Chapter 1

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."

Nurse Betty

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.