Black Omen Issue Ch. 01

(Author Note: Hi, first attempt on Lit. The beginning format is subject to change as I am unsure if I like the way it starts. It is planned to be a multi-part story. Productive feedback and suggestions are appreciated. Enjoy!)

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His strong rock like hand was wrapped firmly around her delicate throat, pinning her down and holding her in place as the flow oxygen to her brain was slowly cut off. She would be blacking out soon. Her vision was starting to tunnel again. Unable make out the features of her assailant as his face was covered in shadow, she resigned herself to the blissful euphoria setting in as the man towered over the college freshman.

The sharp sting of his hand against her face colored her cheeks and snapped her back to reality as she gasped loudly in both shock and newly discovered perverse sexual desire.

"I told you to keep those legs spread slut." he grunted, continuing to piston his thick cock into her tight teenage asshole once more.

Oxygen rich blood rushed back into her brain as his hand left her throat and twisted her erect nipple sharply. She moaned and spread her pale shapely thighs wider apart exposing the glistening pink flesh of her freshly waxed pussy from beneath her skirt.

"Ahn!, Yes sir!" she moaned with pleasure, blushing at her own sub subservience. The girl was panting now. Beads of sweat glistened on her skin like tiny diamonds as she teetered on the edge of orgasm. The large man's cock stretched her ass wide with every stroke and he smiled wickedly. He loved watching her squirm as used her. The slick folds of her neglected sex were practically drooling. The coed's lust was dripping down between her splayed legs coating her thighs and betraying her need to the mysterious figure.

"Hmmm... I think it'll be daddy tonight slut." he corrected her with a laugh as he looked down at her bare slick folds of her cunt he had been ignoring.

"Oh, does my little fucktoy want to cum?" he chuckled, gripping her ankle above her shiny black pumps. She had done well picking them out when he had ordered her to buy some stipper heels to wear. They were the kind that just proudly said "fuck me" and matched the rest of her slutty attire. He pushed her long white nylon thigh-high clad leg back above her head, freeing the girls right hand.

"Go, on. Rub that cunt for daddy. Show me what kind of slut you are." he commanded, almost sad that he couldn't be buried deep in tight pussy as well as her round ass at the same time.

Without hesitation, the raven haired girl's hand quickly slipped from holding leg back, and crept down to her taut stomach. She pushed forward over the tiny pink and black plaid miniskirt bunched around her waist before eagerly grinding her fingers through her wet slit. She closed her eyes and tossed her head back against the sky blue silk sheets shamelessly masturbating and finger fucking herself at his command like a wanton whore.

She gasped again, wide eyed, as his hand swept down and stung her face once more before snaking its way into her hair and gripping tightly. He brought her face around and tilted it up to face him once again.

"Manners my pet. We don't want to be an ungrateful bitch again now do we?" he chuckled, hilting his fat cock deep into her bowels with a deep thrust of his hips.

"I thought by now we would be long past that." he smiled devilishly.

"Unngh, Thank you daddy, for... ah.. letting me touch my cunt." she cried as she gazed up at her assailant with her dazzling emerald eyes. She was ashamed at how aroused she now got from his sexual and verbal abuse. She wanted to hate it like she used to, but her eyes told him the truth. Hatred, lust, and shame were all burning behind those gorgeous eyes of hers, but her need to be used burned brightest these days and he knew it. He was the one who made her that way after all.

"Good girl." he praised, letting her shiny midnight locks slip from his grasp. He let his hand caress her face, tucking strands of her hair back behind her ear before slipping his thumb between her pink glossy lips for her to suckle at and resumed fucking her round perfectly tight 19 year old ass.

Those two words sent a shiver down her spine and she quickened her pace, grinding her fingers against her sodden pussy. Her fingers were a blur over her clit as she brought herself to the edge or orgasm while her master shoved every inch of his throbbing cock into her over and over again until she was a whimpering mess of wound up sexual desire. She couldn't take it any longer. It had been days since he had let her cum and she knew her willpower would lose again and again to his control. She knew she would debase herself and beg to be used for his pleasure like she had been conditioned to. She needed it now. To be used like a whore and told when to cum. She hated herself for it. But lusted for his torment all the same.

"Please... daddy, please let me cum." she desperately pleaded, unable to bring herself to climax without the man's permission no matter how hard she tried.

"Hmmm, I suppose you did earn a treat today, what with you handling those pesky cops earlier." the man pondered while idly toying with her young perky tits. Her captor loved the way her hard nipples rolled perfectly between his fingers.

"Answer me truthfully slut and I may let you cum." he grinned wickedly, his eyes burrowing deep into her soul. Deep enough to touch her mind and call forth her own undeniable truth. A truth she knew she could not hide from her captor.

"Does the terror of Porthaven, the late great Mamba, love being daddy's little whore?"

She didn't want to say it. Didn't want to believe it. Legs above her head, dressed in some slutty schoolgirl costume fit for a porn studio, pig tails and all, panting and rubbing her bald slick cunt while the man she despised fucked her ass like some cheap whore. It couldn't be true. Had he changed her that much? Yet she knew the answer just as well as he did.

"Yes...I love being your whore daddy." she whispered. She could feel her emotions welling up inside. Waves of pleasure washed through her body upon answering him, driving her higher and closer to what she knew would be earth shattering climax. A climax that she had grown addicted to and would seek out again and again. This was what he had been building towards all these months as he toyed with her.

She knew what was coming next. The question she had feared he would one day ask. The one question she knew would ultimately break her into a thousand pieces. A leave her broken with no chance for escape.

"Please... don't..." she begged, her eyes betraying it all to him. The pleading look of a fallen hero on the verge of breaking as the last bit of her identity was taken from her. He just smiled and said,

"More than being the Mamba?"

Her body trembled, and she couldn't bare to face him. She turned her head away as a tear rolled down her cheek. She opened her mouth to speak...

Vivian cried out and sat straight up in bed clenching her chest as her heart pounded from within. She thought for a second that it was going to rip right through her nightshirt. She looked down at the black tour shirt she picked up 3 years ago at a metal show outside of Porthaven. It was drenched in sweat and clung to her erect nipples lewdly as they strained against worn cotton fabric.

"Jesus..." she said looking down at her free hand. It was shaking slightly. She reached across her bed to grab the glass of water on the nightstand, knocking a stack of psychology flash cards off the corner in the process. Fuck it. I'll pick them up later she thought before gulping down the entire glass greedily and falling back into her pillow. She laid there staring at the pale popcorn ceiling trying to catch her breath.

It had to be a dream. No, scratch that. A nightmare. Her precognition had never come to her in dreams before and they had certainly never been so vivid to her senses. Never been so real. Only a nightmare could illicit that sort of feeling she reassured herself. It had to be all the crazy sexual disorders she had been studying for her psych class the night before fucking with her dreams. Vivian couldn't help but think back to the sexual nightmare which had just played out in her subconscious mind. It sent a shiver down her spine. That couldn't have been her. But... it had been so real...

She bit her lip, chewing on it for a moment as she hesitantly slid her fingers under the hem of her black and blue laced thong. She knew before she felt slick fluids on her fingers and thighs she was wet, but she was surprised at just how much the dream had effected her. She was sopping wet. Vivian pulled her hand back from her sodden panties and up to her face, amazed she could so easily draw a string of wetness from her thumb and middle finger.

"Jeez Vee, get a grip girl...OK, no more cram sessions for that psych block before bed." she told herself. Hell if they were gonna effect her dreams like that she'd just drop the class all together. She sighed and rolled over in her bed to glance at the clock.

2:07 a.m.

Vivian sighed again. She wouldn't be getting back to sleep anytime soon. Might as well get a few hours of patrol in. The fresh air would do her some good, she thought slipping out of bed.

The floor was cold, and she quickly tip toed to the closet and reached deep behind the unorganized clothes and clutter to pull out her costume hidden within an old back pack. She tossed the black high-cut full neck leotard and thigh high laced boot on to the bed. She was pretty proud of it, having made it herself. Vivian had always been a bit of a nerd and years of comic-con cosplays had honed her tailoring skills. She had spent a small fortune on the material, working extra shifts at the diner to pay for it all. Some sort of new smart nanofiber weave that made it both stretchy and resistant to cuts and tearing. If you looked closely you could make out the hexagonal weave. It wouldn't stop a direct hit by a bullet but she wasn't concerned with that. It was however flame and chemical resistant, not that she wanted to test that out any time soon. She had spent a solid month of late nights tailoring it. The leotard was easy, but working the material into her lace up boots was harder. But in the end she was happy with her work and even had enough left over to make some fingerless arm length gloves. Vivian knew she looked damn good in it too. It made her feel sexy and empowered, like a modern goddess of justice.

She quickly stripped off her shirt and thong, wiping any arousal from her dream off her bare sex and thighs before stepping into the leotard and pulling it up her long legs. The high-cut forced her to keep mound shaved these days. She may have been a little too daring with the cut, but she only ever wore it at night anyways and most never saw her coming. It wasn't the easiest thing to get into either, it clung to her flesh like a second skin. The material seemed to fill every little crevice and curve of her body. But, as long as she wore the boots and gloves it covered everything except her thighs and shoulders. And it wasn't too far off from the gymnast uniform she wore growing up as a kid so she didn't feel too exposed showing off her lithe firecracker body in it. It was just a little sexier and slightly more tactical she told herself.

Vivian quickly pulled her boots and gloves on, lacing them both up tight before putting her hair up in a ponytail. She never wore it that way out of costume, and thought it might help to hide her identity. She pulled the excess material bunched around her neck up over her face and nose. It kind of made her look like some ninja out of one of her old comic books and she struck a quick pose in the mirror before dropping down to her knees to fish under her bed for the final touches.

Pulling a black nylon mesh tactical pouch out she strapped it to her right thigh before wrapping a matching belt around her slim waist. It was full of pockets and pouches for all her gear. Nothing too fancy, mainly self defense weapons and gear you could pick up out of any military surplus catalog and a whole slew of sharp throwing knives.

She bounced on the balls of her feet twice before cartwheeling back on one hand. A flash of silver flew through the air from her free hand and sank into the dart board above her closet door before her feet touched back on to the floor. She grinned beneath her mask, ready to take on the night.

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Vivian had been a kind of a geek growing up. Sure she did gymnastics for years, but she never really fit in with the other girls. She was more at home reading books and watching scifi fantasy movies than she was going to parties or out on the weekends. It didn't help that she was a late bloomer and she was constantly being bullied for being flat chested by the popular girls. It wasn't until her junior year in high school that she became gifted. She didn't notice the changes at first. She had always been pretty lithe, but her gift toned her up and filled her out. Thank god. She could finally fill a bra and was perfectly happy with her new perky set of C cup breasts. They finally got her some attention from the boys at school.

Had her second puberty just ended adding curves in all the right places she would have never known she was special like some of other gifted heroes she saw on the news. It was a pretty rare occurrence. Only less than 1% of the population received the gift and some never knew that they were immune to disease or fire or whatever else their gift provided them. The lucky ones got to fly around and lift cars, that sort of thing. Vivian wasn't quite lucky enough to be the next Superman, but she soon found things just started to click into place easier. It was just kind of instinctual at first. She studied the right test questions the night before, and found that she was always last one standing in P.E. dodge ball. She hadn't given it a second thought until all the deja-vu set in. Vivian suddenly found herself having the same conversations play out in her head before they ever happened. It was rare, and usually about important things in her life. Well, important high school things like, talking with boys or ducking teachers in the hall when she was late for class.

It took time, and a lot of trial and error at first, but she soon discovered she could see the future. That was when she knew she was gifted. She spent every waking minute out of school that first year practicing her gift until it was second nature. The more she used it, the better she got until she had the confidence to try it out in the gym with kickboxing lessons. She was amazed at how easy it was. She could see entire bouts before they began and even more impressive her body instinctively reacted to her visions, dodging every attack thrown at her. Each of her strikes was perfectly timed, with no wasted movement just like in her visions. Not only that but she found herself becoming unnaturally agile and fluid in her movements. She quickly stopped going to the gym, learning techniques didn't matter when you already knew the perfect course of movements and strikes prior to any situation. Besides people in the gym were starting to take notice of the new girl's flawless bouts and were starting to talk.

Of course her gift had its limits. Try as she might she couldn't get a vision far in advance enough to win the lottery. But it was certainly powerful enough to keep her alive on the streets at night as a crime fighter. It took her a while to convince herself to go out the first night. She had waited until the warm summer nights of her junior year to test it out. But a year of watching news stories of gifted heroes and their exciting battles against injustice had her eager to give it a shot. Sneaking out of her second story window hours after the sun had gone down, clad in just a hoodie and old rainbow scarf wrapped around her face she soon found herself skulking around the bad parts of town. Run down apartments and abandoned business loomed overhead as she passed by junkies and rowdy drunken bar patrons traveling back to their seedy motels. She nervously walked the streets, second guessing her gifts, until she suddenly got a vision of a masked gunman robbing the local Gas and Go. It took her a minute to run a block over, but she got there just as the gunman was busting out from the back of the store and quickly darting into a back ally. Vivian took a deep breath, gritted her teeth and gave pursuit. Sink or swim she told herself. No time for nerves now. Vivian ran head long after the thug watching it all play out in her mind as she rounded the corner of the dark alley.

Dash forward. Yell stop. Thug turns. Vault over up-turned trashcan. Gun is leveled. Juke right. Bullet whizzes past. Wall hop to fire escape and swing. Mid air split.. Second shot impacts brick wall. Tumble forward, transition into slide. Sweep leg. Roll left into crouch while grabbing bottle from ground. Gun is presented again to fire. Throw bottle, gun knocked away. Handspring to temple kick, drop to knee and apply throat jab. Dance victory dance.

Well she added the victory dance part to the end of her vision. But it all played out effortlessly, just as she fore saw in the vision. Vivian stood above the thug riding the biggest high of her life. She had done it! It was then that she knew what her mission in life. She was hooked. A hero junkie for life. In fact, Vivian had been so caught up in the action that she hadn't even heard the blaring sirens arrive until another vision flashed into her mind. She reacted on instinct again, whipping around and gripping the police officer's arm, twisting it into an arm bar. She pivoted around on her heel, arching her back over his and rolled down the back of his uniform as the police officer stumbled forward.

As soon as Vivian's feet touched down on the dirty alley she immediately dove to the right, head first into the shadow of an industrial dumpster. Only that wasn't where she landed. She tumbled forward rolling out of the darkness of the adjacent rooftop stairway several stories up from the alley with a perfect view of the bewildered cop. Well that made two of them she thought.