Caution: This Action/Adventure Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft, Consensual, Rape, Superhero, White Male, Oriental Female, Violent, .
Desc: Action/Adventure Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Imagine what it would be like for you if you were an 8-year-old girl in NYC walking home from school and were grabbed and gang-raped. Well, this girl's parents were from North Korea and not about to put up with that shit, so her father taught her how to defend herself. When she got a little older, she started eliminating rapists and muggers as soon as she could find them.
I was walking home from elementary school, third grade, without a care except for my homework. My name is Nancy Kuan, and I am of Korean extraction. My father was once a high official in the North Korean counter intelligence establishment, and he had escaped to the USA with the aid of the CIA, etc. My mother, a doctor, was also brought to the USA by the CIA, and Dad spent three years in the depths of the CIA building telling everything he knew about the North Koreans, and that was a lot!
When the CIA finally decided that they had gotten everything from Dad that he knew, they moved them to NYC (New York City). That's where I was born, and I was going home from school on that fateful day. I was snatched by eight high school boys who called themselves the "Irish Mafia" and were irrational about their hatred for "chinks." They spent nearly four hours raping and otherwise abusing me. Before they threw me out, one of them decided to cut off my clit as the crowning feature of the day. He used a clasp knife that was much too large for the job, and he wound up making a bloody mess.
They threw me out onto the street, naked and bleeding from the crotch. I was crying and barely able to walk from the pain. A kindly shopkeeper took me in and called 911 for medical service. I was moved to the nearest ER (Emergency Room) where doctors and nurses worked over me to stop the bleeding and to assess the damage to my genitalia.
As it turned out, there was some scaring to my vagina, and the doctors did not know how to rate my future with that. Mother said nothing, as was her habit, but I knew that she would do all she could for me starting as soon as we got home. The damage to my clit was superficial. The boy had only cut away part of the hood and had never made contact with my clitoris. Later on, I was happy for that, but the news meant nothing to me at this time.
None of the rapists were smart enough to use a condom, so there was ample DNA evidence for use at a trial if the boys were ever caught. I have a nearly photographic memory for faces, so I was certain that I could spot the boys if I ever saw them again. Of course, the cops and the DA (District Attorney) had no interest in the words of an 8-year-old girl, so the case got lost in the files by the next day. Well, that made no difference to me; I was prepared to wait as long as necessary for my revenge, and I fully intended to extract it.
The first order of business when I got home was for my mother to start working on repairing my injuries. On the way home, we stopped by our doctor's office and my mother borrowed some things that she thought that she would need. She thoroughly examined me by means of a speculum and worked out a course of treatment. Mother thought that the scarring would be gone within six months if I cooperated with her, and I promised to do everything she asked of me. Between the two of us, we had the scarring of my vagina completely cleared up within the six months that she had predicted, and I was happy with that. The treatment was very uncomfortable on occasion, and down right painful on others, but I wanted to be back to normal by the time I got to high school. My friends were already talking about what went on between girls and boys, and I wanted to be ready when my turn came.
Once I was completely recovered physically from the rape, I talked my Dad into teaching me what I needed to know to protect myself against future rapes. He pointed out that boys and men were always going to be bigger than me, so I was going to have to be somewhat unconventional in my defense. When I got old enough, he would see about getting me a gun, but I was going to have to get by with lesser defenses until then.
Dad skipped the usual polite falderal taught at the public dojos. He went directly for the actual fighting stances, attacks, and defenses. He had found some protective armor for us to wear while we were working out, and it quickly became apparent that I was going to need all of the protection that I could get. He had converted a room in our house to a training dojo with the usual padding and other stuff. It was a good thing because he threw me around the room on that first day.
We only worked out for an hour that first day, and Dad apologized about the way he had been so rough with me. He insisted that he wanted me to understand that martial arts fighting was not a game and certainly not like what I saw on TV and in the movies. At first, I was a little pissed off at his explanation, but then I understood what he was getting at. I was putting my life on the line, and I had to know what to expect!
By the end of the week, I was able to dodge some of the kicks he threw at me, but I was a long time in being able to dodge his hands. We practiced religiously every day, and I began to advance significantly. Of course, I was still going to be banged around by someone bigger than me, and I had to learn to roll with the punches. That was exactly what Dad was trying to teach me, so he was full of praise whenever I managed to survive one of his attacks. I swear, I have never seen a person move as fast as my Dad did during our training sessions. I was really shocked when he said that he moved faster than that in a real fight, and he wanted me to be that good.
I was never bothered again when I walked home in the afternoons. I always made a point of walking with two or three of my friends, and they all knew what had happened to me. Dad helped me work out a plan for how to react if we were ever approached again. The essence of the plan was that we would run away if we could; otherwise, we would run to an open store and ask the proprietor to call 911. If that didn't work, then I was to attack the genitalia of our attackers. By now, I knew all of the tricks for causing maximum pain to those quarters. Well, I never had to try out any of those plans, but I was ready if the situation ever came up.
Middle school finally ended, and I was allowed into the hallowed halls of the high school. Man, what a bummer! The school was on its last legs and looked like a stiff breeze would tear off the roof and demolish the walls. The school looked great from the outside, but it was a basket case on the inside. There were even holes in the walls where people had broken through the plasterboard. Yeah, I know, since the Depression started three years ago, there was no money for even the most basic repairs. The girls' restrooms were a disaster area with half the toilets just looking for a chance to malfunction, and the lavatories were no better. I had heard that the situation was even worse around the world, but I was selfish enough to want my school cleaned up right now, if not sooner.
We went into the auditorium and were pummeled with platitudes by the school staff. Like most of the kids, I tuned them out after about half an hour. Eventually, they would get to something important, and then I would start paying attention. We had already received a packet of useful information from the school staff: things like which locker to use and where to find the lunchroom. The main thing they didn't tell us about was how to deal with the bullies, both male and female.
It seemed that HS 134 was an equal-opportunity bullying ground. The girl bullies generally did not bother the boys, but the boy bullies tried to intimidate everyone. I suspect that some of them even had teachers buffaloed. I was in the college prep line of study, so I was naturally flagged as an easy mark. I was hardly out of the assembly when I was approached by a girl who looked old enough to be a senior.
She said, "Okay, Newbie, hand over your lunch money. I am assessing a dollar a day from you, and I expect to be paid the moment you walk in the front door. I'll be waiting there for your contribution."
"Fuck off, you Bitch! I don't pay protection money. Watch yourself, or you are in for a whole lot of hurt!"
"What the shit do you think you are saying. I am Mable Harrison, and I run a tight ship. You'll do what I say, or you will regret it."
"Look here, Mable, stay away from me and my friends. I may be smaller than you, but I can wipe the floor with you and make you eat the shit that runs out after I hit you. This is the only warning that you will get. I never forget a face, and your ugly mug is at the top of my shit list right now."
Uh-oh, that was the wrong thing to say to Mable. She was indeed ugly, and she was very sensitive about it. Therefore, my comment sent her into a towering rage. She raised her hand to slap me, and she was large enough to do some real damage if she made contact. However, Dad had really worked with me on recognizing the danger signals of aggression, so I knew what Mable had in mind before she raised her hand. Her belly was within easy reach, so I popped my hand out in the classic flattened fist to strike her in the solar plexus.
Mable collapsed like she had been hit by a truck. I wondered if this was the first time one of her victims had stood up to her. Anyway, Mable lay gasping on the floor while I walked off to find my first class room.
The classes lasted only 10 minutes on this first day. The point was to make sure that all of the students could find their proper classrooms. All we had time for in the class was to sit down at an empty desk and find out the name of the teacher. Any serious work would wait until tomorrow.
Well, by the end of the third class, word of what had happened to Mable had spread throughout the school. All of the students knew that I was the one who had laid her out, and they were expecting some retribution from Mable before the end of the day. Ten minutes were spent in the lunch room just like the time allotted to any other class, so I grabbed a glass of orange juice and drank it before I headed for my next class.
On my way, I was accosted by another female student with a message, "Mable wants to see you in the wooded area behind the school right after the last bell. Mable said that you better be there if you know what is good for you." I just nodded and walked to my next class.
The rest of the school day went as expected, so I had no trouble in making my appointment with Mable. Several students grinned as I asked directions to where Mable might be. I was not surprised when they walked to the little grove of trees with me. There is nothing more entertaining than a good cat-fight, and that was what the kids were expecting. One student, a girl, did warn me that Mable would strip me naked when she won the fight, and she would not return my clothes. I nodded at my understanding of that information, but I did not comment.
"Well, Newbie, it's about time that you got here. I aim to get even with you for that sucker punch you caught me with earlier today. I'll give you a choice: either I beat you senseless or you suck my pussy until I cum. Which will it be?"
I was not carrying any books, so I was ready for any sort of aggressive move that Mable might make. I answered, "Mable, this is your last chance to back down. Otherwise, I plan to beat the shit out of you. I have not decided yet if I will make you eat it, but I might do it if you make me mad enough."
Mable seemed to explode with rage when I said that. She had been standing about 10 feet away up until that point, but she charged at me quickly enough that most kids would have been overwhelmed by her action. I simply stepped out of her way and let her go breezing past me. She was moving so fast that she could not have stopped if her life depended on it. I wondered where her speed came from for so large a girl.
Anyway, I stuck out my foot to trip her as she rushed past me. I also clipped the back of her neck with my forearm just before she tripped. The combination was enough to send her crashing to the ground on her face. She hit so hard that she must have broken her nose, but she was so ugly that it was hard to tell.
Mable rolled to her back, and it was easy to see the blood pouring from her face, especially her nose. Mable kicked at me while she was still on the ground, and I had no problem avoiding the kick. Unfortunately for Mable, I was able to grab her foot while it was still in the air. My purpose was to keep Mable from escaping my next action.
I scurried around to be over her belly. There, I dropped to both knees toward her solar plexus. I cursed myself the moment I did that because it is sometimes a killing blow. I did manage to redirect my motion so that only one knee hit her solar plexus while the other knee hit the ground. That was enough to put Mable out for some minutes.
I pointed to one of the girls standing nearby. She was the one who had brought me the invitation to meet Mable behind the school. I said, "Strip her completely, and do it now! Give me her panties when you get them off."
The notable thing about this fight was that I was hardly breathing hard. Everybody else noticed that, and I hoped that it made the right impression. I turned to the girl who was stripping Mable and said, "Get rid of those clothes when you finish. If I hear that you gave them back to Mable, you will get the same treatment that she did!"
I couldn't help noticing that Mable had big tits; my guess was DD-cup. Her pussy was shaved, and that gave me an idea to embellish Mable's demeanment. I took Mable's blouse and ripped a strip from it which I used to tie her hands behind her back. I then found Mable's lipstick and painted circles on her tits around her large nipples. Then I used the same lipstick to treat Mable's pussy lips. That's when I ran out of inspiration and left Mable lying on the ground. "Any one who helps that bitch will get the same treatment, so I advise you people to get out while you can."
The girl carrying Mable's clothes was the first to leave, and the others were right behind her. I stood there holding Mable's panties and wondering what to do with them. That's when I had my inspiration: I went back to the school and entered one of the boys' restrooms. There was a circulating fan with very large blades that was used to stir up the air in the room. I stopped the fan and spent nearly 20 minutes throwing the panties up toward the fan, hoping to get them to snag on a blade. Finally, I was successful and turned the fan back on. The panties seemed to be held well enough not to fall off on their own, so I left the school. I did wonder how long it would be before somebody noticed them hanging on the fan.
As usual, I took public transportation home. I was so pumped up on adrenaline that I was almost hoping that somebody would give me a hard time. I got no relief, so I was still pretty high-strung when I finally got home. Mom was the first to notice, but, as expected, Dad was the first to say anything. "Okay, Peaches, what happened at school that has you so pumped up?" Peaches is Dad's pet name for me, so I was not worried when he called me that.
I gave them a complete rundown of my day at school, but I admit that I did concentrate on my two encounters with Mable. Dad laughed and Mom frowned, again, exactly the kind of reaction that I was expecting. She finally said something, "I hope that you are not going to become a bully at the school. That's not the kind of person we raised you to be."
"Don't worry, Mom. I will not be picking any fights. Furthermore, I hope this one is the only fight I have all year. I hope this fight teaches the bullies to leave me alone."
Dad said, "Peaches, the fight against bullies never ends. Just hope that you continue to come out of your battles as well as you have with this one."