Dark Damsel II: Betrayals

by Echo

*Chapter 1*

Dark Damsel laughed at the surprise on the faces of the thieves. Well, 'faces' was inaccurate as they were wearing ski-masks. Yet, even so, surprise was there to be seen. They had not expected anyone to be there, and certainly not Dark Damsel.

"So, what will it be, boys?" Dark Damsel asked. "You can try to run; you can try to fight your way out; or you can just bow to the inevitable."

Approaching sirens let the thieves know that the inevitable was just what she said it would be. They were fairly trapped. Three of the four started to tense up in preparation for a desperate fight for their freedom, but the fourth relaxed and laughed out loud.

"But, Dark Damsel," he said, pulling off his ski-mask and looking surprised and hurt, "we had no idea that this part of the museum was off-limits."

It was an interesting ploy. Dark Damsel relaxed as well. There would be no fight here. The leader of the thieves was much too smart. A fight would be an admission of guilt. There was always the possibility that their lawyer could explain away the lock-picks, the masks and other paraphernalia; explaining a pitched battle with Dark Damsel and the forces of Law and Order would be something else entirely.

"Yes, I'm sure the tapes from the new surveillance cameras will bear out your story of taking the wrong hallway." Dark Damsel grinned as the man's countenance fell for an instant before he could catch himself.

"I'm sure you are right," he replied with a confidence he should not be feeling. Dark Damsel's eyes narrowed slightly. Could he have some trick up his sleeve. "In the meantime, how about we sit down and wait for the Police--those sirens do mean that the police are on their way here, don't they?"

As if there could be any doubt. The sirens faded and died as the police cars surrounded the museum.

The four men sat down on the chairs which patrons used to relax and enjoy the exhibits and the three followers copied their leader and pulled off their ski-masks. Glances were exchanged. The light was dim, which must have contributed to her lack of perception, Dark Damsel thought as the long flowing hair of one of the thieves caught the Damsel's attention and closer scrutiny proved her to be a woman. She was slightly built, which had contributed to the Damsel's mistake. The woman looked quite upset and Dark Damsel had a flash of pity, but no more than a flash. They were crooks. She watched attentively as they sat quietly in the chairs and waited. Too late, Dark Damsel noticed that their hands were busy. She groaned inwardly as the Police burst into the room and turned on the lights. All that was left of their masks was the wool thread which could have been anything. The bastards--and bitch--had unraveled them while Dark Damsel had stood by watching and doing nothing.

"A good job, Dark Damsel," Commissioner Delcourt told her. Dark Damsel smiled wanly at the praise from her 'Uncle Teddy'. Too bad she could never let him know that she was Renee Jimson, the daughter of his late partner. On the other hand, if he knew he would only worry, so maybe it was best that he never know that his quiet 'niece' was Dark Damsel.

"True, it was a pity they were able to dispose of their masks, but a good job nonetheless. The evidence we have is overwhelming. I don't think they'll see the light of day for some time to come." A smile of sweet victory softened his features as he contemplated the wheels of justice rolling over the quartet of evil-doers.

"They've lawyered up, of course, and guess who their lawyer turns out to be?" Delcourt ran his fingers through his still thick, though graying, hair. "Benton Frondell."

"The Organization." Dark Damsel was surprised. The powerful 'Organization' had their criminal tendrils into practically everything. This was known, but unprovable. They were very clever and very powerful. They had the best of lawyers, though they had a reputation for rarely needing them as their planning was usually better than that which had been evinced in the museum job. Perhaps they had had a loss of which the forces of Law and Order knew nothing. Dark Damsel hoped so. There had been nothing on the grapevine, but there rarely was with regards to the Organization.

"Yes." Delcourt straightened up in his chair. "But there is some bad news to go along with the good. There was a bank robbery last night, too. They actually tunneled in from the sewer system and broke into the vault. Strangely enough, most of their efforts were concentrated on the safe-deposit boxes. Considerable cash was left behind. The job reeks of the Organization. Oh, and they seemed to discriminate between boxes, too. They knew which ones they were looking for."

"A feint?" Dark Damsel wondered out loud. Could the gang have sacrificed some of their members in order to divert police investigators? Clues had filtered in about the museum job and the Hub City Police Department had put major resources into breaking the case. It had been their best chance in years at finally doing some damage to the Organization. Everything had been in place, yet even that would have come to naught had Dark Damsel ignored her hunch that everything was just a little too pat. According to the information they had, the museum robbery should have taken place somewhat later on the following day.

Fortunately, the Commissioner had gone along with her hunch and they had been ready. Even so, they had almost missed out as the job had been going down while Dark Damsel was still making her preliminary tour, before settling in to await the break-in.

"My thoughts are running the same way, I'm afraid," Commissioner Delcourt admitted. "Still, we may get lucky. I don't think the young lady you apprehended is going to enjoy a first hand look at the Hub City Pen. She may crack and give us the lead we've needed to finally get to the Organization."

"Perhaps." Dark Damsel wasn't so sure.

Commissioner Delcourt looked at the raven-haired bombshell in front of him and shook his head in dismay. Such a beauty shouldn't be spending her time fighting criminals, he thought. One day, working alone as she did much of the time, she would get in trouble too deep to get out of. It would be such a waste. He thought of broaching the subject of her working more closely with the Hub City Police Department, but rejected that idea. Her answer today would be no different than the one she'd given him a dozen times before. Unfortunately, it would take a disaster to get her to see the truth of his position. He only hoped he wouldn't be around to see it. Lost in those thoughts he didn't notice Dark Damsel slipping towards the exit.

"I'll be in touch." With that, Dark Damsel stepped out the door and disappeared.

Damn, damn and double damn. She'd been careless and now she was going to have to pay the price. Fortunately, she still had an ace up her sleeve. Well, perhaps not an ace, but a Queen.

Colleen O'Brien looked in the mirror--O'Brien wasn't her real name, nor was she Irish at all, but it fit, so she used it. She liked what she saw. She was a beauty, no doubt about it. Long, medium dark red hair cascaded down over her shoulders and brushed the tops of her shapely breasts. A good diet and daily work-outs saw that she stayed in the best of shape. She would never let herself go. Too much hinged on the perception of others. Perhaps Mafia Dons could be overweight and still impressive; it would never work with her, though. She knew this and it was a goad which prodded her on the days when she wanted nothing more than to forgo her morning exercise regime.

She put on a close fitting black dress which had just the slightest touch of 'DOM' about it. Power and the perception of Power went hand in hand. It was a lesson she had learned early on her climb to the top of the underworld in the Hub City. It was a lesson she'd never forget.

Power. She liked the word. Power had its privileges; she enjoyed those privileges to the hilt. The flip side of that was that power, rightly used, carried with it obligations. One of those was Accountability. That was something which was stressed in the Organization--and it had been she who had stressed it the most.

And there it was. If she evaded her responsibility, showed that she, as Chairman, was not accountable, then that would filter down and the Organization would lose prestige and, above that, the loyalty of its membership. Loyalty unto Death: It was no trite phrase which made up the motto of the Organization. It meant just what it said. When you joined the Organization you joined it body and soul and for life. There was no retirement. The Organization owned you. And you were personally responsible to ensure that the reputation of the Organization never suffered. In turn, the Organization looked after you . . . 'til death.

That was the problem with society today. No personal accountability. Well, in the Organization there *was* personal accountability. Your body, quite literally, was on the line from the moment you took the oath. She had taken the oath. Her very body would be on the line this day.

But there was Royale. Colleen smiled at the thought of her good friend. Royale had been with her from the beginning. From before the beginning. They had gone to school together, been friends forever. Royale, the quiet one. Ever supportive, and smart. Smart enough to have distanced herself, in public, from her Chairman. Better that the rank and file--and even most of the Board--didn't know about their connection. It was always an advantage to have secret friends.

Early on, Royale had acted as her bodyguard and trainer. Several inches taller than Colleen, her mere presence had often brought a 'respectability' to the smaller woman that her own size did not seem to warrant. Once in the Organization, Colleen had kept her in the background while she, herself, made her own presence known through her intelligence and ruthlessness. Royale had then ascended the ranks surely and quickly with Colleen's hidden help. Now she was on the Board, and it was to Royale that Colleen would hand the gavel.

Colleen took a last look in the mirror and smiled. A woman of power looked back at her. Power both in the sureness of her carriage, her bold gaze and power in her sexuality. Her cleavage was an overt exclamation of the power she held. It said that she dared to be sexual, dared to use the power of a woman in this, the bastion of men. Pity the poor soul who tried to challenge her on her own ground.

The man howled his pain and Colleen replaced the flogger in its holder. He wasn't faking it. She sat down, her heart pumping rapidly, face flushed with the excitement of it all. This was *power*. Part of the exhilaration was due to the fact that she knew she would soon be in his position. In fact it was the very next order of business--the final order of business for the day. Colleen looked around at the members of the Board. They all avoided her gaze, but she could sense the anticipation, see it in the way they held themselves.

The man was released with a nod and allowed to pull up his trousers before being led from the room by the clerk. The cameramen followed. They would be back. That was the part that Colleen disliked the most about what was to follow: the permanent record.

"Well, Ladies and Gentlemen of the Board. We come to the final business of the day." Colleen's voice was low and well modulated. She stood and stepped inside the circle. One needed power to do such and not feel fear.

The Board sat in a large, circular, high ceilinged, windowless room. The members sat on the periphery of the room, looking down into the centre. On a level just below was a walkway which was used by the Pages to bring them such documents as might be required. Below that was the main floor. There stood the docket, the punishment rack and the Clerk's desk. As well as those were three Cameras, which recorded that which needed to be recorded, standing at the ready. Punishments were one of those events which needed recording.

Colleen strode upon the walkway, looking at the members opposite her. It was an effective strategy. She did not need to look up as much as she would have had she addressed those directly above her.

"Yes, the final business of the day," she smiled grimly, as she walked, gavel in hand. "And, as the one in the docket this time out, another will have to become Chairman, pro tem."

There were looks of expectation and several furtively licked their lips. It wasn't often that a member of the Board, let alone the Chairman, was to be in the docket. And with this chairman, it might be a great pleasure to wield the flogger and to hear her howl.

"So, to whom shall I pass the gavel?" She looked at them one at a time as she circled the room. "Some want it too much, and thus do not deserve it." She smiled as her gaze went from face to face. "Others want it not enough and likewise do not deserve the honour." She smiled again, at the irony in the statement. "We want leniency as little as we want the iron fist." Her smile faded and her voice grew in power. "We are the court of final appeal," her words rang out, "and in this chamber there must be *Justice*."

Silence. Not a one made a single sound. Colleen felt the exhilaration of the moment riding high within her. She stopped in front of Karl Hoffman's seat. He looked at her, expressionless. She began to raise the gavel, holding Royale in her peripheral vision. Royale, too, betrayed not a whit the surprise she must have been feeling. The gavel was supposed to go to her. That had been the plan. Karl did not immediately reach forward to take the gavel as Colleen knew he would not. He was one of those who wanted it too little.

"No?" Colleen asked in surprise, then turned to Royale who sat in the chair next to Karl. "Then you?"

Royale, with utter dignity and seeming indifference to the power she was being handed, reached forth and accepted the gavel. If any of the others were feeling disappointed, or upset, with Colleen's choice, they were too wise to show it.

"Then it is done."

[Story by echo @ nym . alias . net]

Colleen walked with stately gait to the stairs and descended the three steps to the main floor. Without pause she moved to the docket and took her place within.

The gavel came down hard on the bench, echoing throughout the room. Summoned by a hidden buzzer, four lower echelon members of the Organization walked into the room. Three took their places behind the cameras to record the verdict and punishment--the trial itself would not be recorded for obvious reasons--the fourth made the circuit of the walkway placing a file on the desk of each member of the Board. That fourth then took her place behind the desk on the main floor.

Bam! The gavel once more descended.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the Board. These proceedings have become necessary due to the lack of forethought used in carrying out a plan which was not meant to be carried out." Royale spoke out, her voice carrying across the room. She then laid out the specifics of the case. Witnesses were called forth by the Clerk and testimony was given. Royale's blond tresses were pulled back and held by a barrette, giving those who looked her way a clear view of her face. It was a strong, yet sensuous face, slightly squared, yet pretty nonetheless. Just now, her blue eyes were cold and piercing and she looked every inch a Chairman of The Organization. As Colleen looked up at her from the docket, she shivered involuntarily. The trial went on and Colleen's attention returned to the evidence givers. She had no quarrel with them. They were doing their duty.

A plan had been made to divert the attention of the Hub City Police Department while preparations were made for an undertaking of major importance. The diversion of Police resources was to be caused by leaking bits of a plan for a robbery. This robbery was never to be made. It was only a diversion. The plan had been passed by the Board. The Chairman had taken it upon herself to allow the diversion to go through--though 26 hours ahead of the supposed schedule. She had timed it to run concurrent with the actual undertaking. Her reasons? It seemed a shame to waste the plan. As well, the items to be appropriated were to the liking of the Chairman.

The final witness left, throwing a hesitant, somewhat fearful glance at her Chairman. Colleen's attention, however, was now back on Royale.

"And what was the result of this decision to go ahead?" Royale asked. "The result," her voiced deepened in anger, as she answered her own question "was the capture of four of our people. Four people who should never have been placed in any danger whatsoever. The result: Damage to our reputation; damage to the confidence of our people in the field in us, their Board--their trust has been violated; and finally, pain--pain in the hearts of we who must sit in judgment on one of our own. Yes, that and the humiliation of knowing that there are others who are laughing at us and enjoying our little reversal of fortune, benefiting from our lapse." Royale stopped speaking and looked down upon Colleen. Their eyes met and held.

Colleen thought that Royale was playing it a little rough. But Royale knew what she was doing. She always did. And it was easy enough to see where this was leading. Pain and humiliation. Good for you, Royale, Colleen thought. A few lashes and it will all be over. The "humiliation" of being flogged in front of the board and the "pain" of the flogging. Truth be told, she didn't mind a little pain now and again. Yet she could trust Royale to hold back just that little bit which would make all the difference and, on her part, a little acting would make it seem to the others that the pain she felt was considerably greater than what it was in fact. There would be no doubters, no comeback.

"At this point, Colleen O'Brien, is there anything you wish to say in your defense? Are there any mitigating circumstances of which we should be aware?"

It was the standard question.

"I have nothing to add." Only a fool would try to defend herself at this juncture. The verdict had been decided before she had entered the docket. The only judgment left was the appropriate sentence. Pleading for mercy would have the opposite effect of that intended. The best thing Colleen could do was to take whatever she had coming with all the dignity she could muster. That was what counted: Accept responsibility and punishment without flinching. Anything less and she would never get her position back.

"Then you accept the sentence of this Inquiry?"

"I do." One could take a lighter sentence if one wished demotion. Colleen did not. Now to find out what Royale had devised for the sentence.

"Then to the rack!" Royale ordered.

The rack was a simple H-frame affair with adjustable arms. A padded bar across the top would be set to the height of the victims hips so she could lean over it. Then she would grasp a pair of hand-holds stretching her out, her body parallel to the floor. The victim's wrists could then be fastened to the hand-holds, feet to the uprights. Crude but effective.

Colleen walked over to the bar, leaned over and grasped the hand holds and hooked her heels behind the uprights. Royale, as executor, held up the cuffs in front of Colleen. A small smile played across her lips as Colleen declined the offer. She stepped back.

"Do you wish the gag?"

"I decline," Colleen replied. It might be nice to have something to bite down on, but it was a sign of weakness and she dared show none. It took will power to stand and take the punishment without trying to interfere and protect oneself. Should she give in to the impulse to do so, the consequences would be devastating.

Royale lifted up Colleen's dress and grinned. "I see you came prepared," she chuckled lowly, as Colleen's bare buttocks were exposed, "but just how prepared?"

There was something in Royale's voice which caused a small quiver of doubt in Colleen. What *was* Royale up to? She gave a tiny, almost imperceptible jerk as Royale's fingers found the zipper on the back of her dress and pulled it down to her waist. What was going on? This was no part of the plan. Royale then drew the dress up past Colleen's hips and over her head and arms, over the hand-holds and let it fall to the base of the rack. Colleen was now naked.

The cameras were now on her and she could see herself in the monitors in front of her. One camera panned across the faces of the onlookers and a rare interest was being shown. That was for Colleen's benefit. It would be worth the life of the cameraman to actually place on tape the whole of the Board of the Organization. Then all three cameras focused on the body of the prisoner. Now the tape would begin to roll. Colleen had to admire herself. Very nice lines. Her breasts, hanging down, nipples turgid with the excitement of the moment, pleased her.

"Legs apart," Royale ordered and Colleen obeyed, placing each ankle against the outside of the H-frame support. There were cuffs there as well, but they, too, were rarely used. Cuffed, the prisoner could attempt to close her legs without being successful. Uncuffed, any such attempt would bring down harsh reprisal. Again, it was a question of will. If one didn't have the will to maintain the position, one's position in the Organization would not be maintained either.

"In looking at a penalty for your actions we had to look first at what your actions had wrought. As I stated, they were: Damage to our reputation; loss of trust in our leadership; humiliation and pain."

Colleen shivered at what the words implied. '*We* had to look', Royale had said. There was more going on here than the understanding between the two women.

"You, Colleen O'Brien, have a certain reputation within the Organization." Royale was now in front of Colleen. She reached out and held Colleen's chin in her hand, raising her face until their eyes met. Looking deeply into Colleen's gray-green eyes she smiled. "You have a reputation of using men to your own joy if not theirs. You are always in control. You control the speed, the depth, the time. Your pleasure comes first and woe be to any who defy you. Well, when word of this gets out, as it will, your reputation for always having it your way will be damaged." She looked up over Colleen's head to the Clerk and nodded.

Colleen heard the door behind them close, but couldn't see the monitors to find out who had come in. Her gaze was trapped by that of Royale's. Royale smiled at her, but there was no warmth in the smile. Was she acting or had Colleen seriously misjudged her? Royale looked up again.

"Quincy."

Quincy? Quincy was one of the middle echelon men who had been attracted to, but been put off by, Colleen. She had made no bones about his worth to her as a man.

"Madam Chairman?"

It was Quincy's voice, all right.

"You know what this is, Quincy?"

"Yes, Madam Chairman."

"Then you know that there will be--can be--no reprisals. Enjoy yourself." Royale stepped away as she spoke. Colleen was now at the mercy of Quincy.

Royale looked on as Quincy made a show of walking around the displayed woman, inspecting her. He was doing just as she had ordered. Colleen was in for something of a surprise, Royale chuckled to herself. She had been waiting for this day for a long time, ever since they had taken over the Norse gang. Now she was going to enjoy herself, just as she had ordered Quincy to do. It was all in the bag. Nothing could stop it--except a sudden change of plea by Colleen, and that one was too proud for that. Royale smiled again.

Quincy circled Colleen once, taking in her nakedness. There was a malicious grin on his face. He stopped in front of her and moved forward between her outstretched arms. Her face was at his groin. He fumbled at his fly, then brought out his semi-hard cock.

"Open wide," he ordered. "Better lube it up good, 'cause I'm going to do you."

Colleen obeyed and took him in her mouth, quickly coating him with saliva. Who knew how long he'd allow her this, so she acted accordingly. She was busy concentrating on her task and almost missed Royale's words in her ear. Almost.

"Get him off like this and he'll be done," she whispered. "He only gets the one cum." Royale's hands were busy in Colleen's hair, drawing it back and capturing it in a barrette. All the better for the cameras to catch her work.

Clever, clever Royale. Very clever Royale. It appeared that she was punishing Colleen, but they both well knew that in her rise to power Colleen had blown any number of men--and a few women. A public blowjob was a little humiliating, yes, but nothing that wouldn't pass with time. Hell, even a little late morning fuck wouldn't be that bad. Royale knew what she was doing and Colleen felt a momentary twinge of conscience for having earlier doubted her. And, though rumours of what happened in the punishment circle always spread, the law that nothing left the room guaranteed that little would be believed, true or not.

'He gets only one cum', the words hung in her ears. Best to get it over with quickly. Colleen went to work with a vengeance, licking and sucking. Her tongue flicked over Quincy's glans, molded itself to his shaft as she took him deep in her throat, pressed hard as she bobbed her head up, lips forming a tight, exciting seal about him, then flicked again. It had been a long time since she'd performed like this, but she hadn't forgotten. She made the little noises that she knew excited men, the moans and hums. And it was working. He was growing harder and his breath was coming in gasps. He was at the edge. Just a few more strokes and . . . . Damn.

Quincy pulled back and out of her reach. "Damn, you're good," he told her admiringly. "You suck like a real pro. You almost finished me there." But there was no way he was about to let that happen. Finally he had the bitch right where he wanted her. He stood back and watched the little signs of a quickly covered dismay float across the bitch's features. No, he would have his fun.

He went around to her side and fondled her breasts, pulling on her already erect nipples. A hot bitch. A hot bitch, but one who wouldn't want what he was going to give her--not here in public. He spoke again, recalling his orders. "I hope you fuck as well as you suck," he laughed as he stroked her neck and ran his fingers down her back to her ass.

Colleen flushed a bit as she realized that those words would be caught on the tape of the event. Quincy was purposely trying to embarrass her to the maximum, secure in his knowledge that there could be no comeback. But there were more ways than one for the Chairman to get around that little stricture, Colleen thought grimly.    

*Chapter 2*

Royale took station directly in front of Colleen and sat down on the little folding stool she'd brought along for just that purpose. She hid a smile as Colleen looked at her questioningly. Not yet, my dear, she thought to herself, but soon. Soon you'll know the full folly of your actions.

Quincy was behind Colleen, ready to continue now that he'd cooled off a bit. He positioned himself and looked over to her for the order. Royale waited until Colleen caught her gaze and then made a minute movement of her hand.

It was great. Colleen's eyes widened slightly and she gave forth with a little chuff as Quincy buried himself in her. The frontal camera would have caught it perfectly. Royale was already looking forward to watching the tapes. Just thinking of it was making her a little hot, herself. Quincy was beginning to thrust rapidly and Royale gave Colleen a little wink. She almost laughed out loud at the tiny tell-tale signs of relief which Colleen could not disguise. Going to be a long day for you, dear, she thought and grinned to herself. It has only just begun. You don't know that yet, but you will, oh yes, you will.

She was taking a pounding. There was no finesse to it at all. Quincy was using her to get off, nothing more. Stretched over the punishment rack there was nothing she could do about it--not without giving up more than she wished to give up. So it continued.

Colleen had been startled and had given an involuntary gasp when Quincy forcefully entered her. Her recovery was only momentary for after a short pause he began thrusting and soon her breathing matched itself to the motion of his cock. And, as Quincy's thrusting rapidly built speed and power, her breath quickened until it came in gasps. Behind her she could hear him laugh in exultation as he rammed her against the hip support. Her breasts were now constantly in motion as her body suffered the onslaught. Looking up, Colleen caught Royale's gaze and Royale winked which made her feel suddenly better.

Of course Royale would have known about Quincy before picking him. Some of the other women would have talked. He was one who had no skill and would get it over with as fast as possible. She could always count on Royale.

So, it would soon be over. An unusual punishment, but one which seemed to fit the crime. She'd fucked up, now she was getting fucked. Only problem was that Quincy was no damned good. She'd been right to spurn him. Still, she was getting all wet and slippery. She'd have to have a little session with herself, after this was over, to finish the job Quincy had started.

Colleen tried to let her thoughts drift to the long hot bath she had promised herself, to relaxing and floating in the large tub as she slowly stroked herself, but Quincy leaned over and began pinching at her nipples even as he thrust himself into her. It spoiled the thought, bringing her back to the reality of the present. The short drift had, however, made her a little more horny, more receptive to the fucking she was getting.

Finally, with a long drawn out moan, Quincy stiffened, rammed into her hard several times, then held himself tightly to her. His breath, like hers, was coming in gasps. It was over. He withdrew, leaving her hot and stranded. Bastard.

Colleen maintained her grip on the hand-holds and awaited Royale's command to release. When, after a long pause, it did not come, Colleen looked up questioningly. Royale was smiling a wicked smile.

"Did you think we were done, O'Brien?" she asked.

That was exactly what Colleen had thought. Where was Royale going with this?

"Quincy, take a seat," Royale ordered.

This was all wrong. Quincy should have been excused from the room. Just *what* was Royale playing at?

"Perhaps you've forgotten already?" Royale's tone was that of an amused parent talking to a disobedient child. "You caused damage to our reputation, violation of the trust our people should have in their superiors, pain and humiliation." She paused to let the full import of the words sink in. When she saw the shocked understanding begin to dawn in Colleen's eyes she rose to her feet and smiled. "Yes, O'Brien, this is not yet over." She moved out of Colleen's sight behind her and looking to the monitors provided no enlightenment.

The bitch! What was she doing? This was not part of the agreement at all. Royale had betrayed her! Colleen swore vengeance. If it was the last thing she did, she would get even with Royale.

Colleen desperately wanted to turn her head around to see what Royale was up to but, knowing it would be a sign of weakness, kept her gaze to the front and composed her face. Whatever happened, she would maintain her composure.

Royale felt the adrenalin rush as she unclasped her wrap-around skirt and revealed to the board that she was wearing a harness. She pulled open a drawer on the commode, picked up an dildo attachment, realistic down to its hanging balls, and attached it. Lubing it liberally--there were certain standards to be maintained--she looked at Colleen's inviting ass and smiled grimly. Lose me my Nikki, will you? she asked silently. You'll pay for that. You'll pay.

Royale almost laughed out loud at Colleen's visible jump as she placed her hands on the naked woman's hips. This was going to be more fun than she'd ever imagined.

"You trusted me, didn't you," she taunted the smaller woman. "Royale would never break the bond that she had formed with you, would she?" Under her hands she felt Colleen grow rigid. It was all she could do to keep from laughing out loud with triumph. She moved her hips forward until the anal probe came into contact with its intended target. Again Colleen gave a little, almost imperceptible jump and again Royale silently gloated.

Colleen knew what was coming. Royale was going to ass-fuck her. Why? This wasn't the Royale she knew. What was going on? Behind her, she heard Royale's voice telling her that she'd better relax or the result would be painful.

"Relax, O'Brien, and take it like a man." Royale chuckled, and with that Royale pushed forward and the invader slid, after a slight hesitation due to the resistance Colleen had been unable to suppress, deep inside her. Now it was Royale who began to move in and out, causing her breath once more to sync with the movements of her abuser.

Two tiny tears appeared at Colleen's eyes. She blinked them away, hoping that the cameras had not caught them.

"Umph!" Colleen grunted as Royale pressed in deep and hard. The probe's 'balls' pushed hard against her pussy and clit. The hell of it was, what with Quincy's previous ministrations, that she was hot. She didn't like getting it in the ass--never had--but on top of the previous fucking it didn't seem too bad now.

"You must be wondering what went wrong," Royale's voice was a little strained, now, from her own exertion. "I imagine that is just how our people felt as Dark Damsel and the cops closed in on them. Do you think that they felt just the slightest bit betrayed?"

So that was it! A great light went on in Colleen's mind. Just as she had violated the trust of the four now in police custody, her trust, too, had been violated. Royale was giving her a lesson in kind. And it hurt, just like it was supposed to. Royale well knew of her aversion to being ass-fucked and she was using that private knowledge against her now. Betrayed was just the word for it. And, to make it worse, Colleen knew that she deserved it.

It stopped, with Royale deep inside her. Royale leaned over and began to whisper in her ear. Colleen fought to concentrate.

". . . and though you're not enjoying this now, you will. I have a little surprise for you."

Surprise? Everything was a surprise. What could this . . . Colleen suddenly bucked as she heard a little click and the probes 'balls' began to vibrate as they pressed against her pussy and clit.

"Don't worry, babe, I'll make sure you get off."

Colleen wasn't sure she was happy about this, but at that moment Royale backed out again. The probe was tapered at both ends so that it stretched her sphincter on the way in, then allowed it to relax a little when Royale pressed up against her. On withdrawal it was stretched again. Her ass was being continually stretched and released by the probe and now her clitty was getting a buzz from the vibrating 'balls' every time Royale buried it in her.

Royale knew what she was doing and soon it was all Colleen could do to keep from screaming out her pleasure. Damn that Royale, anyway. Royale knew she was a 'screamer'. It would be humiliating to be forced to come while being ass-fucked in front of the Board.

"Oh, God," Colleen gasped as the implications hit home. She tightened up to try and fight back the rising excitement. Behind her, she heard Royale laugh again. Royale knew. The Bitch had interpreted the signs correctly. She pushed in tight and suddenly the buzz increased in frequency.

"Yes, O'Brien," Royale whispered in her ear, "you'll come for us. I won't stop until you do." The buzz increased again. "Nice, isn't it. But, back to the action." Royale pulled out again and Colleen gasped. She jerked again as Royale rammed her again, holding the vibrators against her sensitive clit for a moment before backing out again.

Oh, God. Oh, God. She was panting now. It wouldn't be long, she knew, no matter how she fought it.

It was one of Royale's most satisfying moments. She had Colleen on the ropes and she knew that she wouldn't let her up. Colleen had had this coming for a long time now and Royale was just the one to give it to her. Hearing the gasps and moans increased her own excitement and she plunged with renewed energy into the helpless leader of the Organization.

Come on, you little bitch, cum! Cum and show us all how a bitch in heat can cry out.

There was no mercy in Royale. She fingered the little remote and the vibrator's speed increased again. Colleen's back arched her face went tight. Royale laughed at the sight in the monitor. She'd have to make herself a copy of this tape--something simply not done, but she would do it.

Colleen's whole body was shaking now and Royale knew she was close. She pressed in and held the vibrator against Colleen's clit for a moment then, just as she recognized the signs of an imminent orgasm, she began driving in and out as fast as she could.

Colleen's breath caught. Her body stiffened and held for several long seconds.

Now, you bitch, now!

She screamed.

As the scream died to a wail and the wail into sobs, Colleen felt a belt being fastened around her waist. Then she was ordered onto her toes and ties were fastened to the front of the belt. Royale fumbled at their juncture for a moment then stepped away, leaving the anal probe inside her. Colleen hung her head. So, it wasn't over yet. What now, she asked herself, what now?

She felt Royale fasten a strap to the back of the belt and knew that the nasty device, now quiescent, was locked inside and against her. What now? She was not long in waiting, for Royale's voice broke through her exhaustion.

"So, O'Brien, you have now felt what it is to have your reputation damaged and your trust betrayed. Now you will feel pain."

Royale appeared in front of her and Colleen raised her head wearily. As expected, Royale held the flogger in her hand. It had multiple strands of soft leather which would sting like the furies, but which would not mark her permanently.

"Please, may I have one," Colleen asked ritually. She wondered if Royale would hold true to the bargain they'd made. Pain jolted her, causing an involuntary gasp. Apparently not.

"Another, please, a little harder."

"Of course." Royale answered, her tone mocking. This was going to be bad.

Colleen couldn't help but jump as the vibrator buzzed to life a moment before the second blow fell. That blow was, indeed, a little harder. This was going to be very bad, indeed.

"Another, please, a little harder," Colleen gritted the words out. She was about at the edge of what she could take. Her butt was thoroughly sensitized and each stroke now had her jumping with pain. Royale, from the start, had demonstratively had no intention of keeping the bargain which the two of them had made. Now there was nothing for it but to stick it out--no matter what. Eventually she would be able to return the favour. Eventually she would have her revenge.

"Ahh!" The flogger fell across her sorry ass-cheeks again. It was accompanied by the now familiar rise in vibration rate. Royale was pushing her towards another orgasm. She could feel the ripples of energy rising in her, turning into waves. Were it not for the continual flashes of pain, she would have climaxed some time ago. She was getting close, so close. And she fought it with every fibre of her being.

"Another please, a little harder."

"Certainly, my dear." Royale's voice turned to a whisper as she moved closer to her victim. "You won't be getting out of here until you cum again. Might as well save yourself some pain."

No. She would not be beaten like that. There was a limit to what Royale would be permitted to do. This was, after all, The Organization. They had rules. If only . . .

The buzz was driving her crazy. The vibrator was moving at what Colleen figured must be full speed and it was driving her inexorably towards . . . . She tightened up. Her breath held. Oh, God, no . . . NO!

The scream as the whip descended was part pleasure and part pain. There was no doubt but that she had orgasmed. Her face reddened further.

"Another please, a little harder," she sobbed.

"No. I think you've had enough."

Thank God! But the vibrator still buzzed and she knew that she was already well on the way towards her next climax. She wanted to beg Royale to turn it off, but that would be the sign of weakness which she could not afford.

"Stand up."

With shaking limbs, Colleen stood. She could barely concentrate. Sweat trickled into her eyes, stinging them and wisps of her hair clung to her face. She felt a mess. At least it was over. She would be led out and then she could rest, to give in to the tears which were just a fraction away.

Royale was speaking and it took every bit of effort that Colleen could muster to concentrate on her words.

"Now you've experienced damage to your rep, betrayal and pain. Just one more to go." Royale paused dramatically. "Quincy."

Quincy? Oh, yes. He was still there. Colleen turned her head and saw him grinning at her. He had enjoyed every new degradation to its fullest.

"Quincy. You know our rules about what goes on here staying here." It was not a question.

Thank God for that, Colleen thought.

"Well, this time it has been agreed that they will not apply."

"What?" The word was out before Colleen could stop it.

Royale gave her a nasty smile. "This time," her words were aimed at Quincy even though she looked Colleen straight in the eyes, "you will be able to tell anyone anything about what happened here today--leaving out the names of all except you and the accused, of course.

"You may find that you will not be believed. To protect *your* reputation, therefore, you may--for the next week only-- take those who would besmirch your good name to the viewing room and show them the tape as proof of your good word."

Colleen's eyes went wide. Her face went even redder, giving a nice contrast to her hair. Finally she broke contact with Royale's eyes and cast her own gaze down to the floor.

"And that, O'Brien, is the final lesson. Humiliation. I trust that you will be more careful in the use of your power from this time on. Now come."

Royale grasped Colleen's nipple and pulled her along towards the exit. Colleen didn't make it. Her third orgasm rocked her violently. When she regained enough energy to open her eyes, she saw the eyes of the cameras on her yet. She wasn't even to be spared that final indignity.

"So you want to know why, do you?" Royale snarled at her. "Well, sit down and I'll tell you."

Royale waited for the still shaky Colleen to take a seat. Colleen sat down carefully yet gasped nonetheless as her red, plugged posterior met the hard seat of the chair. Royale smiled vindictively.

"It wasn't just me, you know. You've alienated everyone on the Board. No, don't give me that surprised look. Surely you knew?" Royale laughed at Colleen's bewilderment. "Then this is indeed for the best. It is high time we got you out of your position of power."

"Got me out . . ." Colleen couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You can't mean . . ."

"Oh yes I can," Royale interrupted her. "Your days as Chairman are over. Perhaps you can regain your seat on the Board, perhaps not. Do you remember the Norse Gang?"

Colleen was confused at the sudden change in tack. "Yes," she replied, puzzled, "we took them over, you and I, when we were just starting out."

"Do you remember how?"

Colleen cast back in her memories. Those were heady days, risking all on high odds. But they'd won. She'd seduced the gang leader, then broken him. "Of course. I fixed their leader and we took over." Fixed. Good word.

"You don't remember well enough." Royale glared at her. "While you were in there dealing with Olaf the Laughing Viking, I had to keep his bodyguard busy. Remember?"

"Yes." Colleen wondered what this was all about. That had been many years ago.

"Do you know *how* I kept him busy?" Fire burned in Royale's eyes. "I took it up the rear for you. That's how Ragnar wanted it and that's how he got it. Did you ever ask what I had to do? Did you ever care?"

Colleen was taken aback by the fury she saw in Royale. True, she hadn't asked. But they knew that what they were doing entailed risks.

"No! All you cared about was that we won. You didn't care what it cost." Royale calmed down. "And since then it has been the same. Others pay the cost and you, uncaring, reap the rewards. *That's* why I took your ass today."

"Please, Royale, that was a long time ago . . ."

"Yes it was. But Nikki wasn't."

"Nicky? Do I know him?"

"Her," Royale sneered. "No, you don't know her. You just let her walk into Dark Damsel's trap." Royale was pacing back and forth in front of Colleen. "Stand up, Bitch!"

Colleen's eyes widened, but she stood.

"Here are the rules. You cost me my Nikki. I need a replacement. You want your seat on the Board. Five weeks from tonight you will return and the rack will be ready for a repeat of tonight's action." Royale smiled at Colleen's sudden gasp. "And after it is over I will have my replacement for Nikki. You won't like it. That I promise you." There was a long pause while Royale let that sink in. "But that replacement doesn't have to be you. It will be, though, unless . . ."

"Unless what?" Colleen grasped at the straw.

"Unless you can convince Dark Damsel to take your place. Bring us Dark Damsel and you get back your seat on the Board. Dark Damsel has embarrassed us. With her on the rack we regain our prestige. After which she will serve me, personally. If you fail, that fate will be yours."

"And now, here's something to motivate you." Royale suddenly pulled Colleen by the arm, sat down on the chair which Colleen had so recently vacated and jerked Colleen across her lap. "This is for Nikki--and something you'll get have to get used to if you don't bring me Dark Damsel." With that she raised her hand and began a vigourous over-the-knee spanking of the once proud and powerful chairman of the Organization.

Within moments Colleen was crying out in pain. Her struggles to free herself were in vain and Royale was triumphant. Tears spilled down her cheeks as Colleen was finally allowed to stand.

"Now go. You have two hours to pack and be out of here. You will get no help from the Organization. It is for you, personally, to bring us Dark Damsel."

"My clothes . . ."

"Should have thought of that before losing me my Nikki." The blonde woman chuckled, "At least you have something covering your privates." She chuckled again. "Better go, quick. The key to your belt is on your desk. Oh, and here's a little something to remember me by." Royale fiddled with a remote and the vibrator kicked into high gear. "Enjoy." She turned to the desk, then turned back. "No. Wait."

Colleen stopped.

"I'm going to see about the editing of your tape. You know that whatever I whispered to you won't come through. And no one knows about the vibrator. You know what that means."

Colleen did. No one would hear Royale say that Quincy had only one cum. All they would see is her sucking him off with wild abandon--like a slut. They would see her cumming while getting it in the ass, not realizing that a vibrator was driving her there. And they would see her cumming again while being whipped; and again while being humiliated and dragged from the room by her nipple. She went white.

"Go."

Colleen staggered out of the room, walking bow-legged. She was still highly charged from the events of the afternoon and the vibrator was doing its job all too well.

Stunned members of the Organization watched as their chairman stumbled past them, naked and shaking, her eyes glazed. Please, thought Colleen, please let me last until I get to my office.

Back in the debriefing room, Royale picked up a phone and contemplated it. Her face twisted into a smile of malicious pleasure as she heard a scream echo down the hallway. She was still laughing as she dialed a number. "I'll be in to supervise the editing now." And to get my own personal copy of the tapes.

*Chapter 3*

Dark Damsel wasn't sure just what she thought of it. She gazed up at the billboard. Her image stood there, and beside it the anti-crime message. This one was to convince people to inscribe identifying marks on their valuables. She shook her head a little. "Our Favorite Heroine, Dark Damsel, is tough on Crime. Join her in her efforts to make life tough on criminals." Dark Damsel sighed. Oh, well. If it caused people to pay a little more attention, it was worth it, she supposed.

There were, however, other things on her mind. Word had come to her that someone unknown was seeking a meeting. The meeting, it was relayed, had to be tonight. It would take place atop an old unused warehouse.

She scouted out the building with caution. Nothing moved. Who could it be? The tone of the message was urgent, her source told her. It could be a trap, but her source didn't think so. She trusted the man. He had never failed her or provided her with anything but the best possible information. Still, she was worried. Who could it be?

In silence she climbed the fire escape. Her mini-grapple caught the parapet and in a flash she was on the roof. No one was to be seen. The small door-housing stood ominously quiet. The door had been left invitingly open. She circled it carefully. Nothing. Nothing, and nothing to do but to go inside.

Something was wrong, she could feel it. Common sense told her that she should call in back-up. Perhaps Minx would appreciate a little adventure. However, she didn't know where Minx was and it probably couldn't wait.

Battle-ready, night vision lenses in place, Dark Damsel approached the door. She threw herself to the ground not quite in time to escape the boot which appeared from the roof of the door house. The kick had stung, but she was back on her feet almost before her assailant had landed with cat-like grace.

Her assailant wore black trousers and a black sweater as well as a black balaclava. Even so, there was no way she could disguise her breasts which stood out proudly. Dark Damsel, even as she circled, tried to place who this woman could be.

Then there was no time to think. The woman attacked with a blaze of kicks and punches which Dark Damsel blocked to the best of her ability. The woman was good. Too good. Dark Damsel missed a move and a kick caught her in the ribs. She rolled with the blow, but it stung. Stung, yes, but it didn't hurt. She had no time to consider this. She spun around on the ground and swept her opponent's feet out from under her. There was a satisfying "Omph!" as she landed on her ass.

Both were up together, breathing harshly. The woman laughed, then turned and ran through the open door and down the stairs, Dark Damsel in hot pursuit.

The fleeing woman went through the door two floors down, Dark Damsel a second behind her. That was a mistake. A trip caught her as she went through the door and the woman was on top of her before the Damsel knew what was happening.

They squirmed and fought for position, the advantage going to the woman in black. Desperation fueled Dark Damsel's struggles, for she quickly realized that the larger woman was stronger than she. A final move, made with all the strength she could summon, tossed the woman from her and she came, panting, to her feet.

Her opponent came forward once more, now slowly, giving Dark Damsel a moment to take in her surroundings. They were in a very large room, which had a few supporting posts here and there. It was a good place for a fight. In one corner there was a curtained off area. More than that Dark Damsel had no time to notice.

The woman raised her hand and there was a brilliant flash as a light came on.

"Ahh!" Dark Damsel was blinded. She reached up and pulled the night-lenses from her mask. A kick took her in the stomach and she fell back to the floor, did a back somersault and was on her feet again. By that time all the lights were on and she was blinking away the blindness.

A blow caught her on the shoulder and she staggered, then the woman was behind her, crushing her in a bear-hug. Damsel bent over, lifting her assailant's feet from the floor, then backed up hard and fast, ramming her into a wall. She let go and Damsel flipped her. At the last second Damsel reached out and grabbed the balaclava, which came off in her fist. There was a shower of blonde hair.

Damsel contented herself with regaining her breath while Blondie recovered her feet. She was beginning to feel good. The charge a battle always built in her was there now and she had her second wind. Now to finish . . .

"Minx!"

Dark Damsel was stunned. The garish painted face of her sometimes ally/sometimes lover appeared from under the mess of blonde hair.

"Did you really think I'd let you get away with it?" Minx snarled. She stepped forward and began another barrage of kicks and punches which Dark Damsel did her best to deflect.

"With what?" Dark Damsel gasped. Even now she could not believe that Minx had betrayed her trust and attacked her. She couldn't believe that Minx could mean her harm.

Damsel's arms were getting tired and Minx suddenly grabbed one and tossed her. Minx was on Damsel in a flash and again they grappled on the floor. The floor, Damsel suddenly noticed, was rather soft for a floor. Mats. The floor was covered in gym mats. This must be one of Minx's hideaways.

Minx wrestled her to her side, and grabbed her free arm and held it behind her. She was on top of her other arm. Trapped.

"You took top billing, bitch!" Minx growled in her ear as her own free hand found the zipper and pulled. Dark Damsel's breasts fell out of her suit and fingers pinched a nipple.

Dark Damsel's struggles increased, but to no avail. Without warning she was released and fell forward onto her face. Before she could do anything, Minx had both hands inside her waist-band and was pulling. It took only a moment for her bottoms to be off and in Minx's hands. She was naked from the waist down!

A tackle brought her down once more, almost before she'd regained her feet, the weight of Minx driving the breath out of her. Then Minx rolled her over, pulled her hands above her head and held them there with one hand while the other moved down to the juncture of her legs and pressed.

"Wet!" Minx laughed out loud. "Told you that fighting got you excited, didn't I?" She bent down to take a victory kiss.

"You win," Dark Damsel agreed breathlessly as she was hauled to her feet by Minx.

"You bet I win," Minx growled and slapped the Damsel's naked butt as she pushed her towards the curtained off area.

Behind the curtains stood a king-sized bed. Minx tossed Dark Damsel onto the bed. "I win and I'm about to collect ransom." She peeled off her own clothes and jumped on top of Dark Damsel, who had finished removing her own top and cowl.

They wrestled playfully, touching and kissing, poking and probing. Finally Minx released Dark Damsel, pushed her away and took the centre of the bed for herself. She spread her legs wide holding them in the air.

"See that?" She asked the Damsel. "That's a V for Victory. I suggest that you pay your ransom where it'll do the most good. Then we'll talk about who gets top billing in the next commercial."

Dark Damsel threw herself between Minx's legs and began paying the homage due. Minx smiled and groaned. Her hands entwined themselves in Dark Damsel's raven hair and pressed her head more firmly to her work. Soon Minx's hips were moving up and down, trying to escape Dark Damsel's talented tongue. It was no use and Minx cried out her own surrender.

Dark Damsel wormed her way up and cuddled behind the quietly cooing Minx. She pulled the feather quilt over them and they lay quietly, wrapped in warmth. Finally they dozed.

"Okay, Minx," Dark Damsel whispered into the taller woman's ear, "next time it'll be 'Minx and Dark Damsel ask for your co-operation . . . .'"

"Thought you'd see it my way."

They slept.

Dark Damsel woke to the incredibly sweet sensation of Minx's tongue on her pussy. She wasn't sure how long Minx had been at it, but there was no doubt that her body was already highly aroused. She smiled lazily and stretched. Then she groaned as two fingers made their way up inside her pussy. Still another finger pressed against her anus and worked its way past that resistance. Then all three began moving in and out even as the tongue attacked her clit. Dark Damsel began humping her hips up and down as she was driven towards climax.

"Oh . . . My . . . G . . ." She never finished. Her orgasm overtook her.

"Best damn alarm clock I've ever had," she grinned as her wits came back to her. "Remind me to hit the snooze button so you can ring my bell again in 10 minutes."

Minx laughed. "Come on, lazy bones, shower time. Then we get you out of here before dawn."

Dressed, Minx led the way to the underground levels. A tunnel led to a mock sewer opening. Minx punched the control button and the grate opened for Dark Damsel to exit.

"You know," Minx said consideringly, "that if I had been a true enemy, you would have been in deep trouble. You seemed to be pulling your punches."

"Yes. I thought of that. It was after that first kick that got through on the roof. Even though I rolled with it, it should have hurt a lot more than it did. That's when I realized--at least sub-consciously--that you were pulling *your* punches." She shrugged. "I didn't add it all up until later, I guess I was operating on instinct."

"Dangerous thing to do, at times," Minx warned her, then bent down to receive a final kiss.

"See you on TV," Damsel said as she climbed out and onto the street.

"Oh, god, don't remind me," Minx groaned from below. "'Dark Damsel and Minx are tough on Crime'," she intoned solemnly.

Dark Damsel could hear her laughing as the grate closed and had to chuckle, too. She slipped into the darkness.

It wasn't much of a place, but it would have to do.

Colleen O'Brien looked around the 'penthouse suite' of the old apartment building. Cracked plaster walls, stained roof and broken tiles greeted her sight. She shrugged. She had lived in worse. True, that was long ago, yet what she had once done she could do again. Especially if that led her to the revenge she burned for.

She had used the two hours Royale had given her to their greatest advantage. She had left the Organization HQ with money, some clothes and, most importantly, the files she needed to help her in her quest to capture Dark Damsel.

Dark Damsel. The name caused a snarl to come to her lips. Had it not been for Dark Damsel none of this would have happened. Dark Damsel would pay. She would pay twice. First she, Colleen, would make her pay, then Royale and the Organization could have what was left to make her pay again.

Colleen unpacked her bags. She was a little sweaty from climbing the five flights of stairs carrying the heavy bags. A shower would do wonders.

The old tub and toilet were water stained, and the shower was a hand-held hose attached to the tub's faucet. She shrugged again and hoped that at least there would be hot water. There was.

Five weeks. Five weeks to hunt down and capture Dark Damsel. Five weeks until Hallowe'en. On November first she would have to have Dark Damsel tied to the rack, naked and helpless.

Dark Damsel was, Colleen thought, more myth than reality. She got the press where others did the work. It was unlikely that she'd ever really come up against worthy opposition. Matter of fact, Colleen decided, it was quite likely that she herself could take Dark Damsel, one on one. And that was just what she'd do. All that was required was to lure Dark Damsel somewhere where her friends in the Police Department couldn't back her up and rescue her pretty little neck.

Colleen stepped out of the tub and toweled herself dry. She looked at her reflection in the cracked mirror and smiled grimly. Dark Damsel would regret the day she ever put on her mask. And Royale would regret the day that she betrayed Colleen. Yes, there was not only Dark Damsel to think of, there was also Royale. And she had the beginnings of a plan.

Silently, Colleen padded out into the bedroom. She opened the window to let in some fresh air, sat down on the bed and combed out her dark red tresses. As she watched the sun disappear behind the buildings to the west she had a sudden thought and smiled. Reaching into her brief-case, she pulled out a file and began to read.

"You!" The tall, thin blonde woman behind the counter blanched. "I never thought I'd see you again. You promised me . . ."

"Times change, dearie," Colleen O'Brien chuckled mirthlessly. "But don't worry. All I want is a little favour. A favour for which I'll pay you well." She grinned a little, "And then I'll once again forget that you exist, Megan."

"What do you want?" Colour began to return to Megan's face, but her voice still quavered and her hands trembled.

"You have a certain reputation as a fashion designer," Colleen told her, "and I want to be fashionable. My wants, your abilities--a marriage made in heaven."

"Of course, Lucy, whatever you want here is . . ." she stopped suddenly as Colleen glared at her.

"You will never speak my name again, Megan. Is that clear?" Colleen remembered without pleasure that Megan knew of her name before she had changed it. That was something that she'd have to do something about.

Megan nodded, once again white of face.

"And I don't want any of this," she gestured at the racks with a careless hand, "I desire something unique--as befits me." She pulled out few sheets of paper upon which she'd penciled in a few rough drawings. "Can you do this?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

Megan bent her head to look at the drawings. She grunted in pain as Colleen took a fistful of her hair and pulled. "And remember. This is only between us two. No one else knows or sees anything. Understand?"

Megan nodded her agreement. "Please, I'll have to measure you. If you'll just come into the back room . . ."

Thirty minutes later Colleen came out of the dress shop with a satisfied look on her face. Step one done. Now onto step two.

"Damn it!" The masked man's snarl had his companions jumpier than the alarm bells did. "Let's get out of here." He raked another tray of rings into the bag then jumped the counter. His companions, one tall and thin, the other somewhat shorter and of medium set, held their shotguns high as he passed then turned and fled out the door behind him. The three jumped into a waiting car which roared off down the street.

The driver turned the corner, slowed and turned into a parkade. He took the ticket from the vending machine, drove passed the raised gate and parked the car in the lane. The four men jumped out and into a parked van. The van then exited the parkade. All the attendant saw was the one man who had driven the vehicle in a couple of hours previously.

In the back of the van the other three grinned at each other, caught in the adrenalin high. The driver casually drove past the jewelry shop even as two police cars came screeching to a halt. "What's up, officer," he called out."

"Keep moving," the cop ordered him.

"Yes, sir." Cops hated rubberneckers. They just got in the way. He picked up a little speed and turned a corner at the lights.

"We did it," gloated the short gunman in the back.

"Shut up," their leader glowered.

"But Sean . . ."

"But Sean, nothing. We screwed up good. Whose job was it to make sure no one hit the alarm button?" Sean glared at the two men opposite.

"Ours. But no one did, Sean. There musta been another one we didn't know about--or someone in the back room." The taller gunman wasn't going to back up for anyone.

Sean stared at him for a long minute. The hardness left His face. "Okay, Paddy, okay." They all relaxed. "You and Mick did fine. No panic, no worry. We did okay." He parted the curtain and spoke to the wheelman, "Back to the office, Peter. Nice and quiet."

"Yes, Sean, nice and quiet."

In the back room of 'Murphy's Plumbing', the gang went over their ill-gotten gain.

"Nice ring, Sean," Peter said as Sean held up a gold ring inlaid with diamonds. "Keep it for yourself?"

"Don't be daft, man. That's a sure way to get ourselves caught."

The door chimes sounded.

"Get that will you, Paddy?

Paddy rose and exited the room.

The woman on the other side of the counter was wearing a high collared coat and sunglasses. Her hair was pulled back under a shawl which covered most of her forehead. Paddy smiled his welcome smile.

"Good afternoon, miss. What can I do for you today?" He wondered what the woman looked like under the shapeless coat. If the rest of her was as nice as the parts of her face he could see . . . .

"I'd like to speak to the boss about a leak I found that needs plugging." The woman's voice was cold.

Bitch, thought Paddy. "I'm sure that I can help you . . ."

"If I wanted your help I'd have asked for it. I told you," she said slowly, as if speaking to a moron, "that I would like to speak to the boss."

Paddy reddened in anger. "Look, miss . . ."

"I took pictures," the woman interrupted him. "Take this envelope to Mr. Murphy, please, and tell him I'd like to talk to him about the leak."

Paddy fought down his anger. "Yes, miss, I'll just do that," he growled as he turned and headed for the back room.

"Sean, some woman who's found a leak in her plumbing, but won't talk to anyone but you. Said she took a couple of photos of the problem. Here." He handed Sean the envelope. Sean tore it open, looked at the photos and swore.

The others, surprised at this, craned their heads to get a look at the photos, but Sean had replaced them in the envelope.

"She said she found a leak?" he asked Paddy.

"Yeah, that's what she said. What's up?"

"Nothing. I'll go talk with her. Clean up back here."

Sean Murphy walked carefully to the front desk. "Interesting photos you have here, lady. Care to explain yourself?"

"You have a problem," she said. "I can help with it, and with other things, too. But there's a price."

Murphy grimaced. "A shakedown?" he asked.

"Of course not, silly man." The woman cracked a smile, but it didn't make Sean feel any easier.

He opened the envelope again and looked at the poleroids. The first showed Peter sitting in the escape car just outside the jewelry store; the second had the three of them running out of the store towards the car; the third showed the car moving off, its licence plate clear; the fourth showed Peter at the wheel of the van talking to the police officer on the street in front of the robbed store and the final picture showed the rear of the van, licence plate clearly displayed.

"Interesting photos," he remarked.

The woman smiled again. "Yes, I thought so," she replied.

"Perhaps you should come into the back and we could discuss this privately."

"Oh, I think I'll pass on that."

"I can be persuasive," Sean showed his teeth in a smile.

"I'm sure you can. Those are, however, only half of the photographs. I'd hate to see the other half get into the wrong hands, now. Wouldn't you?"

The bitch was a cool one. "What do you suggest then?" He leaned over the counter a little, wondering where this was all leading.

You come with me. We talk. I'm sure we can come to an agreement on things. I guarantee that an agreement between us will be lucrative for all concerned."

"Paddy, I'm going out on a call," Sean yelled at the back room. "Clean things up good before I get back." He smiled at the knowing smile on the face of the woman in front of him. If it were a trap she was trying to spring, there would be no evidence left to betray them.

"We'll take my car," the woman insisted as they left the shop.

It was a dark blue rental vehicle. Sean got in the passenger door and watched as the woman walked around the car and joined him. The car stopped in a park. In front of them was a pond with ducks and geese. Children and mothers were tossing bread crumbs and seeds to the water fowl. Tourists and natives alike were enjoying the late September sunshine and having fun in general. Sean wasn't feeling the joy of the day.

"I wasn't there by accident," the woman said as she pulled off her sunglasses, revealing a lovely pair of grey eyes, with just a tinge of green in them. Her dark red hair came cascading down about her face as she took off her shawl. She was, Sean thought, a very pretty woman. "You have a problem."

Sean nodded as he carefully appraised her. "Yes," he replied, "so it would seem."

*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."

*Chapter 7*

Colleen walked along the street until she spotted the familiar storefront. She smiled wickedly and opened the door. The clerk looked up and smiled her welcoming smile.

"May I help you?" she asked.

"Yes, you may. I need to speak to your boss," Colleen told her imperiously.

"Of course," the woman replied, successfully holding back thefrown which threatened to replace her smile. She pushed the intercom button and spoke. "Megan. There is someone to see you up front."

Moments later the thin blonde woman appeared, her own smile at the ready. When she saw who it was who had requested her, the smile faded. Colleen's smile, however, broadened. She strode over to the suddenly shaking woman and whispered in her ear, "Get rid of the help. I have another job for you."

It took a moment for Megan to regain her composure. "Diane, you can go now." She jumped as Colleen patted her rear approvingly.

Diane's face betrayed shock. "But Megan . . ."

"We'll talk about it tomorrow," Megan preempted her firmly.

Diane turned without another word and stepped into the back. Moments later she reappeared, putting on her coat. As she reached the door she turned and surprised Colleen with a look bordering on hatred.

Shrugging it off, Colleen waited for Megan to lock the front door then followed the blonde woman into the back of the dress shop.

"What is it you want?" Megan asked, hands clasped together so Colleen wouldn't see them shaking.

Colleen leaned nonchalantly against a wall. "Oh, just a little favour. See, I'm going to a Hallowe'en party and thought, hey, wouldn't it be neat to go as Dark Damsel. Well, the first person I thought of was you. Simple, no?"

"But Colleen, you can get a Dark Damsel costume from almost any costume shop and . . ."

"And go in something that doesn't fit perfectly? Come, now, Megan. You know me better than that. Besides, you already have all my measurements, and you did such a great job on my last order that I just wouldn't think of going elsewhere. I'm only too happy to give you the business."

Megan darkly wished that she could give Colleen the business. However, the redhead scared her. She knew just how vicious Colleen could be. So she smiled and accepted the compliment at face value.

"You are too kind. But I don't even know what Dark Damsel's costume looks like, and I . . ."

Colleen dropped several 8 x 10 glossies on the table. They showed Dark Damsel from several different angles. "Get started. I haven't got all night, you know."

Megan was shocked. "You want it tonight?"

"Yes."

There would be no reasoning with the woman, Megan realized and she cleared her work table. Studying the photos with a practiced eye, she didn't notice Colleen beginning to inspect her work area. It was only when she moved to get a bolt of the appropriate material that she saw Colleen heading for a curtained off portion of the room.

"No!"

Colleen, startled turned around. She raised her eyebrows inquiringly, then a slow smile came to her as she saw that Megan was blushing. She put a hand to the curtain and pulled, while watching Megan carefully. The blonde's eyes dropped.

"Well, what have we here? A bed. My, my, my, a very nice mattress, too. A video camera?" Colleen began to laugh softly. The soft laughter turned to a belly laugh as everything became clear. Finally controlling herself she turned to the humiliated Megan and grinned.

"So, that's why I got the poisonous look from . . . Diane. She thought I was beating her time with you!" Colleen turned back to examine the curtained off area more closely. "Don't mind me, Megan. Get on with your work."

Megan, face beet red, turned back to the table and began measuring cloth. She turned her back to Colleen, not wanting to even get a glimpse of the other woman as she delved into things which were none of her business.

"Given the relative abundances--and lack thereof--I guess that when you play, you are the boy," Colleen sneered.

Megan pretended not to hear, just bent to her work, hoping that Colleen would tire of her little games.

"Oh, ho! What have we here? Video tapes. Let's see, there ought to be a TV around somewhere. Ah, here it is."

Megan turned to protest, but the protest died on her lips. The calculating cruelty in Colleen's eyes stopped her dead. It was as if the redhead wanted her to get physical so that she could hand out one of the lessons for which she'd been known in school. Megan wanted no part of being on the receiving end of one of those lessons. She recalled only too well some of the less lucky others.

"Yes, Megan dear, you just go back to what you are good at. I'll amuse myself by watching some television."

Minutes passed, then hours, as Megan tried to close her ears to the sounds coming from the television. She worked as quickly as she could without making mistakes. All she wanted was for Colleen to be gone. And every time Colleen chuckled or laughed, her face grew hot once again. It just wasn't fair. What she and Diane did was nobody's business but theirs.

"All right, Colleen, it is ready for you to try on. Then, if there are any alterations to be made, I'll make them and you can be on your way."

Colleen hit the stop button and swung her legs of the bed. She eagerly took the suit from Megan's hands and ran an appraising eye over it. "It looks good," she admitted. "Now let's see how it fits."

Megan waited in nervous anticipation for Colleen to come out of the dressing room. When she did, her eyes went wide. Except for the red hair, it was Dark Damsel who appeared.

"From the look on your face I'd say that you agree with me that it looks right."

"You look very good in the suit, Colleen. I think that you'll go over big at the Hallowe'en party."

"Yes, I should make quite a splash," Colleen agreed, nodding her head. "You did a good job."

It was the work of only one more hour to get everything perfect. Finally Colleen was completely satisfied. She dropped several fifties on the table for payment. "Just one thing, though . . ."

"What is it?"

"Well, you finished before I had a chance to finish watching those lovely tapes--you're quite kinky--and I was so enjoying myself." She walked over and ejected the tape from the VCR. She replaced it in its case, looked at it judiciously then picked up another and placed the two of them in her bag. "I'll finish watching them at home . . ."

Colleen broke off as Megan launched herself at the costumed woman. Grinning, she sidestepped Megan's charge and booted her in the ass as she went by. Megan landed on the bed, face down. She cursed, turned and was back on her feet in a rage, fingers hooked into claws.

A heavy slap turned her around and a shove between her shoulder blades sent her back on the bed. Colleen was on her in a flash, bringing her right arm up behind her in a hammer lock. Megan tried to escape but Colleen applied the pressure until she screamed and stopped fighting.

"That was very stupid of you," Colleen whispered into her ear. "After I give you work and pay you well for your time, you go and do something like this. You need to be taught a lesson."

The redhead allowed her victim to get back up. There would be no more fight from her, she knew. Megan's eyes were wet and tears began to roll down her cheeks.

Colleen looked at the clock. "When is Diane due back?"

Megan followed Colleen's gaze and was surprised at just how much time had passed. "She should be back in just over an hour. We start our day about an hour before we open the doors."

"Does she have a key to get in?"

"Yes." Megan was puzzled. Why the interest in Diane? She shuddered. "She's done nothing to you. Why don't you just let her alone."

"Me?" Colleen sounded astonished. "I wouldn't think of harming a hair on her head." She picked up one of the tapes and tossed it to Megan who automatically caught it. "If anyone has caused her grief, I'd say it has been you. Now get a pen and paper and write what I tell you."

While Megan went for the writing implements, Colleen pulled out a steamer trunk from under the bed and opened it up. Megan shuddered again when she returned, looking at the way Colleen was lovingly handling some of her possessions.

"Okay, Megan, now write the following . . ."

When Megan was finished writing, Colleen crooked a finger at her. "Come here and take off all your clothes," she ordered. Megan balked, but when Colleen's eyes narrowed in anger she began unbuttoning her stylish blouse. The rest of her clothes followed in short order.

"Put this on."

The red ball gag was duly inserted and buckled behind her head.

"You seem to like using this spreader bar on poor Diane. Let's see you try it on yourself." There was no mercy in Colleen's eyes and with a muffled sob Megan bent down to place the cuffs around her ankles and then to fasten them to the bar.

"Looks good on you, Megan. Catch." Colleen tossed the wrist cuffs to the defeated blonde who put them on without hesitating.

"I think you know the rest. I've seen you do it enough times on the tapes."

Megan nodded, thoroughly subdued. She awkwardly turned around and knelt on the bed. The chains from the eyebolt which was fastened to the middle of the headboard were duly locked onto her cuffs.

"Very good. Now I'll just lay out these things."

Megan's eyes went wide. Then all went black as Colleen fitted the blindfold to her. She felt Colleen place the two pillows next to her knees, then grunted as the spreader bar was pulled backwards, causing her to fall on the pillows. A snap told her that the bar was now hooked to the footboard of the bed. She was now stretched out over the bed with the pillows under her hips, her ass high in the air.

"It will be a while before Diane gets here," Colleen's voice informed her. I wouldn't want you to get bored."

A jolt of fear shot through her, as she wondered what Colleen would do. She wasn't long in finding out. Pressure at her nether lips built and the vibrator that she loved to use on Diane was ruthlessly pushed up inside her. She jumped, as much as one in her position could jump, when it was switched on. The low throb filled her pussy with desire.

"I have to leave you now," Colleen whispered maliciously in her ear, "but I hate the idea of not knowing how this turns out. So I'm going to turn on the video camera." She laughed at the muffled protest. "And I've set it up so the clock is running. I'll send someone to pick up the tape in a few hours. It's now just over two hours before opening. If there are less than two hours on the tape, well, we'll just have to do it all over again." Megan felt the sharp slap on her backside, heard the pulling of the curtain. Then Colleen was gone.

"Don't bother getting up, I'll let myself out," were the last words Megan heard. Tears welled up in her eyes as she tried to ignore the vibrations in her pussy.

Diane inserted the key in the lock and turned it. There was light coming from the back room, so Megan had already arrived. If, that was, she had ever left. She felt her stomach tightening as she thought of Megan and the redhead. She fought back a tear. That Megan could do this to her. She had been faithful to Megan and Megan knew that. Why . . . ?

To her surprise, there was no one in the workroom and the work table was clear. Usually Megan would already have the days projects lined up and the table would be set up for work. Today all there was on the table was a single sheet of paper. Diane walked over and picked it up. Her name was printed in big letters at the top.

Curiosity overcame her and she picked up the letter and began to read Megan's neat script. Her hand began to tremble and a small sob escaped her. Then, with eyes steely hard, she walked over to the curtained off area and pulled the curtain open. She was only a little surprised to see her boss, her lover, in a position which she herself had often ended up in. Megan was covered in sweat and Diane almost laughed as she heard the buzz coming from between Megan's legs. But this was no laughing matter.

Beside the bed on the table the toys were laid out. The multi-stranded whip, the harness with dildo already attached, and other implements of their play. Diane pursed her lips, then nodded. She picked up the whip and allowed the leather strands to lightly brush Megan's upthrust ass. Megan jerked and began making muffled cries.

Diane looked again at the letter in her hand and her lips tightened. She dropped the letter to the floor, where it would remain until opening time . . . if she decided to allow Megan up then.

DIANE:

I am thoroughly ashamed of myself. I feel that I have betrayed you and I don't know how to make things better. Even so, I must try to make amends. To this end I have left some things out for you. The lesson must be learned, so please use them in whatever way you desire.

Megan

PS: I do not wish to talk until opening. You know what I mean.

There was a sharp crack and the blonde's body jumped.

"You hurt me, Megan," Diane told the whimpering woman. "You hurt me badly, and you know you deserve this." She raised her arm and again the whip cracked across the blonde's ass. Diane grinned, some of her anger melting away. It was fun being on the other end. She was going to enjoy this, and Megan *did* deserve it. Then something caught her attention. She wasn't quite sure what it was at first, then it came to her.

"It seems your batteries are dying, Megan. Here, let me change them for you." She pulled the slowing vibrator out of Megan's pussy, changed the batteries and replaced it, but not before turning the speed from low to high. She giggled as Megan started squirming. Crack!

"May I help you?" the pretty young clerk asked him.

Sean noted that the woman seemed flushed and there was a certain undefinable presence about her. She looked . . . powerful. Yes, powerful was the word, but he didn't understand why it should be so.

"Yes, I'm here to pick up a package from Megan. I believe she is expecting me."

In short order a thin, smartly dressed blonde appeared with a small package. Her eyes were red as if she had been crying. She hesitantly approached him.

"You're from . . ."

"Colleen," he confirmed.

She hesitated for an instant then handed him the package. Without another word she turned and headed back the way she had come. She had to pass the clerk on her way there and, to Sean's surprise, the clerk swatted her on the rear which caused her to jump. Even over the soft music the hiss of indrawn breath was clear. Curious and curiouser, Sean thought. Well, Colleen would have some explaining to do.

This was the place, Detective Ray Barton confirmed to himself. Some informant wished to meet him here. He was wary and had not, in spite of the instructions, come alone. He looked up and down the alley, then leaned against a wall. Digging into his coat pocket he pulled out a package of breath mints and popped one into his mouth. That was the signal. He looked around. No one. Ray's mouth turned down. He hated wasting his time like this. If someone wasn't going to show, then they had no business . . .

From above came a fluttering sound and Ray looked up just in time to see a caped figure descending at the end of a rope. A moment later he stood face to face with Dark Damsel.

"It wasn't me," she told him before he could even think of saying anything.

Ray Barton looked at Dark Damsel coolly. How much did he *really* know about her. "We've a large group of solid citizens who say it was." He waited, not making any move she might consider aggressive.

"They're being blackmailed," she told him earnestly, trying to make him believe.

"By whom?"

"Shamrock."

"Ah, Shamrock. This costumed woman that no one but you has ever seen. Look, Damsel, I want to believe you, but you'll have to do better than that. Have you any proof, anything that'll stand up?"

"Yes, Ray, I do," the Damsel told him, looking him straight in the eyes.

"Then trot it out," he broke in before she could finish what she'd been saying.

"I can't." The look of frustration on her face was almost enough to have him believing. "If I do it will be the end of Dark Damsel."

Ray Barton sighed. He wanted to believe, yet there were protocols to follow. Then he had an idea, but he didn't think Dark Damsel would like it much.

"I think you should come in with me and we'll . . ." He broke off as Dark Damsel flipped a switch and began to rise in front of him. Before he could do anything she had been reeled in by whatever device she'd used to lower herself in the first place. "I can't do that," her voice drifted down to him.

"Damn, damn, damn," Ray murmured to himself. She wasn't doing herself a bit of good. He turned at the sound of running footsteps.

"Was that who I thought it was?" Sam asked as he came skidding to a stop.

"Afraid so. She wouldn't come in, though."

"You'll have to report it."

Ray sighed again. "Yeah, I know." Together the two officers turned and headed for their unmarked car.

The trip back to the garage was uneventful. Just as they were pulling in, however, the police radio came to life. "Robbery at the corner of 15th and Main. Dark Damsel positively identified as perpetrator."

"Damn!" The two men spoke in unison.

*Chapter 8*

Officer Rebecca Nasturant descended the stairs and looked through the glass door to the room within. Two fighters circled each other, looking for an opening. The woman feinted then kicked for the man's head. The kick was blocked, ankle thrust high and the woman tumbled backwards. Before the man could advance the woman had completed a back somersault and was on her feet again. Rebecca quietly slipped through the door.

Now the man was on the attack. His hands and feet were like lightning yet every punch, every kick was blocked or evaded. Still, the woman was constantly retreating and running out of room to do so. Sensing the wall nearing her back the woman stepped into a punch, grabbed the arm and threw the man, who regained his feet almost as fast as she did.

Rebecca was surprised by the intensity. Neither of the fighters was holding back and there was grim determination on their faces.

A bell chimed, stopping the fighters in mid-movement. They backed from each other and bowed. Rebecca clapped her hands and laughed at the startled looks on their faces.

"Didn't notice you come in," gasped Renee Jimson.

"You seemed a little preoccupied," agreed Rebecca. She looked Renee over carefully before turning her attention away. "Hi, William, how goes it."

Renee frowned slightly at the sudden warmth in Rebecca's voice. It wasn't that she objected to it, just that she'd come to consider Rebecca a friend and the warmth had definitely not been there for her. She gave a mental shrug and turned away.

"Shower time," she called out over her shoulder.

After Renee had left the room, William turned to Rebecca and motioned her towards his office. "What was *that* all about?"

"Haven't you heard the news lately?"

A low laugh came forth. "'Kitty, you know I don't pay much attention to that stuff. As it happens I've just finished two days of silence. Had some great meditation sessions. So, what's up?"

"Dark Damsel has turned criminal, Bill. She and her gang took out a securities firm, a jewelry store and knocked off an armoured car. Witnesses all over the place--and pictures. It was her, all right."

"You're sure?"

Rebecca rolled her eyes. "Come on, Bill. Pictures. She's on film."

"Something is funny here, Kitty. I just don't buy it. Renee is uptight about something, though. You saw the end of our session. I've never seen anyone so driven before." He sat down on the edge of the desk and pulled Rebecca close. "Ahh," he breathed gently into her hair, "you smell good."

"Bill," she remonstrated, "what are we going to do about this?"

Bill nuzzled her neck. "I have an hour before the next class. Lots of time. We get rid of Renee, lock the door and then . . . "

"Bill!"

"Okay, Kitty," Bill reluctantly released her. "What do you want to do about it? We're not responsible for her and if you are right, she's heading for a fall."

Rebecca's eyes flashed. "I'm a cop, damnit! It's my duty to take her in."

"And blow Dark Damsel's identity?" Bill took her hand and squeezed it gently. "Yes, you are a cop. But you can't afford to make a mistake like this . . ." he held up his hands placatingly, "if it is a mistake. Pictures, you said. Film, you said. Kitty, remember what *we* did to Dark Damsel?" He paused for a long moment to let that sink in. "With pictures and film? When you take her in, you be very sure."

Rebecca lowered her gaze, remembering. It wasn't something she was proud of, now.

"So, Rebecca, are you up for a little sparring?"

Rebecca's eyes narrowed a touch at the unexpected use of her name, but understanding came immediately.

"No, I'm on duty. I just dropped by to say hello . . . Oh, hi, Renee. You look more relaxed now."

"A little, I guess," Renee admitted. "Thanks for the workout, William. Gotta go."

"I'll walk with you a ways. Better than staying here. Someone we both know could use a shower, too, if you know what I mean." The three laughed and the two women ascended the stairs leaving a thoughtful William behind them. Finally he shrugged and headed for the showers.

Police Commissioner Delcourt was fuming inwardly. Outwardly he was the picture of patience. It took a lot of will-power. He hated press conferences with a passion, especially those which tended to try and make the department look bad. This was one of those.

"Don't you feel it is time to rethink the HCPD's policy with regards people like Dark Damsel?" The newswoman had that sarcastic tone which delivered an entirely different message to her viewers than the question would seem to. Delcourt hated that, too.

"The Hub City Police Department's policy is to accept tips and help from all the citizens of the city. Which part of that do you find distasteful, Ms Frankel?"

"Are you denying that the Police Department doesn't have a cozy relationship with the vigilante known as Dark Damsel?"

Delcourt pulled out a sheaf of papers from under the podium. He held it out to her. Frankel took the papers and looked at the list. "What is this supposed to mean?" she asked.

"That, Ms Frankel, is the list of the crimes which were solved with the help of Dark Damsel. It is pretty impressive, don't you agree?" Without awaiting an answer he continued, knowing that what he was about to say would get him in deep trouble. "And how many crimes have *you* helped us solve? The only one that comes to mind is when, with your editorials, you almost helped to convict an innocent man. You had the whole city up in arms and it is surprising that Jenkowitz was able to get a fair trial." Frankel's face grew hard. "If I'm not mistaken, it was Dark Damsel who found the real killer, who is now serving a life sentence in the pen. Perhaps that is why you are so determined to convict Dark Damsel without a trial. Well, Ms Frankel?" The Department would never get another objective story from KATY-TV, Delcourt thought ruefully, but it had been worth it.

"What *is* the Department doing about the Dark Damsel situation?" The speaker was James Lestor, of the Hub City Free Press. A voice of reason.

"We have asked Dark Damsel to come in and explain her side of the story. If she doesn't show up voluntarily, we will be forced to insist."

"Five people have been injured in her robberies," Ms Frankel called out. "Will your officers have orders to shoot on sight?"

Delcourt blew up. "We are the Police," he shouted back, "not a lawless lynch mob! We don't shoot anyone on sight," he glared at her, "no matter how much we might wish to."

"Have you heard from her?" It was Lestor again, steering the conversation back towards sanity.

"Yes." There was a stir in the crowd. "She sent us an e-mail stating that she is not the one who perpetrated the crimes. Someone, she says, is impersonating her." Let them chew on that for a bit.

"Do you believe this?" It was Lestor again.

"There is an ongoing investigation. It is certainly something we will be looking at." Delcourt smiled at the crowd of newspeople though he hardly felt like smiling at all. "Thank you all for coming. I'm afraid that is all the hard news I have for you. Anything else would simply be speculation and I *know* you don't want to convey that to your audiences, do you?" He looked directly at Ms Frankel as he said that, which was not lost on the others there. Frankel shot him a look of pure hatred. He smiled benignly at her, turned and left the stage.

Once out of the room he breathed a sigh of relief. Then he cursed. If only Dark Damsel would see reason and come in. Her recalcitrance could only hurt her. Oh, well. On to more important things--family. Well, almost family. Renee Jimson, daughter of his old partner had come in to see him. Seeing her always brightened his day.

This was no exception. As he walked into his office there was a blur as Renee ran to him and hugged him.

"Oof! What was that all about? Not that I object, mind you, I just want to know so I can do it again," he laughed.

"We saw you on the monitor and I thought you were just wonderful!" Renee gave him another little hug.

"We?" Delcourt looked around and saw Officer Nasturant standing respectfully at attention. He waved her to a chair, extricated himself from Renee and stepped behind his desk. he stood behind his own chair and looked at the two of them.

"Well, what did you think . . . really?"

"Sir, you certainly put Ms Frankel in her place, but was it really wise?

"No, Officer, it wasn't." He looked at her soberly for a minute, then grinned, "but it felt so good." He allowed himself to revel in it for a moment then turned to Renee.

"You were wonderful," she told him again.

"Then you feel that Dark Damsel is innocent," he stated.

"Yes. After all she's done I think more people could give her the benefit of the doubt."

"And you don't think so." This was directed at Rebecca Nasturant who had looked coldly at Renee while she talked.

"It wouldn't be the first time someone like her has turned bad. A successful criminal in her league would make a lot more money than a bounty hunter." Rebecca looked pointedly at Renee when she said that last.

Delcourt didn't want a fight breaking out in his office.

"Well, I guess you two can agree to disagree. Officially, however, as police, we can only go on what evidence we unearth. Right now it isn't looking good for Dark Damsel. If only she'd come in and talk to us."

"You know she can't do that, Uncle Teddy," Renee objected. "If she did, you would have to unmask her and that would be the end of Dark Damsel, innocent or guilty."

"Perhaps," Delcourt reluctantly admitted. "Unfortunately there will be people who will listen to that Frankel women, some who will think that it is open season on Dark Damsel and some who will shoot on sight, given the chance. But enough of that. You came to accompany me to lunch, not so? Good. Let's go eat."

"You look upset, Kitty," Bill murmured as he stroked her bare thigh. She shivered as his hand crept higher, under her skirt. His lips were lightly brushing over her neck and it was all she could do to concentrate on what he was saying.

"Oh, god, you bastard, quit teasing." She turned her head and captured his lips with her own. Then it was a battle of the tongues as he rolled over on top of her, his hand finding its target, fingers drumming a light tattoo over her engorged lower lips.

Kitty grabbed the hair at the back of his head and pulled his face tight against her own even as her hips began to rock with his ministrations. She had lost her underwear early on in the mock battle and now she gasped as a lovely finger pressed into her. Kitty immediately let go of his hair and went limp on the bed, her arms slipping over his bare back and falling to the mattress.

"You have ravished me, sir," she wailed. "The victory is yours . . . I am yours. Take me; do with me as you will."

Bill laughed at her antics. "Somehow I feel that I'm going to do with you as *you* will, you little vixen." He withdrew his finger to taste his victory, then began peeling off his pants even as Kitty began working the buttons on her blouse.

Her blouse was scarcely undone when Bill pounced on the snap of her bra, opening it up and exposing her breasts. At once his mouth dove for one, capturing the nipple and working it until it stood proud, then moving over to the other. He growled at her half-hearted attempt to protect the nipple and bit it lightly eliciting a whimper from her.

Her hands were stroking his head, her own head bent back, throat exposed. Moments later he was nuzzling her, moving up until his cock had found her warm portal. He raised himself on his hands and looked down at her, gazing into her eyes, then down her neck to her chest and down to the breasts which he so enjoyed molesting.

Kitty's eyes widened momentarily, then the lids lazily closed even as her lips made that perfect 'Oh' and he was in her.

They made love slowly, tenderly until neither of them could wait any longer, then it was hard and fast and wild. Kitty cried out and Bill stopped holding back, coming soon after. He collapsed on her.

A long minute later he recovered sufficiently to roll them over. Kitty laid her head on his chest.

"I'm going to have to take her in," she whispered, answering the question he had asked so long ago.

"Something happened?"

"I was tailing her last night. She lost me and less than an hour later Dark Damsel pulled another job . . . just three blocks from where she lost me."

Bill pushed the hair back away from her face and looked her in the eyes. "You won't be able to take her if she doesn't want to be taken. She's faster, stronger and more skilled than you are. Even if you get the drop on her I would lay odds that she'd be able to overcome you . . . unless, that is, you intend to shoot, and somehow I can't see you being able to do that."

"I know, Bill. And you're right. I don't think I'd be able to shoot her. No matter what she's doing now, I can't forget that she saved my life. She and Minx risked their lives for me, Ray and the boys." Kitty pursed her lips, then made her decision. "But you can take her without hurting her."

Bill nodded slowly. "I thought this is where you were leading. Yes, she good, much better than last time we fought. However, I could still take her." He searched her face. "You are sure about this?"

"I'm sure."

"And you want me for a partner 'cause you're afraid that one of your own people might pull the trigger." He nodded as he saw confirmation in her eyes. "Okay, little one, we'll go and get us a Dark Damsel. Day after tomorrow is Hallowe'en. You're working with Ray until five, right?"

"Right."

"Seeing it's Hallowe'en, nobody will think anything if I go in a disguise. I'll meet you there right at five. Then we go pay a visit to Renee."

Kitty grinned suddenly. "I'll be in disguise, too. The cops at the Garage are having a little Hallowe'en party after work."

Bill groaned.

"What is it?"

"I can just see it now--the headlines: Wicked Witch of the West and Daffy Duck take on Dark Damsel. Gruesome Twosome fight Femme Fatale in fight of the . . . aieee, stop it!"

Kitty dug her fingers into Bill's ribs and began tickling him. He fought back, rolling over her and trapping her under his weight. He grabbed her hands and held them against the mattress over her head, then smiled as he felt himself growing hard once more as she wiggled under him most fetchingly.

"Now, you pay for that," he growled.

Kitty spread her legs a little wider. "Good!"

Colleen looked up at Sean, satisfaction written all over her face.

"Then everything is arranged."

"Everything is exactly as you want it. Are you sure you want to take this chance? I think it is foolhardy to play games with Dark Damsel. Better to just finish it quickly without going into these theatrics."

Colleen tossed her head back and laughed. "But I *love* theatrics, Sean. Besides, after it is over, Shamrock will have the cops eating out of her hand. We'll be sitting pretty."

Sean sighed. "Okay, Colleen. This one is all yours." He looked at his watch. "Time to start it."

Everything had gone as planned. The gang had hit the drug dealers just as the exchange had been made. They ripped them off for both the cash and the drugs, leaving the dealers and their associates dead on the floor of the warehouse.

Calhoun laughed as they exited the building. "What did I tell you, smooth as a baby's bottom. Now we go into business for ourselves with no one the wiser!"

"You're going nowhere, but to jail!" The woman's voice rang from out of the darkness. The gang pulled their silenced guns and looked around. A figure stepped out of the shadows and four guns were emptied into her. The last faint plop had just faded when a laugh from behind them had them whipping around.

Three pillars of smoke erupted in front of them and a woman wearing a light grey catsuit sprang from the left hand one and struck the man closest to her. He was unconscious before he hit the ground. The other three turned to face this menace, pulling knives as they did.

"Naughty boys," came the voice with a soft Irish lilt.

"We'll show you naughty, lady," Calhoun told her. "Two hours from now and you'll be begging for . . ."

Without waiting for him to finish his threat, Shamrock tossed another smoke bomb. The three scattered as something in the smoke irritated their eyes and lungs. Coughing, one of them didn't even notice the sap as it came down on the back of his head.

Calhoun wiped the tears from his eyes just in time to see his partner going down. "I'll get you, bitch," he cursed, then screamed as Shamrock turned like lightning and caught him between the legs with a kick.

He lay huddled, grasping himself when he felt her presence above him. She leaned down and gave him a light kiss on the cheek. "And you make four. Hardly even a work-out."

Renee lay back on her bed and turned on the 11 p.m. news. After the national reports, a film clip from SMU-TV was shown. SMU-TV was UHF-69, a trashy station with a bad reputation. Renee wondered that the staid HCTV would show anything from them.

"So," the anchor concluded, "it seems that the Hub City has a new costumed hero. She did not give her name, but she stayed on the scene long enough to give us the following."

Renee sat bolt upright. It was Shamrock. Even though the picture only showed her from shoulders up, Renee knew. She'd never forget that face.

"These thugs thought it would be a good idea to go into the drug trade," Shamrock snarled. "They killed six men. Granted those six were scum, but these four are worse. They stole drugs in order to sell them to children in our schools. *I* will not stand for this." She glared at the men being led away by police officers, then turned back to the camera. "I've come to this city to live. I don't like crime lowering the joy of that living. Where there is crime you can be sure I'll be found fighting it.

"And, speaking of criminals, I understand that the villain known as Dark Damsel has been running free and clear. No longer. This city isn't big enough for the both of us. Tomorrow on SMU-TV's early news I'll have a message for Dark Damsel. I think Hallowe'en is a good time to take that costumed phony off the streets for good. Rest easy, folks, soon she'll be in the hands of the Hub City Police Force."

Renee cursed. That bitch! Someone would be in the hands of the Hub City Police Department, all right, and that someone would be Shamrock.

*Chapter 9*

The morning was bright and clear. The weather forecaster told of record warmth to come. Sunday October 31st. Hallowe'en. The city would be alive with parties and costumed party-goers. Many of those costumed would be in the guise of Dark Damsel. It would be the perfect time for the real Dark Damsel to be out and about, for how would the police be able to tell one Dark Damsel from the next? They wouldn't be able to, Renee decided.

So, Dark Damsel would prowl the streets once more and she'd find Shamrock and make her pay. Renee looked at her stuffed Tiger.

"It's going to be a good night, Nietzsche," she told him. "Today I'm going to put and end to it all and then we'll be able to get back to our lives. How's that sound?"

Nietzsche, as usual merely looked upon her, holding whatever he was thinking inside. He was a good companion, Renee thought. Never complained and never told her she was mistaken. She stretched out her muscles and began her morning exercises. Today would be the day.

Rebecca Nasturant sat in her car opposite Renee Jimson's apartment building. She'd already been there an hour and she was prepared to be there as long as it took.

Why Renee would turn to a life of crime, Rebecca didn't know. All she knew was that someone had to stop her before she killed. And that someone would be her--and Bill, of course. And today would be the day.

Rebecca didn't know what the new costumed heroine had in mind and she didn't care. The woman with the light Irish lilt to her voice would be too late. Besides, the last thing the Hub City needed was another costumed vigilante. They'd had Dark Damsel, and look how she'd turned out in the end.

No, it was time. Today would be the day. She stiffened. Renee Jimson stepped out the front door and began walking down the street towards the subway station. Rebecca slipped from the car and began to follow her. There was no way the Officer was going to lose her. This would be her day.

Colleen O'Brien looked in the mirror and smiled a wicked smile. Today would be the start of her campaign to regain chairmanship of the Organization. First she would bring in Dark Damsel and regain her membership. Then she would use Sean and his Irish Gang to back her play in unseating that bitch Royale. They would make good little storm-troopers.

It was also the last day she'd have to let Sean take her ass. It was humiliating. She'd never had such trouble leading a man before. But Sean was something else. He never gave an inch. And every night--and most mornings--he'd insist in putting it to Colleen right where she didn't want it.

Trouble was, he was good. She was starting to enjoy it, which angered her all the more. Colleen took a deep breath and relaxed. It didn't matter any more. Today was the day. Today it all ended and today it all began. She smiled at Sean who woke up and whistled at her. She knew she looked good. She was just itching for the showdown with Dark Damsel. Everything was prepared. All she had to do was do it.

"Come here lassie," Sean told her, forgetting to put on his Irish accent. "I'm hot and I'm ready."

Colleen smiled brightly, but the smile didn't touch her eyes. She needed Sean now, but later . . .

Obediently, Colleen got on the bed, positioned herself on hands and knees, then lowered upper body to the mattress. She reached back and spread her cheeks for him, enjoyed the feel of his finger lubing her, then grunted as he slowly pushed his way up her ass.

Soon he was moving in and out at speed and she reached between her legs and began to stroke herself. It felt so good and the rhythm of the trusts along with her finger was driving her ever higher. She thought of the tape she'd made Megan give her. Thought of how, after Diane had whipped the poor blonde's ass until it was a lovely red, Diane had cinched up the strap-on, then moved the camera until it caught the action from the side.

Diane had turned Megan's face to the camera, and the gagged woman had closed her eyes in resignation after her headshake was ignored. Tears appeared and ran down, soaking the sheet, then Megan's eyes snapped open as Diane forcefully thrust into her.

Colleen had been surprised at Diane's endurance; had laughed at the tears; had, above all, enjoyed the unknowing non-consensual taking of Megan. Remembering, she laughed between grunts as Sean stepped up the pace again.

Colleen was on fire. She was going to go over. All it would take was one more feeling. She pictured Dark Damsel, forced to take it up the rear, just as she was now being taken up the rear. And she felt the power she would feel, the victory as she, like Diane, abused a tied-down whimpering woman.

She screamed and collapsed. Sean roared out his victory a few strokes later and let himself go on top of her.

"That was a good one," Sean murmured in her ear when he had recovered somewhat.

"A good one," Colleen agreed, somewhat surprised at the fact that she was telling the truth. "It'll be better after tonight," she promised, and received a warm pat on her ass as Sean arose and headed for the shower. A few minutes later she followed him.

"Are we all ready for the courier?" she asked as she entered the shower behind him.

"Don't you think you should be concentrating on Dark Damsel?"

"Just one more daylight job by 'Dark Damsel' to remove the last of the feeling this city has for her. Then they'll welcome their savior, 'Shamrock'," Colleen laughed malevolently.

"As you wish. It's your day."

"Today is going to be a good one," Colleen agreed.

She would need to be at the top of her form, Renee thought. Odds were that Shamrock would have some nasty tricks up her sleeve, and likely some back up as well. It wouldn't hurt for her to have some back-up as well, she decided. She went over the list in her mind. Of all her possible choices, only Minx was a likely candidate. The police would simply arrest her.

She headed for William's dojo. A good light workout was needed to get her ready. She contemplated William, but how could she ask his help without revealing her identity as Dark Damsel? And, even if she could do that, would he believe her innocent? No, it wasn't worth the risk, even though she needed him.

"Hi, William. Glad you could accommodate me," she greeted him.

William gave a short bow, but something about his eyes seemed guarded. Perhaps he'd had some bad news in his personal life, Renee thought.

The sparring went well. She felt light and strong. A good day for a fight. A good day for Dark Damsel to repay Shamrock for the indignities suffered by Renee Jimson. She and William bowed to each other and stood for a few moments discussing her training. Renee looked up at the clock meaningfully and William nodded, picking up an apple from a basket of fruit. Renee smiled her thanks to him and headed for the showers just as the telephone rang.

Something occurred to her and she turned back, reaching the office door just after William had picked up.

"No," he was saying, "you haven't lost her. She's here." The apple in his mouth changed his voice in a way that Renee thought she'd heard before.

Renee froze and backed up a step to be out of his sight.

"Yes, Kitty, I still think you are wrong, but I'll be there for you."

Renee stumbled backwards not able to think. That voice! Kitty! "Oh, no," she whispered, and grabbed at her bag, "it just couldn't be . . ."

Renee took the stairs two at a time. She'd shower at her hideout. She'd not stay another second here.

Some minutes later, in the shower, tears began running down her face. There was no doubt about it. William could be none other than 'The Photographer', the man who had abused Dark Damsel to teach her a lesson. That meant that Rebecca was Kitty.

And she'd thought of them as friends. How they must have been laughing at her! She'd never felt so betrayed in all her life. Slowly the tears stopped. It didn't matter. She'd have to go on, regardless. Deal with Shamrock, then figure out what she was going to do about Rebecca and William.

Royale put her feet up on the desk and leaned backwards. This was it, the last day for O'Brien to get Dark Damsel. And, after her failure, she would be reeled in to face the wrath of the Organization in the person of Royale. Finally her long standing resentment of the smaller woman would be allowed full rein. Colleen was definitely not going to enjoy her life after she was brought in.

Royale reviewed the announcement which 'Shamrock' had made on TV. She knew Colleen and had studied Dark Damsel. Colleen did not have the skill to come out on top in a face to face match. She would have to use cunning and foul play. It didn't matter. One way or another, Colleen would lose, then she would belong to Royale.

Royale smiled contentedly as she considered that. It had been fun using Colleen on the day of her punishment. This would be even better.

There being no business of note for the Chairman, pro tem, Royale relaxed into her chair, pushed a button on her remote and settled in to watch the edited tape of Colleen's punishment once again.

She snickered as she watched herself whip the redheaded bitch. "That's just a taste of things to come, just a taste," she chuckled to the empty room. She glanced up at the clock. It was going to be a day of anticipation. A good day.

"Megan, why?" Diane asked.

"I just have to leave town, Diane. Don't ask any questions. You really don't want to know the answers to them." Megan wiped the tears from Diane's face and kissed her gently.

"If this has anything to do with the other day . . ."

"No, Diane," Megan said gently, "it has nothing to do with that. I'm glad you had fun with me. I'm glad I was able to experience the other side . . . and that you were, too."

Diane looked even more confused. "Then why . . ."

"Diane, please." Megan turned back to the files and made notations where notations were needed. "You'll be fine. You know as much about the business as I do. And I'll send you designs and such over the internet. It'll all work out fine."

"But you won't be here."

Megan looked up as Diane choked back a sob. That bitch Lucy, aka Colleen, she thought. But it wasn't safe to stay, she couldn't stay. Not with what she knew. Colleen would be sure to make it safe for herself and there was only one way in which that could be accomplished. She looked around the shop with regret. It had taken her years to build up a clientele, taken her years to make this place pay. Now that she was finally on the way up, Colleen was taking it all away from her. It wasn't fair. She looked at the clock. Not much time to wrap it all up. Her plane left at 11:00. Eight hours. Eight long hours. It was a bad day.

"No, I won't be here. But Suzanne will. She'll need you and I'll still need you. The business must go on." Megan paused and let out a deep sigh. "Let's not talk about it any more."

"Let's turn on the Channel 69," Diane suggested. "I'd like to see what that redhead is going to do about Dark Damsel, and the early news is on at 4:30."

"Redhead?"

The courier looked out of the airport limousine window, up to the digital clock on the corner of Main and 10th. It read 3:02. He was precisely on time. He exited the car and began the short walk to the hotel.

From seemingly out of nowhere he was struck a blow which sent him reeling. His hand went into his coat and came out with a revolver, but a kick sent that it spinning and him falling. He rolled over quickly and was on his way to his feet when a kick caught him in the ribs, flipping him over.

For the first time he saw his attacker. It was a raven haired woman in the costume the recognized as Dark Damsel's. She laughed at his astonishment and kicked him in the jaw. People in the street were shocked by the sudden violence, shocked at what they were seeing.

The man in the van could read their faces. It was clear that they hadn't believed the stories about Dark Damsel. Now that proof was right in front of them, they were having to reassess what they thought they knew and no one liked being faced with proof that they had been wrong.

He turned his gaze back to the confrontation. It was over. The man lay bleeding on the sidewalk and Dark Damsel was removing the cuff which held the briefcase to his wrist. She gave him a final kick for good measure then loped to the van.

"Wasn't that a bit much?" Sean asked her as they sped off. He glanced at his watch. Two minutes was all it had taken. Two violent minutes.

"An object lesson and the more angry the public is at Dark Damsel, the more readily Shamrock will be accepted," the false Dark Damsel grinned at Sean and ducked down where she couldn't be seen from outside.

Colleen removed the cowl and wig as he drove. She then removed the rest of the costume and began to dress as 'Shamrock'. She was just brushing out her red hair when the van turned into the underground parking at the Hub City Hotel. She put on an long coat and grinned at the driver. "Almost there, Sean, almost there."

The two of them exited the van, went up to the lobby, out through the front door and crossed the street. Colleen looked up as they crossed.

"It's there," Sean confirmed. "Should be almost invisible, though."

Ray Barton looked up as Rebecca Nasturant burst in on him, out of breath. He grinned at her.

"Well, I hope your day of snooping around was profitable. You'll have to tell me about it sometime." He looked her up and down and whistled appreciatively. "So, Catwoman, are you ready to go to the party? I knew I should have gone as Batman, but what you see is what you get." He stood and turned around for her, picking up a white Stetson and placing it on his head as he did."

"Where's Tonto?" Rebecca asked, looking as if she wanted to say more, but was unable to.

Ray wondered what she had been doing. She was supposed to have been helping him with his anti-crime Web Page, but had begged him for time off to do a little detective work. Ah, well, she'd tell him sooner or later, he supposed. "Tonto couldn't make it, but I'd be more than happy to go with Catwoman on my arm," he suggested lightly, but the slight husk in his voice game him away and Rebecca's eyes widened just a little before she caught herself. Before she could speak, however, he jumped for the little TV which perched on the file cabinet. "It's 4:30. Time to watch smut TV."

The TV flickered to life.

"And here is the early news on SMU-TV," the announcer said. "At the top of the news is an interview with Hub City's latest crime-fighter. We have her issuing a challenge to Dark Damsel. Dark Damsel, as we all know, has turned bad, spawning a crime-wave of tsunami proportions. Let's go now to Dave, our intrepid reporter."

"It is a pleasure to meet you in person," the reporter sucked up to the masked and costumed woman. "What should I call you?"

"Thank-you, Dave. The name is Shamrock, and I have a message for Dark Damsel, current terror of the Hub City. Dark Damsel: You are a coward and a fraud. I will meet you alone 650 more and three blocks less than our last meeting. I will be alone. If you haven't the guts to meet me, know this: I will then hunt you down with all the resources at my disposal. If you meet me and are victorious, I'll let you be. Be there at 5 p.m. The doors will be open for you."

"Wow! That's pretty strong stuff," Dave gushed. "Do you think Dark Damsel will rise to the challenge?"

"She may be a coward, but she'll come. She'll have to in order to be able to feel safe in the future. But don't you worry. I'm better than she is and when I'm finished with her I'll hand her over to the police. I'll not have someone like Dark Damsel ruin the city where I live!"

"Thank you, Shamrock."

"Yes," the anchor repeated, "Thank you, Shamrock. That message was taped last night, and the two should be meeting in about 30 minutes from now. Shamrock has agreed to another interview afterwards, so don't change stations."

Ray Barton was pale as he turned off the little television. He began quickly searching through a notebook. At that moment there was a knock on the door and Green Lantern appeared.

"Hi, William." Rebecca introduced the two men. "Ray (Lone Ranger) Barton, this is my dear friend William, aka Green Lantern."

Ray looked up. "Sorry guys, I think I can figure out where Dark Damsel is going to be in half an hour, so I'll have to miss the party."

"We're going with you," Rebecca told him. Ray looked up, hearing the determination in her voice. Her face was set; she would brook no interference. He considered for two seconds, then nodded.

Dark Damsel had heard the broadcast. She looked up the address of the Clarke building. To it she added 650. That would make it 990 and the Clarke building was on 15th. Less three made the address 990-12th Street. Opposite the Hub City Hotel, she realized. She glanced at her clock. Time to be gone.

On her motorbike Dark Damsel felt conspicuous and vulnerable. The police were after her. Her meeting with Minx had been less than auspicious. Perhaps an alley-way wasn't the best place to talk, but Minx had turned her down flat. Didn't want to be involved with a criminal, she'd told Dark Damsel shortly, before turning and walking away.

Hurt, Dark Damsel had walked back to her bike in a fog, not seeing the watchful eyes of a not so drunk bum who was pretending to take the odd swig from a paper bag.

Alone.

The rage built in her, chasing away all the feelings of vulnerability. Shamrock had put her in this position and Shamrock would pay for it. With cold anger driving her she pulled up in front of 990-12th.

The building should have been all locked up on a Sunday, but the doors, as promised, were open. She stepped through them cautiously and looked around. The guard's kiosk was empty. She walked over and looked inside. A man in a guard's uniform lay on the floor, unconscious. He was breathing, so Dark Damsel turned and went to the bank of elevators. One was propped open, with a neatly written sign inside.

"DARK DAMSEL: The roof."

She considered taking the stairs, but decided that walking up 15 flights wouldn't be a good prelude to a fight. Instead, she stepped inside, turned the key which had locked the elevator open and pressed the button for the top floor. She breathed slowly and deeply.

Dark Damsel exited the elevator and crossed to the stairs. The landing was empty. She slowly mounted the final flight to the roof. No traps were evident. The door at the top was unlocked and swung open silently on well oiled hinges. As it started to close again, Dark Damsel dived through, somersaulting and returning to her feet in an eyeblink. Nothing.

Suddenly there were three light explosions and three columns of smoke rose on the roof. Through one of them stepped Shamrock. She had a wide smile on her face.

"Welcome to Hell, Dark Damsel!"

*Chapter 10*

"For crying out loud, Lennie, get it set up. We're almost out of time."

"Cut me some slack, Dori, I'm doing the best I can." Which meant the best that anyone at SMU-TV could do, for he was the best there. He glanced up at the blonde, who had her hair pulled back in a severe bun. Her face was hard and impatient. Lennie knew what he'd like to do to change that expression, but it would never happen. Not with Miss Icicle 1999.

"How're things over there, Tom?" Dori spoke into her headset. "Good, good." She looked at her watch. "Any minute now. What?" She laughed raucously. "Lennie, Tom thinks we should let the cops know."

Lennie grinned as he turned the camera on it's stand and adjusted the focus to the roof exit of the neighbouring building. "Ready here, Dori," he sang out. "What, and lose our exclusive. This could be the big time for all of us. Pulitzer Prize material!" From the look of avarice on Dori's face, Lennie knew that he'd pegged it exactly. She was itching to move up. He looked down off the balcony to the alley far below. Seventeen stories down. One story above the building across the way. Beautiful.

Dori glared at the microphone on the camera. "If only Shamrock hadn't specified no sound. We could have rigged a few microphones on the roof over there. All we'll get from here are any shouts. Damn."

The phone rang and Dori picked it up immediately.

"Yes? Yes, chief, it is all set up. Just awaiting the contestants. How's the picture coming in over there? Good? Don't worry, we won't let you down." She scowled at Lennie as she said that. He turned back to the camera and made a few last minute adjustments. She replaced the phone on its cradle and began pacing.

"What is it?" Dori glared at her cameraman who was eying her speculatively.

"There are microphones and then there are microphones."

Dori stopped pacing and gave him her full attention. "If you know something, spit it out," she ordered.

"I have a friend who specializes in, uh, spy gadgetry. He has a directional microphone system that could pick up their voices, no problem."

"Shit! It's a little late now." Dori looked out the balcony door, past him to the roof opposite. "I'd give my eye teeth for one of those."

"Even though Shamrock specified 'no sound'?"

"Ah, to hell with Shamrock. Another costumed do-gooder. Pfaa!"

Lennie pulled a briefcase out from his stuff, looking Dori in the eye as he did it. Her eyes widened and he smiled. She *knew*.

"Set it up!" She was almost hopping up and down in her excitement. She calmed as he made no motion to do so. She tilted her head and considered him. "Of course. If this goes as I think it will, I'll be moving on. I'll take you with me and we'll both be done with SMU-TV."

"Not enough."

"Then what?"

"What you said, plus," Lennie paused dramatically, "plus you, there," he pointed at the bed.

Dori looked at him, eyes narrowed and Lennie shivered involuntarily. She could be a real bitch. He stood there, not moving.

"What the fuck are you waiting for? Set it up!"

Lennie scrambled to open the case and began to piece together the device.

"Just make sure you get it, pal."

"Oh, I'll get it all right, lady, then you'll get it, too."

Dori laughed, but Lennie could put no meaning to the laugh. She sobered. "A deal is a deal, but--assuming what we get is worth it, and I'll decide that--you'll have to wait until after I interview the victor in the street. And not a fucking word to Shamrock about the eavesdropping until after the interview."

"Done and done. Shit!" Lennie looked up just in time to see Dark Damsel come flying out of the door. "You'll have to look after the camera until I get this thing set up."

Dori nodded.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," she spoke into her headset, "as as special treat, here we are . . . somewhere in the Hub City, where Dark Damsel has made her appearance. We are now just waiting . . . whoa! Look at that. And there she is: Shamrock! In an exclusive SMU-TV presentation, we have, live, the fight of the year: Shamrock against Dark Damsel. Shamrock is speaking to Dark Damsel even as the smoke is drifting away and the Damsel looks pretty upset.

"As you know, Dark Damsel has seemingly turned to crime and Shamrock has vowed to bring her in. Oh! Look at that kick. There's no love lost here. Shamrock is getting up quickly but the Damsel is on her." Dori switched off the mike. "Hurry up, Lennie."

"Almost there."

Dori cursed to herself as she tried to keep the moving combatants in focus.

"And Dark Damsel has her arms around Shamrock, squeezing her from behind. Ladies and gentlemen, we are working on getting you sound."

Shamrock cursed and tried to kick back against the Damsel's legs, but Dark Damsel was having none of that.

"I'm going to take you down, hard," Dark Damsel grunted in Shamrock's ear, hanging on as the shorter redhead bucked and and twisted in her grip. There was no way she was letting the bitch go.

It couldn't end like this, Shamrock thought to herself. She had to get free. Free enough to do what she had to do. Even though she had to acknowledge that Dark Damsel was the better fighter, she had tricks enough to make up for it--if she could get loose.

Shamrock swung her head back and nailed Dark Damsel on the cowl. She let go and the two scrambled apart and faced each other again.

Even though shaken up, Dark Damsel pressed the attack. She grinned evilly as she realized that Shamrock really was no match for her. A punch got through, catching Shamrock square between the breasts, rocking the villain backwards. A pillar of smoke appeared between them as Shamrock dropped one of her little tricks.

Dark Damsel reached into her pouch and picked out a pair of filters which she placed in her nostrils. No sleepy gas for her.

"Whoops!" The Damsel just had time to brace herself as Shamrock came back through the clearing smoke in a flying leap which sent them both tumbling to the roof.

Dark Damsel was first up and her kick knocked Shamrock's legs from under her, sending her sprawling once more.

"Atta girl, Dark Damsel," Royale cheered as she leaned back in her chair and watched on her large television. "Ummm, yes!" She spread her legs a little further as her latest favourite sought to please the Chairman of the Organization. The tonguing stopped for a moment.

"And I'll get to use Colleen, too?" the kneeling blonde asked.

"Of course, dear. I know how she used your talents then discarded you. Payback is something I believe in. Now, please, back to work. Ah, yesss."

Two cars screeched to a halt outside the Harris building. By-standers were amused to see the costumed band which leaped out. Catwoman, the Lone Ranger, Green Lantern, Robin Hood, the Tin Man and Friar Tuck ran quickly towards the main entrance. They came to a halt as Minx stepped round the building to meet them.

"This has got to be it, assuming Dark Damsel gave me the correct information about the first fight she had with Shamrock," Ray Barton was saying, as the group rushed up the steps.

"Minx!" Rebecca came to a quick stop as the garishly painted face came around the corner. The blonde greeted them cautiously.

"I assume you're here for the same reason I am. Well, I'll tell you right now that you'll have to go through me to get to Dark Damsel." She glared at the six costumed people confronting her, knowing that she would lose, but Dark Damsel would get the time she needed.

Shamrock had been on the defensive ever since the battle started. It was time, she decided to make an end of it. She backed away from Dark Damsel, dropped another smoke grenade, turned and ran towards the door.

Dark Damsel, not wanting to lose Shamrock, held her breath, just in case, and plunged through the smoke. There was Shamrock, at the door, watching. Then Shamrock was smiling and advancing once again.

Dark Damsel felt a little funny, but she hadn't breathed in any of the gas.

Shamrock threw a punch which Dark Damsel tried to block, but her reaction time had somehow gone to hell. The punch caught her on the shoulder. A kick similarly got through her defenses and doubled her over. A follow-up sent her crashing to the roof where Shamrock jumped her.

"Fool," she breathed in the Damsel's ear, "that was nerve gas you walked through. Doesn't need to be inhaled. Gets you right through the skin. By the way, you're on Candid Camera!"

Dark Damsel heard a tearing sound as Shamrock cut through her costume in the middle of her back. It was just a small cut.

"The agent wears off fairly quickly, so I have a patch here, just like those nicotine patches, that will feed you a constant stream of the agent. You'll be punchy for an hour or two and it'll get a little worse as time goes on. You're mine, bitch." With that Shamrock pulled the patch off of her own costume, where it had been hidden in plain sight, and slipped inside Dark Damsel's costume, pressing it on in the middle of her back, where the Damsel would be unable to get at it easily.

Dark Damsel put everything into throwing Shamrock off and was a little surprised at how easy it was. Then she realized that Shamrock was playing with her, wanting it to seem as if she had bested Dark Damsel in a fair fight. The nerve agent kicked in and Dark Damsel found her movements getting more jerky as she got to her feet and prepared to defend herself the best she could.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, it looks like Shamrock really connected there! Dark Damsel is down and . . . no, wait, she's thrown off Shamrock." Dori looked over to where Lennie had finally set up the mike. It looked like a parabolic dish antenna. He plugged the output into the camera.

"I'll take over now. Just keep the mike pointed at them."

Dori sat down in the chair and gave a quick look at the mike. She found there was an aiming device on it and pointed it at the fighters. She was surprised at the quality of the sound.

"We have sound now, Ladies and Gentlemen. You'll be able to hear, for yourselves the action. Ow! That's gotta hurt." The sound of the open handed slap to Dark Damsel's face came through clearly.

"Dark Damsel is clearly hurting. She's moving more and more erratically. Soon she'll be in the hands of the Police." Dori quit her commentary as Dark Damsel's voice came through clearly.

"I don't understand. Why the vendetta?" Dark Damsel was in the en garde position. Shamrock swept in and the Damsel was able to block only the first two of the three blows Shamrock aimed at her. But the Damsel was still Dark Damsel, avenger. She rolled as she fell and swept Shamrock's feet out from under her.

"Ah!" Shamrock fell hard on her ass. She picked herself up and growled. "Why? Because you're a criminal, Dark Damsel, and I can't stand criminals!" She laughed sadistically, moving in and sweeping aside Dark Damsel's defenses. Her knee came up and caught Dark Damsel in the belly, doubling her over.

Shamrock, presented with a doubled over Dark Damsel, planted one foot on her ass and shoved, hard. The Damsel went sprawling.

"Criminals have to be punished, Damsie, dear."

The Damsel was gasping for air as Shamrock sat on the middle of her back, facing her feet. She felt Shamrock pinch her costume, then pull it away from her skin. A familiar sound rent the air as Shamrock began cutting into the costume.

"Oh, god," Dark Damsel gasped out as she felt the cool air on her bare ass. Shamrock had made a wide cut across the top of her buttocks, then tapered it in towards her crotch. Her panties had been cut along with the costume and she felt them being pulled through her crotch and out.

For a moment Dori was at a loss as she saw Shamrock rise and wave the panties like a trophy. Dark Damsel's buns were in plain view as the woman struggled to her knees, then back to her feet, the flap of cloth hanging down between her legs.

"Oh, my," Dori recovered. "You heard Shamrock. 'Criminals have to be punished'. And unless I'm totally mistaken, Dark Damsel is going to get a good old-fashioned bare-bottomed paddling. And it is coming to you Live on SMU-TV.

"The Damsel looks like she's stunned. Oh! Shamrock just kicked her feet out from under her again and the Damsel is down. Look at those buns. What's Shamrock doing? She's walking away. No, she's coming back and she has a tote bag. No points for guessing what's inside. Better get your VCRs rolling. You'll not see anything like this again in a long time. And it's coming to you courtesy of SMU-TV.

"Look out! Shamrock's back is turned, she's reaching into the bag, and Dark Damsel is attacking. Did you hear that crack? Dark Damsel got her face slapped good! She's out of it. Shamrock has beaten her, fair and square. Well, Dark Damsel danced her dance, now it's time for her to pay the piper."

Dark Damsel tried to punch at Shamrock's gloating face, but her punch was caught and her wrist was cuffed. In a moment her other wrist was caught and Shamrock led her by the handcuffs in a small victory circle, then back to the tote bag. Dark Damsel stumbled after Shamrock, hoping somehow she could do something to gain the upper hand, or at least to escape.

A quarter-inch soft nylon rope was clipped to the middle link of the cuffs.

"You're going to love this, Damsie," Shamrock chortled as she pulled Dark Damsel's hands up and over her head, bringing them down behind her neck. The rope she passed between Dark Damsel's legs and up to her belt (bringing with it the flap of costume) where she jerked it tight and tied it off.

"A crotch-rope!" Dori exclaimed to her listeners. "Look at the Damsel's face. A picture is worth a thousand words . . ."

Lennie looked over at Dori. Crotch-rope? Was Dori interested in that sort of stuff. Most people wouldn't have a clue what it was called. He pursed his lips, considering. He turned quickly back to the camera as Dori began speaking again.

"Oh, my, oh, my! Look at what Shamrock is doing. She's carving into Dark Damsel's costume again. This time in front. It's show and tell, Dark Damsel. Whew! Nice set!"

Lennie looked up again. Dori was becoming less professional as time went on. He caught her absently tracing little circles with her finger around her nipple, which was making a nice little bump and showing plainly through her blouse. So much for promotion out of SMU-TV. Dori was making it clear that this was where she belonged.

Dori was right, though. Dark Damsel *did* have a nice set. He zoomed in on her breasts, nipples turgid in the cool air. He was glad he'd hooked his own recorder up to the camera. This would be a prized piece of tape. Who knew what the station would do? At the control room they might just show the least revealing camera and he knew Tom would be loathe to do what he was doing. Later he might never be able to get his hands on the tape.

He zoomed back out as Shamrock showed Dark Damsel off to the two cameras. With her hands behind her head, her breasts were pushed out, standing proud, and due to her jerky steps, they bounced. A lot of teenagers (and older) would be getting off on that.

"Yeow!"

The cry almost hurt his ears. Lennie zoomed out a little further and saw what he'd not seen before. Shamrock was holding Dark Damsel by the hair, pulling back her head with her left hand, while her right held a nasty little paddle. As he watched the paddle flashed up to contact Dark Damsel's bottom in a way that made her grunt and her breasts bounce even more.

The first crack had caught Dark Damsel by surprise and she let out a yell. After that she tried to keep a tighter rein on herself. It didn't help too much, but the volume decreased considerably. Shamrock was obviously enjoying this too much for it to end soon and her bottom was becoming more tender with each stroke.

She could feel her face burning as she jerkily stepped in a wide circle, propelled by the paddle and the grip on her hair.

"This is what happens to bad Dark Damsels," Shamrock smirked. "These [crack] are the wages of sin, Damsie!"

"But you know it wasn't me," Dark Damsel managed to grit out between swats.

Shamrock only laughed gleefully as yet another smack sent the Damsels buttocks and breasts bouncing. And with every step, the crotch-rope bit into her.

"I know, Damsie, I know. But *they* don't. And I think they--your public--will be impressed with what criminals get when there is a new defender of justice around. Just think of all those nice citizens, glued to their TVs as they watch your boobs and buns take a licking."

Dark Damsel groaned, then gave a yip as a particularly vicious swat caught her unawares.

"Why me?" Dark Damsel whimpered. She had to get Shamrock talking. The recorder in her pouch *had* to catch Shamrock out, otherwise everyone would believe that she had gone bad and if caught by the police it would be jail for Renee Jimson.

"Because you . . ." Shamrock stopped short. She turned the Damsel to face her. "It's too early. You haven't broken," she accused the tearful young woman. Shamrock's eyes narrowed, then she looked down, fumbled with the Damsel's pouch and withdrew something. Dark Damsel couldn't see what it was for her head was still being held back, but she *knew*.

"How clever. A tape recorder. Well, Damsie, the reason 'why you?' is because I hate criminals and you had the audacity to pretend to be a crime-fighter!" She laughed and dropped the microrecorder to the ground and stomped on it.

"You bitch. You cost me my place at the head of The Organization. So I'm taking you back to them. It'll be a coup and it'll impress those who need impressing. We'll even let you keep your costume, altered, of course. But anyone who wants you will get a piece of Dark Damsel's ass." Shamrock punctuated the words with nasty blows of the paddle and Dark Damsel leapt at every one. Her ass felt as if it were on fire.

"But the cops and the public . . . well, after you make your little 'escape' from me, they'll love Shamrock, take her to their collective bosom like the sheep they are. And, perhaps, every once in a while, 'Dark Damsel' will make an appearance, do a job and the public will be further convinced of the need for someone like Shamrock! I've had fun playing Dark Damsel, seeing the shock on the faces of people who trusted you. It'll be fun watching the revulsion later. And Shamrock, that fighter for justice, will go on fighting crime--crimes committed by those that the Organization wants out of the way."

Shamrock paused and held Dark Damsel in one spot while she worked over the red buttocks once again. Dark Damsel could no longer keep from crying out. The combination of pain and the humiliation of knowing she was getting her bare ass paddled on TV, with her bare breasts sticking out was just too much.

"Crying now, bitch? I've only just begun. I've a nice butt-plug all lubed and ready for you, and then over my knee for a nice bare-assed, bare-handed spanking. Then your costume comes off and all the world gets its first view of Dark Damsel unmasked. Only after that do you make your little 'escape'. Now, move!"

The pressure on the back of her head forced her towards the ventilator shaft. Behind it was a chair which Shamrock picked up and moved into position for the over-the-knee spanking. Dark Damsel wasn't paying attention to that, however. The jerkiness of her steps was evening out and she was feeling more and more in control of her body. Yet Shamrock had told her that the nerve agent patch would last a couple of hours, its effects becoming progressively worse as the dose increased.

Dark Damsel tested the fine control of her foot. Definitely improving. All she needed was a few more minutes and then, if Shamrock would just let go of her hair, she would show the redheaded bitch something she wouldn't expect.

"Did you hear that?" Dori was excited. "Shamrock has just confessed, on SMU-TV, that it was she who pulled the jobs dressed as Dark Damsel. She's confessed to being head of the shadowy Organization. And you heard it here!"

"Shit! Another one." William stopped Rebecca and Ray with an upheld hand.

"Where did he learn this stuff?" Ray asked Rebecca quietly.

"Armed Forces. Some special group. Won't talk about it."

The elevators had all been stopped at the top floor and wouldn't answer the call button. The two cops and William had gone to the stairs only to find a string across the second floor banisters carrying a sign reading "MINED". Those above were taking no chances on a quick police intervention.

William had ignored the sign and proceeded slowly and carefully. Sure enough, he'd run into three booby-traps which he'd disarmed. This was the fourth--and they were only half way to the top.

This was all just too good, Shamrock thought. Dark Damsel, the great Dark Damsel with tits and ass hanging out, ass red from the paddling she had given her. Well, Dark Damsel, this is just a start. By the time she was finished Damsie wouldn't be able to show her face, cowled or otherwise, in this City.

She'd be a wanted woman and everyone would know her face.

Shamrock wanted to just jump for the joy of it all. But first the butt-plug and the spanking. She let go of the thoroughly cowed Damsel's hair and reached for her tote bag.

"What?!"

The Damsel took her opportunity. She pulled her left arm over her head to the right and brought her two arms down together, gaining a little slack. Shamrock's eyes went wide, but not so wide as when Dark Damsel's fists, with the slack they'd gained from the crotch-rope, sank deep into her solar plexus. With a whoosh of exhaled breath Shamrock folded and fell to the rooftop.

"Wow! Did you see that? The Damsel is back in the fight! Shamrock is down and Dark Damsel is working on those handcuffs. They're off! I wouldn't want to be Shamrock right now, Ladies and Gents, no indeed."

Lennie zoomed in to film Dark Damsel stretching the crumpled Shamrock out. From her pouch she pulled a plastic tie, pulled Shamrocks right arm into a hammerlock, grabbed her left and crossed the powerless woman's wrists in the centre of her back. There she used the ties, one vertically and one horizontally to hold Shamrocks arms in the double hammerlock position. There was no way she would be able to do anything with them now.

He took the time to glance over to Dori who was still aiming the mike. She was clenching and unclenching her thighs as her fingers wandered ceaselessly about her breasts. The little vixen liked catfights, apparently.

Recovering, Shamrock knew she was helpless. Her eyes flicked to the Bascombe Inn. She had to give the signal, but Liam had been told, in no uncertain terms, to wait for her signal. Unfortunately, that signal was to have been given with her right hand. Surely he'd see what had happened and act without it . . . surely.

Sickly, she remembered that she'd told him that it might look like Dark Damsel had gotten the upper hand, but she wanted it that way, to impress the public with her comeback.

She felt Dark Damsel working at her costume, felt the belt come off, the seams coming apart, and closed her eyes.

Rudely she was jerked to her feet. She stood there, regaining her breath and watched as Dark Damsel made a few emergency repairs to her own costume. She tried a kick, but it was easily parried and the return shove dropped her onto her ass.

"Ow!" Dark Damsel had grasped her by her hair and pulled her again to her feet.

This just couldn't be happening. The nerve agent shouldn't have allowed her that kind of control. What had gone wrong?

Dark Damsel forced Shamrock to look into her face. Shamrock winced at the anger there.

"Shoe's on the other foot now, Shamrock. You pissed me off severely. You ruined my reputation, hurt my friends and tried to humiliate me. You planned to use me in a way I'd never have believed." Dark Damsel paused and Shamrock shuddered at her expression. "Now you are going to pay as you'd have had me pay."

"Please, Dark Damsel, the cops will be here soon. I can get us out of this. They'll never believe you are innocent and any 'confession' you get out of me will never be believed. They'll think you beat it out of me, that I'd do anything to stop the beating." Shamrock looked for a sign that her words were getting through to the masked crime-fighter. "I can get us out of here. Together . . ."

"I don't give a damn." The words cascaded like ice-water over Shamrock's faint hope. "First, let's see what you've been hiding."

Dark Damsel's cuts had been pure artistry. Shamrock felt herself turned around, looked up and saw the balcony where Lennie and Dori sat, filming the entire debacle, then felt Dark Damsel's hands at her costume's neck.

One quick pull and the top came apart and was flung aside, her bra going with it.

"No, no, don't!" Shamrock felt those hands grip the waist band of her tights and panicked.

"Too bad, bitch!" Dark Damsel pulled and Shamrock felt the cool air on her skin. She was now naked except for her boots and mask.

"I see you're a true redhead."

Shamrock flushed. "Please . . ." There was no mercy in Dark Damsel's eyes.

"You won't need that mask any longer." And it, too, was gone. "Now, let's just show your face to the cameras you say are out there."

Shamrock was paraded in a short circle, her head held back by the hair so anyone filming could get a good shot of her face. This was bad, very bad. "Oh!" The Damsel pulled her along towards the chair. Shamrock felt sick. She didn't even bother to plead, knowing pleas would fall on deaf ears.

She heard Dark Damsel gasp as she sat down on her tender rear and had to smother a little laugh. Then there was no problem with laughing as she was pulled over Dark Damsel's knees.

"Aggh!" Dark Damsel started with her hands, with a strength Shamrock had not known she possessed. She writhed as the pain went shooting up her nerves to explode in her brain. "No! Please!" It was no use, if anything the speed and power of Dark Damsel's blows increased.

"I just hope, like the rest of you, no doubt, that Dark Damsel never becomes angry with me!" Dori's eyes were wide and excited. "Wow! Even without our special microphone, you can hear Shamrock's bleats from here." To demonstrate, Dori turned the dish away. Sure enough, Shamrock's cries came through clearly, though from far away. "Well, looks like Dark Damsel is finished. Let's hear what she has to say . . . no, she's reaching into the tote bag. Whoa? That's an vicious bit of equipment."

Dark Damsel held the buttplug in front of Shamrock's face. "So, you were going to use this on me?"

"No, no. It was only going to be used as a threat . . ."

In the monitor which showed Tom's view, one could clearly see the tears streaming down Shamrock's face. Meanwhile Lennie zoomed in on Shamrock's rear where the action was about to take place.

"It's your toy," Dark Damsel growled as she placed the head of the plug on Shamrock's anus, "*you* play with it."

The howl as she shoved let everyone know that Dark Damsel was angry through and through and that there would be no mercy. Then, as viewers across the city witnessed, Dark Damsel picked up the paddle that Shamrock had set down and went to work with a vengeance.

"Enough!" Dark Damsel, her anger subsiding, threw down the paddle with disgust. "It's time for you to be turned over to the police." She stood the quivering, crying woman on her feet and began leading her towards the door.

Dark Damsel was caught by surprise as Shamrock suddenly made a break for it, but didn't head for the door.

"Now, Liam!" the naked woman screamed as she dived into the Ventilator.

Dark Damsel flung herself to one side even as a dart struck the roof nearby. She rolled quickly to her feet and looked up to see two men struggling on a balcony of the Bascombe Inn. One held a rifle the other . . . she shook her head minutely, the other seemed to be Robin Hood?

Her attention was torn back to the door to the stairway as the sound of gunfire echoed from below. She looked to the Ventilator, then to the door and back.

"Damn!" Dark Damsel sprinted towards the door.

She took the stairs as fast as seemed prudent, then burst out of the door to the 15th floor. She stopped stunned. There, on the floor, was Green Lantern, holding a bloody hand to a wound in his upper arm, cradled by Catwoman as The Lone Ranger, gun smoking stood over them. Farther on down the hall were three hoods, hands over their heads; a fourth was down on the floor, dead.

"Ah, Dark Damsel. Good of you to drop in." Dark Damsel recognized Ray Barton's voice. The Lone Ranger smiled at her, "I reckon you'll be coming Downtown with us."

Dark Damsel froze inside. "I reckon not."

The Ventilator escape was supposed to be used by Dark Damsel. Shamrock would have shoved her in, pretending all the while to be trying to stop her. Now the ruse stood her in good stead. It was a handy escape for her.

The vent had been altered for this purpose, and Shamrock exited two floors below, coming out like a sack of laundry onto the prepared pads. She looked around. There was nobody there to greet her. Where were the rest of the gang?

She heard gunfire from the floor above. "Not good, not good," she muttered and struggled to her feet. She crossed the hallway and pushed through an unlocked door into the prepared room. The window had been forced open and a line stretched from the room across the street to the Hub City Hotel.

In readiness, on the line, was a small swing seat. They were to have tied Dark Damsel across it and sent her to the hotel. Now it would be Shamrock's escape. It was no easy matter with her hands tied behind her, but desperation drove her on. She finally got herself into position and then dropped herself over the seat. Her weight released the brake and the naked woman began coasting across the street to the floor below.

Quickly she built up speed and became afraid that she'd lose her balance and fall to her death but, just as her balance started to go, she sailed through the balcony door and was deposited on the big king-size bed. Although it was cool out, and in the room, she was sweating.

There was no time to lose. Shamrock stood and went to the open closet. Inside was the long, ankle-length cloak which was to have covered Dark Damsel. It would cover her completely. It was the work of some minutes, however, to get it around her shoulders. The only problem was she couldn't fasten it closed in front. The natural drape of the cloak would have it closed if she stood still, but when she walked--if she walked too fast--or if there were a breeze, it would open and any would be able to see that the woman underneath was naked.

She would have to walk slowly. At least, with it being Hallowe'en, none would question the costume. Getting out of the room was a struggle, but she managed it and carefully made her way down the hall to the elevators. A man was standing there and gave her the once-over with his eyes. She ignored him.

The elevator doors opened and she stepped in and to the side. The man pressed the lobby key.

"Parkade level, please," she requested. She gave a great sigh of relief as he complied. In the parkade the van waited with Tam at the wheel. He'd get her out of there and back to the hideout. As for Dark Damsel, there was still Sean.

The elevator doors opened on a deserted parkade and again Shamrock breathed a sigh of relief. The van was just . . .

"Damn!" she whispered. The van was there, all right, and so was Tam. But Tam was trussed up, sitting against a tire while Minx stood above him, keeping watch. It had been sheer luck that she'd looked over to a car starting up when Shamrock had stepped out.

The exit to the parkade was out of Minx' vision and Shamrock quietly, slowly made her way out and into the fading sunlight. It was getting colder out and the cloak wasn't at all warm. Where would she go? "Of course!" she exclaimed quietly, then smiled.

Dori was on her feet as Dark Damsel disappeared. "Did you get that last?" she demanded of Lennie, though she knew he had. The station had gone to commercial.

"Perfectly."

"Good. Now we have to get downstairs quickly to interview Dark Damsel as she comes out."

A voice came through her headset.

"Yes? What? What! It's my story! No. No, I understand." Dori tore off the headset and threw it down on the bedside table.

"What is it?" Lennie asked.

"That bastard of a manager sent Frenchie down to do the street interviews! Told me to help you pack it up here then get back to the studio. Bastard!"

Frenchie was the news anchor at SMU-TV. He was roundly hated by all of the other staff. Lennie grimaced and dragged the camera back inside the room. Then he grinned and set it up, first pulling the tape canister from it then training it on the pacing Dori.

"What're you doing?" the angry young woman asked him.

"Our deal, remember?"

Dori glared at him. "I don't remember anything about you filming anything."

"There's no film. See?" He didn't mention that he still had his own recorder hooked to the camera output.

"Then what's the point," she was now looking at him, a very slight smile struggling to pass her grim visage.

"Gets me excited. I like cameras. I'm a bit of a voyeur." He looked at her a warm smile coming to his lips. Softly he spoke, "Take it off, Dori, take it all off."

She laughed, some of the bitterness banished. "You little perv. You want a strip-tease?" The thought of taking him to bed was beginning to get her interested. She hadn't finished what she'd started on the balcony and her body was clamouring for relief. The idea of doing a strip in front of a camera had its attractions. She liked the idea of being taped, of turning Lennie on. The actuality would have left her cold, but the idea excited.

"Well, I guess you earned it. I wouldn't have missed that for the world. Any chance I could get a copy of that tape?"

"Absolutely--if you can run interference for me at the station."

"Not a problem." She took a deep breath. "Give me a minute." Dori went to the radio, found a suitable station with a driving beat, then began to dance.

This was too good, Lennie thought. Some of the boys at the station would pay handsomely to see this.

Dori swayed and licked her lips. She reached back and undid her hair, allowing it to cascade down around her shoulders, and blew the camera a kiss, quirking an eyebrow.

Then it was bump and grind as the clothes came off. She played to the camera and to his obvious enjoyment as occasionally he lifted his head to give her encouragement.

The bra went flying over his head and she cupped her breasts, pushing them together for cleavage. Her mouth was in a small pouty circle, then she coyly looked up from under her brows, teased each nipple to hardness and licked her lips lasciviously.

She made a typical stripper production of the panties, turning her back to the camera and pushing them down without bending her knees. She had a nice ass, Lennie thought, and he'd love getting his hands on it.

She laughed at the tent at the front of his pants, threw herself backwards onto the bed and spread her legs for him.

"This what you want, big boy?" She was really getting into it and pressed one finger inside herself, then licked it off, quirking that eyebrow again.

Christ, she was hot, Lennie thought, but the brown patch confirmed his suspicion that she dyed her hair. He focused the camera on the bed then stepped out from behind it and shed his clothes.

"Come and take it, big boy," Dori laughed, throwing both arms and legs wide." Which is precisely what he did. He threw himself on her and entered her in one quick motion, enjoying the grunt she gave forth.

She was warm and soft inside and eager. Her legs came up and her heels found his butt and with every thrust of his, she added to it and brought herself to meet him.

"God, you're hot, baby," Lennie told her. He was on his elbows, his forearms under her shoulders. He hooked his hands around the top of her shoulders and pulled her down with every thrust up, battering into her. She kept thrusting up to meet him. "Harder, Lennie, harder," she gasped.

He gave her exactly what she wanted, though he knew he couldn't last long. It didn't matter. She was so hot from her self-ministrations during the fight that she suddenly went tense.

"Yes, baby, yes!" Lennie kept plunging into her as her face contorted.

"Oh, god! OH GOD! OHHH!" Her back bent and carried him upwards with her. Lennie was in heaven. This was the first woman who'd ever come while he was fucking her. Either he got them off first, or after. This was special. He drove hard into her, driving her back down until she collapsed.

He was almost there--couldn't think. What *was* her name? Had to get it out right. Woman loved it. Made them feel special. "Dori!" he cried as he came and collapsed on her.

Her arms came around him and held him there. Neither of the heard the words from the discarded headset.

"Oh my god! Dark Damsel has been shot!"

Chapter 11

"Oh, I think you'd better come with us," Ray Barton told Dark Damsel.

"Not a chance. No way I'm going to prison, or revealing my true identity, over things I didn't do." Dark Damsel prepared to back away, back to the staircase.

"I believe you," Ray told her, much to her surprise,"and Officer Nasturant, here, says she has proof."

Dark Damsel looked more carefully at Catwoman. It *was* Nasturant. Her eyes narrowed. "Kitty," she spat out, and watched Rebecca's eyes go wide. Bullseye! A closer look at Green Lantern revealed him to be William. She grew cold inside. These two had used her, then pretended friendship. She would not forgive. Of all the betrayals, this was the worst. It far eclipsed Minx's failure to back her up. Her face suddenly blanked.

"Proof?" she asked.

A determined expression came across Rebecca's face. "I was following you, had you in sight, when 'Dark Damsel' attacked the courier."

"It was only her declaration that got us past Minx without a fight," Ray added.

"Minx?"

Ray looked puzzled. "Minx," he confirmed. "She was waiting downstairs, told us that we'd have to go through her to get to you--and there were six of us. When you make friends, lady . . . . Anyway, we came up the stairs--William defused the booby-traps and . . .

"Booby-traps?"

"Yes. These clowns," he indicated the men with their hands against the wall, "mined the stairway so we wouldn't be able to get up to you in time. William has had some experience with that sort of thing and got us up here." Barton laughed suddenly. "Never seen anything like it. The goons make their appearance and he goes at them--all four of them--and them with guns."

Dark Damsel looked at William. "You did that *and* took a bullet for *me*?" There was wonder in her face.

"You're a friend," he grimaced through the pain.

"And you. . ." she indicated Rebecca then stopped. The officer said she had her in sight when the last Dark Damsel robbery went down. At that time she hadn't been in costume which meant . . .

"Where's Shamrock?" William asked.

Dark Damsel shook herself. "Blast. She got away. Dove down the ventilator. She must be somewhere in the building." She turned to leave.

"A moment," Ray coughed apologetically.

"Oh, yes, sorry." Dark Damsel helped Ray secure the three thugs, then the two of them left William and Rebecca to begin a search of the upper floors even while sirens told of the police surrounding the building.

"We can cover more territory if we split up," Dark Damsel told Ray.

"Not a chance. *I* know you're innocent, but if you run into any other police officers, they're going to try to take you in."

Dark Damsel reluctantly admitted he was correct and the two of them went from room to room . . . the unlocked ones posed no problem and Ray was a little taken aback at the ease with which the Damsel picked the locks of the others.

"Good thing I can't see what you're doing," he grinned.

One flight down they came to Shamrock's escape route.

Dark Damsel took one look, grabbed one of the prepared sliders, hooked it over the cable and jumped.

"Wait . . . Oh, shit. I'm too old for this sort of thing." Ray glumly took another slider, closed his eyes and went out the window after her.

"Ooof!" He hit the bed with a jolt and opened his eyes to Dark Damsel's laughter.

"Don't tell me you kept your eyes closed all the way across?"

"Careful who you're laughing at," he replied, his eyes on her bosom.

Dark Damsel looked down, to see that her landing had loosened her temporary repair, and her laughter almost finished the job. One breast was showing. "Oops."

Ray suddenly realized he was staring and looked away, a blush coming to his cheeks.

"It's okay, Ranger," Dark Damsel said softly, "my friends are allowed."

Ray looked up. She had made no effort to cover. He took one more look. "It's very nice."

"I think so. Give me a hand while I tape it back up."

Ray held the costume in place, enjoying the feel of her soft breast beneath his hand, while Dark Damsel took a roll of tape from her pouch made herself presentable.

A quick search of the room revealed nothing and they headed out and to the elevators.

"The parking level, I would think," Dark Damsel suggested and Ray pushed the button.

"Minx!" The garishly painted heroine spun around as Dark Damsel and Ray charged out of the elevator.

"Interesting get-up, Tonto," Minx replied, reminding Ray of how he must look. "Got one here for you."

"Did you see Shamrock?"

"No, DD, but it's possible she may have slipped past me if she came this way." Minx dragged her victim to his feet and the four headed out to street level.

A cop noticed them and came running over. Ray dug out his badge and held it up, expecting anything but the wide smile on the face of the officer.

"Dark Damsel! It's good to have you back."

"Pardon . . ." Her quizzical look made the officer think twice.

"Haven't you heard? Your fight was on television and Shamrock confessed in front of the whole city--least that's the word we got down here on the street."

"Have you seen a redheaded woman," Ray broke in.

The officer looked at his badge and his smile faded. "No, Sir. But I just got here. Cordaire was first on the . . ."

The gunshot was loud and echoed in the street.

Colleen shivered as she neared her destination. She was cold. The cloak was better than nothing, but not all that much better and it was getting late.

An errant breeze started to blow open her covering and she had to turn quickly and back against the wind to prevent it from opening her up to the view of other pedestrians. Fortunately, no had noticed--she thought.

There it was. Now, if only someone was still there. It was Megan's Boutique. There were lights on in the back, but the door was locked. Colleen cursed. She knocked on the glass door with her booted foot. Waited. A head appeared at the curtain to the shop in the back then disappeared. It was, Colleen thought, Diane.

Damn you, bitch, get a move on. Now Megan's head appeared then disappeared. The bitch was going to leave her outside to freeze. Colleen's eyes narrowed in anger. Megan would pay. She'd fix her so . . . Diane, it was indeed Diane, appeared once more and moved through the store towards the door. She was carrying a key with which she unlocked the door and allowed Colleen to come in.

"About time," Colleen snapped as she moved past Diane and headed towards the back. She didn't see the anger flare in Diane's eyes.

"Thanks. Good-bye." Megan hung up the telephone and turned to meet Colleen.

"Get rid of the help, Megan," Colleen ordered.

"Interesting fashion statement," was the reply. "Diane, take Ms. O'Brien's cloak for her."

"That won't be necessary," Colleen growled, but Megan simply stood there as Diane came up behind Colleen and removed the cloak.

"As I said," Megan couldn't help grinning, "an interesting fashion statement." She walked around the fuming redhead and examined the ties which held Colleen's hands crossed high on her back. "Ooh, that must be uncomfortable."

"A little. Now, cut the ties, Megan."

"We don't really have time to get into that now, Colleen," Megan replied. "The police are on their way here right now. Would you like to talk with them?"

Colleen's eyes widened with fear.

"I thought not. Diane, get the nightie we were discussing." Megan turned back to Colleen. "I think we can hide you, but you're going to have to play it cool. Yes, that's it. Put it on Colleen here and take the cloak. Yes, that hat'll do fine."

Colleen stood there, wondering what was going on as Diane dropped the nightie over her head. It went down to her upper thighs. "What's this all about?"

"We can't let the cops find you here, so we're going to hide you in plain sight. In the window. You're going to be a mannequin. Nothing else for it, I'm afraid. Quickly now. They'll be here soon."

Megan pushed Colleen out into the store front, pushed her up to the display window, up the steps and out onto the platform.

"Now be very still. Don't move in the slightest or we'll give away the whole show."

Diane posed Megan, legs spread about a foot and a half apart, put the wide-brimmed dark hat on her head, low over her eyes and placed her cloak on her, tying the string at the neck. She put hands on hips and pushed Colleen until she was standing hip shot. She then turned out the cloak so the wings rested on Colleen's shoulders, showing off the nightie to advantage. Colleen, about to complain, froze. A car had stopped at the curb just in front of the Boutique and two men, obviously detectives from their appearances, got out and headed towards the door.

"Quiet now," Diane whispered as she spread out the cloak in the back, allowing it to billow out over a few small props. There was a low lamp in the back, now under the cloak, and with a smothered chuckle, Diane turned it on. She then turned from Colleen and began arranging the rest of the display.

"Thank you for coming, Gentlemen," Colleen heard Megan tell the cops. "As I told you on the phone, I made the costume for this 'Shamrock'. At the time I thought it was just a Hallowe'en costume. The same woman came back some days later saying that she wanted a Dark Damsel outfit as well. I made it for her."

"Did she say why she wanted it?" The pointed question of the deep voice made Colleen want to run. But there was nowhere to run to, so she stood, frozen.

"She told me it was a Hallowe'en costume."

"Why not just go to a costume store? Looking around, costumes don't really seem in your line."

"They aren't. But she wanted it professionally done, and she knew me from school."

The interest of the detectives picked up and Colleen wanted nothing more than to smash Megan in the teeth. She almost jumped when Diane's hand brushed against her calf. Diane was laying out something on the floor of the window. Colleen couldn't tell what it was.

Diane stood up in front of Colleen and, as Colleen listened with horror to Megan telling the detectives her past, her names, everything, Diane moved to adjust her hat. But while one hand was on the rim of the hat Diane's other hand began rubbing at her nipples through the thin material of the nightie.

It was all Colleen could do to keep silent. Her nipples were erect and pushing out against the silk, begging for more attention. Diane smiled wickedly into Colleen's face then moved away.

It was getting darker out and Colleen could now see her reflection in the window. She gasped. Her nipples were well and truly on display, and that little spotlight behind her, under her cloak, made the nightie a see-through. One could see her pubic hair and, if one looked carefully, her nether lips. She cursed Diane and Megan under her breath, but dared not move.

"It was only when I saw this 'Shamrock' character on TV that I realized it was Lucy, aka Colleen, and by the end I realized just why she had wanted the 'Dark Damsel' costume."

"We really appreciate you calling us. If only more citizens were like you, we'd have a better city. Now, if you could give us some more detail on . . ."

Diane had placed a stool in front of her and sat down on it in order to do Colleen knew not what. At least she was blocking the view of her privates. A touch on her thigh made her look down only to meet Diane's gaze, a devilish light in her eyes.

Oh, no. She couldn't! Apparently she could, for that hand crept higher and traced her lower lips, moved back to finger the buttplug which was still stretching her, and finally returned to her pussy. Then with a wink, Diane pushed a finger inside. The bitch, the bitch, the bitch! There was nothing she could do. Not and not get caught by the cops.

She couldn't suppress a little groan as a second finger joined the first. They moved in and out, pressing one way, then the other, making life hell for the redhead. This one, she decided, would pay for her indiscretions. Colleen kept herself under control by considering just how Diane would pay.

At last the two detectives left, but before Colleen could move out of the display window, a young couple had stopped in front of it and they were looking at her closely, wondering, no doubt at the realism of the mannequin. Finally they moved off, and Colleen, her face now red, for she'd seen just where the young man had been looking, was able to head for the relative safety of the back room.

"Untie me, you bitch," she glowered at Megan.

"Diane, please remove the cloak and nightie so we can take a look at her bonds."

Diane complied.

"You know, I was just about to leave the city. I knew that eventually you'd come for me, to make sure I couldn't talk to the police. Now, with what's happened, I decided that if you knew I'd already spilt my guts, the only thing you could come after me for was revenge."

"Others have feared my revenge," snarled Colleen. "I think you are in for another lesson."

"Yes. A lesson would be in order."

Colleen couldn't understand why Megan was taking this so calmly. And Diane just stood there with a smirk on her face.

"You know, I think you are unaware of what exactly has transpired. Your little bout with Dark Damsel was on SMU-TV."

"I know. I arranged it. What of it?" Her face was red with anger. The bitches still hadn't made a move to cut her bonds.

Megan looked astonished. "You knew they were there and still admitted that you'd pulled the 'Dark Damsel Robberies'?"

The blood drained from Colleen's face. "What are you talking about?" She didn't think she really wanted to know.

With a savage smile Megan told her, then went to the video to show her. "So, you see, I don't think that the Organization is going to be very happy with you for spouting their name all around, not to mention hinting that they'd help the law deal with other gangs. And," Megan laughed, "any other gangs are going to be looking for you, knowing that you would devise such a thing."

Colleen was at a loss. It was a disaster. Her mind spun trying to think of ways she could get out of this. No answer appeared.

"Your face will be in every post-office. Every criminal organization *and* the Law will be after you. I don't think that I have any need to fear you any longer. If you don't get out of the city, I don't think you'll be free for long. You'll either be in jail or dead."

Colleen stared at the thin woman in front of her. She was right. How could those bastards at SMU-TV done it? There were, she knew, no microphones on the roof. Her attention came back to Megan and Diane, who were smiling, waiting for her.

"You mentioned a lesson, Colleen. I think that it is time for it, right now. Diane?"

Diane, who had moved out of range of Colleen's sight suddenly appeared at her left shoulder. Colleen heard a slight whoosh and then her ass was on fire. "Aggh!" She tried to turn away, but Diane's left hand grasped her left arm and Megan grabbed her right. The lash came whipping up against her already sore derriere again and again. With each sharp crack, Colleen let out a yelp and jumped.

This couldn't be happening to her. She was the one who gave 'lessons'. They had no right . . . . Tears were coming down her face. "Please, enough, enough, please," she begged.

"Enough, Diane."

Colleen breathed a sigh of relief.

"Diane wasn't happy to find out that you'd tricked her into punishing me, Colleen. She was less happy to know that you took away videotapes of her and me."

Colleen didn't like where this was going.

"That's right, Colleen, *dear*. So, I think you owe us a tape."

"I'll send them back to you, I swear," Colleen told them desperately.

"Not good enough. We starred in a tape for you, it's only fair that you star in a tape for us," Diane told her menacingly. "And you'd better be good."

"Here's the deal, Colleen, old friend," Megan pinched at Colleen's nipples, causing her to gasp. "You get us both off and act like you're enjoying it and we cut you loose and let you go. You don't want to play actress, we let you go now. As you are."

"My cloak?"

"We'll keep that. You didn't pay me enough for that last costume. The hours I worked . . ."

"Deal," Colleen gritted out between her teeth. There wasn't much else she could do.

Diane smiled a syrupy smile and stripped off her clothes. She climbed up on the large bed, put a couple of pillows against the wall and propped herself up on them, in a semi-reclining position, her legs spread.

Colleen, liking none of it, knelt on the edge of the bed, between Diane's legs, and bent over and allowed her head to be guided to Diane's pussy.

It was awkward and although she had done this before, in her rise to the top of the crime gangs of The Hub City, she had never really enjoyed going down on another woman.

"Yes, use that tongue, oh, yes," Diane moaned as she traced circled around her hard brown nipples and over her breasts. Colleen went at her task with an increased fervor, wanting this to be over with as soon as possible. Diane was now holding her head by the hair, guiding her back and forth. "Yes, my love, that's just what the doctor ordered," cooed Diane.

It is funny how you can tell by ear whether a person is smiling when she talks. Colleen could tell that Diane was smiling. And 'my love'? What was that?

"Oh!" Colleen cried out, but couldn't move, Diane's grip was too tight. *Now* she knew. The 'my love' referred to Megan, and 'what the doctor ordered' was probably the selfsame dildo and harness which she had left for Diane to use on Megan.

"Oh. Oh. Oh," Colleen grunted as the thin blonde began thrusting into her pussy. Well, at least it was her *pussy*. It had been so long since she'd had something in there that she'd almost forgotten what it was like. And Megan couldn't take her ass. The buttplug which she'd intended for Dark Damsel, and which Dark Damsel had used on her, was still there.

Megan suddenly stopped. It was as if she'd heard Colleen's thoughts for she suddenly started examining the buttplug with her fingers. "Oh, you're going to love this," Colleen heard Megan laugh. She didn't like the sound of the laugh.

Megan pushed her way back into Colleen, then took hold of the buttplug and held her hand tight against her belly. Holding the buttplug tightly, she began to withdraw, dragging the plug out along with the dildo.

"Oh! Oh! OH!" Colleen cried into Diane's pussy as she was relentlessly used, fore and aft, by Megan. Her poor anal ring was being stretched unmercifully. Soon, however, she was loose enough to even start enjoying the double penetration.

"Ow!" A sharp cuff to the ear reminded her of her duties and she began licking at Diane again. The dark haired woman began moaning more loudly and her hips began bucking up into Colleen's face even as Megan sped up her taking of Colleen.

"Yesss!" Diane cried out, her thighs tightening around Colleen's head. Colleen relaxed and tried to concentrate on her own pleasure. Megan, however, stopped and withdrew, leaving the buttplug solidly entrenched in her ass.

Colleen felt herself being rolled over and her eyes locked with Megan's. She winced at the sadistic joy in her tormenter's face. He also noted that the video camera had been moved for a better angle shot.

"I believe you once said that I probably liked playing the 'boy' in my games with Diane. Now you get to see just what it's like." Her lips turned up slightly. "Spread 'em! I want to feel your tits cushioning me."

Colleen bit back her reply and complied. Her legs went wide open for the blonde bitch. The bitch, however, was in no mood to hurry. Instead she looked Colleen up and down.

"Nice body," she approved. "Not as nice as Diane's, but nice. Hmmm. Those nipples of yours are hard. You must have been enjoying yourself." A finger checked and Colleen blushed. "You *were*," Megan accused. "You like it when the boys take you from behind, eh? You like it when they play with your nips, too?"

Megan began rolling the hard nipples between her fingers, laughing at the gasps which issued forth. Then she flung herself on top of the helpless Colleen and began riding her like a madwoman. Colleen was in a state where she was nearly ready to climax. All Megan had to do was . . .

Megan stopped and withdrew. As Colleen looked on, distraught, Megan removed the dildo and harness.

"Diane. Ring gag."

"Megan, please . . ."

"I don't want you biting me."

"I won't."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Colleen, dear."

Diane forced the ring gag into Colleen's mouth and buckled it behind her head. Then Megan took her place on the bed, legs spread for Colleen. Diane placed a couple of pillows for Colleen's hips, then draped the hapless woman over them, face first into Megan's pussy. Megan was more than just excited, Colleen realized. She was dripping, her aroma heavy in the air. Colleen got to work, slipping her tongue out through the ring gag.

"Argh!" she cried out as the flails from the whip came down on her already tortured ass. Megan had been right. The pain had caused her to try and bite down.

"Okay, slut," Megan told her. The whip stops when you've made me come."

The lash came down again and again and Colleen cried out in pain and frustration as it interrupted her attempts to drive Megan over the top. Her ass was on fire once more. Suddenly, in her mind's eye, she saw the video tape again, with Diane swinging the lash enthusiastically at Megan's poor ass. She was certainly reaping the whirlwind.

"Oh, God!" Megan finally stiffened and came. Diane ceased the lashing and Colleen collapsed. A few minutes later, after Megan recovered, Colleen was pulled to her feet. It was over.

"Did you enjoy that?" Megan smiled at her.

"You 'itch!" Colleen snarled as best she could, her mouth held open by the gag. "No. Now undie me. We 'ad a deal."

Megan smiled even wider and Diane smirked at her side.

"If you remember our 'deal', you'll remember that you were supposed to enjoy it, or at least pretend you did. I guess you didn't want to play actress after all.

Colleen's eyes went wide.

Megan relaxed with a sigh. "Oh, hell. Diane, get her cloak.

Diane placed the cloak around Colleen who closed her eyes in relief. Her eyes snapped back open as she felt something being placed around her neck. A collar! A leash was snapped to it. The leash was about thirty inches long and hung down to her pussy. Diane led her about for the video camera which Megan manned.

Finally she led her to the back door of the shop. Megan set up the camera and opened the door.

"Undie 'e 'leaze," Colleen begged.

"Not a chance." Megan glared at the cloaked and booted woman. "And I've changed my mind again." She pulled the cloak from Colleen's shoulders and gave a push which sent the naked woman staggering into the alley.

"It's cold out there. Perhaps you can find some wino to get you all nice and warm." She turned to close the door. "Speaking of warm," the last words Colleen heard before the door closed, "I'm just getting there. Come on, Diane."

Twenty cold minutes later, a violently shivering Colleen tried to slip across a street to another alley. She almost made it.

"What's this?" A hand grasped her shoulder and another found and grabbed her leash. "Well, well. Looks like you are just asking for it, lady." He looked her up and down and groped a breast. "Well, I'm just the man for you." He forced her into the alley and then onto her knees. In dismay Colleen closed her eyes as she heard his zipper go down.

"Ugh!"

Colleen looked up as the man fell. "I've been looking all over for you."

It was Sean and Colleen's eyes filled with love for this man who had just rescued her. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back to the street and pushed her into his waiting car. Quickly he slammed the door and went back to the driver side, got in did up her seat belt and drove off.

"What the hell happened to you?"

"I can'd dalk."

Sean's mouth twisted in disgust. "Just as well. Then don't. You cost me three quarters of the gang. Couldn't just do it nice and simple. No." His voice was dripping venom. "No, you had to put on a show. And then Minx and Sapphire and about fifty cops showed up." He shook his head. "A bloody fiasco." He glared at Colleen as he came to a stop for a red light.

A couple of young men stopped short as they looked in the car before crossing. The braver of the two knocked on the passenger side window. To Colleen's dismay, Sean pushed the button and the window rolled down.

"Wow. Dude. What's up?" The man ogled the naked woman.

"Going to a Hallowe'en party, my man. You like her costume?" The Irish accent was gone.

"Whoa. Great."

"She's going as my slave. You can play with her until the lights change."

The young man's eyes widened and he looked at Sean for confirmation. Sean smiled his okay.

Colleen couldn't believe it and squirmed as the man's hands were suddenly all over her. They tested her breasts and while one squeezed a nipple, the other went lower and pushed to find her slit. He pulled it back, grinning. "You're wet, woman." He placed the wet finger into her mouth. "Lick it clean."

"Do it!" Sean commanded. Colleen obeyed. "Light's changed. Hope you enjoyed the show."

"Thanks dude." Fingers gave a nipple one last pinch before the car drove away, window rising.

"Don't bother asking. I'm pissed at you."

The rest of the drive was made in silence.

"Only good thing today, I got a shot at Dark Damsel. Don't know how badly I hit her. She fell behind a car and I had to run." Sean parked the car, walked around and opened her door. He hauled the naked Colleen out and led her, by the leash, into the hideout.

He'd shot Dark Damsel! For her. He'd done it for her, she knew, and loved him for it. And he was right. If she'd just taken Dark Damsel when she had her, she would be on top of the world right now. Instead, the Irish gang was smashed; she was persona non grata with every other gang in the city; her face was now well known, as well as her name and alias; her plan to vilify Dark Damsel had failed--had been sabotaged by her own big mouth and her chance at getting back on the board of the Organization was gone. If they caught her Royale would have a field day. But, with Sean's help, she'd rebuild. She could survive this.

Sean led her to the bedroom by the leash. She frowned. She wished he'd get around to undoing her bonds.

"You cost me everything I worked so hard to build. Now you are going to have to pay for it. Obviously you are of no use to me on the outside. If anyone even knew I was sheltering you I'd be in no end of trouble. Your only use to me, now, is in bed. You'd better be worth it, lady."

Colleen lowered her head. Looking down, she nodded.

"Okay. Since you appear to want it . . ." he pushed her to her knees and unzipped. His cock was up and ready and he held her head and pushed it through the ring gag. She would have gladly taken him in, but he was making a point, using her. Later, she would change this, but for now she made no protest, instead tonguing his cock, bobbing her head up and down on it to the limits he allowed.

Too soon he pulled his cock out, pulled her up and then threw her down over some pillows. She knew what was coming. He pulled the buttplug out, much to her relief, then pushed himself in. He was much longer than the plug and she enjoyed the feel of him moving in and out.

The young man had been right. She was wet. Her body had been on the verge under Megan. The urge had died after she'd been thrown out, but even the idea of the stranger using her had been somewhat exciting. She was hot and needed relief. Her arms, however, were still held behind her. There was nothing she could do.

Sean moved in and out of her, reaching under and rolling her nipples between his fingers. It felt so good. Then he was holding her shoulders and ramming in and out of her, using her hard and mercilessly. She loved it, except that her poor ass hurt every time his belly hit it. She could feel the excitement rising, could feel the tingle which foretold . . .

She screamed.

Sean held the woman close to his chest. He'd untied her and taken out the ring gag. They lay in bed together, watching the news.

"And finally, the young woman in the Dark Damsel costume, Jan Jensen, has given us this interview."

The camera showed a bright light brown haired woman in a hospital bed. Her arm was bandaged.

"Yes, I was frightened, but it all happened so quickly. Then the cops were all around and the ambulance came. I'm okay now." The young girl--definitely not the Dark Damsel Colleen had fought--suddenly smiled. "Then Minx and the real Dark Damsel showed up and told me that I'd probably saved Dark Damsel's life. That I was a hero! I guess that's worth missing a Hallowe'en party for."

"So," the anchor was back, "to sum up. It has been an interesting day. Dark Damsel's name has been cleared and Shamrock has been exposed--no pun intended--for what she is. The police, with the help of Minx and the mysterious Sapphire, have rounded up most of the so-called Irish gang and all is well in our fair Hub City. The only question that remains: Where is Shamrock? Where is that Irish Lass?"

Sean hit the remote and killed the power.

Colleen looked up at him. "You tried. You couldn't have known that a second 'Dark Damsel' was going to come out of the Hotel."

Sean nodded grimly, bent and kissed Colleen on the forehead. She closed her eyes. Sean smiled. She had climaxed while being fucked in the ass without any other stimuli. Royale would be pleased. His job was just about done. He felt a twinge of regret about Jan Jensen, but her light flesh wound was no accident. He was a crack shot. Her appearance in the ill-fitting Dark Damsel costume had been a fortuitous event. And Colleen suspected nothing. Not even that the nerve agent patch had been specially doctored. Oh, and he'd have to remember to pick up the special microphone from Lennie.

Sean looked down at the now sleeping woman. He hoped that Royale would take her time reeling in the poor Irish Lass. After all, he was enjoying getting his nightly piece of Irish Ass.

*Epilogue*

"That was nice of you to make that poor girl feel like a hero."

"Well, Lone Ranger," Dark Damsel touched his cheek, "we heroines have to stick together, right Minx?"

The statuesque blonde grinned back and patted Dark Damsel on the ass, which undid the poor heroine's hasty repairs. "Oops!" A quick cover-up and repatch was done. Then Dark Damsel, Minx, Ray, William and Rebecca were outside, at the car and motor bike.

"How did Sapphire fit into all this?" Dark Damsel wanted to know.

"No idea. She just appeared leading two trussed up men and turned them over to the police. She's not a friend of yours?" Ray was surprised.

"Never met the woman. You, Minx?"

"Saw her once at a distance. I guess we can consider her a friend." Minx stopped Dark Damsel before she could get onto her bike. "Good friends are hard to find."

The Damsel stopped dead. She turned to look at William, still in his Green Lantern outfit, and Rebecca, still the Catwoman. They looked very uncomfortable and Ray looked back and forth between the three of them, wondering what was going on.

The tension in Dark Damsel disappeared. "You three were headed for a Hallowe'en party?"

"I reckon so, Ma'am," the Lone Ranger told her. The other two nodded.

"And you gave it up for me?" There was no answer. None was required.

"Then the three of you--and you Minx--are invited to Dark Damsel's secret hide-away for a late Hallowe'en party. Costumes are required dress," she paused and looked at her watch--it was 11:40 p.m. "until midnight. Then masks and cowls are required dress--if you are up for it."

The Green Lantern stared at Dark Damsel in wonder. A slow smile came to his face. "I think I can get up for that."

The Lone Ranger was slightly taken aback as Catwoman put forth a hand to feel him. "L.R. seems to be up for it already," she laughed and looked at Dark Damsel. "You and I can fight over who gets to be Tonto."

"Why not both of us?"

The Lone Ranger flushed and looked to Green Lantern for support. Green Lantern just shrugged.

"If you can't join them, lick them," was his advice. And very good advice it turned out to be.

The End

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