hearts. His was a King of diamonds.

The supervillain had the high card, but declined to wager. This was just as well, since as that point Victory probably would have folded. The third cards were dealt: a king of spades for the Centurion and an ace of hearts for Victory. He wagered his left boot, which she matched with her halter top.

Their fourth cards were respectively an ace of clubs and a two of hearts. Victory felt her heart beginning to pound with excitement. All of cards so far were hearts! If her luck only held, she could beat her opponent's pair of kings! When he wagered his other boot, she felt confident enough to match it with her mask without a tremor of misgiving.

The fifth cards... the Centurion got a second ace, the ace of spades, while Victory... breath catching excitedly in her throat... drew the Jack of hearts!

The Centurion, now with two pair showing, made a show of looking around his side of the table. Victory's boots, bracelets, power belt and hot pants were at his side within easy reach. As for his own equipment, he was down to his shorts and his boots, which he had already wagered. He favored her with a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin as he wagered his shorts.