Chapter ONE

The moment Jordin Tyler got inside her apartment, she stepped out of her high heels and began unbuttoning her blouse. In the bathroom she loosened her ponytail, setting her luxurious brunette tresses free as she tossed her blouse to the floor, revealing the lacy white bra which confined and supported her supple bosom. With a sigh, she unzipped her skirt and let it fall around her slim ankles.

At work (as a junior engineer at Hasselhoff Electronics), she had just been reassigned to a new project under Senior Engineer Clarise Strickland. This was a good thing in the sense that it enabled Jordin to keep an eye on the conniving woman; but it was not so good in the sense that Dr. Strickland was a 24-carat bitch! And that was not even counting the certain secret she held over the younger girl, one that she took every opportunity to rub her nose in! But safe in her apartment, Jordin had soon shed every stitch of clothing and was lying in a hot bath.

"Oh, what a day!" the young woman moaned, allowing the warm soapy water to caress her supple body all over. Mmmmm that felt soooooo good! After a few minutes, she began to gently rub soap on and around her nubile breasts, enjoying the slippery feel on her satin skin as she closed her eyes...

Jordin imagined that her phone was ringing, the special red phone to which only one man had access... the direct line to the Capitol City mayor's office! She let out a soft groan as her nipples flushed under her fingertips, sending a tingly sensation directly to her thighs. Normally that sound meant trouble for her superheroine alter ego. Tonight it meant something different.

"Victory here," she whispered to herself, letting her hands slide down between her legs. "What can I do for you?"

"Victory! Thank goodness!" she imagined the Mayor's response, hearing his vibrant, masculine voice clearly. "I need you immediately!"

In real life the very sound of his voice sent Jordin's pulse to beating faster, no less so at this moment, even though it was just her imagination. Just thinking of his strong arms and broad chest made her pussy quiver with suppressed longing...

"You need me? Immediately?" she moaned, her nipples hardening as her fingers moved delicately in between the moist folds of her labia, teasing and coaxing. "That m-m-might be a little tricky, sir." Considering that the mighty Victory happens to be naked as a jaybird right now, she thought, blushing like a schoolgirl.

"Can't you drop whatever you're doing?" she imagined his insistent rumble. "For me?"

Ooooh his voice was like honey, doing the tango across her libido! Lifting one long, lovely leg out of the bath, Jordin lay back further, playing with her submerged slit, stroking herself into a blissful state of arousal.

"Yes! Mr. Mayor, I'll do anything for you...and your fair city..."

"This time, it'd be more for me...just me," he went on in her mind. "But I assure you this is urgent!"

"Oh I b-bet it issss," Jordin hissed, her eyes fluttering as she lay back in the bathtub. "I mean... it's a very... s-serious situation, sir," she gasped, her heart pounding, breath coming faster and faster as she began to get closer to climax.

"I need you to come...quickly!"

"Believe me, I'm trying as hard as I can!" Jordin sighed.

Suddenly a sound cut sharply through her fantasy, causing her eyes to snap open. It was her real phone, the red cell. Flustered, she leaned over to extract her phone from her clothes with her free arm, then touched the speakerphone button.

"Y-yes, Mr. Mayor...?"

The mayor spoke, his voice resonating even more sweetly in reality. "Victory, I'll get straight to the point. The Centurion has just broken into the City Museum!"

Jordin moaned out loud, her excitement coupled with his actual voice nearly making her cum, but her concentration and thus the fantasy shattered all at once like a crystal vase at the sound of the supervillain's name; Centurion!

"Victory?" the mayor asked. "Victory, are you all right?"

"That... ahem!... does sound like an emergency," Jordin continued breathlessly. "I'll be right there." She quickly reached over to her smartphone to break the connection.

Jordin snatched up a towel and rose dripping from her bath, unable to help thinking about the Centurion. She had met the supervillain in battle several times before with less than stellar results.

Once she had patted herself dry, Jordin bent over and put on a pair of silver bracelets. A simple banging of the two magical items brought a blinding flash of light and Jordin had become VICTORY! Her statuesque body was perfectly dry and now clad in her superheroine uniform; purple Lycra hot pants, the garment clinging around her tight, peach-like ass. With a matching purple halter top, its bold silver "V" emblem proudly riding over her ample bust. Silver knee boots and a purple mask completed the look.

With a sassy toss of her long hair, Jordin stood admiring her lean, sexy form in the mirror while she adjusted the silver power belt on her hips, checking the newly installed locking mechanism on the buckle. She had developed the tiny device to make it practically impossible for anyone but her to remove the powerbelt, which (embarrassing as it was) happened from time to time. Having completed her transformation into Capitol City's most powerful superheroine, the amazing Victory headed swiftly out the door!

"Better be on your guard, Centurion!" she practically snarled. "I'm coming for you!"

THE SUN was just beginning to set as a unique custom-built motorcycle arrived in front of Capitol City's Honeywell Museum. Bystanders on the street stared with awe at the beautiful young woman astride the big machine, her long brunette tresses blowing behind her like a banner, her sumptuous body clad only in a clingy, two piece costume, with a mask to conceal her true identity. Though everybody knew this image very well! Without a pause, Victory slipped her delectable round booty from the seat of the Victorycycle, her silver boots taking the steps of the museum two at a time.

Several reporters and gawkers were milling about in the entrance hall, but the stunning superheroine strode past them all, haughtily ignoring the interested looks her tempting feminine curves were getting from the males in the crowd. Past the information desk, the east wing was cordoned off by yellow Crime Scene tape. Two uniformed policemen stopped her at this point, their eyes roaming over her daringly revealing costume.

"Sorry, ma'am," said the taller of the two. "You'll have to submit to a search."

"You've got to be kidding me," Victory smirked, cocking her desirable hips and imperiously thrusting out her wonderful bust. "Surely you boys don't think that I'm concealing anything dangerous in this outfit?"

The other one licked his lips as he stared at the lovely superlady's gorgeous C-cups, straining like a pair of ripe honeydew melons against the fabric of her halter top with its silver "V" emblem. "Orders, ma'am. We have to frisk you..."

The superheroine's smirk began to fade. She liked to keep things light, knowing that CCPD weren't her biggest supporters (no one likes someone who does their job better than they do) but she had no intention of letting these officers put their grubby hands on her. They knew who she was, who had sent her and that she wasn't concealing anything! Luckily a familiar voice intervened.

"That won't be necessary, Watkins," said Detective Sasha Cortez sternly. The gorgeous Latina wore a gray linen skirt and blazer over a cream-colored silk blouse. She scowled at the two officers as she lifted the yellow tape to let the superheroine through. "Victory, I'm so glad you're here! This way please."

The high heels of the two women echoed as they strode along the Hall of Statuary.

"Thank you for coming, Victory," Cortez said. "I knew you'd be interested, because you've clashed with the Centurion before."

Victory hid a flash of trepidation at that statement. Her previous "clash's" with Centurion hadn't exactly ended in her favor. The superheroine pushed those thoughts from her mind, Cortez had no way to know that...with the exception of circulating if unproven rumors of him carrying her off after a brief fight at a mall.

"This time I'm afraid he's made off with the Izimir Venus!" the Latina explained.

"Great Scott!" Victory gasped. She knew it well by reputation. A nearly life size ivory statue of the Roman goddess, it was on loan from the Kingdom of Magristan, which led to another complication. "This is heavy! Ambassador Jafar will be furious! But how can you be sure it was the Centurion?"

"He left a message," Cortez smiled delicately. "With your name on it."

They arrived at an empty pedestal surrounded by various security devices which had obviously been of no avail. Waiting for instructions were the curator, a couple of security guards, two police patrolmen, and three men from forensics. On the pedestal was a small bronze cylinder approximately a foot and a half long. It felt heavy in Victory's hand as she picked it up. Inscribed in the metal was the following message: "From The Centurion. To be opened only by Victory."

"We've tried to open it, naturally," Cortez said. "But the cap won't budge."

"If I can be of assistance..." the museum curator stepped forward.

"I hardly think so, Mr. Howe," Victory balked, arching one flawless eyebrow haughtily. "Everyone just stand back and leave this to me. Obviously it could be dangerous."

As the eight men backed away to a safe distance, Det. Cortez stayed close. The spunky superheroine smirked (Men!) then used her super strength to unscrew the cap on the cylinder, allowing a small scroll to fall out. She passed the cylinder to Cortez, who leaned closer to read the scroll along with her.

"The Izimir Venus now rests in the hands of one who can truly appreciate her beauty. And yet my triumph rings hollow. Because I remember so well the sweet spoils of Victory, I give her this chance to redeem the stolen Venus, assuming she has the spine for it. I now go to procure a matching bauble for my goddess. Follow me if you dare."

Sasha gave the cylindrical case another inspection, suddenly the opened mouth began to exude a dense cloud of greenish, bitter tasting smoke! Victory instantly clamped both hands across her nose and mouth.

"Get back, Sasha! Knowing the Centurion, it's probably..."

"It's not sleep gas," the Latina coughed, having inadvertently gotten a lungful. "It's more like... My CLOTHES!"

The mist had settled like dew onto her blazer and skirt. There was a faint sizzling sound as the fabric of her jacket simply dissolved away, followed just as quickly by her thin silk blouse! Her gun and badge, both clipped to the waistband of her skirt, thumped to the marble floor at her feet as that garment also disappeared, leaving the curvaceous detective in nothing but her sheer black panties and black lacy bra!

"Caramba!" she gasped. "VICTORY! Get away, quickly!"

The warning came too late. The sassy superheroine gaped in stunned disbelief as her skimpy Lycra hot pants evaporated before her very eyes, leaving only the plain white thong she wore underneath! There was absolutely nothing she could do! The super girl let out a strangled "EEK!" as the mist ate away her halter top just as it had her hot pants! For a moment, her delicious breasts hung naked in the cool air of the statuary, their pink nipples in full view! Her emerald green eyes wide as dinner plates, the young heroine quickly cupped her hands over her exposed boobs, embarrassment roiling through her like a tidal wave.

The curator and the other men murmured excitedly despite themselves, huge grins spread on their faces as they gawked at the two half-naked women. Their eyes devouring Victory's peach-like ass, not to mention the sweet V shape between her thighs. Likewise they drank in the gorgeous curves and full round booty of the Latina detective. Meanwhile, frozen in a state of shock, everything seemed in slow motion to the two bared women and they shared a brief glance of utter humiliation.

"Are you sure you don't require any assistance?" Mr. Howe snickered, gawking at Victory's magnificent bazoongas as the superheroine struggled to conceal her chest, blushing like a rose. The other men moved forward, surrounding the women and feasting their eyes on their nubile feminine bodies.

"Keep back!" Cortez glared, regaining her composure. "You two, quickly handover your shirts!"

Two officers started to protest, then realized they were being given an order by their superior; still they made no rush in unbuttoning and handing over their uniform shirts, underneath both had white tank tops and Kevlar vests to cover them. Det. Cortez snatched the shirts angrily, draping one over Victory's shoulders before donning the other herself.

"You all oughta be ashamed of yourselves," she snapped, her accent growing thicker as her anger grew. As a stream of Spanish swears and curses followed, the men all realized their crassness and could not help but look down sheepishly. Oblivious, the superheroine gratefully slipped her arms through the sleeves of the shirt, still her cheeks were burning with embarrassment.

"I'll GET you for this, Centurion!" she hissed under her breath.

Chapter TWO

As dusk was falling, a powerful, athletic man wearing a white tunic and Roman armor gently lowered himself through an open skylight on a thin black cable into a large, sumptuously furnished library. Unhooking the end of the cable from his weapons belt, he let the reel dangle as he looked around in the dim light, hazel eyes narrowing as he focused on a display case containing an enormous ruby. He took a few moments to disable the security and open the case, then smiled broadly as he reached in to gently grasp the beautiful red gemstone... Suddenly his moment of triumph was interrupted as the French doors leading to the rose garden burst open with a crash!

"I'd put that back if I were you, Centurion!" said an arrogant female voice.

The man glanced around to see a pair of spectacular legs striding towards him. Drinking in every inch, his eyes followed them upwards to a lean, lissome body clad in purple Lycra hot pants and matching halter.

"Victory!" he smiled, touching the hilt of the short sword hanging from his belt so that its blade rose slowly upright in a suggestive way. "I'm pleased to see you, as always. But how did you guess where I'd be?"

"A bauble to adorn a goddess?" the sexy superlady smirked, giving her hastily-donned spare uniform a little tug. "It had to be the Heart of Jullana ruby here at the Magristani Embassy."

"Not bad for a girl," the Centurion replied, carefully setting the ruby down on the floor. Then he drew a short wooden rod from his belt and charged.

Victory couldn't help admiring the fluid grace of his muscular body as he bore down on her, she had almost forgotten how handsome he was...but this was no time to get distracted. Gracefully she blocked his weapon with her left bracelet, following through with her right fist. To her dismay, the Centurion sidestepped, catching the young heroine off balance and using her own momentum to spin her around and send her tumbling helplessly across the armrest of a nearby sofa. The next thing she knew, she was sprawled flat on her back with the impertinent villain on top, straddling her.

"This is very nice," he said with a grin, pinning both wrists above her head as he gazed down at her lovely bust, rising and falling under the skin tight Lycra top.

"Get off of me!" Victory hissed.

The heroine struggled to push upward with her hips to dislodge him, but in this position he had all the leverage. He leaned closer, his hazel eyes locked with her green orbs, his face hovering only inches from hers. A sudden rush of desire assaulted the heroine, as memories of his body taking hers, of the powerful orgasms he forced upon her, flashed through her mind. As she was distracted his right hand briefly copped a feel of her left breast, squeezing the firm flesh through the fabric of her uniform, then moving downward along the curve of her abdomen, softly tracing the silky bare skin of her ribcage...then quickly sliding over the outside of her hot pants to grab the soft V between her thighs!

"Hey...OH!" the superheroine gasped in surprise as Centurion immediately began to knead her prim mound. Her slim hips involuntarily bucked further into his grip as her green eyes widened and began to roll back into her head. Unwelcome tingles danced across her pelvis and thighs running all the way down to her toes and making them instantly numb.

Victory bit her bottom lip delicately, stifling a moan and willing herself back to her senses. Focusing her super strength she bucked again this time easily pushing him off of her. This was not a romantic encounter, this was a very real fight with a bonafide super villain! The two of them rolled across the hardwood floor in a tangle of grappling arms and legs, until the stunning heroine's superhuman strength got the upper hand. Rising to her feet, she hauled the Centurion upright by the front of his tunic, feeling his hands lightly exploring her trim waist.

"If you're trying to unlatch my powerbelt," Victory smirked, "you're wasting your time. I got tired of lowlifes like you taking it away from me, so I installed a locking mechanism."

"You think of everything," he said. "Still, where there is a will, there is a way."

Victory raised one exquisite eyebrow. "Obviously you're not smart enough to realize when you're beaten, Centurion."

"Perhaps not," the supervillain replied. "But then, unlike you, I WAS smart enough NOT to come in through the door and trigger the silent alarms."

"What does that have to do with--?"

Just then the oak doors at the other end of the library were flung open as two Magristani security guards appeared, waving guns and shouting unintelligibly in Arabic. While the spunky superheroine was distracted, the Centurion grasped both sides of her power belt and shoved it downward over her narrow hips.

"NO!" Victory gasped as her precious belt (still latched) slid over the smooth Lycra fabric of her hot pants and down her long, alluring legs to the floor.

The Centurion's arms immediately snaked around the sassy superheroine's slim waist, cupping her round little butt with his hands as he swept her upward into his embrace. Deprived of her super powers, Victory had no hope of resisting.

"No... you can't..." she protested, as his lips forced themselves over her mouth in a hard kiss.

Victory's eye-lids fluttered as his tongue penetrated her glossed lips and intermingled with her own. Heat was surging through her, blood pounded in her ears and her skin tingled all over as her soft body surrendered against his, seemingly of its own volition. On her tiptoes, supported in his powerful arms, her ankles stepped out of the circle of her power belt without her being aware of it. A gentle moan quivered in her throat, feeling his erection rise up, so hard and thick against her succulent cleft, making her pussy moist, almost aching to be filled by him...

Dimly she was aware that the security guards had fallen silent, advancing slowly while still holding guns on the two of them. The Centurion abruptly disengaged from the kiss and despite herself Victory licked her lips, savoring the lingering taste of his saliva.

"I apologize in advance, Sweet Enchantress," the Centurion whispered in her ear, "but right now I need a distraction..." With one fluid movement, he unhooked Victory's halter top and peeled the garment off, at the same time giving her body a push. "...And you make one Hell of a distraction!"

"NO!" Victory squealed, her exquisite breasts bobbing in full view (again) as she stumbled helplessly into the hands of the two security guards. "Don't!"
The nearest guard dropped his gun in surprise, finding his hands unexpectedly occupied with a pair of firm but supple titties. The heroine immediately tried to go after Centurion but the guard kept a firm grasp, and Victory found herself pulled back to him by her plump boobs. His hands instantly seemed to begin fondling her vulnerable melons, drawing an indignant gasp from the heroine.

"By the Twin Hills of Shalimar!" he blurted in English. "It is a WOMAN!"

"How very perceptive of you!" the cocky superheroine snapped, pushing against his shoulders while the second man gave her a toothy grin. "Get your hands off of me!"

The second guard stepped in to assist his compatriot with the struggling girl. Did they think SHE was trying to steal the ruby!? She tried to wrench free, but the two burly men were able to get ahold of her arms with one hand. Without her super strength this seemed more than enough to restrain the young woman. Meanwhile their free hands fumbled about her chest. Admittedly the heroine could not tell if their groping was intentional or just the result of her struggles, however neither man seemed shy in grabbing handfuls of her firm round breasts!

"I can see that you're busy, Victory," the Centurion said flippantly, picking up the Heart of Jullana and dashing back to where his grapple line was still hanging. "Don't bother seeing me to the door. Until we meet again..." He clipped the power reel to his belt and activated it, vanishing back up through the skylight.

While her quarry got away, again, the young heroine found herself wrestled to the ground.

"Unhand me!" Victory pleaded, squirming helplessly in the hands of the security guards. "Thanks to you, the Centurion's getting away!"

Then one big hand clamped down over her mouth, silencing any further protest. Victory was now easily overpowered by the two men; her arms were drawn behind her and firmly pinioned together by a muscular arm. She could feel a hand groping her firm booty as if patting her down for weapons, even as her legs flailed uselessly. Whimpering with hapless frustration, the subdued heroine was lifted back to her feet. One guard held her firmly, one arm having captured both her own, the other securely hand gagging her. Panic boiled in her stomach, without her powers she had no hope of fighting these two and what liberties might two Magristani soldiers take with what they thought was a sexy American jewel thief they'd caught?

"Oh Beauteous One," the other guard moaned, licking his lips greedily as he now reached out to stroke her bottom. "You must be one of those tasty American underwear models we hear so much about."

"AHMED! HASSAN! RELEASE HER AT ONCE!" said a commanding voice. The two guards instantly let go of the superheroine as a tall man in a turban and scarlet robes strode gracefully into the library. He scowled over his pointed beard.

"Ambassador Jafar!" Victory gasped, cupping her hands around her bust.

"I have just spoken with Mr. Howe," Jafar frowned, glancing at the empty display case. "He was informing me that the Izimir Venus has been stolen. And now the Heart of Jullana is missing??" His beady eyes looked Victory up and down. "You must be the invincible American superheroine he was telling me about?"

Having scrambled to recover her halter and belt, Victory now stood pressing the purple garment over her naked chest. She gave the ambassador a blushing grin.

"Yes...um, that's me..." she replied sheepishly. "Could you excuse me for just a moment to, um, put my clothes back on...?"

The Ambassador frowned down at her, making the superheroine feel very small. His right eyebrow twitched. "This is most...disappointing!"

Chapter THREE

The Victorycycle roared through the night, zig-zagging through traffic as its sexy, purple-clad rider enjoyed the way the powerful metal machine throbbed between her smooth thighs. That was TWICE in the same night the Centurion had not only slipped through her fingers but left her in a uniquely humiliating position, once in front of Ambassador Jafar himself! When she caught up to him...

A ringtone chimed in Victory's earphone. The superheroine looked down at the vidscreen mounted in between the handlebars and saw the face of Sasha Cortez. "Victory here," she said. "What news, Sasha?"

"I just heard what happened at the embassy," the pretty Latina sighed.

Victory lifted one aristocratic eyebrow. "I would have captured the Centurion if those stupid MEN hadn't distracted me and gotten in my way!"

"Of course," Cortez replied. "Look, I've just been contacted by a Mr. Gordon Malcolm who says he may have an idea where the Centurion will strike next. Do you want to follow it up with me?

Victory frowned. Gordon Malcolm... There was something about that name... She shrugged it off. "It's not as if we have any other leads. Text me the address, and I'll meet you there."

The address, 1151 Cleary Place, was an old two-story brick factory building that had been converted to apartments. Victory had just parked the Victorycycle and dismounted when Cortez' car arrived. As she got out of her car, the superheroine couldn't help raising an eyebrow. The pretty detective was wearing a pink short sleeved shirt and over it a racy pleated miniskirt of deep purple and black velvet, with a satin ribbon crisscrossing the front tied in a bow.

"It was the only other thing I had in my locker, OK?" she said defensively.

"I didn't say a word," Victory smirked.

The women went inside the building and climbed the iron staircase to the second floor, where they found the door to apartment 2A ajar. Cortez drew her Glock and flattened against the doorframe as Victory burst through the open doorway, ready for anything.

What they found was the apartment of a bookworm, and one which had just been thoroughly ransacked. And the perpetrators were still there... four of the Centurion's henchmen, dressed in white trousers and tunics cut in the style of Roman soldiers!

"What have we here?" Victory said, planting her hands on her shapely hips. "You boys know the drill. Where can I find your master? Don't make me have to beat it out of you!"

"Just try it, superchick!" said one of the thugs, as all four of them drew wooden truncheons from their belts and charged.

Moving like lightning, the sassy superheroine blocked their clumsy blows with her silver bracelets, her supple body flowing with uncanny agility as she caught one by the wrist and flipped him over her, then lashed out with a graceful kick at the next one. The remaining pair, almost mesmerized by the smooth curve of her lovely tush, jumped her a fraction of a second too late as she spun back around, grabbed them, and flung them out the door into the hallway.

"Well now," Victory smirked, cocking her hips and brushing her hands smugly, "are you guys going to be reasonable?"

"Screw this," muttered one of the thugs, as all four of them scrambled to their feet and fled. But instead of going down the narrow staircase, they turned and bolted through a big sliding fire door at the end of the corridor.

"Come on, Sasha, we have to catch them!" Victory said, her long legs eating up the corridor as she followed right on their tails. On the other side of the door, Victory and Cortez found themselves inside a huge, warehouse-sized storage room, where the four men disappeared into in a maze of packing crates. The women silently separated, Sasha going left while the spunky superheroine kept going down a straight, narrow aisle in between tall stacks of crates.

Victory emerged into an open space where two of the thugs were waiting for her with their backs to the brick wall, with no escape.

"Looks like the end of the road for you guys," the heroine said, planting her lean, elegant legs with an arrogant smirk. "I'll ask this one more time. Where's your master?"

"Right here," said the Centurion, suddenly appearing between two crates off to the right.

He was holding a crossbow, about the size of a rifle. He took aim and pulled the trigger. Victory almost laughed, her enhanced reflexes and indestructible bracelets could stop bullets but he was attacking her with a crossbow? The superheroine brought both wrists up before her to deflect the shot, as it flew though the arrow seemed to separate, becoming two, connected by a length of silvery chain... Not an arrow, a bolo! Before Victory knew what hit her, the weighted ends had wrapped the chain around her alluring body several times, pinning her arms to her sides!

"Hey! What the...!" Dismayed (and a little impressed) the heroine scowled at her nemesis, flexing against the binding chain, which seemed inordinately strong.

The two henchmen pounced on the gorgeous supergirl, grinning as they grabbed hold of her. Victory head-butted one, knocking him for a loop, then brought her right leg around in a spinning back kick to the second thug's stomach. But the next thing she knew, the Centurion's strong hands had seized her from behind, encircling her lissome waist as he captured her, holding her body trapped and helpless against him so that without the use of her arms, she couldn't break free.

"Get your hands off of me!" Victory sputtered, heat rising to her face as she struggled desperately in her bonds. "Let me out of this!"

The Centurion laughed. "Why should I do a foolish thing like that?" he said. "This chain is made of titanium, so I don't think even you can break it." His face leaned in closer, his lips almost to her ear. "Besides, Sweet Enchantress, I rather enjoy having my hands on you. Don't you?"

"Nnnoo..."

Victory felt a quiver of arousal run through her body as his hands moved upwards along her torso, gently exploring the rounded shapes of her breasts through the clingy Lycra of her uniform. The nubile young heroine hissed with pleasure as his fingers tightened on her nipples, pinching their hard little bullet shapes. Her green eyes fluttered behind her mask as she squirmed against his muscular frame, trying desperately to resist. Once again she felt his manhood throbbing stiff and rigid against her thigh, making her pussy moist and wet with surrender as her tight little butt rubbed up and down.

"Please no..." she gasped, "please... please don't..."

Just then the other two henchmen who had waylaid and disarmed Sasha Cortez arrived, carrying the pretty detective in between them. Her blouse had been ripped open, showing a glimpse of her black lacy bra, and her tiny velvet miniskirt swirled around her silky thighs as she resisted like a wildcat.

"Victory!" she cried in disbelief. "Not you too!" In a moment of despair the Latina ceased her struggles.

Ashamed the defeated heroine let her head droop. How could she have let this happen, now they were both the captives of the Centurion!

Chapter FOUR

"What have you done with Gordon Malcolm?" Sasha Cortez growled.

The pretty Latina was perched on one of the flat packing crates, her wrists and ankles bound with rope. The mighty Victory was trussed up beside her, only in her case with titanium chains around her body and her ankles.

"There actually IS no Gordon Malcolm," the Centurion seemed oddly perturbed. "A harmless fiction to lure you into my clutches, detective. Unfortunately, I did not count on Victory coming with you. My plans will now have to be altered."

The superheroine could have kicked herself! Of course! He had used the alias Malcolm Gordon before! For a fleeting moment, she even wondered if either of them were his real name.

"Now that you have me," she said out loud, "let Detective Cortez go!"

"I don't think so, Enchantress," the supervillain laughed, "unless you have some means of guaranteeing that she won't come running back with a lot of policemen..."

"I'd say it's a guarantee that I WOULD!" Sasha spat.

"Of course," Centurion seemed lost in thought. "What to do, what to do...If I leave you here undoubtedly you'll escape a prove a fly in the ointment...however having to keep a constant watchful eye should prove equally distracting." Now he turned to the two women was a look a complete frustration. "Like all women you have the innate knack of ruining the best laid plans."

"How about a contest?" Victory proposed. "If I lose, we both agree to remain here and not try to escape. If I win, you surrender." She paused, a flirtatious look on her face. "Unless of course you're afraid that a mere girl would beat you..."

The Centurion looked up. The four henchmen stirred uneasily. "You intrigue me, Enchantress," he said. "As long as you have that power belt, I can't match your superhuman strength. And without it, you can't match my fighting ability. A contest, a game, would solve everything. Would poker suit you?"

"It would suit me fine."

Beside her, Cortez was squirming frantically in her bonds. "Victory," she hissed, "are you sure about this?"

"It's agreed then," the Centurion decided, as he came over and unfastened the titanium chain that held the superheroine helpless. As the bonds fell off her, he took Victory's hands and helped her to her feet. "The game is over when one of us has lost his... or her entire stake."

"Er... but what will we use for chips?" Victory said, glancing down at her costume. "I don't carry money around in this outfit. No pockets."

"We use our clothing as chips."

"You mean STRIP poker?" she gasped, her cheeks reddening slightly.

The four henchmen began to murmur excitedly.

"Naturally," the Centurion said. "Unless you're afraid I'll beat you."

"I'm afraid of nothing," Victory said, proudly thrusting out her marvelous bust. Out the corner of her eye, she saw the henchmen almost drooling with anticipation. "Only... can you send your lackeys away? I have my secret identity to think about."

The supervillain leaned closer, so that his hazel eyes were looking directly into her green orbs. "Jordin Tyler," he whispered, "they're MEN! When you start losing your shirt, do you really think they're going to be looking at your FACE?"

Victory felt her cheeks flush crimson, certain that standing as close as he was, he could feel the heat.

The thugs quickly brought out a card table and two chairs, setting them in the middle of the square space, while they retreated to ringside seats on the crates. The Centurion shuffled the cards and dealt out two hands.

"The game is five card draw. No wilds."

Victory's hand trembled as she picked up her cards. She had two kings, a queen, a four and deuce. She discarded the latter two, and the Centurion dealt her two more. Her heart thumped with joy... a six and another queen!

Smiling, she reached down with one hand to stroke her ankle. "I bet my right boot."

"Things that come in pairs are a set," the Centurion objected. "They both count as one wager."

"No they don't!" Victory replied. "They're individual items!"

The villain shrugged. "I see your bet with by left boot. And raise my right boot AND my helmet."

Frowning, Victory glanced at her cards again. "I'll see your bet with my left boot and my left bracelet," she said, laying down her cards. "Two pair, kings and queens."

The Centurion revealed his own cards... three sevens! Her heart sank. The men all leaned closer as Victory unzipped her boots and took them off, adding her bracelet. The Centurion gently picked up her high heeled boots, stroking the silvery leather for a second, then quickly swept his winnings off the table, piling them on the floor within easy reach.

"Beginner's luck," Victory grumbled, nervously rubbing her bare feet and ankles together underneath the table and wondering how she had let herself get talked into this.

The next hand, the Centurion opened with his helmet. Victory responded with her right bracelet, then reluctantly raised with her hot pants. Her opponent called her bet with his weapons belt, and to her instant relief...her trio of nines won!

Feeling a little more confident, the sassy superheroine picked up her next five cards and looked them over. Another measly two pair... queens and eights. She discarded her nine and got back an ace, no help there. She wagered her right bracelet. He responded his breastplate, then raised the bet with both his boots.

Chewing her bottom lip, Victory bet her hot pants, regretting now that she had insisted on counting pairs of garments as separate items. She needed one more item to match his bet, but with the henchmen watching, she didn't want to risk losing either her mask or her halter top. That left only ... ulp!

"I'll b-bet by power belt," she said shakily. "Call!"

The Centurion revealed a straight... five, six, seven, eight, and nine.

Victory gasped. With a sinking sensation in her stomach, she unfastened her power belt and dropped it on the table, knowing that she was now completely vulnerable, just an ordinary girl surrounded by a decidedly unsavory bunch of men!

Adding her bracelet to the pile, she stood up and slipped her fingers into the waist of her hot pants. Feeling the heat rise again to her high boned cheeks, she glanced over at Centurion's henchmen. The men grinned lecherously, the superheroine had no choice, she slid the sexy Lycra garment off and threw it on the table, quickly sitting back down so that they wouldn't linger on the plain white thong she wore underneath.

She squirmed as she watched the Centurion smugly sweep her garments away from her, including her invincible power belt!

Chapter FIVE

Victory squirmed uncomfortably in her seat, reduced to nothing but her mask, halter top and thong panties. Curling one smooth, silken leg underneath her, she looked across the table at her opponent. The Centurion was calm and infuriatingly confident, as well he might be since all he had lost so far were his helmet and weapons belt.

The beautiful young superheroine picked up the cards he had dealt and her heart fell. All she had was a pair of tens! Delicately biting her lip, she agonized whether to bet her mask or her halter top, then decided on her mask.

The Centurion matched her bet with his breastplate, then with a smirk, raised with his tunic! Victory gave him a pleading look, her frustration clear in the pouty expression. Eventually she called with her halter top.

Her opponent sighed and flipped over his cards. Nothing! His high card was a King, followed by a seven, a six, a four and an ace, so her humble pair of tens won! Victory felt a surge of excitement race up her spine as she watched the Centurion remove his breastplate, then wriggle out of his tunic, revealing his manly chest!

"I guess I'm just too good for you," Victory smiled as she raked in her winnings, beginning to feel as if she might have a chance after all.

"Time to stop beating around the bush, Enchantress," the Centurion said as he shuffled the deck. "The next game is five card stud. We bet on each card as it comes up."

He quickly dealt each of them one card face down, and a second card face up. Victory's was a Queen of hearts. His was a King of diamonds.

The supervillain had the high card, but declined to wager. This was just as well, since as that point Victory probably would have folded. The third cards were dealt: a king of spades for the Centurion and an ace of hearts for Victory. He wagered his left boot, which she matched with her halter top.

Their fourth cards were respectively an ace of clubs and a two of hearts. Victory felt her heart beginning to pound with excitement. All of cards so far were hearts! If her luck only held, she could beat her opponent's pair of kings! When he wagered his other boot, she felt confident enough to match it with her mask without a tremor of misgiving.

The fifth cards... the Centurion got a second ace, the ace of spades, while Victory... breath catching excitedly in her throat... drew the Jack of hearts!

The Centurion, now with two pair showing, made a show of looking around his side of the table. Victory's boots, bracelets, power belt and hot pants were at his side within easy reach. As for his own equipment, he was down to his shorts and his boots, which he had already wagered. He favored her with a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin as he wagered his shorts.
Underneath her mask Victory's beautiful face turned scarlet. Even if she held the winning hand, she only had one garment left!

"I see your bet with my p-panties," she breathed. With an arrogant smirk, she smugly flipped over her hold card, revealing a seven of hearts. "And I believe the expression is Read Them And Weep!" She had the Flush!

Her opponent slumped back in his chair. The Centurion slowly shook his head as he reached forward for his own hold card. "You're perfectly right, Victory." His last card was a third ace, the ace of hearts, giving him a Full House!

Victory's smug look of triumph abruptly vanished as it dawned on her that she had lost!

"Now let us see what you're REALLY holding," the Centurion gloated. "If you take my meaning..."

She could literally FEEL the weight of six pairs of eyes on her... those of the Centurion, the four henchmen, and Sasha Cortez. Her entire body seemed to be hot, turning a delicate shade of red as she carefully unfastened her halter top and put it on the table. The men whistled as they finally got a good look at her spectacular boobs. True to the Centurion's prediction, they hardly noticed as she took off her mask.

Her pussy lips suddenly felt slippery and wet with anticipation. Hands trembling, the stunning superheroine reached under the table, where she awkwardly tugged her teeny tiny thong panties over her narrow hips, down her long, alluring legs and over her slim ankles. With a shudder of embarrassment, she straightened up again and added them to the pot, now as naked as the day she was born!

The Centurion immediately picked up her thong, caressing the skimpy scrap of damp nylon as he held it to his nose, savoring the musky aroma of her intimate places. Victory blushed even more deeply.

The four henchmen were cheering like maniacs as the young heroine sat there feeling small and utterly helpless, too stunned to even cover herself. Sasha struggled desperately against her ropes, squirming with embarrassment at the thought of Victory's humiliatingly thorough defeat and wondering what the Centurion and his men had in mind for the two of them now that they were both completely powerless!

"Hey!" the superheroine suddenly cried. "Since when does a deck of cards have TWO aces of hearts?"

Realizing that she had been royally rooked, Victory made a grab for her power belt, but the Centurion was too fast for her. He seized her wrists, quickly lashing them together with some cord and pulling her slender naked frame irresistibly into his arms.

"I thought you were a man of your word!" Victory fumed, struggling uselessly.

"Jordin, my minx... with the prospect of your sweet pussy dangling in front of me, what did you expect me to do, play fair?" Abruptly his right hand swept under her knees as he scooped her into his arms.

"Put me down!" Victory squeaked, feeling like a helpless little girl as her legs kicked and her fists thumped impotently against his chest in ineffectual feminine protest. "You can't treat me like this! I'm a superheroine!"

"Uh... commander," said one of the henchmen hesitantly. "What shall we do with Detective Cortez?"

The Centurion paused in the doorway with Victory in his grasp, looking back at Sasha's frightened, pleading face. "Enjoy her," he said simply, "as I plan to enjoy the spoils of Victory!"

Sasha Cortez felt a lump in her throat as she watched Victory being carried away, helpless in the arms of the Centurion. Then her entire body seemed to ripple with goosebumps as she looked up at the villain's henchmen, an unmistakable gleam in their eyes. Being a beautiful woman, Sasha was no stranger to lustful glances, sometimes they could even be flattering... but this time it made her blood run cold.

Chapter SIX

"Now w-w-wait just a minute," she said, trying to keep her voice from quivering. "I'm a police detective!"

"Why don't you read us our rights?" said one of the men, grinning.

Then four pairs of male hands were all over her, touching and grabbing, her legs, her arms, her torso, her nice round booty, lifting her off the packing crate and to her surprise untying her wrists and ankles. The men set her on her feet, forming a tight circle around her. Sasha blushed a little as she caught them staring at her tiny pleated miniskirt. She felt no excitement at being freed, realizing instantly that even with her training this fight would likely not end in her favor. She could tell from the looks on their faces, these men had come to the same conclusion. Sasha shied away from the three in front of her, inadvertently backing right into the fourth. She immediately felt his hands reaching towards her breasts, grabbing her shirt and ripping it the rest of the way open in a spray of buttons! As the pretty detective looked down at the exposed lace of her bra, her assailant hooked both her arms pulling them behind her back. As he did she could feel his massive hard on growing against her round butt cheek. The others began to undo their belts, eagerly dropping their trousers.

"Oh no! No... please..." She whimpered, struggling against his restraining arms. "You'll regret this!"

Then they were on her like a pack of wolves. One in front savagely tore open her bra and peeled it back from her plump D-cup breasts. Then he reached out, massaging her sweet melons and leaning down to suck at her nipples. Sasha closed her eyes, holding back a dismayed moan as unpleasant tingles danced over her torso. Suddenly weak in the knees, she sagged into the grasp of the man behind her. Another of the thugs lifted her skirt and grabbed the soft "v" between her shapely thighs.

"Ohhhhmama...don't!" Sasha hissed, trying to resist the sensation as he began to massage her pussy. "Madre a Dios..."

"Hold on, hold on...look out!" said the one holding her arms.

Suddenly Sasha felt herself spun around and shoved face first over the card table. Quickly the rest of the thugs fell on top of her, holding her in place. Kicking her shapely legs, feeling the revealing flutter of her short skirt, Sasha realized what situation she was in. A shudder of fear rolled up her spine feeling hands squeezing and fondling her firm, Latin booty making her squirm.

"Take a look at that!" one of them whistled softly.

"Reminds you of J-lo don't it," another laughed. "Dat ass is just made for fuckin'!"

Fear suddenly clutched at detective Cortez, she had never let any man do THAT before...now how would she stop these thugs?

"Damn I love these Latin sluts!"

At least two different sets of hands were under her skirt by then, tugging at her panties, ripping them off in a near frenzy to get at her virgin rear end. She could feel rough fingers wiggling into the soft folds of her labia, and Sasha shook her head, trying to deny the arousal that rolled up her abdomen. Feeling her body begin to betray her, the detective bit back a moan.

"Let me go!" she squealed helplessly.

"I love her accent, don't you?" The one behind her said as he spread her ass cheeks and plunged his cock into the tight hole between!

"Hijo de Puta!" Sasha groaned feeling the thug slip in her backdoor. Her body shuddered in pain, and she involuntarily bucked against his insistent push. Slowly the thug pulled back and began a second thrust, slow, gradual, he obviously knew what he was doing. Sasha felt herself stretching and giving way to his thick member.

"Oh this is a tight one," the man hummed. "Probably never taken it in the ass before!"

"With an ass like that?" another balked. "Damn shame!"

By the third thrust, Sasha's body seemed to adjust, relaxing to accept the penetration. Her pride on the other hand, had not. Hot tears rimmed her exotic eyes, as her ass-fucking grew in intensity. Suddenly, unexpectedly, a wave of pleasure rolled over the Latina. As the man violating her cherry ass began pumping more rhythmically she felt a pleasant (if unwanted) tingling warmth spread through her. Sasha was amazed at how quickly her body loosened up, and even more so at how good it began to feel to have a thick rigid cock sliding in and out of her ass!

"Caramba!" she gasped, as an orgasm rocked blissfully through her quivering loins.

"AGH!" the man grunted, feeling her cum, and as her body tensed, squeezing tightly around his cock he couldn't hold back, filling her with his white hot load! "I knew you were a whore!"

She felt the penis slide out of her, whimpering as it did. Her head spinning, weakened by her orgasm Sasha offered no resistance as the men jockeyed around her. Another man positioned himself behind her, she felt his big hands grip the curves of her sexy latin hips. He pulled and thrust all at once, not nearly so gentle as the first, going to work quickly on the helpless detective. Hardly aware of what she was doing, Sasha opened her mouth accepting the long, stiff man sausage that one of the others offered her; apparently not all of them were patient enough to wait for their turn at her luscious ass. Even while her plump lips were sliding up and down that hot, salty rod, and a rock hard dick slammed deep inside her ass sending waves of pleasure rushing through her...Sasha burned with shame, wondering how this could be happening to her...and how, oh HOW could she be enjoying it??

Sasha sort of lost track of things as another orgasm shook her vivacious curves. Her body felt like jelly, lying weak and helpless as the four men took turns humping her, grunting and sweating as they pounded away at her perfect round booty. Feeling the splatters of their hot sticky cum Capital City Detective Sasha Cortez burned with degradation.

***

The next room over was a maintenance shop. Against one wall were work tables with tools and engine parts, a few dusty barrels parked along the other. Victory's nose twitched with the smell of a garage, masculine smells of grease and oil.

"Put me down!" the helpless superheroine blustered, struggling in her adversary's powerful arms. "I mean it, Centurion! Release me at once!"

"If you don't stop squirming," he said dangerously, "I'm going to put you over my knee and spank you!"

"OH! You wouldn't dare!" Victory gasped. "You let me go right now before I..."

"I warned you..." The Centurion set her down on a work bench. Seizing hold of her bound wrists, he pulled her slender body face-down across his lap. With her legs flailing impotently, he drew back his arm and brought the flat of his palm down HARD on the soft flesh of her vulnerable, naked bottom!

"OUCH!" Victory squeaked, shocked by the exquisite sting of his hand. "Don't you dare! I'm a grown woman! You can't do this to..." SLAP! Again his hand smacked her tender, pink tail!

"OW! Stop it!" she cried, tears of feminine helplessness welling up in her green eyes. Her high boned cheeks turned bright red as the humiliation of being treated like an impertinent child swept through the proud heroine. The pert cheeks of her heart shaped ass were also turning rosy as another sharp spank landed! SLAP! "Please stop it!" SLAP! "Please... no more..." the denigrated heroine mewled helplessly, then to her own surprise she uttered; "I'll be a good little girl!"

The supervillain paused, perhaps as surprised as Victory herself, his hand was poised for another swat. "Do you promise?"

"I p-p-promise!" Victory whimpered, lying defenseless across his lap with her cute little booty in a perfect position for more punishment if she refused.

"Now behave yourself," he smirked, taking his hands away and allowing her to sit up.

"What are you going to do with me?" she asked timidly, unable to rub her stinging posterior. "You can't just keep MMMMMM!!"

His mouth had closed over her glossed lips in a rough kiss, sucking hungrily at her. Victory closed her eyes, her heart hammering between her soft breasts as a surge of lust seemed to gush through her body like a tidal wave, leaving her trembling with weakness. The Centurion set her down on a table draped with a canvas dropcloth, his warm tongue thrust between her lips as he pushed her flat and swarmed on top of her. She raised her hands in a vain attempt to fend him off, feeling the knotted muscles of his broad bare chest rippling, holding her immobile with his body while his hand caressed the smooth naked skin of her thigh.

"Unnnnnnn," Victory groaned as his mouth moved to her earlobe, sucking gently.

A wave of heat swept through the young heroine, her face and chest flushing hotly. She tried to fight back the arousal but she began to wonder if a part of her, deep inside, wanted this...wanted him? She felt his hand moving in between her legs, fingers finding and gently stroking the vulnerable shaven lips of her pussy. Despite herself, Victory's smooth thighs parted willingly, her naked little tail rubbing against the canvas as she arched her back, hips pushing against those strong exploring fingers.

"Uhn-no... don't... don't touch my...nnNgh, you can't..."

"You say no, Jordin," he pointedly used her real name, planting a string of hot kisses along her swanlike neck, "but your body says yes."

"Please... please don't..." the girl moaned, squirming underneath him as his mouth reached her breasts, engulfing one aureole as his tongue rubbed back and forth across her hard pink nipple. "Nnnnghhh... please... I can't fight you... I'm h-h-h..." She bit off the word in shame, before she could say it.

The Centurion raised his head. "What were you going to say?" he asked sardonically. "I can't get over how easily you fell for it, Jordin. How willing you were to take off your clothes. One might almost think you actually WANTED to lose, wanted to be captured... wanted to be..."

"H-h-h-helpless..." Victory hissed, quivering with lust as she rubbed against him in abject surrender. "Please... please don't hurt me... I'm helpless... p-powerless..."

He climbed off of her for a moment, just long enough to fumble his shorts off. Then he was back, his strong hands firmly pushing her knees apart, spreading her legs, displaying her prim pussy. Victory lay helpless underneath him, legs parted, sliding smoothly along his torso as he mounted her. Then he was bracing himself on the table with his arms, body tensing as his hard, rigid tool eased inside her musky, dripping wetness...parting the petals of her moist flower.

"Ffffff! Oh fuck!" Victory gasped, as his nine inches plowed through her pussy lips without the least resistance! "P-p-please!"

She closed her eyes and lay back, legs out straight, hooking her bound wrists around his neck, the sweat of their bodies mingling as he coupled with her... thrusting deep into her!

"Please... fuck... please..."

Starting with gentle rhythm, Victory could not keep her slim hips from rolling in time with Centurion's lead... regular, increasing, he pressed the tempo, grinding her steadily against the canvas as he kept up the unrelenting pressure. The heroine trembled, panting as he impaled her with his magnificent rod. Feeling her utter submission, the villain reached back seizing her ankles and folding her flexible legs alongside her slender torso. This positioned her with literally no way to resist, and gave him access to plunge his long hard shaft even more deeply into the helpless heroine. She gasped, crying out as he filled her nearly completely. Her breasts heaved with every gasped breath, her heart pounded between her ears, almost in time with Centurion's pounding between her legs. Her climax began to gather within her like a volcano about to explode, at the same time she could feel him grunting with effort, his manly chest heaving like a steam engine, then with a sudden RRRRUSHHHHH he came, filling her with his thick warm semen!

Victory cried out! The superheroine whimpering as her body trembled with the orgasm...pulling him in tightly, abandoning any pretense of resistance and savoring the powerful orgasm that only this man, this supervillain seemed able to give her. "OHGAWDYESS!"

Fireworks seemed to be going off in her head, quivering with post coital energy as he collapsed on top of her, panting and sweating.

Chapter SEVEN

"Get up!" the Centurion snapped about twenty minutes later. "Get your clothes on!"

The supervillain was already fully dressed and armed, his tone of voice 100% business. Victory felt more than a little bewildered as he threw her uniform at her... purple halter top, hot pants, thong and boots, even her mask but NO powerbelt nor bracelets.

"Wha... What's going on?" she asked, somewhat groggy. "Are we going someplace?"

"Silence, woman!" he ordered, turning on his heel. "Do as I tell you!"

The proud heroine's head sagged, to allow a man, her captor no less to speak to her that way...of course that wasn't the worst she'd allowed him to do. He left her alone in the workshop while she got dressed. Five minutes later, two of the henchmen came in leering at Victory. They grabbed her without a word and rebound her hands in front of her. The other two brought in Sasha, whose hands were likewise tied. The pretty detective made no eye contact with Victory, leaving the heroine only able to speculate what those crude henchmen might have done with her.

"Are you all right, Sasha?" Victory whispered as the girls were hustled down a corridor. "They didn't hurt you, did they?" It was still the middle of the night, pitch dark outside.

"I'm ok," the Latina whispered back, although her clothing looked disheveled, her shirt seemed to be missing some buttons, the velvet miniskirt now stained and rumpled. There was something about the way she was walking, her hands repeatedly tugging down the back of her short skirt. Cortez noticed Victory's curious glances and blushed. "The Centurion's goons kept my panties as a souvenir. Do you have any idea what's going on?"

"Not a..." Victory never finished the sentence.

Without warning one of the goons behind her looped a strip of black around her face! The unsuspecting heroine gasped as the cloth was pulled tightly between her teeth and knotted at the nape of her neck. Glancing over she could see Sasha receiving the same treatment.

"No talking!" one of the henchmen hissed.

The two helpless girls exchanged a nervous glance over their cleavegags. Without their weapons or powers, they were just helpless girls, no sense in putting up any resistance against four grown men. A moment later they were taken outside and the back of an old black van was opened before them. Both captives instantly recoiled but they were easily manhandled inside and forced to sit on the floor.

Quickly taking in her surroundings Victory noticed there was a kind of mesh that separated the cargo bed from the driver's compartment. Once the rear doors were shut and locked, they would be effectively caged!

A third henchman set a small strongbox next to the rear door.

The man who had gagged the women looked at it and said, "Are you crazy? You can't put that..."

"Just shut up and get them tied!" the other interrupted. "If you wanna question the Centurion's orders...don't do it while I'm around." He looked down sheepishly. "I still have the welts from the last time."

"Is there a problem, Marcus?" the Centurion asked, appearing suddenly in the doorway.

"No, sir!" the henchmen said, as all three of them snapped to attention.

"Then why aren't the captives secured? We're running late." His eyes met Victory's for a moment and he seemed to flash her a wry grin.

The henchmen wasted no time, as a group they pounced on the two helpless women. Victory thrashed and kicked but without her powers she was just a skinny young woman, and the hardened thugs easily held her down. The ineffectual heroine felt rope being coiled about her thighs, just over the knee. No amount of squirming availed her and once her legs were tied, they moved to her slim ankles, lashing them tightly together. With a frustrated groan Victory tested her bonds, proving fruitless effort. She glanced at Sasha who was similarly bound.
Then the rear doors of the van were closed and locked, shutting her and Sasha inside. The one named Marcus got into the driver's seat, while the Centurion had already taken the passenger's seat. With a squeal of tires, the vehicle took off at great speed.

"Mmmmmmm!" Sasha protested, as the van made a sharp turn, sending the girls sliding across the floor, their supple bodies colliding as they tumbled helplessly together.

"Nnngghhhh!" Victory replied, as her hands slid up the sexy Latina's legs and underneath her miniskirt, accidently groping her moist, naked snatch! Victory jerked her hands back and reached up to finally pull her gag off.

"Sorry about that!" the heroine whispered so as not to alert their captors.

"That's ok," Sasha gasped, pulling off her own gag. "What do you suppose he's up to?"

"I haven't a clue," the superheroine conceded, struggling to get the ropes on her wrists undone. It occurred to her that this was not at all an effective way to bind the two obviously competent women but she said nothing, only worked to get free. "I'm curious to see what's in that strongbox, though."

The metal container had slid when they had, giving a hollow bang as it hit the side of the van. It was too big for the Heart of Jullana ruby, unless there was a lot of useless padding inside. Fortunately the drive was not a long one, and within a matter of minutes they arrived at their destination. The van pulled up at the waterfront. All was quiet except for the gentle lap of the tide against the pier. The men climbed out and Sasha and Victory heard them talking outside...their tones seemed uneasy.

Hurriedly the girls set to work loosening each other's ropes. Once they were freed, Sasha Cortez pulled a short piece of wire from her bra and set about picking the lock on the strongbox.

Suddenly they heard the chilling sound of automatic weapons being cocked just outside! Feeling helpless, Victory peered tremulously out the rear window of the van. Several yards along the quay, the Centurion was standing with his hand resting on the hilt of his short sword, staring down five shadowy male figures, three of whom were pointing Kalashnikov assault rifles at him!

"Put down those guns," he said calmly, "unless you want them shoved up your asses."

The man in the middle waved his companions back. "You must forgive us," he said, speaking with an Arabic accent. "We cannot be too careful. If we are caught, it would mean death by slow torture back home in Magristan. Do you have the ruby?"

"Once I see the color of your money, Colonel Kassim."

"Of course." Another wave of his hand, and a second man handed over a briefcase.

The henchman named Marcus opened it and took a few minutes examining what was inside. "It's all here, commander," he announced.

The Centurion reached down to his weapons belt and plucked out the ruby, handing in over. As Kassim came closer into the light, Victory let out a surprised gasp. The two men on either side of him were Ahmed and Hassan, the two bodyguards from the embassy! She had THOUGHT there was something odd about those two, the way they had gone out of their way to jump HER and let the Centurion go scot-free...

"The Heart of Jullana!" Kassim said reverently. "Back home, it will be the rallying point of my rebellion! The streets will run with the Sultan's blood, and..."

"Yes, whatever," the Centurion interrupted, giving the Arab a look of weary contempt. "I suggest you make haste. You may use my vehicle to drive to the airport," he added, gesturing towards the black van as he smiled. "I've even left an extra gift in the back, which I'm sure you will get a kick out of..."

While the supervillain and his henchman remained where they were, the five Arabs approached the van, reaching for the rear doors... which suddenly exploded outward completely off their hinges!

"Hello, boys!" Victory said, settling her powerbelt in place around her waist as she stepped over the open and now empty strongbox. "I hope this isn't a private party. I'd hate to tell you how dull my social life is these days..."

The men raised their guns, but the stunning superheroine plowed into them like a beautiful whirlwind, punching one, tossing another across the quay, spinning around like a ballet dancer to high kick a third. Ahmed snatched up one of the fallen rifles and swung it like a club, but Victory easily caught the blow with her bracelet, grabbing the bodyguard by his balls and lifting him off the ground.

"Boy, did you back the wrong horse!" the gorgeous superlady smirked, letting him drop to the quay gasping in agony.

"What is the meaning of this?" Kassim protested, still holding the precious ruby as he stared aghast at the groaning, barely conscious remains of his troops, utterly trounced by one skinny girl in a skimpy purple costume. "I am a colonel in the army of Magristan..."

"And guilty as hell from the sound of it," said Sasha Cortez, jumping out of the van with her gun and police badge raised in full view. "Receiving stolen goods, conspiracy, and a bunch of other crimes I'll bet! Assume the position, creep!"

Victory was shaken out of her complacency by the sound of a boat motor.

"The Centurion!" she gasped, sprinting along the pier.

Determined not to let him get away yet again, Victory did not hesitate one second. Summoning all her super strength and agility the heroine leaped off the pier at the villains' escape boat!

She landed just barely on the back edge...her heels teetered over the water as Victory tried to find her balance. The Centurion leapt forward, snagging the front of her halter exposing a gaping amount of cleavage but actually keeping her from tumbling off the side.

Big mistake creep! She thought clenching her fist.

Then Centurion tugged, pulling Victory forward still somewhat off balance. To her utter surprise the heroine found her lips pressing firmly against his! Quickly his tongue invaded her mouth, wriggling hotly between her soft lips and despite herself Victory felt frozen, almost enthralled by his masculine assertiveness.

Then without warning he pulled back with a smirk. "Until we meet again, Sweet Enchantress!"

Then he shoved her away and having never truly gained her balance, the poor heroine tumbled backwards into the water with a yelp. She swam quickly to the surface, reemerging in the wake of the speeding boat...now with no chance of catching up. Victory sputtered angrily and swam back to the pier.

Climbing out of the water, Sasha was waiting. The Latina had already restrained the Magristani traitors.

"He got away?" Det. Cortez groaned.

Victory flushed. "I wasn't quick enough."

Dripping wet the heroine began to wring out her hair. She noticed the way the bound men were staring at her, and realized how extra clingy her wet costume must be. She crossed her arms over her chest, at least covering her rock hard nipples, and hoping that the opaque material protected at least some of her virtue.

"Let him go, Victory," Cortez said, one hand holding down her velvet miniskirt against the brisk evening breeze. "We got back the Heart of Jullana, and saved Magristan from a military coup. That's the important thing. Ambassador Jafar will be ecstatic!"

"Yeah, I guess..." the sexy superheroine agreed.

"Funny, though," the detective mused, smiling. "Putting our weapons in the strong box makes sense, but then leaving it where we could get at it? Major miscalculation on his part, don't you think?"

Victory nodded, but suspected it was not such a mistake at all. Sometimes she just couldn't figure that man out...

THE END

~Undercover Victory~

The Linville section of Capitol City had seen better days. Once a thriving industrial center, it was now a maze of tenement apartments, warehouses, and abandoned factories. It was also the home of the notorious Bar With No Name, a secret hangout where the city's colorful supervillains could network in peace.

On the rooftop across the alley, Victory quietly shifted position, her lithe, athletic body clad in her distinctive purple Lycra hot pants and top. The superheroine waited patiently, brushing one hand through her long chestnut brown tresses and keeping low so that her silver bracelets, power belt and boots wouldn't be seen. It had taken her a week to track down the Centurion's former henchman, recently released from jail. The thug had been none too happy to see Victory, since allowing her to get the better of him was the reason he was an EX-henchman. But the beautiful young heroine could be very persuasive. After hanging by his ankles from the top of the Brisbane Bridge for fifteen minutes, the goon had been all too eager to give her the address.

Victory had been watching the building for five nights, the pretty green eyes behind her mask missing nothing. Both nights she had seen the waitresses and barmen come and go, along with a dozen or so low-level criminal types, but so far no sign of the Centurion. The major players probably had their own secret entrance. Somehow she had to get inside. And she couldn't very well go waltzing in as Jordin Tyler...

Two young women wearing light coats were coming down the alley. Victory watched them knock at the street door in a certain pattern... two raps, then three, then one. The waitresses, right on time! As they passed inside and the door closed again, here came the third girl, twenty yards behind them but hurrying to catch up. The heroine's green eyes narrowed behind her mask.

Three minutes later, the doorman heard the knock. Two, three, one. "You're late, Gloria!" he griped as he swung open the door. A pretty girl with long chestnut hair tried to slip through, but he put out a beefy hand and caught her squarely on the chest. "What the fuck? You're not Gloria!"

"I'm Jor-- er Jodie," the girl said. "Gloria's got a bad cold and said I could sub for her. How about it? Please? I need the bucks!"

The doorman balked. "I dunno..."

"Lookit, she gave me her uniform and everything," the girl said, opening her coat and letting it fall to the floor. Underneath she was wearing nothing but a black lace dress so sheer that it was practically lingerie. The doorman's eyes followed her shapely legs, clad in high heels and black thigh high stockings, roamed over her tiny ruffled skirt, and finally settled on the plunging halter neckline that showed off the creamy smooth valley in between her two firm, beautiful boobs. He was even able to make out the outline of her soft nipples through the sheer lace. The only thing out of place about her outfit was a pair of silver bracelets, but with his mind on her tits he barely noticed.

"Well, whadaya think?" the girl said, noticing the growing bulge in his pants.

"Yeah, yeah, ok then," the doorman said, waving her through.

Jordin let out a heartfelt sigh of relief. It was humiliating enough being dressed like this, in skimpy clothing taken from the girl she had left tied up out of sight. But without her powers, she was vulnerable! Of course she could tap her bracelets together and change back into Victory at a moment's notice, but in the meantime any ordinary man could easily overpower her before she had the chance! THEN where would she be?

In a very short time, the bar seemed to fill up. There was a small stage with a stripper's pole, but it wasn't being used. No music was playing. Raised up like a balcony was the VIP section with half a dozen tables, where the big-time villains discussed plans while the henchmen and low level crooks drank and caroused on the main floor. Jordin recognized March Hare (dressed in an old fashioned suit, umbrella, top hat, and rabbit ears), Black Swan (a brunette woman with wings, wearing a skimpy black leotard and a mask with a beak), the Lash (a man with deep purple full body suit, a cape and a whip coiled at his waist), and Frostbyte (blue body suit, white skin and blue hair).

Although she felt a little bit self-conscious in a lair full of villains, Jordin wasn't concerned about being recognized. With a skirt this short and a nearly see-though top, she was sure that none of the males would even look at her face! And sure enough nobody seemed to give her a second thought from the neck up as she hopped from table to table taking orders. Much to her dismay however the customers were very handsy. As she milled about the thugs kept putting their impertinent hands under her skirt as if they owned her, stroking her stocking tops and patting her round little bottom. The rest of the waitresses seemed used to it, even flirting and encouraging it. However it wasn't long before reserved Jordin felt heat rising to her cheeks, making her glad for the dim lighting so that the men couldn't she how much she must be blushing.

"Two beers, a double bourbon neat," said one man, "and something extra if you shake that fine little ass for me, sweetcheeks."

Jordin suddenly realized that the man and the two with him were wearing the uniforms of the Centurion's henchmen! The incognito superheroine glanced up at the VIP section and almost gasped out loud. There was the Centurion himself, his Roman helmet tucked under his arm as he took a seat at a table with March Hare and Black Swan! The very sight of him this close excited her as she recalled the times the two of them had clashed. Her pulse beat a little faster. Her tongue darted out and dabbed at her glossed lips.

"Um... two beers, double bourbon," she repeated, trying to ignore the henchman's hand caressing her pert tail. Now all she had to do was get up to the balcony without attracting attention...

Just then dance music began to play from hidden speakers as the spotlight came on, illuminating the stage with the stripper pole. One of the other girls brushed past Jordin. "What are you waiting for, new girl, an engraved invitation? Get your skinny ass up there! I'll take them their drinks."

Jordin looked up at the pole, her cheeks must have been glowing red. "But..."

The other girl sighed. "If you're subbing for Gloria, surely she told you about this!"

"Um... sure," Jordin said.

The girl handed her a shot of whiskey. "Here. If it's your first time you might need a bracer."

Jordin shook her head numbly, wondering how she had gotten herself into this. She didn't see any way out of it. Her knees felt a little wobbly as she mounted the steps to the stage. Then she was standing in the spotlight, with everyone looking at her. The VIPs on the balcony went on with their conversations, but in the lower tier, the natives were getting restless. If she didn't move soon, the supervillains would look to see what the problem was, and the Centurion would surely recognize her! Slowly Jordin began to sway her upper body back and forth, letting her hips move in a sensual circular motion.

The men in the audience looked up with interest, but clearly expecting more. Jordin caught hold of the pole with her right hand and let her body spin around it once, twice. Wrapping one silken leg around the cool chrome, she leaned back, letting her luxurious brunette hair fly behind her as she whirled around. Stepping back a bit, she leaped upwards a couple of feet, the skirt of her costume riding up and flashing her black lace panties as she caught the pole with both hands, straddling it with both stocking-clad legs as she slowly allowed herself to slide downwards.

The men watched her, licking their lips. "Take it off!" one of them called.

Jordin closed her eyes, hugging the pole and letting the smooth chrome rub between her plump breasts as she gracefully rose upright again. Then, standing on tiptoe, once more she leaned way over, letting her body spin like a corkscrew around the pole as she sank toward the floor. Hoisting her body upwards again like a gymnast, she locked her knees around the pole as her body dangled upside down, her skirt sliding down her torso and showing off her sleek, toned abs. As her hands touched the floor, she completed a slow, sensual cartwheel.

In spite of herself, Jordin was getting aroused. Her nipples were like hard little bullets rubbing against the sheer fabric of her costume. Somehow she was able to keep improvising moves without actually stripping until the music ended. By then her face was flushed and she had worked up a light sweat. She skipped back down the steps of the stage as quickly as she could, finding herself surrounded by the Centurion's henchmen.

"That was great, babydoll," one of them said, thrusting a cold beer into her hand.

"Thank you," Jordin managed to say. She was thirsty enough to gulp down half the bottle before she realized what she was doing. The alcohol settled heavily on her almost empty stomach, tingling as it seemed to go straight to her head. "Excuse me, but I don't feel so--"

Suddenly the incognito heroine let out a strangled "Eek!" of surprise as one of the men reached in between her legs, letting his fingers slide along her cleft!

"Damn, baby," he smirked, rubbing her pussy lips back and forth through the flimsy fabric of her panties. "Gettin a little damp under the hood already, ain't we?"

"Hey! What the...," Jordin gasped grabbing his wrist...yet her hips involuntarily spread a little wider as his strong fingers pushed aside the crotch of her panties and touched her shaven, pink slit skin to skin. "D-d-don't... do that..nnnNN."

"Come on, slut," the thug said as his other hand cupped her left breast over the sheer dress. "How about a private lap dance?"

"Hey, nancy boy," sneered a voice from a nearby table of guys dressed in black leather jackets... Black Swan's men! "Maybe the lady don't like Vienna sausages!"

"Shut yer beak, birdbrain," the Centurion's henchman replied contemptuously. "Go shit in a pond or something."

Chairs scraped on the floor as Black Swan's men got to their feet. The Centurion's man yanked his hand from Jordin's panties as his two compatriots joined him. It crossed the superheroine's mind that these two rival gangs must have a long-standing grudge. If they started to fight it would draw the main guys' attention, and there went any chance of her getting close to the Centurion!

"Wait, please don't fight," the girl begged, interposing her scantily clad body in between them. "I'll... um... I'll dance for you!"

Snaking her arms alluringly around the neck of the Centurion's man, Jordin gently pushed him back into his chair, her shapely hips continuing to rhythmically undulate back and forth at his eye level, her tiny skirt swishing seductively one way, then the other. As she leaned forward, shaking her shoulders to make her breasts jiggle, she wiggled her booty for the benefit of the other men behind her, hearing a chorus of admiring groans.

"Yeah show off that phat ass, mama!" someone called as the men from both tables made a ring around her.

"That is grade A government inspected Rump Roast, that is!"

"Shake it, baby, shake it!"

What am I doing? Jordin asked herself. This is so humiliating, I should just transform and go after...

Her thoughts were interrupted as someone thrust another beer between her lips. Caught by surprise, Jordin couldn't refuse or it would come gushing out all over her. And she didn't really want to. Her head spinning, the girl did a graceful pirouette, letting her little skirt fly up around her waist and briefly flash her black lace panties. Turning back to the seated man, she brought up one long, stocking-clad leg and planted it in his lap. His hands reached up to caress her silken gam as he pulled her astraddle him.

"Drink up babe," said one of Black Swan's men, offering her a tall glass of what smelled like straight tequila.

"No!" Jordin gasped.

Enough was enough, she thought. Even if it blew her cover, it was time to transform! But as she moved to bring her wrists together, two men seized her arms and held them.

"Please!" Jordin whimpered, struggling to resist as the tequila was pressed to her lips. She gulped it down, feeling the liquor spread warmly through her bloodstream.
Oh gawd, Jordin thought to herself, how did I get myself into this predicament?

Feeling even more light-headed, she backed away as the men released her, but before she could slap her bracelets together, another male hand grabbed her right wrist and spun her around. She felt hands squeezing her nubile young breast as another beer got pressed to her mouth. This time she chug-a-lugged the entire bottle without thinking, some of the excess spilling in rivulets down her graceful neck and chest.

Desperately she tried to push away, getting passed from one henchman to another, each of them copping a feel of whatever part of her body came to hand. By now her face felt flushed and hot as she ended up in the arms of the henchman who had started it all. Her head spinning from the alcohol she had consumed, Jordin could only stand there as he reached down and grabbed the hem of her black lace dress, tugging it upward until her bare breasts popped into view. The men around them raised a chorus of encouraging groans as the man peeled the dress over her head and tossed it away.

"Oh no... please don't..." Jordin murmured. Even in her drunken state she quickly cupped both hands over her naked breasts! Fear washed over her feeling the rigid shape of his manhood throbbing inside his trousers as he pressed against her, and assuming what he must have in mind.

"Mmm yeah, oh yeah," the henchman said as his groping hands latched around her waist and flopped her facedown across the nearest table, helpless to resist as he yanked her black lace panties down.

Jordin felt the lacy nylon slide roughly over her hips and down her legs, all too aware of the undignified position. Jordin squirmed helplessly, as the henchman began to play with her pert backside for the entire gathering. He slapped and squeezed each cheek before spreading them wide to display her shaven womanhood. Thoughts of this man attempting to enter her flooded the poor girl's mind. Then her gaze fell on the silver bracelets on her wrists. Clumsily she banged them together.

A brilliant flash of energy erupted, lighting up the entire bar. The men all leaped back away from her, momentarily blinded. The supervillains up in the VIP section froze in mid-sentence...

"OK, creepoids," said an arrogant female voice. Victory stood poised for action, her famous purple Lycra uniform hugging her gorgeous body like a second skin. Her silver bracelets and power belt glinted in the dimly lit room. The green eyes behind her mask sparkled. "You've had your fun. Now you're busted!"

"Victory?" the henchman said. "Where the fuck did YOU come from?"

"Never mind that!" said someone else. "GET HER!"

About a dozen goons, mainly the Centurion's and Black Swan's men, surged forward to jump the stunning superheroine. Although the effects of the alcohol were starting to kick in, Victory's superior agility was more than equal to the task as she flipped backwards like a cat onto the stage. As the thugs clambered after her, she spun around the stripper's pole, bringing up her gorgeous gams to scatter them.

This was all well and good, Victory thought, but she had way too much liquor sloshing around inside her. If she wasn't careful, she could be overwhelmed by sheer numbers. With a mighty bound, the spunky superheroine leaped over the heads of the thugs, bouncing off a table and from there onto the VIP balcony. More from accident than design, Victory slammed into the Lash, sending him crashing into Frostbyte. They both went over the balcony rail.

"Stand back, you dolts!" said March Hare, raising his umbrella like a gun. "My sleepy-bye gas will stop her!"

A mass of purplish gas erupted from the end of the umbrella, just as Victory spun around and kicked the weapon out of his hand, simultaneously driving a fist into his gut. The sassy superbabe still caught a whiff of the gas. Along with the buzz she was feeling from the alcohol she had drunk, it made her feel drugged and uncoordinated. She had to wrap this up fast!

"I have her!" Black Swan snarled, wrapping her arms around Victory and latching her steel talons into the front of the superheroine's purple halter top.

"Oh yeah?" Victory quipped, "but can you KEEP her?"

Without a thought for where the sexy villainess' talons were anchored, she flexed her arms and broke Black Swan's grip. Black Swan sailed backwards, at the same time ripping a gash in Victory's halter top.

"Give up, Centurion," the superheroine said, still feeling a bit unsteady and light-headed as she turned to face the remaining villain with her hands planted on her hips. "With my superior powers you don't stand a CHANCE!"

For some reason the thugs and crooks on the main floor started to whistle appreciatively. Victory looked down and noticed that her marvelous rack was peeking out through the rip in her torn uniform, exposing one pretty pink nipple.

"Oopsy!" she giggled, flushing beet red as she clutched at her halter top. "I'm flashing my titties!"

While she was thus distracted, the Centurion drew his wooden rod and attacked. The stunning superheroine raised her unbreakable bracelets to deflect his attack, but her reflexes were dulled by the combination of alcohol and knockout gas. She felt the ringing impact on her bracelet, and before she could follow through, he had swept past her, seizing her from behind and capturing one arm with a half nelson, one hand grabbing her right boob.

"This is very nice," he said smugly, whispering into her ear. "We should do this more often."

"You're under arrest!" Victory insisted, struggling to escape his grasp. "Let go of me!"

"Is that really what you want?" the villain smirked. "Is that the reason you've been hunting me so tenaciously? So that you can arrest me?"

Victory felt her pulse racing. His wonderful male body felt so hard, his hand so strong and forceful as it cupped her plump breast, gently giving her a squeeze. Behind her, she could feel the rigid shape of his dingdong swelling against her supple little ass, sending a current of moist submissiveness rippling through her womanhood.

"Ohhh! Is that your s-sword I feel sheathed in between my ass," she moaned, rubbing up and down against his bulge, "or are you just glad to see me?"

Black Swan laughed. "Listen to the horny little slut beg for it! She actually gets off on this! Why else would she disguise herself as a pole dancer?"

Victory's cheeks burned at the shocking words that had come out of her mouth. It wasn't true! There was no way she could actually WANT to be taken by this man!

"I said get your h-h-hands off of me!" she protested.

Pushing backward, the superheroine managed to break the Centurion's grip and throw him off. But in the process, her halter top ripped the rest of the way and came off in his hands!

"Ohmigosh!" Victory blurted, frantically cupping her hands over her two suddenly naked hooters.

The Centurion moved in again. Teetering like a little girl in her mother's high heels, Victory whirled and clumsily brought up her right leg, but her opponent easily caught her ankle in mid kick. Caressing her smooth, shapely gam, he pressed her backward against the wall and pinned her there.

"Hey, stop it!" she cried, as both his hands found her breasts.

"Now," he said, reaching downward along her slim waist for her power belt, "let's see about disarming you..."

"N-no!" Victory breathed. "You can't... you wouldn't!"

She tried to fight back, but her brain still felt stupid and slow-witted. Her body seemed to be moving in slow motion. Before she could stop him, the Centurion had pushed her power belt over the silky Lycra fabric of her hot pants. The invincible device dropped around her ankles, taking the skimpy purple hot pants with it, leaving only her plain white nylon thong. Even through her drugged and spifflicated haze, Victory felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. Without her belt, she was DEFENSELESS!

"Please... please don't..." the young heroine whimpered, tears forming in her pretty green eyes as the Centurion removed her silver bracelets and tied her wrists with her halter top.

Down on the main floor, the low-level criminals and henchmen sent up a cheer. The other four villains on the balcony got to their feet and clustered around the beaten heroine.

"I can't believe it!" Black Swan purred, grinning. "We've captured the mighty Victory!"

"WHO captured the mighty Victory?" the Centurion said.

The villainess scowled. "Um... well... OK, YOU captured her..."

"At any rate, she's helpless in our hands!" March Hare gloated, licking his lips at the sight of her sweet, slender body, vulnerable and practically naked except for her boots, panties and mask. "I vote we take the rest of her clothes off!"

"I vote we unmask her," said Black Swan. "This is our chance to find out what her true identity is!"

"I defeated her and I decide what is to be done with her," declared the Centurion, resting his hand significantly on the hilt of his short sword. "Any arguments?"

The other four fell silent.

"Good," the Centurion said. "March Hare and Black Swan, we will finish our discussion at another time."

Without another word, he picked up Victory's power belt and hot pants, then slung the helpless superheroine over his shoulder. Victory squirmed, moaning in dismay and feeling very insubstantial in his grip. With his henchmen covering his retreat, he carried her through the sliding door that led into the city's subway tunnels.

"Put me down!" the girl mewled in protest, her long legs kicking meakly. "I'm a superheroine! I'm not a baby! You can't carry me around like this!"

"Can't I?" the Centurion said, reaching up and spanking the young heroine hard on the pliant flesh of her peach-like ass.

"OUCH!" Victory yelped, as the exquisite sting of his hand warmed her supple backside. "That didn't hurt! I dare you to do that ag--" SLAP! "OW! Stop!" Even as she was aware that her protests only made him keep on swatting her, with her inhibitions loosened, Victory dimly realized that she actually wanted him to! Draped over his broad shoulders, tied up and helpless, the heroine wriggled with shame as each slap made her pussy quiver. "OUCH! Please do it again!"

The Centurion merely contented himself with stroking her creamy bare thigh, commenting only, "I think that someone is a little bit tipsy."

Victory was shocked to hear herself giggle and reply a little breathlessly. "I am PLASTERED! Totally p-pickled!"

The villain blindfolded and gagged the superheroine, tied her ankles together, and then dismissed his henchmen. Helpless to speak or even to move, Victory bounced uncomfortably on his shoulder for another fifteen minutes or so, before being loaded into some kind of vehicle. When he finally removed the blindfold and gag, she found herself inside a bedroom. It looked like the generic decorations of a motel but in her muddled mind... how could she be sure?

"Wh-where have you brought me?" Victory stammered, as he untied her halter top from her wrists and let it fall to the floor. Suddenly feeling very sleepy and lethargic as the alcohol wore on, she had to put her arms around his broad shoulders to keep from falling over.

"Does it matter?" he replied, his arms enwrapping her svelte waist as his mouth captured hers in a deep, hard kiss.

"Mmmmm," Victory moaned as his tongue invaded her glossy lips, sending shivers up her spine. Her knees quivered weakly and gave way as his arms imprisoned her, crushing her bare breasts to the front of his tunic. Abruptly she felt his erection rise upright against her. "Nnnnoooo," she groaned, as she reached down almost mindlessly to touch and then to caress that raging bulge. "Please don't... I'm begging you..."

"Save your pleas, Jordin Tyler," the Centurion hissed, tossing Victory roughly onto the bed. "You have no defenses, no secrets from me. I take what I want, when I want it," he continued, as he unzipped and pulled off her boots. He climbed on top of her, his hands sliding sensuously along her smooth bare legs as he straddled her, reaching for the waistband of her panties. "Your body is mine for the taking! Mine to use however I wish! Isn't that true?" The helpless superheroine lay underneath him, vulnerable, trapped by his superior male strength.

"No!" she whimpered. "I'm V-victory! I'll resist you! I'm--"

"You're nothing!" he spat.

Grabbing the waistband of her thong he slowly pulled her panties down. Victory even helped by lifting her butt to make it easy as the soft nylon slipped all the way to her ankles. She looked up at his smile as he exposed her pretty pink slit. His fingers lightly skimmed over the skin of her inner thighs, finding and exploring the moist folds of her labia.

"Admit it! Say it!"

"I'm yours," Victory moaned. He mind completely dulled by the alcohol, her arousal betrayed her will and the heroine submissively spread her legs wider. "Please! All yours! D-defeated... stripped... helplesssssssss..."

The Centurion quickly got out of his shorts. Grabbing hold of her ankles, he dragged her toward him, then flipped her over face down. Victory felt his hands grip her narrow hips, hoisting her naked tail up and planting her feet on the carpet...leaving her upper body still flat on the bed. She felt him spreading her legs wide open, his fingers probing along the smooth seam of her vulnerable pussy, feeling her wetness, softly rubbing her pleasure spot, until her whole body was quivering with anticipation...

"Ohhhhh," she sighed, closing her eyes with ecstasy as he took her from behind, his iron hard cock coupling with her and sliding upward into her dripping womanhood. He pulled out partially, making her almost cream already, and then with his hands keeping a firm grip on her hips, he rammed into her again, deeper this time.

"GAWD it's so big!" Victory cried out, hating herself for being so weak, hating herself for letting him do this to her.

He moved in and out of her, deep and hard, the force of each upward thrust driving her up on tiptoe, rocking her slim frame and making her boobs jiggle as she tried to brace herself with her elbows against the mattress. In this position, face down and leaning across the bed with her little ass in the air, she felt like nothing more than an inflatable fucktoy, existing only for his pleasure.

"Harder!" she heard herself begging, as her pussy tightened convulsively around his cock. "Please... ohplease... HARDER!"

He obliged. The drunken girl fell into the moment, melting around the magnificent cock plowing her. Everything seemed to fall away, Capital City, the motel room, her duty...in that moment she was no longer a superheroine, no mind, just a body...no thoughts, just pleasure. She was completely, entirely HIS.

Suddenly he erupted, shooting his hot semen into her. The rush of heat made her helpless body feel like it was about to burst, driving her into a hard climax of her own.

"OHYES! GAWD YES!!" she screamed, as the Centurion pulled out and collapsed on top of her. Spent and exhausted and still very drunk, Victory drifted off to sleep underneath him.

When she opened her eyes again, it was morning. Victory woke up alone in the tangled sheets of the anonymous motel room. No sign of the Centurion of course and her head was absolutely throbbing. So much for her clever attempt to track him down and finally apprehend the Centurion!

The superheroine sat up in bed and looked blearily around with growing alarm. There was no sign of her uniform, powerbelt or bracelets! Clutching the bedsheet to her breasts, the superheroine looked wildly around the room. Her clothes! What had he done with her clothes?

Frantically she stumbled into the bathroom. To her surprise he had left her mask at least still in place. Then seeing her disheveled reflection in the mirror, hair a mess, make up smudged, the supposedly invincible superheoine even looked as if she had spent the night getting fucked.

Then she realized a note had been left taped to the mirror:

"You were very sweet, as usual, but I'm afraid that I must run. The room is paid for until noon. I told the desk clerk that we had been to a costume party and to let you sleep it off. You can pick up your things from him! Until next time... C"

Victory flushed crimson. That bastard! How could she go home to Jordin Tyler's apartment without her costume and weapons? She couldn't even summon the Victorycycle! He had left her no choice, none at all. She would have to present herself at the desk just as she was; hung over and looking every bit like a one night stand... ulp! her skin shivered at the very thought...

She drew the bed sheet around her like a toga and stepped out the door. The once proud heroine forced to take her own walk of shame like some co-ed bimbo leaving a frat house.

THE END