Spoils of Victory

Oh gawd, Jordin thought to herself, how did I get myself into this predicament?

Feeling even more light-headed, she backed away as the men released her, but before she could slap her bracelets together, another male hand grabbed her right wrist and spun her around. She felt hands squeezing her nubile young breast as another beer got pressed to her mouth. This time she chug-a-lugged the entire bottle without thinking, some of the excess spilling in rivulets down her graceful neck and chest.

Desperately she tried to push away, getting passed from one henchman to another, each of them copping a feel of whatever part of her body came to hand. By now her face felt flushed and hot as she ended up in the arms of the henchman who had started it all. Her head spinning from the alcohol she had consumed, Jordin could only stand there as he reached down and grabbed the hem of her black lace dress, tugging it upward until her bare breasts popped into view. The men around them raised a chorus of encouraging groans as the man peeled the dress over her head and tossed it away.

"Oh no... please don't..." Jordin murmured. Even in her drunken state she quickly cupped both hands over her naked breasts! Fear washed over her feeling the rigid shape of his manhood throbbing inside his trousers as he pressed against her, and assuming what he must have in mind.

"Mmm yeah, oh yeah," the henchman said as his groping hands latched around her waist and flopped her facedown across the nearest table, helpless to resist as he yanked her black lace panties down.

Jordin felt the lacy nylon slide roughly over her hips and down her legs, all too aware of the undignified position. Jordin squirmed helplessly, as the henchman began to play with her pert backside for the entire gathering. He slapped and squeezed each cheek before spreading them wide to display her shaven womanhood. Thoughts of this man attempting to enter her flooded the poor girl's mind. Then her gaze fell on the silver bracelets on her wrists. Clumsily she banged them together.

A brilliant flash of energy erupted, lighting up the entire bar. The men all leaped back away from her, momentarily blinded. The supervillains up in the VIP section froze in mid-sentence...

"OK, creepoids," said an arrogant female voice. Victory stood poised for action, her famous purple Lycra uniform hugging her gorgeous body like a second skin. Her silver bracelets and power belt glinted in the dimly lit room. The green eyes behind her mask sparkled. "You've had your fun. Now you're busted!"

"Victory?" the henchman said. "Where the fuck did YOU come from?"

"Never mind that!" said someone else. "GET HER!"

About a dozen goons, mainly the Centurion's and Black Swan's men, surged forward to jump the stunning superheroine. Although the effects of the alcohol were starting to kick in, Victory's superior agility was more than equal to the task as she flipped backwards like a cat onto the stage. As the thugs clambered after her, she spun around the stripper's pole, bringing up her gorgeous gams to scatter them.

This was all well and good, Victory thought, but she had way too much liquor sloshing around inside her. If she wasn't careful, she could be overwhelmed by sheer numbers. With a mighty bound, the spunky superheroine leaped over the heads of the thugs, bouncing off a table and from there onto the VIP balcony. More from accident than design, Victory slammed into the Lash, sending him crashing into Frostbyte. They both went over the balcony rail.

"Stand back, you dolts!" said March Hare, raising his umbrella like a gun. "My sleepy-bye gas will stop her!"

A mass of purplish gas erupted from the end of the umbrella, just as Victory spun around and kicked the weapon out of his hand, simultaneously driving a fist into his gut. The sassy superbabe still caught a whiff of the gas. Along with the buzz she was feeling from the alcohol she had drunk, it made her feel drugged and uncoordinated. She had to wrap this up fast!

"I have her!" Black Swan snarled, wrapping her arms around Victory and latching her steel talons into the front of the superheroine's purple halter top.

"Oh yeah?" Victory quipped, "but can you KEEP her?"

Without a thought for where the sexy villainess' talons were anchored, she flexed her arms and broke Black Swan's grip. Black Swan sailed backwards, at the same time ripping a gash in Victory's halter top.

"Give up, Centurion," the superheroine said, still feeling a bit unsteady and light-headed as she turned to face the remaining villain with her hands planted on her hips. "With my superior powers you don't stand a CHANCE!"

For some reason the thugs and crooks on the main floor started to whistle appreciatively. Victory looked down and noticed that her marvelous rack was peeking out through the rip in her torn uniform, exposing one pretty pink nipple.

"Oopsy!" she giggled, flushing beet red as she clutched at her halter top. "I'm flashing my titties!"

While she was thus distracted, the Centurion drew his wooden rod and attacked. The stunning superheroine raised her unbreakable bracelets to deflect his attack, but her reflexes were dulled by the combination of alcohol and knockout gas. She felt the ringing impact on her bracelet, and before she could follow through, he had swept past her, seizing her from behind and capturing one arm with a half nelson, one hand grabbing her right boob.

"This is very nice," he said smugly, whispering into her ear. "We should do this more often."

"You're under arrest!" Victory insisted, struggling to escape his grasp. "Let go of me!"

"Is that really what you want?" the villain smirked. "Is that the reason you've been hunting me so tenaciously? So that you can arrest me?"

Victory felt her pulse racing. His wonderful male body felt so hard, his hand so strong and forceful as it cupped her plump breast, gently giving her a squeeze. Behind her, she could feel the rigid shape of his dingdong swelling against her supple little ass, sending a current of moist submissiveness rippling through her womanhood.

"Ohhh! Is that your s-sword I feel sheathed in between my ass," she moaned, rubbing up and down against his bulge, "or are you just glad to see me?"

Black Swan laughed. "Listen to the horny little slut beg for it! She actually gets off on this! Why else would she disguise herself as a pole dancer?"

Victory's cheeks burned at the shocking words that had come out of her mouth. It wasn't true! There was no way she could actually WANT to be taken by this man!

"I said get your h-h-hands off of me!" she protested.

Pushing backward, the superheroine managed to break the Centurion's grip and throw him off. But in the process, her halter top ripped the rest of the way and came off in his hands!

"Ohmigosh!" Victory blurted, frantically cupping her hands over her two suddenly naked hooters.

The Centurion moved in again. Teetering like a little girl in her mother's high heels, Victory whirled and clumsily brought up her right leg, but her opponent easily caught her ankle in mid kick. Caressing her smooth, shapely gam, he pressed her backward against the wall and pinned her there.

"Hey, stop it!" she cried, as both his hands found her breasts.

"Now," he said, reaching downward along her slim waist for her power belt, "let's see about disarming you..."

"N-no!" Victory breathed. "You can't... you wouldn't!"

She tried to fight back, but her brain still felt stupid and slow-witted. Her body seemed to be moving in slow motion. Before she could stop him, the Centurion had pushed her power belt over the silky Lycra fabric of her hot pants. The invincible device dropped around her ankles, taking the skimpy purple hot pants with it, leaving only her plain white nylon thong. Even through her drugged and spifflicated haze, Victory felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. Without her belt, she was DEFENSELESS!

"Please... please don't..." the young heroine whimpered, tears forming in her pretty green eyes as the Centurion removed her silver bracelets and tied her wrists with her halter top.

Down on the main floor, the low-level criminals and henchmen sent up a cheer. The other four villains on the balcony got to their feet and clustered around the beaten heroine.

"I can't believe it!" Black Swan purred, grinning. "We've captured the mighty Victory!"

"WHO captured the mighty Victory?" the Centurion said.

The villainess scowled. "Um... well... OK, YOU captured her..."

"At any rate, she's helpless in our hands!" March Hare gloated, licking his lips at the sight of her sweet, slender body, vulnerable and practically naked except for her boots, panties and mask. "I vote we take the rest of her clothes off!"

"I vote we unmask her," said Black Swan. "This is our chance to find out what her true identity is!"

"I defeated her and I decide what is to be done with her," declared the Centurion, resting his hand significantly on the hilt of his short sword. "Any arguments?"

The other four fell silent.

"Good," the Centurion said. "March Hare and Black Swan, we will finish our discussion at another time."

Without another word, he picked up Victory's power belt and hot pants, then slung the helpless superheroine over his shoulder. Victory squirmed, moaning in dismay and feeling very insubstantial in his grip. With his henchmen covering his retreat, he carried her through the sliding door that led into the city's subway tunnels.

"Put me down!" the girl mewled in protest, her long legs kicking meakly. "I'm a superheroine! I'm not a baby! You can't carry me around like this!"

"Can't I?" the Centurion said, reaching up and spanking the young heroine hard on the pliant flesh of her peach-like ass.

"OUCH!" Victory yelped, as the exquisite sting of his hand warmed her supple backside. "That didn't hurt! I dare you to do that ag--" SLAP! "OW! Stop!" Even as she was aware that her protests only made him keep on swatting her, with her inhibitions loosened, Victory dimly realized that she actually wanted him to! Draped over his broad shoulders, tied up and helpless, the heroine wriggled with shame as each slap made her pussy quiver. "OUCH! Please do it again!"

The Centurion merely contented himself with stroking her creamy bare thigh, commenting only, "I think that someone is a little bit tipsy."

Victory was shocked to hear herself giggle and reply a little breathlessly. "I am PLASTERED! Totally p-pickled!"

The villain blindfolded and gagged the superheroine, tied her ankles together, and then dismissed his henchmen. Helpless to speak or even to move, Victory bounced uncomfortably on his shoulder for another fifteen minutes or so, before being loaded into some kind of vehicle. When he finally removed the blindfold and gag, she found herself inside a bedroom. It looked like the generic decorations of a motel but in her muddled mind... how could she be sure?

"Wh-where have you brought me?" Victory stammered, as he untied her halter top from her wrists and let it fall to the floor. Suddenly feeling very sleepy and lethargic as the alcohol wore on, she had to put her arms around his broad shoulders to keep from falling over.

"Does it matter?" he replied, his arms enwrapping her svelte waist as his mouth captured hers in a deep, hard kiss.

"Mmmmm," Victory moaned as his tongue invaded her glossy lips, sending shivers up her spine. Her knees quivered weakly and gave way as his arms imprisoned her, crushing her bare breasts to the front of his tunic. Abruptly she felt his erection rise upright against her. "Nnnnoooo," she groaned, as she reached down almost mindlessly to touch and then to caress that raging bulge. "Please don't... I'm begging you..."

"Save your pleas, Jordin Tyler," the Centurion hissed, tossing Victory roughly onto the bed. "You have no defenses, no secrets from me. I take what I want, when I want it," he continued, as he unzipped and pulled off her boots. He climbed on top of her, his hands sliding sensuously along her smooth bare legs as he straddled her, reaching for the waistband of her panties. "Your body is mine for the taking! Mine to use however I wish! Isn't that true?" The helpless superheroine lay underneath him, vulnerable, trapped by his superior male strength.

"No!" she whimpered. "I'm V-victory! I'll resist you! I'm--"

"You're nothing!" he spat.

Grabbing the waistband of her thong he slowly pulled her panties down. Victory even helped by lifting her butt to make it easy as the soft nylon slipped all the way to her ankles. She looked up at his smile as he exposed her pretty pink slit. His fingers lightly skimmed over the skin of her inner thighs, finding and exploring the moist folds of her labia.

"Admit it! Say it!"

"I'm yours," Victory moaned. He mind completely dulled by the alcohol, her arousal betrayed her will and the heroine submissively spread her legs wider. "Please! All yours! D-defeated... stripped... helplesssssssss..."

The Centurion quickly got out of his shorts. Grabbing hold of her ankles, he dragged her toward him, then flipped her over face down. Victory felt his hands grip her narrow hips, hoisting her naked tail up and planting her feet on the carpet...leaving her upper body still flat on the bed. She felt him spreading her legs wide open, his fingers probing along the smooth seam of her vulnerable pussy, feeling her wetness, softly rubbing her pleasure spot, until her whole body was quivering with anticipation...

"Ohhhhh," she sighed, closing her eyes with ecstasy as he took her from behind, his iron hard cock coupling with her and sliding upward into her dripping womanhood. He pulled out partially, making her almost cream already, and then with his hands keeping a firm grip on her hips, he rammed into her again, deeper this time.

"GAWD it's so big!" Victory cried out, hating herself for being so weak, hating herself for letting him do this to her.

He moved in and out of her, deep and hard, the force of each upward thrust driving her up on tiptoe, rocking her slim frame and making her boobs jiggle as she tried to brace herself with her elbows against the mattress. In this position, face down and leaning across the bed with her little ass in the air, she felt like nothing more than an inflatable fucktoy, existing only for his pleasure.

"Harder!" she heard herself begging, as her pussy tightened convulsively around his cock. "Please... ohplease... HARDER!"

He obliged. The drunken girl fell into the moment, melting around the magnificent cock plowing her. Everything seemed to fall away, Capital City, the motel room, her duty...in that moment she was no longer a superheroine, no mind, just a body...no thoughts, just pleasure. She was completely, entirely HIS.

Suddenly he erupted, shooting his hot semen into her. The rush of heat made her helpless body feel like it was about to burst, driving her into a hard climax of her own.

"OHYES! GAWD YES!!" she screamed, as the Centurion pulled out and collapsed on top of her. Spent and exhausted and still very drunk, Victory drifted off to sleep underneath him.

When she opened her eyes again, it was morning. Victory woke up alone in the tangled sheets of the anonymous motel room. No sign of the Centurion of course and her head was absolutely throbbing. So much for her clever attempt to track him down and finally apprehend the Centurion!

The superheroine sat up in bed and looked blearily around with growing alarm. There was no sign of her uniform, powerbelt or bracelets! Clutching the bedsheet to her breasts, the superheroine looked wildly around the room. Her clothes! What had he done with her clothes?

Frantically she stumbled into the bathroom. To her surprise he had left her mask at least still in place. Then seeing her disheveled reflection in the mirror, hair a mess, make up smudged, the supposedly invincible superheoine even looked as if she had spent the night getting fucked.

Then she realized a note had been left taped to the mirror:

"You were very sweet, as usual, but I'm afraid that I must run. The room is paid for until noon. I told the desk clerk that we had been to a costume party and to let you sleep it off. You can pick up your things from him! Until next time... C"

Victory flushed crimson. That bastard! How could she go home to Jordin Tyler's apartment without her costume and weapons? She couldn't even summon the Victorycycle! He had left her no choice, none at all. She would have to present herself at the desk just as she was; hung over and looking every bit like a one night stand... ulp! her skin shivered at the very thought...

She drew the bed sheet around her like a toga and stepped out the door. The once proud heroine forced to take her own walk of shame like some co-ed bimbo leaving a frat house.

THE END