The Adventures of Psyche

by Romy

Copyright© 2012 by Romy

Action/Adventure Story: Enter the adventures of the incredibly sexy super heroine Psyche and the private life of her love starved alter ego, Denise in this humorous super short super hero adventure.

Caution: This Action/Adventure Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Magic   Humor   Superhero   Exhibitionism   .

Psyche gasped for air. Monstrously large hands gripped her throat. She searched for an escape from Hyde's death grip.

The beastly villain had her on her back over the edge of the skyscraper. "Why do the bad guys always pick tall buildings to fight on," she wondered as her long copper hair fluttered in the warm night air.

His fetid breath sickened her. "Tonight you die, Psyche. It's about time."

"All talk and no action," she thought. "Just like the rest of the men in my life." She would have sighed if she had any air left. "Time to end this party."

The beautiful heroine kicked up as hard as she could. Her studded leather knee-high boot caught her attacker between his legs. He grunted and his face contorted in pain. She kicked again, decidedly smashing the brute's balls.

"Good lord," she said to herself. "He's got huge nuts!"

Hyde's eyes bulged. He gasped and released his grip before sinking to his knees. He clutched at his aching testicles.

"And they never think to wear protection," Psyche yelled in the confused beast-man's face.

She stood and rubbed her tender throat. "I'm tired of being your blow up doll!" She jerked her gloved fist back to deliver the knock-out blow.

Hyde stretched out his hand and firmly clutched Psyche's left breast. She screamed with agonizing pain as electricity arced through her chest from his grip.

Hyde laughed, spittle flying into his victim's face. "Never underestimate your enemy Psyche." His long, slimy tongue slithered across her crimson lips.

She managed to fight the pain long enough to spit in his face.

"Bah," Hyde bellowed. He jerked his hand away, ripping away the left side of Psyche's black leather corset baring her breast.

"Oh great," she yelled through the agony. "Another titty shot for the nightly news."

Hyde laughed. "Nice. How 'bout a lap dance," he said, pulling a massive hard cock from his pants.

Psyche's blue eyes flared with fury. "I'm NOT a stripper any more," she raged inside.

She spun and kicked, her leather boot connecting with the brute's jaw. Bones crunched. He bellowed in pain. Still spinning, she focused her mind and a shimmering mist manifested in the shape of a dagger in her hand. She plunged the weapon into Hyde's chest.

When the blade sank into his flesh the psychic energy transformed into radiating tentacles of ice. Hyde froze in place, his rage flash-frozen in cryostasis.

Psyche stepped back and exhaled slowly. The psychic dagger disappeared as she cleared her mind.

She slowly took stock of her condition. Her leather corset was torn, exposing her sore breast. Both black stockings were beyond saving and a few of the garter straps were torn off.

"Well at least I still have my panties on this time." She adjusted the cheeky black panties back into their proper place. She looked around for her black long coat, but as usual it was missing.

She took a step toward her adversary. Hyde was completely frozen in place, his hand still holding his gargantuan member out to her.

"I don't think it would even fit!. No wonder he goes into rampages." She looked to be sure no reporters had shown up yet then lightly tapped the tip of Hyde's frozen cock.

"That is a big cocksicle," she giggled.

Camera flashes illuminated the night as the photographers sought the sexiest picture of the famed heroine. Psyche stood before several TV cameras finishing the obligatory interview. She kept her right hand across her sore breast.

"Congratulations on your latest victory, Psyche. We can't wait until you rid the city of crime." The reporter held out his hand in gratitude. She shook his hand and immediately regretted it when the cameras began franticly clicking away as she exposed herself yet again.

Too late for modesty she waved and smiled at the media. Her black long coat fluttered from the sky to land before her feet.

"Yes, of course, now it shows up," she muttered to herself. She grabbed up the coat and slipped into its comfortable embrace, pulling it around herself and hiding her partial nudity.

"Well, time for me to go." She pushed a tiny button on her leather glove. A roar in the heavens announced the arrival of her hoverbike. She straddled the big machine and sighed with pleasure when she felt the familiar throb between her legs.

"Hello, Old Faithful," she whispered to her hoverbike as she twisted the throttle. The bike responded with a thunderous roar that made her loins tingle. "Those fights always get my juices flowing," she thought. "But you never let me down, baby.". She patted the throbbing machine with affection as she rose up into the night sky grinding her hips into the thrumming leather seat with a contented sigh.

Denise punched the remote control, turning off the television. "Why don't those vultures ever show Wonder Woman's titties on the news," she fumed.

"She has better lawyers," Frank, the faithful butler replied dryly as he massaged the fragrant herbal ointment into her bruised and swollen breast.

His fingers flowed expertly across her breast and around her erect nipple. He rolled the rose red nub between his fingers, causing the heroine to bite her lip in pleasure.

"Maybe I should see about hiring a lawyer someday then," she murmured. She closed her eyes and enjoyed his hands slowly caressing away the pain from the fight.

She rolled her sleek nude body over on the cot. Frank's hands slid across her body. "I think you enjoy your job too much, Frank."

He slid his hands across her firm, perfectly formed bottom. "It's a vulgar job, madam. But someone has to do it." He slid his fingers along her bottom, down between her legs.

Denise gasped and parted her legs, hoping he would finally enter her and bring her some real satisfaction.

Instead he traced the outer edges of her glistening pink lips and began stroking away the aches from her legs leaving the ache in her loins unfulfilled.

Denise slapped the alarm clock, crushing the plastic time piece beneath her powerful hand. She yawned and stretched.

She felt much better with almost no pain. She peeked down the front of her blue and white pajamas top. Her breast showed no sign of bruising or swelling.

"Thank goodness," she muttered. "Kind of hard being a lingerie model with bruises and swollen titties."

She padded barefoot and in her PJs down stairs. She grabbed the newspaper from the sofa on her way to the kitchen.

She settled cross-legged into a wooden chair at the breakfast table. Frank frowned at her as he sat her breakfast before her.

"What now," she asked with exasperation.

Frank hovered over her, his short hair and beard were starting to show silver. He looked very much the father figure to the beautiful young woman nibbling her toast. "A proper lady does not sit cross-legged in her chair."

"Well, I don't have a reputation as a proper lady, now, do I."

"Indeed," he huffed. "Nor does a lady nibble her toast like a mouse."

Denise smiled and nibbled furiously at her breakfast. Frank tossed up his hands in resignation.

"Delicious breakfast this morning, Monica." She waved at the pretty new cook. "How is your first day going?"

The young blonde girl blushed. "Thank you, Madam."

"Oh, please, call me Denise," she muttered around a mouthful of eggs.

"I freaking well give up," Frank grumbled as he stormed out of the kitchen.

The girls laughed. "Well, thank you Denise. The day has gone well so far. Mister Frank will be showing me my duties today. I'm so excited!"

Denise laughed and flipped open the Tribune to page three. There was a picture of the beautiful, masked heroine, Psyche, waving and smiling at the camera, her left breast naked to the world.

"She's so brave and beautiful," Monica commented over Denise's shoulder. "And she has gorgeous tits!"

Denise smiled and sat up straight, shoulders back and pajama clad breasts thrust forward. She mentally thanked the pretty, young cook.

"He'll be here any moment now for your lunch date," Frank grumbled, picking the discarded dresses up from the floor.

Denise sat on the edge of the bed in her underwear trying to decide which dress to wear. "It's not a date. I made sure Marvin understood this was not a date."

"Yes, of course, Madam," he replied dryly.

A few minutes later Frank opened to front door for Marvin, looking as handsome as his scrawny frame could, holding a dozen roses and a box of chocolates. "Your date is here, Madam."

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