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Message-ID: <47367asstr$1081588204@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Imagineer <imagin8r47@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Cruel Summer 02 {Imagineer} (MF reluc dream Fsolo exhib ScFi)
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Date: Sat, 10 Apr 2004 05:10:04 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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Cruel Summer

copyright 2001-2004 by Imagineer.

comments to 
imagineer 47: yahoo green eggs com ham
but without the green eggs or ham

http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Imagineer/www/


// 2: Uncertain


  Sapphire Uncertain

  "No, please don't.... ohhh!" Angela gasped as the stud gripped her
tits in his strong hands. She opened her eyes with a start. The stud
disappeared, replaced by a toothless older man in a filthy work shirt.
Angela kicked and screamed, "get off me! Stop! Help!" The homeless man
took a knee to the groin and backed away down the alley.

  Angela quickly got to her feet and took in her surroundings. She was
at the end of a trash-strewn alley. It was bright outside --
mid-morning, she guessed. She'd been laying in a pile of broken-down
cardboard. She was wearing, well, swimming in, a large white T-shirt;
her Sapphire heels were on her feet; she was otherwise naked. She
pulled the T-shirt down to cover her, stretching it down to her thighs.

  The last thing she remembered she'd been riding a huge prick to a
mind-blowing climax. It had been one of the punks from the night before
-- Tim, she thought. They'd all had their turn. And she'd enjoyed it.
Angela's face burned bright red as shame washed over her. She wasn't
like that. What had happened to her? What had gone wrong? Her powers
had given out... she'd lost her gloves, her choker... her clothes had
literally fallen apart... and she'd been horny, so horny. She must have
come a half-dozen times, at first resisting, then screaming for more.
Angela abruptly cut her thoughts short. That wasn't her. That didn't
happen. That was someone else. The gems had done that to her. She
couldn't help it.

  Speaking of which, the gems appeared completely dead now; Angela felt
no tingle in her feet. She checked her head; miraculously the tiara was
right where she'd left it.

  Oh, no! She had to get home! Or more accurately, to Becky's house,
where she'd left her mom's car. How would she get all the way across
town? She didn't even know where she was. Waitaminute, this alley looks
familiar...

  Angela walked to the end of the alley and peeked around the corner.
Sure enough, it was Qimby's Sub Shop. She worked here last summer. It
was only a few blocks from Becky's. What a stroke of luck; the "remote"
alley those punks had decided to dump her in was actually close to
home. Smiling at the silver lining in the cloud of her first night as a
crimefighter, Angela pulled the T-shirt down again and stepped out of
the alley. It was early morning; Sunday morning, in fact. Just across
the street to the entrance to Becky's housing development, two more
blocks to the car, and she was home free.

  She waited what seemed like ten minutes at the corner waiting for the
light to change, pecking repeatedly at the crosswalk button. Finally,
the light changed. She stepped off the curb, still wearing the stiletto
mules. They felt much higher, and she much less stable, than last
night; apparently the gemstones' force helped her balance more than she
thought. Or maybe it was the way every muscle in her body ached and
resisted her movements. No matter; she would be home soon and could
take a nice hot bath...

  As Angela approached the median strip, a car came screeching up to
the intersection, stopping in the left turn lane right in front of her;
music blared from the speakers at far too great a volume for a Sunday
morning. Angela tried not to make eye contact with the driver as she
continued mincing across the intersection. He looked familiar...

  Oh God! It was her ex, Josh! "Please don't let him recognize me,
please don't let him recognize me, please don't..." Her strides grew
longer as she hurried past the car for the safety of the opposite
sidewalk; her hips swayed more prominently, exaggerated by the stance
of the high heels. Angela heard the car stereo volume hushed suddenly;
she could feel Josh's eyes on her as she made her way to the sidewalk.
The traitorous T-shirt rode up slightly with each long stride, inching
its way up her thighs. As she reached the sidewalk, Josh honked his
horn; this caused her to jump, the T-shirt finally betraying her to
expose the bottom curves of her firm buttocks. Angela stifled a
surprised scream as the cool morning air informed her of her unintended
exposure; her hands shot down to the T-shirt's "hemline" and tugged
downward hard to restore her modesty. Her cheeks burned crimson; she
couldn't bear to look back at Josh; she just knew he'd be on her any
second...

  And then Josh's car behind her lit up its tires in a display of
random teenage adrenaline and took off in the other direction. Perhaps
Josh hadn't recognized her after all.


  Angela let herself sink lower into the suds. If only they made bath
beads to get rid of this dirty feeling, she thought. Her humiliating
night and the frankly slutty way she'd ended up were not exactly the
best way to launch a career fighting crime. In fact, Angela had no
thoughts of returning to duty; her thoughts revolved around never
leaving this warm soapy water, or at least never leaving the house.

  At least she'd made it home without further incident, if she didn't
count the near-miss with Josh. Her mom had even bought her excuse for
wearing nothing but a long T-shirt -- "We were up really late and I
didn't feel like getting dressed just to come home this morning." The
heels and tiara were safely tucked away in the gym bag, out of sight.

  After scanning the paper and watching TV all day, Angela was both
relieved and disappointed that there had been no news reports of her
escapades the night before. It was good that her humiliation remained
out of the public eye; on the other hand, hadn't she made an impact at
the mini-mart?

  After the 6 o'clock news came and went with no story of dramatic
criminal apprehension by a mysterious caped crusader (well, winged
crusader), Angela logged on to see if a little chatting would cheer her
up. She had mail -- from Scott!

  Hey beautiful,

  Sorry I've been incommunicado -- they sent me to Thailand to get the
new factory running and we ran into trouble. We never could get the
uplink to work; come to find out the customs officials had stolen the
controller and sold it on the black market. Anyway, I'm spending a
couple of days here in Tokyo righting the ship before heading back
home. I should be there in time to meet you for dinner Saturday night.
I can't wait to see you in that dress and those heels. Could you do an
"old man" a favor and send me a picture of you in the outfit? It'll
give me something to look forward to -- and something to hurry home
for. I want to compare the priceless sparkle of sapphires to the
priceless sparkle in your eyes. Love, Scott


  Oh darn, the crystals! Sapphires, gems, whatever they were, she had
to get them back. As much as it tortured her to do so, Angela reran the
previous night's activities in her head. She remembered losing the
gloves in her first tangle with Tim and Bobby... with those punks; that
was downtown and she'd have to wait until her mom got back from
shopping to borrow the car. The choker? She thought hard, finally
remembering the way the would-be mini-mart robber had grabbed her neck.
Maybe it was still there. By bike it was only ten or fifteen minutes
away.


  Angela cursed herself as yet another car drove by honking its horn.
She'd gone ten blocks by the time it dawned on her that her
cheerleading skirt was not the most appropriate bicycling attire,
particularly over the white satin string bikinis she was wearing. What
had possessed her to put that outfit together? She felt the wind
whipping her skirt into a frenzy, flashing her cute derriere to the
world as her panties slowly wedged their way inward.

  She thought she'd never reach the mini-mart. Broken glass was still
strewn about the parking lot; plywood covered the missing pane. She
jumped off her rusty mountain bike -- truth be told, she hardly used it
-- and bounced inside.

  "Ex-excuse me, sir?" she hesitated; the man behind the counter was
the same one she'd seen last night. He looked up from the small TV
monitor illuminating the underside of the counter. "I was here
yesterday afternoon" she lied "and I was wondering..." she pulled at
her heart necklace as her eyes searched for her toes "did you find a
choker here?"

  "A what?" the disinterested counterman asked, staring back at the TV
monitor.

  "A... ch-choker. You know, a little necklace. Maybe it had a pretty
blue crystal on it?"

  "Sorry, no," the man answered, not really listening. Then he looked
up, eyeing her critically; his eyes went from her to the TV, then back
to her, then back to the TV again. He smiled broadly. "Oh yes, now that
I think on it I do remember something like that."

  Angela's heart skipped a beat. "Really?"

  "Yes, did it look something like this?" he gestured to a tiny
rotating display on his counter; rows of sunglasses and cheap baubles
alternated as he spun it around, pointing to a row of chokers.

  "Well, yes, but I didn't buy it here, I l-l-lost it here."

  "Oh, I'm sorry," he began; Angela visibly deflated. "I found one in
the parking lot last night after an attempted robbery -- I showed those
bastards Betsy here and they took off running!" he winked. "I thought
it was from the store and put it on the rack. But it looks like
somebody bought it on Azmid's shift, because it's not here now. Would
you like to buy one? I'm sure we have something close to it here."

  "Oh no," Angela pined, "I really need that specific choker back. It
was a gift from my, um, aunt. It's very valuable." Oops, that probably
wasn't smart. "I mean, *sentimental* value," she covered. "Do you know
who you sold it to?"

  "I wasn't here; it must have been Azmid. I do sleep, you know. The
next time I see him I'll ask him, but we get so many customers I don't
think he'll remember anything. If you'll leave me your number I'll call
you..."

  Naively, Angela gave the counterman her phone number. "Okay," he
said, "I will call you if Azmid remembers anything; in the mean time
would you like to meet somewhere?" Angela didn't understand what he
meant at first; then she recognized the glint in his lecherous eye.
"No!" she spat. "I mean, I'm really very busy; I have to go now.
Thanks!" Angela turned on her heel and quickly left; the cashier stared
fondly at her ass sashaying to and fro underneath the cheerleader skirt
until she was out of sight. Then he returned to the image on the TV
monitor. "I liked her outfit last night better," he grinned as he hit
'rewind' on the VCR to see Sapphire in action again.


  Angela sat dejected in front of her computer. She'd scrounged about
in the alley for an hour, but never found her missing gems or so much
as a scrap of her mesh gloves. Her life was a mess. She'd been given an
amazing gift and she'd squandered it. Not only that, but the things
she'd been forced to do... she wasn't that kind of girl, she told
herself. But she'd enjoyed it, begged for it. Even now thinking about
it, as her cheeks showed shame, her body felt something else. She
caught her hand idly stroking her breast through her sweater. Dammit!
Suddenly she couldn't control herself? Sex with Josh had never been
that good; heck, it had never been good at all. But something about the
way she'd been stripped of her strength, helpless, defeated made her...
wet.

  Her eyes returned to the computer screen. Scott had emailed her
again, wondering where she was and asking again for a picture. She'd
always answered him right away before; this was the first time she'd
made him wait. But this was the first time she realized just how little
she knew about who she was dealing with. He could be anyone. He could
be a she, for that matter. Did Scott know about the crystals? She would
test him.

  Ten minutes later she clicked 'Send.' The low-res picture from her
cheap digital camera was dark and grainy, but she knew Scott would be
able to tell it was the dress he'd sent her -- and that she wasn't
wearing any of the jewelry. "I love the dress, but the jewelry is a bit
much. I was thinking of trading it for some fake ruby stuff my friend
has," she'd written.

  And there he was, bugging her to chat.

  Scott8412: u dont like the blue jewels? send em back and ill get u
something else
  Halo1502: they are a bit much but i'm already trading with my friend
  Halo1502: she has a pretty ruby stuff and red is more my color dont
you think?
  Scott8412: i can get you some nicer ruby stuff, just send the blue
ones back ok?
  (He must know, Angela thought. He sure is desperate to get them back
all of a sudden. What was he planning to do, strip me naked right there
at the restaurant? Or was he planning to score? Angela suppressed the
thought that she might have let him...)
  Halo1502: but i already made a deal with becky... besides i was gonna
keep the shoes
  Scott8412: i can get u shoes just like them with rubies
  Scott8412: just send them back. ill send a call tag so u dont have to
pay for shipping
  Halo1502: i dont know becky really likes the blue.
  Scott8412: if u want i can send u money to buy something else
  (Boy he was really desperate!)
  Halo1502: why did you give them to me if you want them back so bad?
  Scott8412: its not that i just want to make my baby happy
  Halo1502: then its okay if i keep them or give them to becky
  Scott8412: but the blue stones are special and very expensive i just
dont want u to get cheated
  Halo1502: if they are so special maybe ill keep them and wear them
just for you ok?
  Halo1502: will i still cu sat?
  Scott8412: have u tried them on yet? i dont see them in the picture
  Halo1502: only once but they made me feel funny. maybe because i was
thinking of you
  (Don't lay it on too thick, girl.)
  Scott8412: aww thats sweet. u didnt give any away yet right? u still
have them all?
  (How did he know? Relax, he probably doesn't know.)
  Halo1502: why wouldnt i? 
  Scott8412: just checking.. theyre very expensive
  Halo1502: you said that already. dont you trust me?
  Scott8412: of course i do i didnt mean it that way im sorry
  Halo1502: thats okay its just that youre being kinda weird about it
like theres something you arent telling me
  (See how he answers that!)
  Scott8412: u dont miss a trick do u? as i said they are special.. its
a long story but i promise ill tell u all about it when we meet.
  Halo1502: cant you tell me now?
  Scott8412: im sorry i dont have time right now. did you wear all of
them or just some?
  Halo1502: all why
  Scott8412: just curious. well dont wear them again until we meet ok?
  Halo1502: why not? now im the one whos curious. 
  Scott8412: i dont want u using them up before i see u. i want to see
their special sparkle in ur eyes.
  (Now who was laying it on thick?)
  Halo1502: cant you give me a hint?
  Scott8412: its too complicated. just promise u will keep them safe
and ill explain later ok?
  Halo1502: [outing]
  Halo1502: please?
  Halo1502: [atting eyelashes]
  Scott8412: please honey not now. when we meet
  Halo1502: [outing]
  Halo1502: will i still cu sat?
  Scott8412: it doesnt look good for sat. i have to stay here in london
for a few more days
  Halo1502: i thought you were in tokyo?
  Scott8412: i was but they sent me to london instead of home
  Halo1502: when will i cu then
  Scott8412: i dont know. listen i have to go now
  Halo1502: already? but im wearing your favorite outfit...
  Halo1502: [ugging down skirt]
  (There was no way he could turn down a virtual striptease, Angela
knew. While she'd made it clear to him that she wasn't that kind of
girl in real life, she'd indulged his online fantasy several times. It
seemed he couldn't get enough of it.)
  Scott8412: i cant now bye
  ***Scott8412 has left the channel

  Something strange was going on. Scott had never turned her down, and
he usually had to beg her to pretend to wear his "favorite outfit" -- a
sexy version of a schoolgirl's uniform with garter belt, stockings, and
pumps. He hadn't even commented on her wanting to keep the shoes he'd
sent -- he was always encouraging her to wear heels in real life as
well as during fantasy play.

  And he definitely knew *something* about the gems, and apparently
didn't want her to find out about them on her own -- he asked her twice
not to wear them again -- but why didn't he take the gems back when she
gave him the chance? Was he just using her to hide them, or did he just
not want her to get hurt, or did he just want to be there when she wore
them, maybe to take advantage of her while she was under their
influence? Her little detective game left her more confused about the
gems than before. And now suddenly he was being cagey about when they
would meet. The more she talked with Scott, the less she knew about
him. But whoever or whatever he was, she knew he wasn't being straight
with her. But what could she do about it? She was down to just two gems
anyway; she couldn't give them back if she wanted to. It was only a
matter of time before he found out. And then what?

  Angela turned off her computer and sat down in front of her mirror,
staring at her reflection. What had Scott gotten her into? What had she
gotten herself into? Whatever Scott's intent, Angela had been given an
opportunity to do something good and she'd blown it. She'd been given a
gift and she'd lost it. That bothered her much more than disappointing
Scott. If only she had all the gems, she could deal with Scott and
whatever his game was. But without them, she was in it up to her ears...

  The earrings. She'd forgotten all about them. Maybe things weren't so
bad after all. She had four crystals and the tiara. That could be
enough, couldn't it? She'd had five half-gone (well, maybe more than
half-gone) crystals when she'd beaten those three punks in the alley
without breaking a sweat. (And then they had their way with you later,
her conscience reminded her. Yeah, but that was with three worn-out
crystals, she retorted. Yeah, but that was just three minutes later,
her conscience replied. What am I doing talking to my conscience? Who
asked you?) She'd have to be much more careful -- no more tearing up
the sky all night in search of adventure. She'd have to be responsible.

  But the earrings weren't much use by themselves. Without her special
sapphires on her wrists she had no offensive weapon. Well, she could
kick the crap out of people but with no kickboxing or martial arts
experience she knew that wouldn't be enough. Turning the earrings over
in her hands, Angela decided she'd have to improvise.


  Angela pedaled up to the strip mall fabric store. HELP WANTED. How
lucky could she be?

  Five minutes later she was hired. Apparently no one wanted to work in
a fabric store, because she was the first person who'd inquired and the
sign had been up for a month. "I don't know why girls today would
rather work at Burger World or Quimby's Sub Shop than at a fabric
store, but there you have it," her new boss had said. This was good;
now her mom would get off her back about a summer job. Even better, she
could get everything she needed for her costume at 40% off, and Ellen
(the 50-something woman who worked mornings) said she'd be happy to
teach her how to use the sewing machine in back. Angela's fingers
thanked her; she remembered how they ached after hand-stitching the
collar and cuffs of her first pair of wings.



  "Stop right there!" Sapphire hovered a few inches above the ground.
  "Why don't you make me?" 
  "I will if I have to." Sapphire let loose a small burst; it landed on
target, knocking him over. "Now, are you going to come quietly?"
  "Only if you make enough noise for the both of us!" A hand grabbed
Sapphire's breast roughly through the thin material of her bodysuit.
"Oh!" Sapphire gasped in surprise. "Unhand me you evil man! Oh!" She
gasped again as fingers delicately pinched her already-hard nipple.
  "You can't stop me. Your power is almost gone. Soon, you won't be
able to fly away. You won't be strong enough to resist me. You'll just
be a normal girl wearing a skimpy costume that's falling apart."
Fingernails dragged across her chest; her worn-thin bodysuit ripped
easily. "You'll just be a normal girl begging to come."
  "No... please..." Sapphire whispered as another hand moved down her
body, fingers grazing her nether lips. "Ohh... please don't... stop..."
  "Don't stop? Not until I'm finished with you." Sapphire felt a tug as
a hole was ripped in the crotch of her bodysuit. She cried out softly,
her will to resist fading fast. Fingers rubbed her exposed clitoris
while one slipped inside.
  Sapphire could resist no more. Her toes relaxed; the stiletto mules
that controlled her flight slipped off as she leaned back, falling onto
the bed. The tiara flipped off her head as she landed. "Oh, God no!"
she squealed.
  As the invading hands continued to pinch and stroke through her
ripped bodysuit, spasms of pleasure coursed through her body. It felt
so good, but... her legs dangling over the side of the bed, her toes
searched the floor for her heels. If she could just...
  The fingers manipulating her wet pussy increased tempo as she slipped
her toes into the strap of one of her shoes; she felt a warm rush up
from her toes. Better, but she needed the other one...
  Her attacker's other hand stopped kneading her breasts just long
enough to grab the ragged edge of her bodysuit and pull down roughly;
the sound of the rip echoed in Sapphire's ears as she felt it run all
the way down the front. Sapphire's brow furrowed as she concentrated,
stopping the involuntary thrusting of her hips against the working
fingers to let her toes seek out the other shoe. Her foot slid down
into it...
  "Unggghhh!" Her whole body jerked wildly as the gems depleted
themselves into her. Her vision blurred and her ears rang. Through her
orgasmic tension she felt the finger within her press hard against her
inner walls as the other hand crushed her breast. Sapphire's back
arched up off the bed; she couldn't even breathe. Finally, she
collapsed, quivering; the attacker's hands relented, sliding limply off
her body.

  Angela lay there in silence for several minutes, her breathing and
her state of mind slowly returning to normal. She finally rolled over
on her side and slowly got up; she had to get cleaned up before her mom
came home. She was still lightheaded as she looked into the mirror. Her
bodysuit was ripped in two, exposing her. Instinctively an arm covered
her breasts and a hand slipped between her thighs pressed together in
modesty. She was a mess. She was always a mess. So why was she still
surprised and ashamed at her appearance? Angela collapsed in her chair.
She stared at the sapphires hung from strips around her wrists, then
down at the sapphires on her shoes. Why couldn't she stop doing this?
What had her precious sapphires done to her?

  Five nights in a row, she'd gone out on patrol, trying to regain her
confidence. Five nights in a row, she'd retired after an uneventful
three hours -- as long as she could safely go before she noticed her
flight wavering -- only to come home and masturbate to a furious
fantasy-driven orgasm. (Good thing her mom was switched to the
graveyard shift.) Five nights in a row, she imagined herself sexually
dominated as her powers faded, working toward a sapphire-enhanced
climax. And after each night she looked forward to doing it again.
Angela told herself she was trying to get right back on the horse after
falling off, but was she really? Was she trying to put the crystals to
use for the good of man, or was she just using the crystals as a
substitute for a good man? Was she really looking for a mission to
prove herself, or was she really looking to make her humiliating
fantasy real?

  She had to get out of this rut she was in. Angela wanted to do the
right thing, if only she could figure out what that was.

  She peeled off the destroyed bodysuit and threw it in the trash. Five
nights, five bodysuits. And it wasn't just the violent fantasy
sessions. She started with a new one each night, but by the time she
came home the sturdy opaque material had become thin and worn-out,
shadows of her nipples and pubic hair showing through. It was the
reason she'd taken to shaving herself smooth. (Well, one of the
reasons.) It was as if the sapphire forcefield was dissolving her
clothing somehow. It didn't happen during the day, or when she wasn't
wearing the crystals -- there was nothing wrong with the material
itself. She'd tried different fabrics -- working at the fabric store
had its benefits -- but the effect was the same. It was an embarassing
problem. But not as embarassing as her recent behavior...

  Angela picked up her old Ken doll off the floor and set him back on
top of her dresser, then headed for the shower. 
   


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