Tracking the Dark Damsel Ch. 01 & 02

I know how hard this will be for you to read but that is part of the joy I take in delivering to you this message. I want to explain to you, in detail, how I accomplished this deed and why it will be impossible for you to “rescue” her. By now, she is my slave - willing servant to my desires - and completely loyal to my cause and me.

It wasn’t always this way, of course. You may have already uncovered records of phone and Internet conversations. You may have even traced these to incidents around the city. I suspect you’re a keen enough detective to put the threads together, but I want the satisfaction of knowing you are absolutely clear that Batgirl is mine.

I’ve known her for years. Batgirl put me in prison for six months after one of those dramatic warehouse fights you lawdogs love so much. It was you, Batgirl, and some punk kid against I think 30 thugs and technicians. I’m sure you know more about it than I do. We captured someone and you showed up to rescue them and put and end to our “villainous scheme” or some nonsense. The entrance was typical drama - smashing through the skylights and raining glass on everybody in total disregard of their civil rights - and pummeling most of the thugs who mindlessly threw themselves at you. I know you and the punk kid were due because someone always fucks with the boss right before I’m supposed to get my paycheck. I didn’t, however, expect Batgirl to show up with you.

I never understood why women choose to be superheroes. I mean, no offense to the lesser gender, but why in the world would you choose a lifestyle that puts you at risk like that? I understand women cops, sorta, but when you dress a cop like a hooker or stripper, why is everyone so dismayed that they usually end up dead or some supercriminal’s meat puppet? Batgirl was an interesting character from the beginning. She had your taste in costumery - tights and dark colors along with the usual “fear in the hearts of men” bullshit, but with a feminine tough. Nice, full round tits and a form that dared you to follow around the curves without getting dizzy. The complete face mask was a nice touch - no eye holes, no mouth - very sexy and dark. I should have known you had partners waiting in the wings when you started letting some of us slip away into the warehouse shadows. I didn’t see Batgirl until she jumped some poor thug just ahead of me.

I was impressed. I jumped back into the shadows and watched her gracefully kick the shit out of the guy. Ballet with high heels and whoop-ass. I knew I had to have this girl. Don’t want to sound corny, but moonlight on spandex is quite amazing. Its very flattering on the curves and tight enough you have very little to imagine underneath. As for fitness, this girl could get twenties in her g-string at my regular club for just doing her high roundhouse. I’m sure you had a hand in training her. Some of the moves look like the ones that put me in the hospital for several months back in 87. She’s fast and hard, but then she was very new. She hadn’t the experience to know to watch her back in a warehouse fight.

She landed three solid blows to her prey and rendered him unable to chew solid food. He did manage to land a clean belt to the head just before the KO, but there was no point to even continuing. A single kick to the face laid the poor slob out. I was able to inch my way around the far side of a small hill of crates. I couldn’t take my eyes of this dame. I knew if I stuck around, you’d be cleaning up the rest of us. So I indulged a few minutes while she dusted herself off and adjusted herself…another chick thing, I guess… before soundlessly stepping toward where I had been at the beginning of the fight.

I’m not sure what happened next. She stumbled. Almost as if she were struck, but tried to stand. A few more steps and she fell to her knees, hands holding her head. Concussion, most likely, I decided. So I was able to sneak out, carefully and come to her side.

She instinctively swung out at me, but the momentum took her off her knees and to the concrete. Her tight little body writhed on the floor. I knew I had her. I got close enough to smell sweat and perfume, see her tiny nipples press up against the thin fabric of her top as she gasped for breath. I could see sweat stains formed on the armpits and down her back as I rolled her onto her side facing away from me. I slid in behind her and got close to her ear.

“I can help you,” I whispered, feeling a stirring in my pants. “If you stay here, they’ll fuck you. They’ll take you away from here, rape you and kill you.”

Her breathing intensified. I could tell, even without seeing her features, that this terrified her. She moaned in pain. Her long legs pumped against the concrete like she was trying to escape. I slid my hand down her thigh and felt my cock grow tighter. I lifted away the black cape and admired her tight, solid ass. The smell of her nearly made me crazy. I whispered more promised of safety to her as I slide her limp body into the shadows.

One of the things you learn early on about being a thug to a supervillain is to make sure Paramedic kits are around and know something about how to use them. Nothing sucks worse than barely escaping one battle only to get caught by normals in blue because you lost too much blood. I keep some drugs on me at all time for this purpose. I keep a kit nearby, but for my purposes, I just needed the basics. I discovered that Batgirl’s mask had a zipper over the mouth and I was able to unzip it. I knew that, in the shadows, she couldn’t see my face, but I could see how she could see through the fabric with a thin, but looser mesh over the arch of her nose. I opened the mouth zipper, revealing pale skin and deep red lips. Sweat coated the entire bottom half of her face. A trickle of blood had caked under her nose, probably from the first hit of the fight with her thug. Immediately, she could breath easier. I guessed then she was a little claustrophobic. The unfiltered air made things easier to take, I think. Her chest softened and slowly returned to normal breathing, although it was clear the pain did not go away.

I removed my plastic syringe from my waist kit and produced a vial of morphine. I only needed a little, but I held it up so Batgirl could see what I was doing. She took a feeble swat at my hand and I smacked her mouth.

“I’m going to help you. Knock it off.”

She whimpered in obedience. She was under my complete control. Rarely have I seen a heroine so willing to comply so easily. Usually, females in tights fight like cornered rodents in these situations, but Batgirl looked totally helpless. I filled part of the syringe with enough to kill the pain. I needed to look at the scalp to determine the severity of the concussion, but that I seriously doubted she would be as willing to allow me access to her facemask. I rolled her onto her side and pressed the needle into the soft of her ass. She whimpered slightly, but relaxed. I slid in behind her, my semi-hard cock still uncomfortably tight. I put my lips to her ear and said, “This will kill the pain. I need to keep you here. You are new to this whole thing, aren’t you?”

She nodded wordlessly. I placed a hand on her shoulder. She tensed. “Relax!” I snapped. She immediately relaxed, reluctant, but obediently. I slid my hand down her arm. Her breathing increased. My cock swelled to a point that I had to do something. I wasn’t thinking at all when I unzipped my pants. The sound of it frightened Batgirl. My cock pressed between the cheeks of her ass and slid down along the soft fabric. It swelled further when she rocked back against me.

I know this is painful for you to even think about, but I slid my hand over her thigh and between her legs. She was wet and warm and I could have cum right there when I discovered the crotch zipper. I nearly came again when she shuddered as I opened the zipper to discover she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

I tilted her head carefully around and I kissed her hard. I slid my hand into her wet crevice. She shuddered again. It was so easy to insert one finger, then two, into her pussy. I felt her walls clench them like a gymnast. She nearly locked my fingers inside her. She began to whimper softly again. I muffled her sounds with my lips and tongue and I explored her body with my free hand, cupping her huge, firm breasts, enjoying her as I finger fucked her. Soon, I had worked up enough to lose all sense of myself.

I removed my fingers and rolled Batgirl onto her back. Her long, gorgeous legs fell open and I quickly positioned my cock at her opening. I wanted to feel how those tight muscles would cradle my cock. I was swollen completely and I knew I wouldn’t last long, but I slid my eight inches into her in a quick, almost violent jerk than sent a spasm through her. I lost track of events. I just remember her body grabbing my cock, resisting my attempt to withdraw. I remember the smell of her pussy on my fingers and the taste of her sweat. I remember plunging my cock deep into her pussy and feeling a warm rush against it as her lower body shook uncontrollably, causing me to explode into her for what felt like minutes…

The next few minutes were difficult to remember. I thought about taking her with me. I thought she might have been “converted” or maybe I was…I don’t know. I remember that a minute after, I felt the sting of what could only have been a boot heel to the side of my head.

I woke up tied to a support beam in the middle of the warehouse, Batgirl standing over me, in all her gymnastic perfection, as if nothing had happened. I saw you and the brat talking over what you needed to do next and then…the cops.

II. As far as who I am and what I’m capable of, you probably have a 3 page file on me, or you know enough to realize that I’m more cunning than brutal. I prefer not to attack when it can be avoided. My racket is blackmail and extortion through persuasion. So, I wasn’t about to go charging ninja lady. I decided, however, to make it my job in life to have her. Not just once, but make her mine permanently.

You may know I worked for LexCorp over the past few years. I was sublet to various supervillains and did the odd job for major underworld figures requiring assistance. I gained a reputation as a “negotiator” who was able to avoid costly payouts for bullets, repairs and quiet burials at sea. In fact, I have often been hired to “dissuade” superhero types from returning to work following a crippling accident or loss. You know a few of these folks personally. I got into this line of work so I could study how you weirdoes think, how you operate in secret and, eventually, use it to find Batgirl.

I was pissed off when I heard Dr. B smashed Batgirl’s spine. I heard through the grapevine she was dead. It was hard to imagine this woman, who drove me to become the criminal genius I am, was out of circulation. For about six months, I took no pleasure in my job and then I heard rumors about another vigilante making way through town with the same MO. I was surprised when Dr. B hired me to locate her and, if necessary, “Dissuade” her from returning to work. Joy of joys…how lucky can I be.

In late September, I was able to spot her in a section of town I knew had activities she investigated routinely. I felt like I was owed something at the time - an explanation or excuse at least - but something to close up an open wound from my past. I almost sent up a flare on a rooftop that night I was so obvious. At the time I wasn’t wanted for anything, but Trespassing on someone’s roof was good enough to investigate. I noticed she was not as swift as before. She was obviously in some degree of pain. As she approached, I thought of the injury she received. I wondered how easy it would be to persuade her to hang up the tights.

As part of my line of work, I don’t take anything for granted. My last run in with Batgirl landed me 180 days of hell and I wasn’t about to repeat the experience. I had learned by dealing thugs who don’t have honor or a sense of fairness. This, however, was a woman of honor and respect. She was also, responsible for a lot of pain in my life. So I left justified in what happened next.

She landed on the roof dramatically and gracefully as possible. She didn’t speak, nor did I expect her to. I looked her over and noticed she had lost a little of the definition in her musculature, probably from the therapy and recovery, but was still in excellent shape. I had built up a little bit since them basically for self-preservation in prison. It was clear, however, as she crossed her arms over her chest and cocked her head that she was waiting for my explanation.

I sighed quickly and said very firmly. “I am an agent for one of the many people you’ve helped into prison life. He and or she has asked me to convince you that returning to this life is not in your best interest.

Batgirl stepped forward aggressively, puffing up her chest and swinging her hips almost mockingly at me.

“Of course, you do know that any delay in my reporting back will result in the immediate execution of four innocent civilians.” She stopped, startled. “I know its been a while and you’ve picked up a lot of experience at this whole game, but be clear that this is a condition of my employer. I don’t usually work this way.”

I produced a small satellite monitor and slid it across the asphalt in the fifteen feet between us. It scraped across with an ugly sound that I imagine she would make in reaction to this threat. I looked up at the sky. It was the “magic hour” when daylight is fading into a purple/blue hue. The clouds captured the last of the sun’s rays from over the horizon. It was appropriate to see her again this way. She crouched down and lifted the monitor gingerly. On the display she saw what I knew was a surveillance camera. I don’t get involved in these matters, so I don’t know if the boss had them suspended over a lava pit or had them in a cage with spotted tigers…whatever, it caused her to smash it down on the ground with enough force to shatter it.

“Right,” I replied. “So, Dr. B broke your back the last time you met. He doesn’t want to repeat the operation and, given our…um, history…I don’t either.”

She was obviously taken aback by this. She took another step forward intending to charge me. I guess I had misunderstood her. I certainly didn’t take her unwillingly in the warehouse. She gave herself to me freely. I think the small shred of romantic in me was hoping it meant something else. “Fine. Kick my ass and kill the fucking Partridge Family,” I snapped. She took another step and stopped her momentum. She was just out of arm’s length from me then. “I am here to inform you that, for every attack you make against the boss’ organization, the organization will spend 100 hours looking into your private life, exploiting your weaknesses, threatening those around you and making life impossible to live.” I paused. No reaction from her. “I can ensure that this doesn’t happen.” And almost as an afterthought I said, “Like I saved you before.”

I expected a roundhouse kick, but she remained perfectly still. I decided to wait her out. I said nothing, but I enjoyed the moment’s opportunity to remind myself how beautiful this dark damsel was. It had an unusual effect on her. She seemed to be shivering. Her long legs grew unsteady and her heels wobbled a bit, almost imperceptibly. I knew I had her attention at least when I took a breath.

I stepped forward. I’ve been told my gaze is piercing. One of the things that kept me alive in prison and on the outside is my ability to stare down trouble before it gets out of hand. However, I couldn’t say that this would be sufficient to scare someone who has faced down The J, or Dr. B, or even you and still wanted to wear the uniform. However, as I leveled my eyes at the visor of her mask and moved, she stepped back. I smiled and this infuriated her. She was refusing to speak, but frustrated I didn’t understand.

I was in arm’s reach. I knew if I reached out, I risked losing the use of my arm. I wasn’t totally confident, yet. So I took in one last view of her and said, “You’ve saved their lives tonight by being a good girl. Continue to obey me and I will be sure that you survive as well. Go now.”

She stood still, almost expecting something else to happen, another shoe to drop, or maybe a gang of thugs to appear when she turned her back. She stepped away, gracefully backward without so much as a turn of the head, stepped up on the precipice and, like a gymnast on the horse, flip dismounted into the night, dropping below my line of sight. I heard the sudden POPKLINK of her grappling line and I knew she was safely swinging away from me.

It was then I realized my cock had slid down the right leg of my jeans, its shape clearly outlined. I wonder if that was what she had waited for. It was then I vowed to find her and use her to my pleasure and make her my slave.