Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Rape, Superhero, Humiliation, Sadistic, Bestiality, Violent, .
Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - In this sequel to "The Magyar," Ms. Americana finds herself sexually abused by the police, a billionaire and a boar. Her sidekick Flag Girl isn't much help.
It figured that Fred Malins would be the one to cause trouble. He had a drinking problem, had been suspended twice for using excessive force, and was rumored to enjoy beating up whores down in Delta-City's rougher neighborhoods.
"So, here's the mighty Ms. Americana, riding a desk, just like me," he said, on her first day on the job at the Criminal Investigation Division's prostitution unit.
"Yeah, I got tired of cleaning up this town single-handed and decided to give ordinary cops like you a shot at it," she said, sitting on the edge of his desk. "Well, maybe not quite like you. I'm talking about police officers, not bullies."
"My reputation precedes me," he said.
"Yeah, I heard you were a real asshole."
"Well, that's okay, baby. I don't like the idea of working with you any more than you like the idea of working with me."
"How would you know?" she said. "You have no idea how much I dislike it."
Malins shrugged. "I don't give a flying fuck. I'm not looking to be liked."
He stood up. He was a big, red-faced man.
"I just want to be loved," he said, grabbing his crotch and leering at her.
"Pull it out, Malins, and let me have a look," said MA. "I hear it's as skinny as a night crawler and as short as a maggot. Perfect for baiting a hook — if you're going after something minnows."
Malins' face got even redder.
"Take off that magic belt of yours, sweetie, and let's go outside and see what you think of my dick after I beat you senseless and stick it in your pussy."
Lieutenant Hyde walked in and caught the last few words.
"Now, now, girls. No quarrelling. We're one big happy family here at Hooker Central. Malins, don't you have work to do?"
Malins grunted and sat back down at his desk.
"Ms. A, your work station is over here. Your log-on is 'Superhero.' You can come up with your own password."
"Thank you, lieutenant," said MA. "Just one small point. I'm a woman, and I'm proud of it. Shouldn't my log-in be 'Superheroine'?"
"Or Superslut," muttered Malins.
MA spun around, leaped over Malins' desk and landed on top of him. His chair tilted backward and they tumbled together onto the floor. MA had landed three punches before Hyde could pull her away. Malins lay sprawled on the floor, blood gushing from his mouth. He was out cold.
"She's got an anger problem," said Commissioner Stepford.
"Of course she's angry," said Dr. Markham. "Malins provoked her. And he's not the only one. The day before, during orientation, officers made clucking noises, like chickens, when she walked through the hallways. The message was clear: They think she's scared to be back on the streets."
"She told you this?" Stepford said.
"No. She hasn't complained, and I admire her for it. I heard about this from a female detective who witnessed the abuse, and from a couple of secretaries."
"Well, provoked or not, her behavior is unacceptable," said Stepford. "We bust ordinary cops for assaulting other officers. Just because she's a superhero doesn't mean the rules don't apply to her."
"You've always hated her, haven't you?" Markham said. "You're jealous because she gets all the attention. It's 'Ms. Americana nabs drug kingpin, ' not 'Delta-City police break big case.'"
Stepford frowned. "You lesbo feminists really stick together, don't you? Well, you're just plain wrong about my feelings toward Ms. Americana. I admire her. I'm grateful for all she's done for Delta-City and this police force. And I'm very sympathetic to her after all she's been through. But maybe after all she's been through, she needs a long vacation. Not a desk job, a real vacation. Away from crime..."
"And away from the press?" Markham said icily.
"Interpret it any way you want, she's out of here," Stepford said angrily. "She's fired. She will no longer have access to headquarters. She will no longer have access to our case files. If she wants to be a superhero, she can do it on her own time. And that's final!"
Meanwhile, six floors below, in the basement of the Delta-City Police Department, MA was already cleaning out her locker.
"So you're finally checking out."
MA looked up. It was a young, blond officer who had clucked at her in the hallway the day before. Two other men stood behind him. All three were big and muscular.
"That's right," she said. "I'm checking out. Maybe I'll open a private detective agency. Free-lancing might be fun." She tried to sound nonchalant.
"We heard about Malins."
"Yeah, what did you hear?"
"We heard you beat him up pretty good. I guess he had it coming. He's a bully. But aren't you a bully, too? I mean, you've got that belt to protect you. You're too chicken to fight without it."
"And now you're even scared to go back on the street with it," said one of the other cops.
MA's face flushed. "So you think I'm chicken, huh? Well, maybe you just don't know what I went through recently."
"Sure, we do," said the blond. "Word has gotten out, Superslut. We heard you got yourself fucked by a pack of horny dogs."
"And got some kind of electric dildo shoved up your pussy," said another.
"And begged for more," said the third. "Ain't that what you heard, Sam?"
"Yeah," said the blond cop. "That's what I heard."
"What do you want?" MA said. Her voice quavered, as if she was on the verge of tears. "Why are you trying to humiliate me?"
"Take off your belt," Sam said. He looked directly into her eyes. "Take it off. I promise these other men won't help me. It'll be just you and me."
MA hesitated, then slipped her hands behind her waist. There was a click, and then she was holding the belt in one hand. "Is this what you want?" she asked.
Suddenly, a pair of strong hands grabbed her arms from behind, and Sam hit her hard in the stomach. She bent over, gasping for breath.
The man in back of her let her go and grabbed the belt. It was Malins. One eye was bandaged shut, and his lips were puffy from MA's punches. He smiled as she fell to the floor. Three of his front teeth were missing.
They beat her for a while, then they forced her to suck them off. Malins was last.
"Here's the little worm you talked about, birdie," he said. He pulled out an enormous prick. "Suck it til I cum, bitch, then swallow it."
She wept as she sucked him off.
When they had finished, they tied her up, stuffed into her locker and closed the door.
"What about her belt?" Malins asked.
"Better give it to me," said Sam. "If she files a complaint, the first place they'll search will your apartment."
The door of MA's locker rattled.
"Shut up in there," one of the men yelled. "Shut the fuck up or we'll fill the locker full of pepper spray."
The rattling stopped, but they opened the door and sprayed her anyway. Then they locked her back in and left. They could hear her rasping screams all the way to the elevator.
Markham was nervous. She always was when she had to deal with Dr. Richard Bohner, head of the Delta-City Clinic. He was a good administrator, everyone said. But as far as she was concerned, he was a misogynistic prick.
A buzzer sounded. Bohner's secretary smiled blandly and said, "You can go in now."
Bohner had a huge corner office with a great view of the city center to the north and the heavily forested Serendipity Park to the east. He sat behind a curved, teakwood desk.
"Something wrong, Rita?" he asked. He didn't bother to get up.
"Yes, something is very wrong," she said. "There was a fracas of some sort at police headquarters today. Commissioner Stepford..."
"Yes, I know. Stepford has fired your hyper-athletic friend. He called me a few minutes ago."
"Did he tell you about how some of the cops have been riding her? Ridiculing her? Trying to provoke her?"
"Trying?" said Bohner. "More than just trying. They evidently succeeded quite nicely."
"Yes, she blew up, and she shouldn't have. But I think she needs to stay on the job in order to recover from her ordeal. Idleness would be the worst possible thing for her."
"And what do you want from me?" he asked.
"You and Stepford are on good terms. I want you to ask him to reinstate her. I'll work on anger management with her. Everything will be fine."
"Really?" Bohner said. He smiled. "If everything's going to be fine, why was Ms. A just found jammed into her locker with a mouthful of cum?"
Markham turned pale. "What... I hadn't heard."
"Yes, it seems she must have gotten into a bit of a tiff with some of her fellow law enforcers. Or maybe she voluntarily gave them a blow job. In any event, she's on the way here in an ambulance."
"How could... what happened to her belt? Why didn't it protect her?"
"She must have taken it off," said Bohner. His grin now had a hint of lasciviousness. "Maybe she wanted to be roughed up a little. Isn't that what you warned us about?"
Tears filled Markham's eyes. "You bastard," she whispered. "You're enjoying this."
"Just between us, I certainly am," said Bohner, "I'll deny ever saying it, of course, but I think I can be candid with you. I despise this so-called superhero. Two years ago, after a thug in a delivery truck shattered her left tibia, this clinic put her leg back together. And did we get a word of thanks from Ms. Arrogance? Not one. And when she and her bubble-headed sidekick Flag Girl got knocked up by those mutant plants, who delivered and disposed of the monstrous offspring? Who repaired their overstretched wombs and vaginas? This clinic. And again, not one word of acknowledgment from her."
"So, you want to see her hurt and humiliated because she doesn't send thank-you notes," said Markham. "That's sick."
"No, that's just the way the world works. What goes around, comes around. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a medical emergency to deal with downstairs."
He took a wooden box from his desk and headed for the door. Markham grabbed his sleeve.
"Ms. Americana? You're going to treat her? You haven't practiced medicine in years."
"Well," he said, "maybe it's time for me to freshen up my skills."
At Bohner's instructions, MA was taken directly from the emergency room to a special unit in the basement. Markham tried to accompany him, but was barred by two tough-looking security officers.
"I want Big Betty," Bohner snapped to the nurse who stood next to the gurney on which MA lay semi-conscious.
"I think I can handle this," said the nurse.
"I don't care what you think. Get Betty down here — fast."
MA had been moved from the emergency room gurney to an examining table. She was completely nude, except for her mask. Bohner removed it and put it in his pocket. Then he pulled up one of her eyelids. The eyeball was red and the pupil was dilated. Her left cheekbone was swollen and so were her lips. He pulled them back and checked her teeth. They were all intact.
"Was she conscious when you got there?" Bohner asked the EMS technician, a chunky man in his thirties.
"Yeah, sort of."
"Did she say what happened to her?"
"Naw," said the technician. "She talked, but she didn't make any sense. I think she was hysterical."
"No broken bones?" Bohner asked, running his hands over her body.
"I don't think so, sir. But she hasn't been to X-ray yet."
Bohner's right hand slid down her belly and followed the curve down between her legs. She moaned softly.
"Well, at least one part of her is responsive," said Bohner. The technician laughed nervously. "Yeah, I guess so."
Bohner pressed three fingers against her vulva, then slid his middle finger into her vagina. Her pelvis began to push upward, so that his finger slipped in even farther.
"Naughty, naughty, Ms. A," he said in a low voice. "Even when you're semi-conscious, you act very much like a slut."
The door opened and a woman in slacks and a loose-fitting white blouse entered. She could have been MA's big sister. She was an inch over six feet tall and appeared to weigh at least 180 pounds. Despite her size, the masculine cut of her jaw, and a nose that clearly had been broken more than once, she was a beautiful woman. She had dark, wavy hair, striking blue eyes, full, sensual lips — and an ample bosom that her blouse couldn't completely hide.
"I'm glad to see you, Betty," said Bohner. "I'm going to need your help."
"Who's the slut on the slab?" Betty asked.
"You don't recognize her?"
"No. Should I?"
Bohner laughed. "Yes, I think you should. Look closer."
Betty leaned over MA.
"She's pretty," she said. "Great body. I kinda think I've seen her before."
"Step aside. Maybe this will help," Bohner said. He bent over MA, and Betty couldn't see what he was doing.
When he stepped back, Betty said, "No shit! I should've guessed it."
Bohner had put on MA's mask.
"So what's wrong with Her Superness?" Betty asked.
"Nothing that a little discipline and instruction can't correct. She has what Markham calls an 'anger' problem. I think she's rattled and scared and has totally lost control of herself."
"So this isn't a nursing job?" Betty said. Technically, she was chief nurse in the psych unit, where her size, strength and intimidating presence came in handy. But she was also available for other, more specialized jobs that Bohner and the medical center board felt needed doing.
"No, not nursing. At least, not in the usual sense. We're going to take her out in the country, to Moulton's place. It's comfortable and private, and it has... well, let's just say it has the facilities we need."
"Yeah, I know," said Betty. "You forget, I've been there. Remember, you sent me there when Mr. Moulton wanted to be flogged by a woman with big tits and big deltoids."
"Oh, yes," said Bohner, blushing slightly. "That's right. Well, then, you won't need any orientation. Let's get her packed up."
Betty reached down and cupped her hand around MA's right breast. "It's a beaut," she said.
"Yes, and it — and so much more — will soon be yours to play with."
Charles Moulton's estate covered over 340 acres of rolling woodlands and meadows. The house was built of creek stone and logs and was supposed to look old and somewhat primitive. In fact, it had every modern convenience, including what the old man referred to as his "Garden of Earthly Delights." It was a sculpture and topiary garden built around a small lake and designed to look like the painting by Hieronymous Bosch — minus the crowds of humans and animals. The human element was provided from time to time when Moulton gave one of his famously lavish parties. Animals, domestic and exotic, were usually also present on these occasions — either in the form of humans in costume or the real live thing. The Delta-City Zoo was always eager to accommodate one of its most generous donors.
More intimate affairs, such as MA's visit with Bohner and Betty, had a very different flavor. The strange structures that had emerged from the artist's imagination five centuries ago became ominous when there were no crowds of laughing guests with cocktails in their hands. And there was good reason for this. The Garden on such occasions became the setting of elaborate, and often fatal, games of hide-and-seek.
"Well, what do you think of it, Ms. A?" asked Bohner.
They had just emerged from a huge SUV with dark tinted windows, and they stood in the driveway beside the house, overlooking the Garden. MA's wrists were tied behind her, but she was back in costume (minus her belt) and was able to stand on her own for the first time in two days.
"It's creepy. Why did you bring me here?"
"For training," said Bohner. "And for the sake of science. We're going to do some experiments on you."
"Great," said MA wearily. "Just what I need."
Betty put her arm around MA's shoulder. "It won't be so bad. This is a beautiful place. You'll get a lot of exercise and fresh air."
The regimen was to begin after a light lunch. Bohner told Betty to go easy at first but to make it clear that she, not MA, was in charge. The goal was to prove to MA that, without her magic belt, she was just another fairly athletic woman. She had already learned how easily she could be bested by men. Betty would now prove to her that she wasn't even supreme among woman.
Hand-to-hand combat — and losing — would occupy MA during the daylight hours. When the sun went down, Bohner would apply the Magyar's wand to drive her to extremes of sexual excitation.
Between the beatings by Betty and repeated rapes by the electrified wand, MA would be reduced to a state of abject sexual submission. At that point, she would be put on the international market. Moulton had assured Bohner that there were powerful men in Europe, Saudi Arabia and India — and at least one woman in California — who would pay tens, perhaps hundreds of millions for such a toy. He himself, if he were a few years younger, would have gladly parted with $50 million for a superheroine-turned-sex slave.
MA, of course, knew none of this. But she expected the worst. Even Betty's arm on her shoulders seemed less a reassuring gesture than an omen of disaster. It was a strong, muscular arm, and MA had had more than her share of pain and humiliation from women with strong, muscular arms during her stay with the Magyar.
Betty tried to keep in mind Bohner's instruction that she was to go easy at first. MA certainly wasn't cooperating. Each woman was armed with a thick, four-foot-long hickory staff. Betty had planned to smash MA's knee, then bring her down with a quick blow to the back of her neck. But MA parried her first stroke and countered with a swing that, had it connected, would have kayoed Betty before the bout was five seconds old.
Betty ducked that one and parried the next with her rod, but MA managed to land a stinging blow to her shoulder. Betty retreated, and MA pressed on. Betty blocked a particularly vicious blow, but it landed on the ring and little fingers of her right hand, and the pain almost forced her to lose her grip.
But MA was momentarily off balance, and that gave Betty the opening she needed. She swung her staff up and slammed it into MA's crotch.
The superheroine groaned and staggered. Betty's rod came down on the side of her head with a loud crack. MA fell face forward, unconscious.
"Okay," said Bohner, who had been sitting on a concrete railing at the edge of a patch of lawn Moulton called the dueling ground. "That's enough for today."
Betty, breathing heavily, gasped, "No shit. I'm bushed."
Two members of Moulton's house staff, dressed in white linen jackets and black pants, lifted MA and carried her into the house.
"What now?" asked Betty.
"We'll let her recover for a while, then I'll try the wand."
"That gizmo from the Magyar's place? Can I watch?"
"Of course," said Bohner. "We're a team. Together, we're going to reduce Ms. A to something just a notch above the vegetative state — let's say she'll become a cabbage with a craving, a lecherous lettuce."
"A rape-able rhubarb," said Betty, joining in the fun.
"A cock-sucking cauliflower."
"A cucumber with a cunt."
"An erogenous eggplant."
They were laughing hysterically as they went into the house for a mid-afternoon cocktail.
The dinner menu for MA was much the same as what she had for lunch: chili peppers, figs and raw oysters, with a fine pinot grigio to wash them down, and strawberries dipped in chocolate for dessert. The emphasis was on foods that were reputed to be aphrodisiacs. Bohner was skeptical of those claims but was willing to try anything — including an experimental Dutch drug called Verlangen that was supposed to drive women crazy with desire. He had injected MA with the drug while she was still groggy from the blow from Betty's fighting staff.
None of this had any visible effect during dinner. MA ate sparingly. Her head ached, and she still felt dizzy.
Moulton, a trim, well groomed man of 78, had been driven in from town to join them. He sat across from MA and couldn't keep his eyes off her.
"You don't appear to feel well, young lady," he said as the salad course was cleared. "Is there anything I can do?"
"Yeah," said MA. "Give me my belt and let me get the hell out of here."
"I'm afraid I can't help you. We don't know what happened to your belt, and believe me, we're as eager to examine it as you are to wear it. As for letting you go, that's out of the question. You have become a commodity — or soon will be. A very valuable commodity."
"What do you mean?" MA asked.
Moulton looked at Bohner. "I see, you haven't told her. Very good. I'm delighted to the one to break the news." Turning back to MA, he said, with a dry smile, "You will soon be a very high-priced slut. The auction will be handled over secure lines, via the Internet. Bidding will start at $2 million, and I'm sure it will climb rapidly."
"For me?" MA asked.
"For you, my charming princess. You have amazed us over the years with your bravery, your strength and your cunning. And I'm sure you're not surprised to hear that many of us also yearned to see you defeated and humiliated, yearned to be able to fuck you while you were helpless or, better yet, while you were under the influence of drugs that would make you want to be fucked."
"You'll never get away with this," MA said.
Moulton chuckled. "But of course we will. Stepford is part of our syndicate, so don't expect the police to come rescue you. Meanwhile, you can't escape with so many guarding you. And soon you probably won't even want to escape." He winked at Bohner.
After dinner, they went down a spiral staircase that led to a lower level fully as large as the first floor of the house. It was filled with exercise equipment, a hot tub and several metal tables of various sizes. One was fitted with stirrups at one end and chains and manacles at the other.
MA balked when she saw it, but Betty pushed her forward.
"You fucking bullies," MA said bitterly. "I can't believe you're going to do this to me."
"Do what, dear?" asked Moulton. "Oh, I see. You think this is some sort of torture device. Nothing could be farther from the truth."
Betty turned her around and looked into her eyes. "Strip," she said. "Don't make me do it for you."
MA removed her costume with trembling hands. Then she covered her breasts with her arms.
"The mask, too," Betty said.
MA took off her mask.
"Quite lovely. Wondrously lovely," murmured Moulton.
"Get on the table and lie on your back," Betty ordered.
MA did as she was told. The metal was cold, and a shiver ran over her body. Betty and Bohner grabbed her wrists, pulled them over her head and secured them with the manacles.
"Put your feet in the stirrups," Bohner ordered. MA didn't move.
"You want me to force her?" Betty asked.
Bohner shook his head. "I don't think that will be necessary." He reached under the table.
"I've got a surprise for you, Ms. A," he said. He was holding the Magyar's wand.
MA began to tremble violently.
"Your body remembers this, even if you mind doesn't," he said.
MA's knees were pressed together and her feet were pointed down, guarding her crotch. Bohner slid the wand across the outside of one thigh. MA moaned softly, and her legs began to relax.
He rubbed the sphere at the end of the wand up and down her thigh. Her knees parted slightly, just enough for him to press the wand between them, and down. She began to wriggle and breathe heavily. The sphere pressed down until it touched her furry mound. She lifted her pelvis to meet it, and swung her legs wide apart. Her body was begging to be raped.
Bohner knew he had to be careful. This strange instrument could produce intense pleasure, but it could also kill. He caressed her vulva with the wand, then teasingly pushed it in a little. Her reaction was explosive. She screamed with pleasure and her hips rose and fell, banging against the table.
"Get her feet in the stirrups and secure them," Bohner shouted. Betty and a burly aide grabbed her ankles.
"Here comes the big bang," said Bohner. He shoved the sphere into MA's pussy. It disappeared, along with seven inches of the wand. MA's body heaved, and sounds that were half screams, half sobs poured from her.
Slowly, Bohner withdrew the wand. MA's gyrations subsided. She lay very still — alarmingly so, Bohner thought.
"Check her pulse," he said to Betty.
"Weak, but she's still pumping."
Bohner grabbed a stethoscope and blood pressure gauge from another table while Betty unshackled MA's wrists. After half a minute, he said, "She's okay."
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
MA was left to recover, with Betty at her side. Bohner and Moulton went back upstairs, for cigars and brandy.
"An amazing display," said Moulton. "Can I give it a try tomorrow?"
"Of course," said Bohner. "The wand has 12 power settings. Today, we went only to level four. I think it would be safe to move up a notch or two."
Moulton smiled. "By God, I haven't been able to get a decent erection in nine years, but I almost feel I could give her a good fuck tonight."
"You're welcome to try anytime you want, Mr. M," said Bohner. "And if your dick isn't up to it, the wand is a dandy surrogate."
A Fish Tale
MA dreamed she was back in third grade, at St. Boniface Elementary School. She was being chased by Theresa McGee, who was bigger and often beat her up. Only it was so odd — Theresa was a 10-year-old child, while MA was her adult self, yet Theresa somehow was till bigger. And as mean as ever. They ran through the school playground, which had somehow morphed into Moulton's Garden of Earthly Delights. Crowds of naked, pink people wandered about the grounds. They were smaller than MA, and they spoke a strange language she didn't understand.
She heard Theresa somewhere behind her, yelling, "Brenda Wade, when I'm finished with you, you won't be so pretty anymore."
MA climbed a staircase that spiraled around one of the strange garden sculptures. The rose-colored sculpture hadn't appeared very big when she started climbing, but soon she was a hundred feet above the ground and there were still many stairs to climb. She passed an oval window, and a hand reached out and grabbed her. She was pulled through the window and found herself facing a house cat as big as she was — in fact, quite a bit bigger.
"We eat little girls like you," said the cat. It moved toward her. She pressed her back against the wall and closed her eyes, trembling with fear. Then she felt a rough tongue stroking her crotch.
"Yes, start there," said a familiar voice. She opened her eyes. It was the Magyar. He was holding the wand. It had grown and was now at least three feet long. "And when she's nice and juicy," he told the cat, "I will explode her into a billion, trillion pieces, and you can lick them up at your leisure."
MA awoke with a start. She was covered with sweat and breathing heavily. The room was dark, except for a glimmer of moonlight that came through the barred window.
She got out of bed, and her knees almost buckled. She was weak with fear — and with sexual excitement. She heard the tiny whir of an electric motor. She knew it was the TV camera mounted just below the ceiling. Even in the dark, it followed her every motion. Infra-red, she thought to herself.
She went to the window and looked out. The ground sloped away from the house on this side, down to a tree-lined stream. There was just enough moonlight to make out the contours of the landscape.
A metallic sound behind her made her turn around. The door to her room was open, and someone stood silhouetted in the doorway.
"Can't sleep?" It was Betty.
"Why do you care?" asked MA.
"I want you fit and ready to fight in the morning."
MA laughed bitterly. "Why do we have to fight? You proved you're stronger than I am. I concede."
"That's no fun," said Betty. "If you don't put up a good fight, Bohner and Moulton will figure you're broken, and they'll sell you. Don't you want to put that off as long as possible?"
Betty walked over and caressed her shoulder with her fingertips. "I don't want to see you sold. As bad as things may seem here, they will be much worse when you become some dip-shit sheik's sex toy."
MA tried to read Betty's face in the dark. "How would you know?" she asked. "Have you ever been a sex slave?"
"No," Betty whispered, "but I'd like to be yours."
They embraced tentatively, then MA succumbed to Betty's sudden ardor. Betty picked her up and carried her to the bed.
They made love until sunrise. Betty was an expert, but MA wanted more. She shuddered as she thought what it was she wanted, what she craved as she had never craved anything before — the wand and its big, magical silver sphere. She wanted it deep inside her. She wanted it to fill her until she burst, until she was obliterated in an orgasmic explosion.
"Do we really need to do this?" said Betty.
"Absolutely," said Bohner. "You've mastered her only once. It will take at least four or five sessions before the message is indelibly etched in her mind, until she knows she's no longer some kind of hot-shit superheroine."
They stood next to a muddy pit behind Moulton's stables. It had been selected by Bohner, with Moulton's enthusiastic approval, as the venue for the next MA-vs.-Big Betty match.
"I've seen some very good mud-wrestling videos," Moulton told Bohner. "I think we can top them with these girls."
This fight would join the others in Moulton's video library. A camera crew had set up at the perimeter of the pit, and a microphone dangled from a boom, to catch the grunts, curses and howls of the combatants.
Betty was stripped and ready for action, even if her heart wasn't in it. MA arrived at the pit with her wrists tied behind her and a guard on either side of her. She had been stripped, too — and Betty figured whoever did the stripping did a few other things, judging from the look of shame and despair on her face.
"Untie her," Bohner said. "Ms. A, you don't look like you've gotten into the spirit of today's event. I hope you won't let us down."
"Fuck you," MA whispered.
"Ah, that's a good sign," said Bohner. "Get mad. Get mad as hell. Get mad as hell, and take it out on Betty."
MA turned to say something to him, but at that moment, Betty grabbed her from behind, lifted her off her feet and tossed her into the pit. Mud splattered everywhere from the impact, and MA sat up, sputtering with shock and rage.
Betty climbed into the muck and immediately sank knee-deep. She reached for MA, but the superheroine made a quick move and kicked her in the side. Betty's face turned red with anger, and in a second she was on top of MA, pummeling her, pulling her hair, pushing her face into the mud.
MA fought back bravely and at one point managed to flip Betty over her shoulder into the muck. But the outcome of this match, like the one the day before, seemed predetermined: Betty's superior strength would prevail.
It would have, had Bohner's cell phone not rung just as Betty was preparing to finish off the battered superheroine. The ring distracted Betty for an instant, and MA landed a hard right to her jaw.
Betty's knees buckled. MA didn't wait for her to recover. She clambered out of the pit, rolled over and kicked a security guard in the balls. Then she was on her feet, running as fast as she could. Two other guards gave chase, and Bohner used his cell phone to call for reinforcements.
In less than a minute, Oliver Taggart, the overweight head of Moulton's security force, and his assistant Stan Lee, arrived on the scene in an electric cart.
"Where did she go?" asked Taggart.
"Toward those woods," said Bohner. "Two of your men took off after her, but she's quite a runner."
"Well, I'm no goddam runner," said Taggart. "Me and Stan will take the cart."
"How the hell are you going to get a cart into the woods?" Bohner asked in exasperation.
"I'm not going into the woods, Doc," said Taggart. "I've got six other men, besides the two chasing her, who'll be combing the woods. I want to be where she's most likely to be when she comes out of the woods. So just let me do my job, and you do yours — whatever the fuck that is."
After eluding Moulton's security team for twenty minutes, MA cautiously emerged from the forest. She found herself standing before a large building of yellow brick, to which were attached two large cylindrical steel tanks and what appeared to be industrial pumps.
She cautiously circled the building until she came to the main entrance. The walkway to the glass double door was divided by a rectangular pond full of goldfish. She stepped into it and washed the mud from her legs. No sense leaving a trail for her pursuers. The goldfish cowered under water lily pads.
She could hear voices approaching in the woods in back of the building, and in the other direction, about 100 yards away, she spotted an electric cart with two men in it rolling up a path that led to the entrance.
It was time to make a move. She tried one of the big glass double doors. It opened easily.
Inside, it was dark and cool. She was in an entrance hall with large pictures and diagrams on the walls. Just enough light came through the doors to enable her to recognize that the pictures were of fish and turtles. It was too dark to read the accompanying text, and in any event she didn't have time for a lesson on aquatic ecology.
She looked back through the glass doors. The cart was only about fifty yards away. She had to find a place to hide.
In the wall opposite the main entrance was an arched doorway with a black curtain. She pushed aside the curtain and found herself in a narrow, curved corridor that encircled the most important part of the building, a huge, cylindrical tank filled with marine life. Through a glass portal, she recognized groupers and loggerhead turtles. A school of smaller fish flashed by. She pressed her nose to the glass just as a large shadow in the blue-green haze turned into a shark. She stepped back automatically, but the shark swerved as it approached the glass, and she saw a pair of remoras attached to its grey skin, just behind its gill.
MA heard the doors open out in the entrance hall, then the voices of Taggart and Lee.
She turned left and followed the curved corridor, hoping to find a way out, or a place to hide.
"You go that way," said Taggart. "I'll meet you on the other side."
MA was growing desperate. But suddenly she spotted a small metal door on her left. When she opened it, she saw that it gave access to a narrow, vertical shaft with hand rungs. She closed the door and started climbing.
In a few seconds, she was on a platform just above the ceiling of the corridor she had been in. And at the edge of the platform was the big tank. It was illuminated by a skylight only a few inches above her head.
She heard someone turn the handle of the door below.
"Shit," she said to herself. If he came up the ladder, he'd have her. She looked down into the water. The shark she had seen was circling lazily. Or maybe it was a different shark. She realized there were at least three or four.
She heard the clink of metal on metal. Someone was coming up the ladder — and probably carrying a gun.
She sat at the edge of the platform and dangled her legs in the tank. Then bracing herself with her hands, she let her body slide into the water.
It was cold but not as cold as she expected. She took a big gulp of air, then swam underwater toward a replica of a shipwreck. A shark swam alongside her for a moment, then turned away.
She hid in the shipwreck and hoped she could hold her breath long enough for whoever was on the platform to look around and lose interest. Finally, after a minute and a half, her body was screaming for oxygen. She swam to the surface as unobtrusively as possible, but when her head came out of the water she couldn't restrain herself. She noisily forced the stale air out of her lungs and inhaled deeply.
Then she looked over at the platform. No one was there.
Her feeling of relief was interrupted by a forceful bump in the side. A shark was nudging her. She turned to face it, and it bumped her again, this time in the belly.
Was it preparing to attack? Or did it think she was an aquarium worker, come to feed it? Another bump, this time from behind. A second shark had joined in the fun.
MA tried to remain cool. She didn't want to do anything to startle or anger the sharks, but she also didn't want them to view her as helpless — and as a meal. These weren't great whites, but they were big enough to do serious damage.
In the viewing hall below, Moulton's security guards were watching all this with amusement.
"Think they'll take a bite out of her?" Lee asked.
"I sure would like to," said Taggart.
MA swam, as calmly as possible, around the perimeter of the big tank. She was looking for a way out. Returning the way she had come seemed too risky.
At last, she came to a concrete wall with rungs. As she climbed up, one of the sharks nipped at her right leg. She felt a sudden pang, and when she looked down, blood was flowing from her calf.
She pulled her legs out of the water just in time. The sharks had grown excited by the scent of blood.
MA looked around. She was on a ledge between the big tank she had just emerged from and another, smaller one. This one wasn't covered by the skylight, so she couldn't tell what was in the dark water. But there were only two choices: the small tank, with whatever hazards it might hold, or the big one with several hungry sharks. She slid into the small tank.
"She's a goner," said Taggart.
"Why? She got out before the sharks really got going."
Taggart laughed grimly. "Yeah, she got out, all right. And I'm pretty sure she's now in the Jug."
MA had no way of knowing, of course, that the "Jug" was where Moulton's aquarium keepers maintained a host of less attractive forms of aquatic life found mostly in the Amazon river system — life forms that few visitors to public aquariums were interested in seeing.
The first to attack her were a pair of lampreys, which attached their circular, tooth-filled mouths to her breasts. She was startled, but the sensation was almost pleasurable at first. There was nothing pleasurable, however, when she attempted to pull the parasites off of her. The pain was agonizing, and she realized that removing the lampreys would likely mean tearing off her nipples.
Then she felt other creatures probing her anus and her vulva. She kicked and squirmed. Something was definitely entering her vagina. Terrified, she screamed and swam back to the ledge she had left. But now something had become interested in the gash in her leg, and she felt several new sets of teeth digging in. She tried to pull herself out of the waster, but she began to feel weak and dizzy.
"Got to get out," she told herself. But everything began to whirl around her, and she lost consciousness. Small but powerful jaws pulled her below the surface of the water. Bubbles poured from her nose and mouth as she sank into a gloom darkened by her own blood.