Dark Damsel: Betrayals 2/4 (Superhero, MF, FF, Anal)

Chapter 4


     "Peter, me lad," Sean spoke to the driver in a friendly 
tone, "just turn off here."
     "Here?" Peter was surprised.  There was nothing here, 
certainly nothing for the Irish Gang.  
     "There's a good view from the top of the hill.  Something
which requires your expert eye."
     Peter turned the car up the road which led to a look-out.
It was still dark and Peter wondered why Sean would have him
out there before sunrise.  It might, he thought, have something
to do with just that.  The sun at a certain angle might be a
problem--or something.
     "Here.  Just here will be fine."
     Peter pulled into the lookout--a sort of lover's lane, now,
with the sun about to come up, long since deserted by amourous 
couples.  He stopped the car and followed Sean's lead in unbuckling 
and getting out.  Shivering in the predawn cold, he walked over to 
the guard railing and looked over the edge.  It was a long way down.
     "We have a problem, Peter," Sean told him as he leaned 
against the railing.  
     Peter moved beside him and together they looked over the
lights of the city.  Peter didn't often get to see a view like 
that and he stood there appreciating until the silence of the 
other man prodded him into speaking.
     "What problem, Sean?" he asked, wondering what could have 
required them to come all this way.
     "It seems," Sean replied quietly without looking at Peter,
"that we have a leak.  Someone has been spilling his guts to
The Organization."  Sean felt Peter tense slightly and he knew
that the redhead had been correct.  The silence between them
grew to an uncomfortable length.  This time it was Sean who 
had to break it.
     "Why, lad?" Sean asked quietly, without threat.  "It's not
as if you are underpaid.  Did they threaten you or simply make
you a better offer?"
     Peter remained still for a minute more, then the tension
went out of him.  "They have plans for us, Sean and they can get 
us into the really big stuff.  And, one way or another, they'll
take us over.  Better to be a friendly takeover, Sean."
     "Aye, you have a point," Sean agreed.
     "Then you see it my way!" Peter suddenly became animated.
"We can really go places."
     "Aye, lad.  That we can."
     Sean took a single step back from the rail, stooped and
grabbed Peter by the legs, then lifted.  Peter didn't even scream
on the way down.

     "My apologies, lady.  You were right.  Now I have to ask
how you knew."  The two of them were sipping coffee as they
walked along a path through the trees of Jade's Park.  Every
now and then someone would appear and the two would simply
walk in silence.  Just now there was no one in sight.
     Colleen looked at Sean and considered him for a minute.
It was, she knew, time.  "Well, until very recently I was the
Chairman of The Organization."  It was, she well knew, a 
conversation stopper.  Sean's stopped short, his face went blank 
and his gaze turned inwards, considering the implications of 
what she'd just said.  She, in turn, took in his rugged good 
looks.  If he could be tamed . . .
     Slowly Sean focused on her once again.  "And you've had me
dispose of a member of The Organization--wittingly or not?  That
rather puts me in the hot seat, now doesn't it?"  He didn't seem
as upset as he could have been, but in the short time that 
Colleen had known him he'd impressed her with his control.
     "Don't be silly.  Peter was never a member of The 
Organization."  She laughed lightly at the thought.  "However, 
he did sell out and we don't need that kind around us.  He'd only 
betray us in the end.  That type always do."
     "We?  Us?" Sean turned to look at a bird chirping in a 
nearby tree.  He breathed in deeply of the forest air before
turning back to her to see what response she'd make to his
questions.
     "Sean, I'll level with you."  Like hell she would.  She'd
tell him what he needed to know, no more.  "Things in The 
Organization are not what they once were.  Oh, you can't see
it from the outside, yet cracks are developing.  And those in
power are becoming too conservative."  She let him chew on
that for a moment before continuing.  In the mean time they
began to walk once more.  "Some of my plans have been considered
too risky.  Here, on the outside, I can carry them out, but the
Organization doesn't want to be involved.  So, I have to do them
on my own.  Your little group would be a great help.  For that
help I am ready to pay well."  She waited for him to digest this.
It took a while.
     "The Organization never lets any of its members go," Sean
finally told her.  
     "I already explained, they haven't 'let me go', I'm simply
operating outside of their, ah, jurisdiction, you might say.
Even so, they'll take a percentage."  He'd buy that, Colleen
figured.  The silence which came out of The Organization was,
at times, deafening.  Their operational procedures were not
widely known.
     "If you are who you say you are, why come to me?  There
are others who would much better fit your needs."
     This was true, but those others would demand too much and
some had ties to The Organization--which would tend to kill her
real objectives.
     "True.  In many respects you are right.  We have files on
all the organized groups which work in the Hub City and I've
not made my decision lightly.  You work with a certain flair
and there is a ruthless side to you which I like."
     "And, if I decide to go along, what do we get out of it?"
     Yes!  She had him.  "I have plans which the gang could carry 
out.  Plans which the Organization has deemed too risky for their 
increasingly conservative ways; yet in the right hands--ours--they 
could be very profitable, indeed.  Far beyond your little jewelry 
store caper."  And I have other plans, too, she thought.  Plans 
which may necessitate having a force at my command, a force 
outside of the Organization.  My own private army.
     "You'll be well provided for.  We'll go over those details
once you agree in principle.  I can guarantee you that you'll
not be disappointed.  If, however, you decide against my offer,
well, nothing has been discussed which could make any kind of
trouble for you in the future."  They were coming out of the 
woods now and into the tamed part of the park.  Mowed lawns,
barbecue pits, civilization.
     "It sounds interesting," Sean admitted.  "I'll have to take
it up with the rest, first, though," he lied.  "If they agree,
you'll have to come up with some more information before we make
any deal."
     Colleen smiled an benign smile.  "Of course, Mr. Murphy,
of course.  But before we get into that, there is one cash deal
that I have for you.  I'm doing a little private job, and I'll 
need a little help.  Not much, just someone to help me move a 
captive once I have her.  No risk."  Colleen grinned at him.  
"And it will be very profitable.  Take this."  She handed him 
an envelope.  
     Sean looked inside and whistled softly.  There was a wad
of one hundred dollar bills inside plus a sheaf of paper.  He
withdrew the paper.  He whistled again.  On it were instructions
for subverting the vaunted Teale-Gaines security system.
     "Four thousand plus the instructions.  Not a bad deal for
a night's work."  Colleen knew she had him.  She looked away 
and smiled her triumph as he replaced the paper in the envelope
and carefully placed the envelope in his coat pocket.
     "I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Murphy," Colleen said softly,
smile now discreetly gone, "with the details of how you're to 
earn what you now have."
     "It'll be a pleasure . . ."
     "O'Brien."
     "It'll be a pleasure, Ms O'Brien."
     They turned and walked away from each other even as the
sun broke through the clouds and bathed the area in light.  It
was an omen, Colleen thought.  The gods were being kind.

     "It's ready.  Just as you asked."  Megan looked at Colleen
with apprehension as the other just looked at her, face like
stone.
     "I'll be the judge of that," Colleen's voice froze the thin
blonde.  She looked up and down the other woman, eying the 
professional looking business dress, low cut with buttons down 
the front.  It would have looked better if it were filled out
a little more, like the clerk would fill it out, thought
Colleen as she glanced at that employee, busy dressing a
manikin.
     "Of course.  If you'll just step into the back.  Suzanne,
take over out front.  I have a fitting."
     The clerk nodded her acquiescence and Megan led Colleen
into the back.
     A few minutes later, in the dressing cubicle, Colleen looked
at herself with appreciation.  Megan had indeed done a good job.
The full length mirrors allowed her to eye the costume from 
different angles.  She smiled.  A grey catsuit with a large
green shamrock front and centre between her breasts.  Smaller
shamrocks adorned a wide belt around her waist.  The belt was
like a military issue, made for clipping on various and assorted
goodies.  She smiled again as she considered just what it would
carry.  
     Colleen tried on the face mask--sort of like The Lone Ranger, 
she thought.  A low laugh came forth.  Yes, just like The Lone 
Ranger; and, like him, she would be upholding justice--her own 
brand of justice.  And the first to feel her silver bullets would 
be the bitch, Dark Damsel.
     She felt the slight supporting of her breasts by the custom
costume and grinned at the effect they had on her figure.  When
cautious Mr. Murphy saw her in this, he'd be like a fish out of
water--gasping.
     Colleen O'Brien stepped out of the cubicle, now back in her
street clothes.  She deliberately frowned at Megan to see the
little bitch squirm.
     "It will suffice," she allowed.  The blonde almost collapsed
in relief.  "So, on to the matter of payment."
     "No . . . no charge," Megan stuttered.
     "Why that's very kind of you, Megan, dear," Colleen sneered
at the trembling woman.  "But I told you you'd be well paid for
your troubles."  Colleen reached into her inside jacket pocket
and pulled out six crisp fifties.  "I'm a woman of my word,
Megan, and my word is as follows:  If any mention is ever made
of this little deal of ours, I'll be back and you won't like
that."
     Colleen pulled the trembling blonde close to her by the
front of her dress.  She folded the bills up and tucked them
inside.  
     "D . . . don't worry.  There's no invoice, no nothing,
and I've already forgotten everything."
     Colleen smiled a wicked smile which did absolutely nothing
for Megan's confidence.  "That's good, Megan, very good."  She
walked away, then turned back as she reached the curtain to the
store front.  Her cold eyes took in Megan one last time.  "You 
really should consider implants, dearie."

     "Word is that you've been looking for me," Hub City's Dark
Damsel appeared out of the shadows, startling the thin ugly man
with the broken nose.
     He started, then relaxed.  "Don't do that to me, you almost
gave me a heart attack!  Yeah, I put out the word."  He looked at
her intently, as if trying to pierce the cowl which disguised her
from the world at large.
     "Well, out with it, Barry, out with it."
     "Woman been asking to meet you, says it's very important,"
Barry told her.  "Says she'll be behind the old Clarke building
at eight, Tuesday night.  Says she'll only be there for fifteen
minutes."
     "Did she give you a name, or reason, or anything else," Dark
Damsel wanted to know.  She was curious.  This sounded like a 
replay of Minx's ambush of her.  Perhaps her sometimes lover
was looking for a rematch.  
     Dark Damsel stepped back into the shadows and Barry bent
over to light a cigarette as footsteps echoed down the alley.
A man passed, pausing only for a moment to look at Barry before
moving on.  It would not do to have Barry publicly associated
with her, Dark Damsel knew.  It would be dangerous for him.  And
that, she thought, was why it was so interesting that someone had
gone to him in order to get to her.  Other than Minx, did anyone
know about their association?
     "Never seen her before and she didn't give no names."  Barry
paused for a moment.  "How'd she know about us?"  There was fear
in his voice.  "Would anyone find out, it'd be the end of me."
     "I wouldn't worry.  Here."  Dark Damsel handed the man a
few folded bills which he pocketed.  He looked around carefully,
then back to where the Damsel was standing.  She was no longer 
there.  Barry shuddered and moved away from their little meet.
It wouldn't do to be seen with Dark Damsel.

     The back of the Clarke building--an empty lot.  Tuesday at
eight in the evening--tomorrow.  It'd be getting near dark about 
then.  Dark Damsel laughed.  It had to be Minx.  And if she thought 
she could catch Dark Damsel out twice in a row, she had another
think coming.

     The motorcycle glided to a halt in the shadows and Dark 
Damsel sat there a full minute as she considered the empty lot 
just down the street.  She wrinkled her nose.  The air in the
alley stank of stale urine.  That, as much as anything else,
motivated her to get a move on.  Besides, it was almost eight,
and her mystery woman would not want her to be late.  She
dismounted and exited the alley.
     The six-foot high chain link fence surrounding the lot was
no problem.  Dark Damsel took a quick run at it and vaulted it
easily.  She landed lightly in a roll and was back on her feet
and ready for trouble in an instant.
     Nothing.
     The long shadow of the Clarke Building covered most of the
lot, yet even in the gloom Dark Damsel could see that no one
else was there.  Was this a hoax?  A trap?  She looked around
more carefully, peering through the sparse tall grasses.
     Nothing.
     Outside.  Nothing.  Just a van parked across the street,
no one inside.
     There was a flash of light and a pillar of smoke rose from
the ground about twenty feet away.  Dark Damsel took three quick
steps to the side and crouched, waiting.  Out of the smoke stepped
a shapely woman with dark hair.  She was wearing a light grey
costume with a Shamrock on it.  She smiled at Dark Damsel and
approached.
      Dark Damsel rose and went forward to meet this stranger.
She had never seen her before, nor had she heard of any such
costumed heroine or villain.  The woman wasn't quite as tall as
she was, but size meant little, Dark Damsel knew.
      "I like a woman who knows the value of time," the stranger
smiled at her.  Dark Damsel thought she detected a soft Irish
touch to the woman's voice.
     "We aim to please," Dark Damsel replied carefully.  
     "Ah, you do, lass, you do."
     Dark Damsel wasn't sure what to make of that.  "Might I
know the reason for this meeting?" she asked the shorter woman.
Now that they were close Dark Damsel could see that the stranger
had dark red hair.
     "You can call me Shamrock," the woman told her.  "I'm new in
town and thought we should meet.  I wouldn't want you to make a 
mistake were we to meet under more stressful circumstances later."
     It was a good point, Dark Damsel had to admit.  When she and
Minx had first met, she'd almost taken Minx for an enemy.  "Welcome
to the Hub City," Dark Damsel smiled, extending her hand.  "If 
there is anything I can do to help, let me know."
     "Ah, there is, lassie, there is," Shamrock took her hand in a
tight grasp, pulled her off balance and lashed out with a kick to 
the Damsel's head.
     Dark Damsel, the memory of her recent bout with Minx fresh in
her mind, went with the pull and dived forward, twisting Shamrock
around making her kick miss and pulling her into the dirt.
     Both women were on their feet in an instant, crouched, ready
for any attack.  The Damsel feinted, saw Shamrock go for the feint,
and hit the woman a tremendous blow on the left shoulder.

     Colleen rolled with the blow, chagrined that she'd fallen
for Dark Damsel's ploy.  This was not going as planned.  Dark Damsel
was far better than she'd believed.  Still she felt she could take
the masked heroine.  She backed away, her arm seemingly helpless at
her side. Turning her right side to Dark Damsel she blocked a kick
and a punch.  Away from Dark Damsel's sight, her left hand removed
a small gas grenade from her belt.  
     "Enjoy!" she yelled and flung the bomb at the Damsel's feet
where it exploded in clouds of billowing smoke.  At the same time
she backed quickly away, not wanting to breathe in the fumes which
would leave Dark Damsel unconscious in mere seconds.
     Colleen was just beginning to gloat when a shape whipped out 
of the smoke in a dive which caught her about the middle and flung
her to the ground.  It was more surprise than hurt which allowed
Dark Damsel to quickly get the upper hand.  By the time Colleen
had recovered from the shock, the darling of the Hub City was all
over her.  It took every trick she'd learned from Royale to keep
Dark Damsel from pinning her.
     A lucky knee connected and she was free.  She scrambled to 
her feet, only to go reeling back against the fence as Dark Damsel
continued her assault.
     Colleen's breath was coming in gasps.  She could barely fend
off the taller woman's attacks and she knew that it was only a 
matter of time before she went down to defeat.  Her hand dropped
to her belt and another smoke grenade dropped at their feet.

     Wary, and not wanting to be caught in the gas attack, Dark
Damsel flung herself backwards, then cursed herself.  In the first
attack, Shamrock had flung the gas grenade at her.  This time it
had dropped at their feet and Shamrock had made no move to back
away.  Thus, it wasn't a gas grenade, only a smoke screen.  
     The Damsel took several quick sideways steps, just in case,
then moved forward rapidly.  Too late.  On the other side of the
fence Shamrock was running for a van.  The side door opened, she
jumped in and then they were gone.
     Dark Damsel grimaced.  So, there was a new villain in town.
One who, apparently, wanted her out of the way.  And, more 
troubling, one who knew about her contact with Barry.  What else 
did this Shamrock know?
     On her way back to the motorcycle, Dark Damsel pondered
the problem.  Suddenly she stopped short, the hairs on the back
of her neck rising.  This Shamrock didn't just want her out of
the way, she *wanted her*.  It would have been easy for Shamrock
to have had her accomplices try to gun the masked crime fighter
down, but that hadn't happened.  That left just two possibilities.
First: Shamrock wanted to be known as the woman who'd beaten
Dark Damsel.  Second: Shamrock had even darker motives, ones
which included capturing Dark Damsel.  It was worrisome.
     Dark Damsel climbed on her motorcycle and, with a more 
careful lookout than usual, headed for her hideaway.

     In the back of the Van, Sean regarded Colleen in stony 
silence.  Paddy drove in silence as well.  Colleen was both
grateful for, and worried by the silence.  At least Sean 
wasn't saying anything where Paddy could hear, but she could
tell he was angry.
     In the apartment atop Murphy's Plumbing, with Paddy now
gone, she found out just how angry Sean was.  He was in a 
towering rage.
     "Just 'a little private job'?" he snarled.  "'No risk?"
The sarcasm was heavy, and Colleen shrank a little from the
venom in it.  "Just forgot to mention that Dark Damsel was
involved, didn't ye?"
     "She got lucky . . ." Colleen never finished.
     "*She* got lucky?  You forget that I saw the whole 
shambles.  I'd say it was you who were lucky.  Not to mention
us.  Had we known who it was you were after, I'd not have
come with only one man.  Dark Damsel!"  He spat.  "Dark Damsel,
you'd have me tangle with . . ."  He stopped and considered her.
     Colleen didn't like his look.  She suddenly felt that she'd
be more comfortable with his anger.
     "And you lied to me.  The word is out about you and The
Organization."
     Colleen gasped.  Inwardly she cursed Royale.  This could
only be her doing.
     "I see that the word is correct, lass.  And if that part
is correct, then the other part probably is, too."  He looked
at her again and his anger seemed to melt away.
     "So you want a deal with us.  I can see why, now.  Well,
lass, perhaps we can come to an agreement after all.  But it'll
not be so one sided as you thought to have it.  We'll help you
get Dark Damsel."
     Colleen's spirits soared.  And then she'd pay back Royale,
in spades!
     "And we'll take you in.  But, see, we don't have any
women running this gang--call us old fashioned if you will.  So,
the only way you get to play a role is if you happen to be, say,
the bedmate of the leader."
     Colleen had already seen this coming.  That she could deal
with.  It was the same way she'd taken over the Norse gang.  She
looked up suddenly.  What had he said?
     "Were we not of the same mind, I'd not even do that," Sean
told her.  "But it's not often . . . you know."  He shrugged his
shoulders eloquently, though Colleen had not the whit of an idea
what he meant.
     She smiled at him and began to remove her costume.  "Of
course, Sean.  It'll be just like you say."  With some relish
she saw his eyes lock on her breasts.  The small intake of 
breath as they came free, nipples hard and ready, pleased her
even more.  It would be fun taming him, she thought.
     In a flash he moved forward, caught her in his arms and
lifted her up, her breasts now at the same level as his mouth.
He sucked first one, then the other, tongue swirling about and
playing with the nipples.  She groaned, half in earnest, half
to excite him more, and pulled his head hard against her.
     Her eyes were half closed as he walked, with her, to
the bedroom.  She would tame him, then break him.  Men, she
thought disdainfully.  They were so easy.  Still, it would be
fun.
     Sean lay her gently down on the bed and stripped.  His
cock sprang out and he grinned at her as she licked her lips.
Reaching into the bed table drawer, he pulled out a tube of
lubricant and smeared some on his cock.
     Before she knew what was happening, his big hands were
turning her over and lifting her onto her knees.  His finger,
wet with a big dab of lube, touched her anus and she started.
     "What . . ."
     "Like I said, Darlin', it's a good thing we think along
the same lines.  Other wise . . ."  He left the thought for
her to finish.  "When I heard that you actually came while
getting it in the ass with a dildo, I knew you were the one
for me.  This," his hard cock touched her anus and she jumped,
"is no dildo.  You and me're going to have a lot of fun,
Darlin'."
     The pressure increased and Colleen fought back the tears.
This just couldn't be happening.  It just couldn't.  She
relaxed her sphincter, knowing she had no choice, and his
head popped in.  She groaned.  Very, very slowly, Sean pressed
forward.  He stopped and allowed her to adjust.  Then he backed
out a little before pressing forward again.
     It just wasn't fair, she thought.  "Oh!"  He was all the
way in her now and beginning to rock back and forth.  As she
loosened, he moved ever faster, 'til he was pounding into her,
she unable to catch her breath.
     "OH!"  His hand had come down and found her clit, was
playing with it; not willing to allow her to simply take him,
he was forcing her to move with him, to fly.
     "No!" she gasped out the word as his fingers found a 
rhythm that excited her, which would inevitably cause her to
scream out her orgasm.
     "Yes, Darlin'," he grunted into her ear.  "You can do
it.  Come, Darlin', come!"  The man was pounding into her, her
breasts were rippling and swinging with every thrust; his fingers
playing her like an instrument.  Talented fingers, she thought
dazedly, talented fingers.
     Then she was screaming.  Her arms could no longer hold her
and she collapsed on the bed, he following her down, continuing
to use her, to fuck her hard.  She tried to catch her breath,
but couldn't.
     "Oh, Darlin'!"  
     He was coming.  He thrust in her hard, several times, then
collapsed on her.  "Oh, Darlin', that was great," he groaned
into her ear.  "Just great."  His breath came in great wracking
sobs which slowly abated.  He kissed her neck, taking some of his
weight on his elbows, and licked at her ear.  All she wanted was
for him to get out of her ass.
     My God!  He was getting hard again, already!  
     "One more time, Darlin', one more time," Sean laughed his
joy into her ear.  "After, we can rest 'til morn."  He began to 
move once again.
     The tears started.


Chapter 5

     Ray Barton closed the book he was reading and leaned back
in his chair.  It was almost time for his lunch and he decided
that today he would go out.  No more ordering in of pizza.  He
needed a real meal for a change.
     The Police Detective sighed as he thought of the paperwork
he'd been putting off.  It would still be awaiting him when he
returned, he knew, and there was no one he could delegate it to.
"Ah, well . . ." he sighed, and closed his eyes, dreaming of a
world where there was no paperwork.
     "It can't be that bad," the soft sexy voice purred into
his ear.
     Ray's eyes flew open, then the sudden tension drained away
as he recognized the voice of Dark Damsel.  He grinned.
     "Ah, but it can, Damsel.  I have about two hours worth of
reports to complete.  A true catastrophe."  He winked.  "But
what brings Hub City's Avenger sneaking into my little office,
scaring the bejeebers out of its poor overworked occupant?"
     Dark Damsel picked up the novel.  It was a trashy example
of the detective genre, written by an author who was more concerned
with fast cars and flashy blondes than with real detective work.
She put it down deliberately then cocked her head to one side.
"Overworked?" she questioned.
     "Have to stay current with the developments in the trade,"
he replied without batting an eye.
     "Of course," Dark Damsel agreed, holding back her laughter.
"It is good that we have such conscientious men on the Force.
We are indebted to you."  Ray looked at her suspiciously.  "And,
to help pay that debt, I've brought you a . . ." Dark Damsel
stepped out into the hall for a moment, ". . . pizza!" she said
triumphantly, missing the groan which escaped Ray's throat.
     "I thought we might talk over lunch," the Damsel said
lightly.
     Ray groaned to himself, but kept the annoyance from his
face.  If Dark Damsel wished to talk, it was important.  He'd
eat out tomorrow.
     "How are things at the 'Garage' these days?" she asked him.
     The 'Garage' was a police undercover operation set up in
a poorer part of the city.  Some of the cops who worked there were
mechanics and they did, indeed, fix cars as part of their cover.
One of the benefits of working with the police was that they had
provided her with her motorcycle and, whenever it needed anything,
Dark Damsel brought it to the Garage, where the officers took the
very best care of it.
     "Things have been a little quiet as of late," Ray admitted.
"Well, quieter might be a better word for it.  Are you looking
for anything in particular?"  He pried a piece of pizza loose and
took a bite.
     "Lucky guess?" the Damsel asked.
     "Not often you stop by for a meal.  Had to be something
we could do for you.  Something unusual."  Ray had known Dark
Damsel almost since the beginning of her career and mostly she
just appeared and disappeared quickly.
     "I'll get straight to the point," Dark Damsel told him.
"I've run into a costumed woman who calls herself 'Shamrock'.
Have you heard anything about her?"  Damsel gave Ray a description
of the woman she'd fought.
     "It doesn't ring any bells.  Hang tight," he wiped his
hand on his pants and put down the piece of pizza, "and I'll
check."  With a few key strokes, Ray entered the information and
description of the subject.  The computer came back with a 'No
Match Found'.  "Sorry."  Ray's tone let Dark Damsel know that
he really was sorry, not just saying it.  She nodded.
     "Well, it was worth a shot."
     "Anything else you'd like to tell me?" Ray asked.
     The Damsel pursed her lips for a moment, then decided.
"I think she wants me, but I have no idea why.  It is a little
unsettling."
     Ray looked through the deliberate calm of the woman in
front of him.  "Yes," there was concern on his face, in his
voice, "I'd imagine so."  He paused for a moment then returned
to the computer.  "I've flagged her description and moniker.
If anyone enters anything in the network, I'll hear about it,
and then you will, too."
     "Thanks Ray.  I knew I could count on you."  Dark Damsel,
stood up, leaned over and gave a surprised Ray Barton a light
kiss on the cheek.  He was still rubbing his cheek thoughtfully
as the sound of her cycle faded.
     "Hell."

     Back at home, Renee Jimson went over the bits of information
she'd compiled.  Nothing matched anyone she'd ever taken down
before, and she was sure that she'd never even met Shamrock
before that very day.  Weary, she turned off her laptop with a
sigh and went to bed.  Tomorrow was another day, as they said,
hopefully a better one.
     The next morning was bright and warm.  It was a fine 
autumn day.  
     "Come on, Nietzsche, time for exercises," she told the
small stuffed tiger.  Nietzsche was apparently agreeable, for
he said nothing as Renee took him into her exercise room.  She
completed a set of T'ai Chi, stretched all her muscles and
then began her real training.  
     William was a great teacher, just as Rebecca Nasturant
had told her.  Her fighting ability had increased substantially
since Rebecca had introduced them.  She owed Rebecca one, Renee
thought as she moved from one stance to another with a fluid
grace.  Kick, kick, punch, move, turn, block and punch.  She
laughed.  Well, actually they were even, if you counted the
way that Dark Damsel had saved Rebecca earlier, but she 
couldn't count that.  Dark Damsel and Renee Jimson were two
entirely different people.  So, she still owed Rebecca one.
[See: Dark Damsel: Damsel in Distress]
     The doorbell rang just as Renee completed her post-training
stretches.  She found Brenda, her assistant in her desktop
publishing enterprise, at the door.  Brenda's long blond hair
was pulled back into a pony-tail and a big smile lit her face
as Renee opened the door for her.
     "Wow!  You look . . . sweaty," she laughed.  "I told you
the Masterson file was a rough one, but even I didn't figure 
it would be *that* difficult."
     "Come on in, Brenda."  Brenda knew full well Renee's 
morning routine, so Renee didn't bother explaining anything
to her.  "Nietzsche and I were just about to take a shower."
     "I thought cats hated getting wet."
     Renee laughed.  "Well, to tell the truth, I'll be taking
the shower, Nietzsche will be standing guard."
     "You can't fool me, Renee," Brenda tossed back as she
turned on the office computer, "he's just a voyeur."
     "Hear that, Nietzsche?  She says you just like looking at
naked women," Renee whispered in the tiger's ear.  She held
the stuffed animal up to her own ear and a shocked look came
over her face.  "Goodness!" she exclaimed to Brenda, "you're
right and I never suspected a thing."
     After the shower Renee joined Brenda and the two women
worked diligently on the Masterson file.  It was, as Brenda had
said, a tough one.  Still, by the middle of the afternoon they
had made much progress.  There was still one major problem.
     "Hello, Mr. Masterson?" Renee held the phone slightly away
from her ear for Mr. Masterson had a booming voice.  "Yes, it's
Renee Jimson.  We have the proofs for the diagrams done and we'd
like you to check them over to make sure that we've made no 
errors, and to ensure that you are happy with the results."
She paused while Brenda grinned up at her, covering her ears 
with her hands in sympathy.
     "At the Club, sir?  Seven.  No problem.  I'll bring them
by.  Thank *you*, Mr. Masterson.  It's always a pleasure working
with you.  Bye."  Renee hung up.
     "He wants you to go to his club at seven?" Brenda rolled
her eyes.  Doesn't he know that we have a life outside of this?"
she indicated the little office with upturned palms.
     "He pays well," Renee sighed.
     "We earn it," came the rejoinder.
     "Indeed we do," Renee had to admit.  "Come on, let's get it
all together, then I'll treat you to dinner out."
     "Maybe next time.  Gotta date tonight.  He's cute and he's
sweet."
     "Just make sure you are in by eleven, young lady," Renee
warned sternly.
     Brenda winked at her lasciviously.  "Oh, I'm sure I can
promise you that.  We'll definitely be in by eleven.  Or at
least he will be."
     The two women broke out laughing.  "You're bad," Renee
told her.
     "I hope so."

     Renee decided to treat herself to dinner out.  As long as
she was going to be uptown, she might as well go early and 
enjoy herself.  Eating alone was something she'd become used
to.  It wasn't near as much fun as eating with a friend but,
because of her role as Dark Damsel, it was difficult to find
the time to socialize as much as she might have liked.
     Still, it wasn't all bad.  Had it not been for Dark Damsel,
she never would have met such wonderful people as Ray Barton,
Minx, Rebecca Nasturant and William.  Rebecca, she thought,
had something going with William, which was too bad for "Uncle
Teddy" who had a crush on her.  Oh, well, it wasn't a perfect
world.  Anyway, for that to come to anything, either Officer
Nasturant or Commissioner Delcourt would have to leave a
career behind.  One couldn't have a relationship like that
in the Police Force, could one?  Too bad.
     Renee passed on dessert.  She had decided to eat lightly
as she was going out later as Dark Damsel.  A heavy meal in
one's stomach and a fight were not things to be mixed.  She
glanced at her wrist-watch.  It was time to be going.  She
stepped out of the booth and smoothed down her knee length
skirt, brushing a few crumbs off of it.
     She grinned to herself.  Wearing such a skirt was bound
to cause a little stir at the Uptown Club.  Yet her meeting
with Mr. Masterson would see to it that she was passed within.
Not too many women had ever seen the insides of the Club, and
she was one of those few.  It irked her a little that women
weren't allowed to be members and it made her want to flaunt
herself somewhat in front of the members--to show them what
they were missing.
     "Men only clubs--bah!" Renee mumbled quietly as she
exited the restaurant.
     The Uptown Club was located in an old mansion which once
stood on the outskirts of the Hub City.  As the city grew, it
became part of the core.  Larger buildings had sprung up around
the old mansion, but the members of the Club had decided to
not sell and to not rebuild.  Now it was flanked on either
side by other businesses, their walls butting up against those
of the Club.
     Renee walked up the steps and into the foyer.  The doorman
regarded her reprovingly, yet opened the door nonetheless.  She
was known to him, as Mr. Masterson had called her down to the
club several times.
     "Thanks, Carl," she smiled as he held open the door for her.
     "Always a pleasure, miss," Carl replied.  Renee had gone out
of her way to learn his name, and had stopped and chatted with 
him once or twice.  Not many who frequented the club knew 
anything about him, other than his name.  So, he always smiled
for her and let her in, whether or not she fit the dress code.
     Inside, Renee greeted the desk clerk.  "I'm here to see
Mr. Masterson.  He's expecting me at seven."
     The clerk glanced at the wall clock.  It was three minutes
before seven.  He nodded approvingly.  He enjoyed seeing the
younger generation paying attention to details like being on
time.  
     "Of course, Miss Jimson.  Mr. Masterson asked that you be
shown into the lounge."  As he stepped away from the desk to
show her to the door he caught sight of her short skirt and
shook his head sadly.  Well, at least she was on time.
     Mr. Masterson was standing at the bar, talking to another
man when Rebecca entered the room.  He caught sight of her and
waved her over.  The other man turned and left.
     "Ah, Miss Jimson.  So good of you to meet me here.  And
you have the proofs, good."  
     Renee opened the folder she was carrying and carefully
spread the sheets out for him to view.  Masterson took his time,
checking each and every detail.  He nodded, pleased, as he turned
each sheet.  Renee smiled to herself.  Any mistakes there would
be ones he'd made himself.  "Good, good," he murmured.
     "No one moves and no one gets hurt!" the shout startled
everyone in the quiet room.
     Without thinking, Renee spun around and kicked the surprised
thug in the side of the head.  He crashed to the floor, his 
pistol falling from unfeeling fingers.  She turned to the door
and stopped short.
     "Smart lassie," the tall man growled.  
     Renee looked down the barrel of the shotgun and cursed
herself for her recklessness.  The other three men in the room,
Masterson, the Bartender and the grey haired man remained 
motionless.
     "What the hell is going on?" came a voice that Renee
recognized, to her dismay.
     Through the door came the red-headed Shamrock, eyes
flashing in anger as she noted the crumpled figure of the
thug on the floor.
     "Who . . ." her eyes came to rest on Renee and Renee felt
a sudden lurch in her stomach.
     "Move them into the exercise room," Shamrock ordered.
She, herself, put her right hand into Renee's hair, grabbed
hard and pulled the helpless woman along with her, bent over
and stumbling.  "If he can't do his job because of you," she
snarled, "I swear you'll regret it."

     In the exercise room, the group of six club members and 
four staff were quickly handcuffed to various pieces of 
equipment.
     "He's still out cold, Boss," one of the men reported to
the tall man with the shotgun.
     Renee shuddered as she felt Shamrock tense beside her.
Shamrock still held her hair, forcing her head down.  Renee
knew she could get out of this situation, could likely defeat
Shamrock, but not without endangering the other hostages, and
not without incurring the wrath of the gang.  Shamrock she
could take . . . all five men as well--not likely.  So, Renee
did the smart thing.  She endured.
     "I warned you, bitch," she laughed a pitiless laugh and
pulled Renee over to a padded bench press station.  Shamrock
straddled the bench and pulled Renee across her knees.
     "We haven't time for this, Shamrock," the boss told her,
his Irish accent clear.  Renee wished she could get a good 
look at his face but he, like the others, was masked.
     Shamrock laughed.  "We have all the time in the world.
First we have to get through the wall, love, then we have to 
open the safe.  You'd deny me my fun?"
     Renee looked up and saw the boss nod, which caused another
lurch in her stomach.  
     "All right, lass.  As you wish."
     Renee felt her skirt lifted up and felt Shamrocks fingers
under the waistband of her panties.  Shamrock pulled hard and
the panties tore but did not give entirely.  She yanked again,
then stopped.  Renee felt something cold and metallic against her
skin.  The waistband parted on one side, then the other, and the
tattered remains were pulled free and dropped on the floor.
     "I don't like little girls interfering with my plans,"
Shamrock said cruelly.  "Little girls who do interfere have to
be taught to mind their manners."  With that her hand came
down hard on Renee's bare ass, causing her to jerk and yelp.
What followed was a five minute 'rain of pain' as Shamrock
blistered Renee's ass more thoroughly than even The Photographer
had done.  
     Renee stayed silent for the first ten or so blows then,
realizing that being the strong silent type wouldn't help in
this situation, began to beg Shamrock to stop.  She couldn't
allow the villan to suspect who she really was.  Tears flowed
down her face as her cries went unheeded.  The worst of it was
knowing that all the men were sitting watching her, as they
had nothing else to do at the moment.
     When it was finally over and she was allowed to stand, 
Renee's face was as red as her ass.  She wiped the tears away
and cupped her sore cheeks with her hands.
     "Did that hurt," Shamrock asked maliciously.
     "Yes, ma'am," Renee replied, lowering her gaze so Shamrock
wouldn't see the anger that blazed there.
     Shamrock laughed.  "Good."  She slapped a leather cuff 
around each of Renee's wrists, then fastened the other ends to the
chin-up bar of the Universal Gym.  After, she cuffed Renee's legs
and spread them a little, attaching them to other posts.  Renee
was left standing with her feet about 18 inches apart and her
hands above her head.
     Behind her, two of the gang were attacking the wall with
picks.  Renee turned her head to look, but quickly looked back
and down as she felt Shamrock's hands on her thighs.
     "I have a little present for you," she grinned wickedly
up at the helpless Renee.  "The boys here," she indicated the
Club patrons and staff, "are bound to be bored with what my
men are doing, so," she paused dramatically, "you are going
to put on a little show."
     Renee shuddered at that.  She felt Shamrock's hands go
higher and realized that the criminal was strapping something
to her.  That something was being held to her pussy.  Then the
vibrations started and Renee's eyes widened and she gasped.
It was a butterfly vibrator, and nothing she could do would
allow her to escape its tender mercies.
     Renee held herself quiet and hoped she could outlast
the batteries which powered the device.
     "That's not much of a show," Shamrock groused.  "Here,
let's help you out a little.  You're bound to get hot, so how
about we just unbutton that blouse of yours."
     "No, please . . ." Renee saw it was useless to argue,
and closed her eyes.  In moments her blouse was undone and
her bra cut from her body.  She opened her eyes a crack and
saw that she had the undivided attention of all the prisoners.
Her face coloured again.
     It was no use.  She couldn't ignore the vibrations.  Soon
her breath quickened and she closed her eyes against the 
leering face of Shamrock.  Shamrock took Renee's chin in her
hand and turned her face.  Renee opened her eyes again, as
she knew she must.  "I was saving this, and something else
I have outside, for Dark Damsel.  You should have behaved
yourself . . . but, wait," her free hand went down and
tweaked Renee's nipples, "I see you are enjoying this.  Good
girl."  She laughed at Renee's mortification.  "And I see
the boys are enjoying it, too.  Look at them."
     Renee dutifully looked over at the prisoners who averted
their faces until she looked away.  Out of the corner of her
eye she noted that they all looked back, fascinated by what
was happening.
     Renee realized her breath was becoming ragged and her
legs were starting to tremble.  The vibrator continued its
work with no hint of running down and Renee knew that she was
lost.  She looked into a mirror which covered one wall and
saw herself standing, arms over her head, breasts high and
proud, nipples erect, breathing through her mouth.  Her
blouse was open wide and tucked into her skirt at the
back so she would be unable to close it in any fashion.
At least Shamrock hadn't removed the skirt.  That would have
been too humiliating.
     Behind her, the men had penetrated through the mansion's
wall to the other building's wall.  Now they employed a drill
to start things going through the brick.
     Renee was feeling the vibrations all through her body and
she was unable to concentrate for more than a moment or two on
what was happening elsewhere.  If she stopped fighting it, she
would orgasm in front of all of these people.  Thus it was with
surprise she heard the question:
     "You're married?  Good."
     Looking up, Renee saw that Shamrock was going through the
prisoners' wallets.  
     "When you are questioned, as no doubt you will be, you will
say nothing.  You saw nothing, you heard nothing.  As we have a
willing young lady here, we'll just take a few pictures to
guarantee your silence.  Nice of her to oblige us in this way."
     What was going on?  Renee watched as one of the prisoners
was released.  He was led over and positioned behind her.  She
looked over to see Shamrock with a camera and flash.  "Smile 
like you're enjoying it, rest your chin on her shoulders and
pinch her nipples," she ordered.
     Renee gasped as she felt her nipples pinched lightly by
the man behind her.  Flash!  With the flash came the understanding.
If the man talked, his wife would get a picture in the mail.  He
would be unable to explain and his marriage would go down the
tubes.  Shamrock would see to that, as she had his ID and therefore
his address.
     One by one the men were led forward to fondle the helpless
heroine.  Mr. Masterson whispered in her ear, "I'm very sorry,
Miss Jimson, I have no choice."  His fingers touched her nipples,
but he didn't squeeze.  She was not so lucky with a couple of the
others who felt 'as well hung for sheep as for lamb'.  They
pawed at her breasts and pinched to feel her jump.
     By the time the last man was behind her, her eyes were 
glazed and she hardly even knew he was there.  She had to hold
on, she knew, but she just couldn't.  The buzz was driving her
crazy and she couldn't escape it.  The laughter of the gang
as she swayed and tried to find a position where there was
less stimulation shamed her.  
     "Come, come, come," two of them chanted as she shook and
shivered in her bondage.  She was gulping in air and when the 
final man rolled her nipples between his fingers she stiffened 
then cried out softly, her whole body shaking.
     Flash!
    "Good girl," Shamrock cooed in her ear.  "Let's make the
next one better, though.  Men like it when you cry out louder.
Be a good girl and scream."
     The next one?  Oh, god.


Chapter 6

     The drilling had finished and Renee saw the gang members
pack a white substance into the drill-holes.  They attached
fuses to each of the holes, sealed them with another substance
and then ran them back to the detonator.  A gym mat was placed
in front of the wall to protect the occupants of the room, then
the Boss closed the circuit on the detonator.
     There was a soft pfft from behind the mat.  Apparently the
explosive had not worked.  Yet the gang seemed satisfied and
started packing up the detonator and wires.  The mat was removed
and Renee saw that there was a crack in the mortar all around 
the area which the gang had drilled the holes.  Five minutes 
later they were into the other building.
     "Good work," Boss told the others.  "Get the yeggman."
     Two of the men left the room and came back moments later
supporting the thug which Renee had knocked unconscious.  He
still looked woozy.
     "Can ye do the job," Boss asked him.
     "I think so," the man replied, shaking his head slowly,
trying to clear the cobwebs.  "Where's the bitch who . . . ah,
there she is.  I see Coll . . ." he stopped short at the glare
from both the Boss and Shamrock.  "I see Shamrock has been at
work," he chuckled.
     Renee, her body shaking as she was being driven to her
second orgasm, filed away the little slip of the tongue, but
couldn't spare the time to figure it out just then as her
body betrayed her once again.
     "Oh, my god," she gasped as the tremors running through
her reached a pitch.  She exhaled sharply as she came once
more.
     When she had recovered sufficiently to take notice of
what was around her, Shamrock was there, grinning at her.
     "Looked like a nice one.  That's two you've had that
you weren't expecting this morning, lassie.  You should
be thanking me," she laughed wickedly.
     Renee snapped.  "Go fuck yourself," she snarled, and
immediately regretted it, for Shamrock's face hardened, eyes 
boring into Renee's.  Renee lowered her gaze.  It was not
enough, for Shamrock was truly angry.
     "Shamrock!" Boss's voice was sharp, "We don't have
time for this."
     Shamrock stopped short of the door and turned back.
     "We have time.  Thanks to me, the inner alarms have been
subverted.  Yeggman will do his job and I'll have some fun 
while he does it.  You owe me this."  
     "Be reasonable," Boss pleaded.  "She's not the one ye
want.  Ye want Dark Damsel."
     "Until I get her, this one'll do."  Shamrock was determined
but didn't move again until Boss gave up the fight.
     "Oh, all right.  If ye must."
     Shamrock grinned, turned and ran out the door.
     "Sorry, lassie," Boss told Renee," but ye shouldna ha'e
provoked her."
     "You could stop her," Renee said, her eyes pleading.
     "Aye, I could.  Yet I need her for the moment, so I'm sorry
but ye'll just have to take it."  He shrugged then turned away,
ignoring her.  "How long, Yeggman?"
     "Not too long, Boss," came the reply, "if I can just stop
this ringing in my ears."
     "What's going on, Boss?" the guard asked his leader after
Shamrock had left.
     "Women," the Boss replied.  "I think the cruelest thing 
there is, is one woman with a mad on for another."
     "What's that to do with her?" the goon indicated Renee.
     "She just got in the way," Boss shook his head.  "She's a
substitute victim.  Watch and learn."
     "Aren't you going to stop it?"
     "No.  It'll allow Shamrock to blow off steam.  Calm her
down for our other jobs."  He shrugged.
     Shamrock came striding back in with a small package in
her hands.  She glared at Renee as she came to a halt before the
apprehensive woman.
     "First we'll get rid of this," she snarled as she pulled
Renee's skirt off and dropped it to the floor.  "You won't be
needing it and it will just get in the way."  She ignored
Renee's gasp of outrage.  "Then I think you'll look very fine
in this belt.
     Renee looked at the belt askance.  It was a wide black
leather belt with  d-rings in various locations upon it, as
well as intricate buckles fore and aft.  She gasped as Shamrock
placed it around her waist and cinched it tight.
     "Now this," she held up a much thinner strip of leather
for Renee to see.  This one was made to fit into the fore and
aft buckles, Renee saw at a glance.  That meant it would be 
fitted between her legs.  There was a ring in the middle 
of the strap, with a circular locking mechanism on it, like
the bayonet attachments for 35mm camera lenses, and Renee 
figured she knew just what that was for.  She shuddered
and Shamrock chuckled.
     The strap was drawn tight, pressing the still buzzing
vibrator tight against her clit, now.  Shamrock attached the
vibrator's battery pack to the belt.
     "And now, dearie," Shamrock smiled evilly into Renee's
face, "just what the doctor ordered.  She held up a tube-like
attachment for the belt and adjusted it so that the head of
a nasty little dildo appeared from its sheath.  
     "No doubt, you'll be wanting to know how this works,"
Shamrock laughed as Renee's eyes widened.  "See these little
cord attachments?"  Shamrock attached short cords to the 
attachments on either side of the sheath, held them together
above the head of the dildo and pulled.  As she pulled, Renee
saw the dildo come out of the sheath about five inches.  As
Shamrock let go of the cords, a spring action caused the
dildo to withdraw once more.
     "Now this," she grinned, "goes here."  She bent down
and positioned the sheath at the opening of the crotch-strap.
Renee felt the head of the dildo part her lips and press
against her slightly as Shamrock locked it in place and adjusted 
it.  "These," Shamrock indicated the cords, "attach to these."  
She attached the loose ends of the cords to the two buckles.
     "Inside each buckle there is a pulley of sorts.  Let's
just adjust this for . . . oh, say five inches.  I don't want
to be too hard on you," she grinned maliciously.  "Now, if you 
were someone else, it would be a little more, but you're nothing, 
just an experiment to make sure everything works right."  She 
paused, staring directly into Renee's eyes until the latter
was forced to lower her gaze.  "Now, where was I?  Oh, yes.  We 
just draw this line here," she indicated the side of the front
buckle, from which she slowly drew out a line, "and this
one here," Renee felt her do the same from the back buckle,
"and attach the two together here."  Shamrock fed them through
a d-ring on the belt a little to the front of Renee's left side 
and fastened the two together.
     "Now," she smiled wickedly, "if I pull on these, so . . ."
Renee felt the dildo drawn up, parting her and pressing its way
inside.  "Yes, I think you get the picture."  She released the
lines and the dildo withdrew until it was merely parting her 
lower lips.
      "Almost done, lassie, almost done," she crooned in Renee's
ear.  Then she bent down and released the handcuffs which were
holding Renee's legs open.  She slipped what appeared to be a 
knee brace up Renee's left leg before attaching  a leather cuff
to each ankle.  "Now, one last thing:  we need you to take a big 
step."  Renee stood, hands still held above her, unmoving.  "Do 
it, bitch," Shamrock snarled, "or I yank on this."  Her hand 
moved to the lines attached to the d-ring.  
     Renee shuddered at the tone of Shamrock's voice and obeyed.
She stepped forward, which drew her hands back behind her head.
She desperately wanted to give Shamrock a hard kick to the jaw,
but that would only get her into deeper trouble, for there was
no way she could escape.
     "Good.  Now we set up the ratio."  Shamrock fiddled at the
buckles for a moment.  "Done."  She smirked at Renee.  "Still
don't really understand, do you?  Well, you will.  See, I'm
going to hook this nice little rope here to the ring on your
right ankle cuff, like so."  She snapped the line she pulled
from the bag to the ring.  "Feet together, bitch," she ordered.
"Then, I pass it through this ring on your left ankle, up through
the ring on your knee support and then," she chortled, "we 
attach it to these two lines."  There was a final click and 
Shamrock burst out laughing as comprehension dawned in Renee's 
eyes.
     Shamrock reached up and released Renee's wrists.  "Why not
go for a walk around the room?"  She laughed as Renee coloured
and didn't move."  Shamrock's glance fell on the treadmill.
"Guard," she called.
     The guard came over, picked Renee up and deposited her 
upon the treadmill.  Shamrock turned it on and Renee allowed
it to carry her to the back and deposit her on the floor.
Shamrock frowned, angry.
     "Okay, bitch.  You had your chance."  She strode up to
Renee and pulled her blouse from her shoulders and down her
arms, leaving the poor heroine naked.  Grabbing her wrists,
she handcuffed them behind Renee's back.  At her nod, the Guard
replaced her on the treadmill.  While he was doing that, Shamrock
reached into her pouch and pulled out a nasty pair of nipple
clips.  They were attached to each other by a small chain.
     "See these, bitch?  Well," she said as she rolled Renee's
nipples between her fingers, making sure they were nice and
erect, "they clip on like this," Renee gasped in pain, "and 
the harder I pull on the chain," she demonstrated, causing
Renee to cry out lowly, "the tighter they get.  Were I to
continue increasing the pressure, they would tear right 
through your nipples."  
     The guard replaced Renee on the now motionless treadmill.
Shamrock attached an elasticized cord from the centre of the
chain, pulled and attached it to the hand rail at the front
of the machine.
     "Now," said Shamrock viciously, "you walk or you lose
your nipples!"  
     With that she once again turned on the treadmill.  
Immediately, as the treadmill carried Renee backwards, the cord 
began to pull on the nipple clips and Renee involuntarily 
brought her right foot forward to gain some slack.  Her eyes 
flew open and she gave a little cry as the evil device between 
her legs was activated and she was rudely penetrated.  She 
brought her left foot forward to stand beside the right and the 
dildo retracted.  Then she had to take another step.  It happened 
again, and would continue happening with every step she took.
     Shamrock laughed in pleasure and turned the setting on
the treadmill up slightly.  "'Go fuck yourself', I think you said
to me, right?"  Shamrock grinned evilly at Renee whose mouth was
agape as she was forced to walk forward and penetrate herself 
with the dildo repeatedly.  "Well, bitch, *you* go fuck 
*yourself*."  She laughed.  "Oh, I see that you already are."
     Renee didn't answer.  She was suffering from the dildo
moving in and out of her, from the buzzing of the vibrator, and
from the humiliation of knowing that everyone was watching her
as she was forced to walk, knowing what she was doing to herself.
She must present quite a picture, she thought.  Naked, with her
nipples clamped and being pulled by the chain, her arms locked
behind her, causing her breasts to jut out proudly all the more.
     "Here, I'll help you along," Shamrock insisted as she played
with the treadmill's program.  "There.  Now it won't be 
monotonous."
     "Done!" came the cry from the other building.  
     Boss and Shamrock turned at once and moved through the
hole in the wall.  When they came back a few minutes later, they
were carrying a few small sacks.
     "Okay," Boss called out, "let's go."  As an aside he motioned
towards Renee.  "Ye've had your fun.  Let her loose and let's
move."
     Renee looked up in hope.  The treadmill had sped up during
the time the others were looting the safe in the other building,
and sweat was beading her brow.
     "Let her stay.  She began it, let her finish it," Shamrock
retorted harshly and headed for the open door.  "Enjoy yourself,
dearie," she laughed and then was gone.
     "Shamrock," Bossman reproved as he followed her.  "I'm not
going to let you disfigure that poor girl . . ."
     "Don't worry," Shamrock laughed gaily.  "I lied to her.
The clips would slip off before they did any permanent damage and
I cut halfway through the cord.  First time she actually stops,
it'll break, she'll be deposited on the floor, be able to get
the key I left on top of the rail and she'll be able to free 
herself and the others.  'Til then, though, she's getting what
she deserved."  
     Shamrock laughed again, as she recalled the desperation 
warring with the arousal on her victim's face as the twin
evils of dildo and vibrator did their work.  "I'm glad it works
so well.  When I get my hands on Dark Damsel . . . well, it
won't be her pussy that gets the works!"  
     The gang climbed into the van and drove sedately away from
the club.

     Back in the gym, Renee looked frantically at the key on
the rail in front of her.  If she could just get close, turn and
grab, she might be able to get out of this fix.  If . . .
     She picked up her pace and groaned as the dildo's pace
quickened to match her own.  Closer to the front rail, the 
nipple clips pulled hardly at all.  She swallowed hard and
prepared to make her move.  
     "No!" 
     The treadmill's program kicked it's speed up a notch
at the very moment Renee started to turn, causing her to stumble.
She had to make several quick short steps to regain her balance
and that did it.  The combination of the fucking her pussy was
taking and the vibrations on her clit pushed her over the edge.
     Renee Jimson cried out.  The cry was a mixture of joy, 
frustration, lust and shame.  It was also loud, for the orgasm
propelling it was massive.
     A nasty pull on her nipples told her that the brief 
respite she'd taken was about to savage her.  She forced herself
to move, to fuck herself through the orgasm, realizing even as
she did so that another was building on the heels of the first.
     She looked desperately to the men for help, only to see them
transfixed by the sight in front of them, not even trying to get
loose.
     Looking forward, she saw herself in the mirrored wall,
wisps of her black hair plastered to her face; mouth open to
suck in the air she so desperately needed; breasts alternately
stretched then relaxed as she walked at an ever increasing pace;
the sheen of sweat on her body; and, above all, the eyes: wild.
     She had to hold herself back; had to prevent the coming
orgasm; had to regain her composure and, most importantly, had
to keep moving.
     Renee was having trouble concentrating.  She couldn't
allow . . . . She had to . . . . "Oh, gods," she whispered,
knowing that nothing could save her now.
     Renee Jimson, aka Dark Damsel, could do nothing.  Her eyes
widened, mouth opened and breath stopped.  She took three more
steps, then screamed in impotent rage as her body betrayed her
and carried her with it into the abyss.
     She fell to her knees and three things happened in quick
succession:  The right nipple clip slipped off, the elastic 
cord snapped and the treadmill deposited a shaking, quivering,
orgasming Renee onto her ass on the cool gym floor where she
sprawled out as she slowly recovered.
     For a time she simply lay there, then a small cough brought
her awareness back to the present.  She opened her eyes and saw
the line of men watching her.  Her face flushed and she rolled
over to her knees and carefully stood, being careful to keep
her feet close together.
     The buzz from the vibrator was dying and Renee thanked the
gods which kept watch over her.  She glared at the treadmill,
took a deep breath then stepped onto it once more.  Grunting as
the dildo penetrated her she stepped quickly forward, turned as
she reached the top and grabbed the key.  Then she let the
treadmill carry down to where she hopped lightly onto the floor.
     Hopping.  That was something she hadn't considered.  She
hopped a few steps towards Mr. Masterson.  The look of lust on
the faces of a couple of the men made her realize that the effect
that the sight of her breasts bouncing was having.  She turned
crimson once more and shuffled her way over to Masterson.  He
took the key and undid her cuffs.  Immediately she went to work
removing the harness.  With some trepidation she took the final
nipple clip between her fingers and released it.  She groaned
as feeling came rushing back into her turgid nipple.
     Then she was quickly dressing even as Mr. Masterson
struggled to undo his own cuffs.  She had no wish to be there
any longer.
     "I'm sorry, Renee," he said quietly as she came over and
took the key from him.  "If I hadn't asked you here . . ."  He
fell silent as she turned the key in the cuff.  She kept her
face averted.  She couldn't look him, or any of them, in the eye.
     "I'll be okay," she whispered.  She gathered up the harness,
and ran from the room.  She was damned if she'd leave it there,
evidence of what had happened to her.  Besides, if Dark Damsel
had anything to say about it, Shamrock would be wearing that
self-same device before too long.
     
     "Did you ever see the like?" Edwards, the youngest of
the patrons, shook his head in disbelief.  "Who was she?"
     "A friend of mine, and that's all you need to know,"
Mr. Masterson told him coldly.  "And that goes for all of you
here.  Anyone mentions this incident or her name and I'll see 
that they regret it."
     The phone rang and the men looked at each other.  Carl
moved to pick it up.  "Uptown Club."  His eyes widened.  "Yes.
Yes, of course."  He gestured to the other men who came closer.
     "It's her."  He held his hand over the mouth-piece.  "She
wants me to put it on the speaker-phone."
     "Well do it."
     "Gentlemen," the voice of Shamrock came through the 
speaker.  I trust you are all still there."
     "Yes, we are," Masterson replied for the group.
     "Good.  I have a small favour to ask of you."  
     The men looked at one another again.  This was no request,
no matter how sticky sweet her voice was.  They listened 
carefully, in amazement as the favour was made known.  
     "I can count on you, can't I dears?"  There was a peal of
laughter then silence as the connection was broken.  
     The men stood silent.  All of them understood the unspoken 
threat.
     Edwards looked at the floor.  "What else can we do?" he
asked nobody in particular.

     The sun came up the next morning as it always came up.
Life went on.  Renee Jimson, however, did not get up as usual.
She lay back in bed and considered her plight.  So many men
had seen her naked and climaxing.  It was something that couldn't
be easily borne.  That bitch Shamrock!  When Dark Damsel finished
with her . . .
     Reluctantly she finally sat up in bed.  She turned on the
radio in time to catch the last of the news. 
     "And to sum up:  Dark Damsel has turned on the citizens of
the Hub City.  Eye-witness accounts have placed her at the scene
of last night's burglary at the head of a criminal gang.  We'll
bring you more information as we get it."