The Spider Pt. 26

A door.

What is a door, exactly?

A couple inches of wood, maybe? Some glass? A few hinges?

Not all that much, when you think about it. Just a door, after all.

Richard stood at the end of the hallway, looking directly ahead at a plain wooden door, same as any other. His right hand was resting limply on the knob.

She leaned forward from behind him, resting her large breasts on his shoulder blades, and whispered into his ear.

"Open the fucking door, Richard."

Richard flinched as if he had been slapped.

"Please," he said quietly.

"What did I tell you about begging, Richard?" she hissed into his ear.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Just open the fucking door."

"I don't want to," he sniveled. "Please! I thought you were one of the good guys! I saw you on TV! You were a hero- the Power! Why are you doing this to me?"

Richard heard a sharp intake of breath from behind him. She bent down lower, and wrapped her hand around his own on the doorknob, crushing his hand onto it with her incredible strength. He let out a gasp of pain.

"That was a long time ago," she said evenly into his ear, still pressing herself against him. "I'm not that person any more. He took me to a bad place. Tortured me. Made me his slave."

Richard whimpered as she squeezed his hand harder.

"Now I do what he tells me. That's all I can do. I hurt people when he tells me to hurt them. Just the other day, I took a woman I didn't know from anyone high into the sky, and I looked her dead in the eyes as I dropped her to her death. I listened to her scream on the way down, heard her body shatter on the street below."

"Oh my god..."

"Yes. I'll do worse to you, if he wants me to. That's all you need to know. The only thing to do is to obey him. If you do that, you might live, you might not get hurt. I don't really want to hurt you, Richard. But if he wants me to, I'll pull your heart right out of your chest."

She turned the knob open using his hand. The door pulled open.

Richard looked into the hallway of the apartment, his jaw slack, his eyes glazed in terror.

The Fist pushed him forward into the darkness. He stumbled, landing on his knees.

Maybe not just any door, after all.

******************************

John clicked mute on the television's remote control.

He heard her in the hotel bathroom, vomiting. He listened for a minute, heard her run the faucet. Finally, she came out.

Amanda looked pale, her face shiny with sweat, her blonde hair limp and dirty. She smiled weakly.

He patted the bed next to where he way laying, and she came over and curled up next to him. He drew the blanket over her, put his hand on her forehead.

Hot.

He turned the volume back on the television, although really neither of them were watching it. She closed her eyes.

She had been sleeping more or less constantly for what, a week? A couple of weeks?

"You OK," he asked her, nuzzling in to her ear, kissing her gently.

She murmured.

"We have to go somewhere else soon," he said quietly. "We have to leave the City. Get as far away as we can."

She said nothing.

"I tried calling Anna- the Spider- a few more times today. She doesn't answer. It goes to voice mail. She's not going to answer, I don't think."

He stroked her hair.

"She's not going to help us. Without her, I don't think we can fight them. We'll have to run."

"No," Amanda said almost imperceptibly.

"Sweetie," he chided gently. "We have to. We have to go where it's safe."

"Nowhere to run to," she said in a quiet little singsong.

She fell asleep.

John held her close, keeping her warm, until he was sure she was fast asleep again. He got out of bed, turned the TV off. He looked at his phone, searching for another hotel nearby. When she was feeling good enough to move, he would take her to the next hotel.

When she was all better, he would take her out of the City. Out of the nation, maybe. To a new continent.

If he had a whole new world to offer, he would take her there.

But he didn't.

He paced around nervously, watching her sleep. He went to the bathroom, rinsed out the sink, splashed cold water on his face.

He looked tired, and old. Beaten. He looked like a man who was now made for running.

John clicked off the bathroom light, and made his way to the window of the hotel room, which looked out over the parking lot. It was gray, and raining, like it had been seemingly for weeks.

He looked absentmindedly out over the parking lot, saw the sheets of rain falling past the streetlights. He watched a single black car pull into the parking lot of the hotel, stop, and turn the lights off.

No one got out.

Don't get paranoid, he told himself. They are probably just waiting for the rain to die down or something before checking in. No need to panic. You've got to get a grip on yourself, quit jumping at shadows.

He looked down absentmindedly at his phone again for a few minutes.

The thunder cracking startled him.

This is a big storm, he thought. Can't take her out in this.

The lightning burst across the sky, and all of a sudden, John could see who was sitting in the black car.

Park Soo Jung, and some other men.

Korean syndicate.

Fuck, John thought.

Fuck.

******************************

Anna reached into the refrigerator, pulled out a bottle of beer, and opened it up. She took a sip from the bottle.

She looked into the oven, smelled the brisket that she had cooking in there, saw its skin getting crispy in the heat. It smelled wonderful. Like home.

Anna heard Heather laugh from the living room. She looked across the room, saw Heather laughing at something funny on TV. Gray rain was beating onto the windows, but inside Anna's place, all was warm. There was a fire burning in the fireplace.

Safe.

Cozy.

Like home.

Anna padded across the carpet, sat on the edge of the couch for a moment. She took one more sip of the beer, and handed the bottle to Heather.

"Thanks, sweetie," Heather said, taking it. She patted a spot on couch next to her for Anna to cuddle up in.

"Not now, honey," Anna said. "Dinner will be ready in about a half an hour. I have some stuff to do first in back, then I'll get the table ready."

Heather smiled, turning back to the television.

Funny show.

Anna made her way down the long hallway, listening to the drumming of the rain on the roof, until she got to the spare bedroom. She made her way past the extra bed, and to a wardrobe, which she opened up.

Inside there was a very tall safe, almost as tall as Anna herself was. She dropped down, and spun the combination lock.

She reached in, and pulled out a long black glove, thick leather. She pulled it up her left arm, all the way to her elbow.

She stood there, looking out the window at the rain, flexing her fist in the leather glove.

Reaching into the safe, she pulled out a long cylinder, with two clasps, one which she secured across her wrist, one which she clasped around her arm just below the elbow. She attached a small pressurized cartridge, turned it on, and watched the tiny pressure gauge come to full. She put a small button attached to the device into the palm of her hand, and pushed it a few times, feeling the pressure explode out of the end of the tube.

All working as expected.

Anna pulled a thick vest out, capable of stopping very powerful bullets. She slipped it over her shoulders, and pulled the vest tight.

She put a wide belt around her waist, and pulled a strap over first one shoulder, then the other. She pulled the whole contraption tight. There were a dozen or so little clasps hanging from the belt.

One by one, Anna pulled all the weapons from the safe and looked them over. Some of them she hadn't used in some years, typically not needing much advanced weaponry against the street scum that she spent her nights cracking down on.

Some of the weapons she had never used, hoped she never would have to use them.

Now the time had come.

She stood there, in the quiet of her spare bedroom, flexing her hand tightly in her gloves, over and over, listening to the rain, thinking.

This is my City, she thought.

Mine.

That bitch has no business here, and I'm going to bring her to a stop. Break her down, and then disappear that fucking Detective asshole afterwards once and for all.

I know she can be hurt, the Spider thought to herself.

I know she can be stopped.

I'll just have to be very careful.

Anna smelled something burning.

The brisket!

She put her weaponry back into the safe, locked it up, and ran to get dinner on the table.

******************************

Richard woke up on the dirty carpet, blinking in the darkness.

He wasn't sure how long he had been asleep. Long enough, though. His body hurt from the stiff floor.

He could hear her snoring on the bed above him.

He lay there for a while, then started to sit up. Before he could sit upright, though, the collar around his neck pulled tight, and he fell to the floor, choking.

Fuck, he thought. The collar.

He ran his hand over the collar she had fixed around his neck, clamped tight, locked. A slim but strong chain ran from the collar to around her waist, in a loop. She had dragged him to this bedroom, and stood over him, demanding that he strip himself naked.

Burning under her gaze, that's what he had done.

When he was finished, she had put the collar around his neck and clamped it tight, then tied the chain around her waist.

She pointed to the floor, and he sat there. She glared at him as he crouched at her feet, and finally, she laid down and went to sleep. Her sleep was not restful, from what Richard could tell. She breathed heavy, and quick, twitching herself around on the mattress, whispering quietly to some unseen demon that lived only in her dreams.

For an hour or so, Richard pulled at the collar around his neck, trying vainly to break it, or slip it off.

Giving up, he fell asleep on the dingy carpet, naked, and cold.

Now he lay there in the dark, breathing as quietly as he could. He had no idea what this woman wanted from him. She had indicated that Richard would meet him, whoever he was. Some person that controlled her, and that terrified her. She told him over and over that he had better obey that man, and made it very clear that she would hurt Richard if she had to. She kept returning to that over and over.

At times, the idea of hurting Richard seemed to make her very sad. At times, it seemed to excite her, almost as if she wanted to be ordered to hurt him.

Richard was terrified of her.

He pulled on the chain. She mumbled in her sleep, twitched. Richard let the chain go.

A small red dot appeared on the bedroom wall. Richard squinted at it, not sure if what he was seeing was real.

Slowly, the red dot expanded upward along the length of the wall, a brilliant flaming red, cutting the wall in half with a giant burning slit- not hot, though. The brilliant crimson red of the light flooded the room.

The woman on the bed murmured, still asleep.

Richard crawled away from the light. He looked on, even more scared now. After a minute or so, he could see what looked like a pair of very long hands come through the burning red slit, with long and grotesque fingers. The fingers wriggled through the cold burn of the red slit.

Slowly, the fingers started to pull the slit apart, wide, cracking all the way from the floor to the ceiling.

Richard put his back to the wall, his breathing ragged and shallow. He pulled at the collar around his neck without thinking, pulling hard, trying to rip it from his neck in terror.

A long and distorted head began to push through the slit as the hands pushed it open wider, the face long and gaunt, with black and featureless eyes. The hands pushed the slit open wider and wider, and finally, the man stepped out.

If he was still a man, that is.

The man stepped all the way through the burning red slit, and he stood to his full height, or close to it. The man was too tall to stand fully erect in the bedroom, though, although the ceiling was something like ten feet tall. His hands were long at the end of slim arms and hung limply down to his knees.

The man looked around the room with those terrible black eyes, finally settling on Richard.

Richard tried to push himself back into the wall even further in his terror.

The man stood there for a moment, as the burning red slit closed up behind him. When it was all closed up, the room was a deep black again, Richard pressed against the wall, the woman still snoring on the bed.

The tall man still looking at Richard with those terrible eyes.

Finally, the man spoke.

"You are what she brought me," the man said, almost absentmindedly.

Richard said nothing, his spine erect, his hand still wrapped around the collar, knuckles white with pulling at it.

The man stretched out one of his hideously long arms, and extended a single finger towards the woman on the bed.

"Wake her," the man said.

"What," Richard gasped hoarsely.

"Wake her," the man repeated.

Richard stood up, naked and vulnerable under the black and dead eyes of his captor, and began to shake the woman's shoulder gently.

Snorting, she came to, blinking, uncomprehending. Her eyes fully opened, she glared at Richard for disturbing her sleep. She shot her hand out, grabbing the chain, dragging Richard down to her breasts.

"You fuck," she began. Richard choked and pointed to the tall man, barely visible in the darkness.

"Master!" she cried out, pushing Richard to the floor again, effortlessly. She crawled off the bed quickly, getting down on her knees in front of the man she called Master.

"Please, Master," she mewled, pulling at the man's belt. "Please. I need it."

The man reached down, stroking her hair with his long, spiderlike fingers.

"Please. Please," she kept whispering in the dark, pulling the man's pants down, pulling his cock free.

The elongated man's dick popped out, massively long and thick, even in the flaccid state that it was in. It looked to be as long as Richard's forearm, and every bit as thick, dangling in front of the woman's face.

"Yes, Master," she said with a sigh, reaching out her hand to grip around the massive phallus.

She began to stroke the man's massive cock, pressing her lips to it, grunting like an animal, whispering things in the dark that Richard couldn't make out.

The tall man glanced down at the powerful woman debasing herself at his feet, and then turned his black and inhuman gaze towards Richard.

Richard choked on his fear, trying to press himself under the bed, the chain attached to the collar around his neck pulled tight.

Still keeping his unblinking gaze on Richard, the man curled his incredibly long and thin fingers around the woman's hair as she finally slid the huge cock into her mouth, sucking and slurping on the enough cock head like a crazed person.

Richard could see her body go limp suddenly as her head began to bob up and down on the man's dick.

"You aren't going to give me any trouble, are you?" the man asked Richard, the man's voice hollow, and cold, like a freezing winter wind blowing through a crack in a wall.

Richard gulped. The woman kept bobbing her head up and down on the man's cock.

"No," Richard whispered.

"I hope not. I don't like trouble."

The man looked down at the woman servicing his member.

"This one gives me trouble. She's a stupid bitch, and she gives me trouble like a stupid bitch will. She tried to fight me in the past, and she hurt me, but she lost and I enslaved her. Now she still tries to resist me in some little ways."

She kept sucking, faster and faster, as if to drown out his words.

The man turned his long and bobbing head back towards Richard.

"Did she fuck you, Richard?" the man asked. "Did she suck your little dick again?"

Richard squealed and pressed himself back into the wall. The man wrapped both his hands around the head of the woman at his feet, grabbing her, fucking her face. She squealed, but kept his cock in her mouth, sliding her lips up and down whatever length of it she could get.

"Did she?" the man demanded.

"She made me," Richard squealed. "I didn't want to- I didn't know. Please."

But the man didn't answer Richard. He pulled his throbbing dick out of the woman's mouth, slick with her spit, and slapped her hard in the face.

She collapsed onto the floor, crying out in pain.

"It's funny," the man said absentmindedly, wrapping his hand around the stunned woman's hair, pulling her limp body back up. "You could shoot her with a gun, it wouldn't hurt her. Very little hurts her."

He rotated her head to look into his black eyes.

"But I can hurt her, as if she was any other woman. I changed her, in my little special place. I made it so I can hurt her at will. Isn't that right, Fist?"

"Yes, Master," she whispered. "You hurt me all the time."

"I'm starting to like it," the Detective said. "Odd. Most of the things I used to call 'feelings' have gone dead as I've changed. Enjoying hurting you still remains."

He flipped her over as if she was a toy, bending her over the mattress. The man pushed her down into the bed, his grotesque long fingers wrapping around her shoulders, pushing her down hard.

She closed her eyes, lifting her hips up, opening herself up for the man who degraded her, who used her, the man who enslaved her.

"Please, Master," she begged, lifting her hips up and down, her wet little cunt searching for her owner's phallus to seize onto. "I need my cum. I need my cum."

The man pushed his enormous cock head at the entrance to her little pussy. He rubbed it up and down there, getting it wet and lubricated, getting it ready to impale and ravage his little slave with.

"I made my cock extra-long today," the man said quietly, looking at Richard once again. "I'm going to hurt her very much right now."

Richard gulped.

She made a whining sound, a wordless sound that might have been a plea for mercy, or gentleness, it was impossible to know. She lowered her head down, resting it on the mattress.

If she had asked for gentleness, she got none. Without a word, the man shoved his enormous cock into her, one deep and powerful stroke, all the way to the root. Her head rose again, a scream of pain and need on her lips, as the man began to shove his cock in and out of her, pressing her harder and harder into the mattress.

She was powerless to resist, even had she wanted to. Her body stiffened at the pain and the use, then relaxed. She began to grunt and moan in her unwilling pleasure. Her knees lost their strength, collapsing her onto the mattress, a toy, a rag doll, nothing more than an open hole for her Master to use and fuck.

Her eyes met Richard's, her mouth slack and open, her long hair hanging limply in front of her face. Richard watched as her eyes glazed over in pleasure, her slack mouth forming wordless begging sounds, begging to be filled with the cum that had become her life source.

She began to twitch with orgasm, the pleasure bursting and ripping out of her, her screams of pleasure rising to a high-pitched crescendo, subsiding to a low moan of acceptance, her hips bucking up and down at every angry stroke of the man's huge cock.

"Please, Master," she began to beg, finding her voice. "Please. I need it. I hurt so bad. Please give me your cum. Fill me up."

The Detective removed one of his hands from her shoulders, and grabbed her hair, pulling her head back tightly in his fist. She screamed again as he intensified his fucking, hurting her, ravaging her, punishing her with his hard cock.