The Enigma Box

"Oh no," she whined as the weapons were taken from her.

As he half turned to toss them across the room, the heroine tried another super-powered punch, which only glanced off his thick metal hide. As she stumbled forward, he gave her a sharp swat on the ass. Overbalanced, she fell, sprawling across the stage. Victory felt her short little miniskirt ride up, flashing her peach-like ass, which was promptly spanked once more.

"Hey!" the heroine yelped, tugging her skirt down. "Stop doing that!"

"Still think I'm just some common thug?" Black Eagle gloated, crossing his arms smugly.

"As common as they come!" Victory blustered. Curling her gorgeous legs beneath her body, the heroine launched herself at the villain. She hit him like a torpedo with both fists, knocking the Eagle onto his back by the force. As she landed on top astride him, the two began grappling for position. Her opponent simply reached up and grabbed her wrists. In the next instant, the struggling heroine found herself wrestled to the floor and pinned, her arms spread above her head, helpless. Even with her power belt, she couldn't seem to make the slightest bit of headway.

"NO! You can't . . . " she gasped in surprise and frustration. The powerful heroine could do little more than squirm impotently underneath him.

"Are you ready to give up now, little girl?" Black Eagle laughed, clasping both of her wrists with his left hand.

"Never!" Victory cried out, bucking and thrashing like a wildcat. "Wait . . . what are you doing?"

Ignoring her completely, Black Eagle reached down with his right hand, grabbing the front of her halter top, he ripped it off! The skin tight Lycra offered zero resistance, tearing away and exposing both her plump C-cups!

"NO!" Victory cried, squirming with indignation. The helpless girl struggled, her cheeks flushing hotly as she felt her naked breasts jiggling, fully on display.

"Oh mama," the villain smirked. "I'll give you this, heroine. You are one sexy piece of tail!"

He got to his feet, pulling Victory up at the same time. The heroine tried to pull away, but he only released one of her arms. Then before she could begin to fight back, his slapped her hard across the jaw with his steel-hard hand. Victory cried out and fell across the stage, stunned by the blow.

As Victory lay sprawled face down, only half-conscious, she felt his hard hands reached down and unbuckle her power belt.

"No . . . please," the dazed heroine could only moan. "Not . . . not my belt . . . "

If Black Eagle understood what he was doing, he showed no indication. He pulled both slender arms behind her, looped her invincible power belt around her wrists and buckled it tightly, binding her arms behind her back!

"Wh-what are you . . . unnnn?" Victory groaned.

Powerless now, defeated, completely at the thug's mercy, she almost didn't want to know what was going to happen to her next. Her heart was thumping, her poor, abused body felt hot and slippery all over. The fondling she had been subjected to was making her boobs feel tender, her pussy moist with arousal . . . She let out a groan of dismay as she felt her assailant's impertinent hands feeling up her peach-like ass under her miniskirt. Sometimes the worst disadvantage to being a superheroine was simply being a woman . . .

"Oh that is one fine piece of cooz-meat you got there," he commented, slapping her shapely tail. "Mind if I have myself a taste?"

"No!" Victory squealed, struggling desperately as he pushed up her miniskirt and pulled her panties down. "PLEASE DON'T!"

The Black Eagle peeled the plain white thong down her shapely silken legs, leaving it looped around her skinny knees. As he spread her thighs wide, stretching the flimsy nylon of her panties almost to the breaking point, Victory could feel his fingers run along her shaven slit, sending shivers up and down her spine, her body quivering with anticipation. He played with her helpless cooch for a moment, making her tremble in shame and fear. Then he spread her pussy lips and rubbed his thumb over her clit. The heroine moaned sharply, arms straining against her binding. But it was her own power belt and there was not a chance of breaking it.

"Stop it! Ok, ok, you're a real supervillain," Victory blurted, her head spinning with fear and helplessness. "Please don't do this . . . "

Black Eagle paused. "Are you begging me?"

"Yes," she mewled piteously. "YES! I give! Y-you're too powerful!"

"Damn straight I am!" the villain hooted. "Guess that makes you just a common slut . . . and you know what happens to sluts, right?"

"Oh gawd," she sobbed fearfully. "Please . . . "

"That's right," he said unzipping his pants. "They get nailed!"

The prone heroine was completely defenseless as Black Eagle yanked her panties over her ankles. His cool, rigid hands closed on her narrow hips, pulling her lithe body to him. She trembled helplessly as he forced his cock into her tight little pussy from behind. She writhed, moaning in despair as her body was violated. His thick rigid tool slid out and back in as he began to fuck her like an animal. Again it slid back and then thrust hard and deep, taking her breath away. Unable to hold them back any longer, Victory felt hot tears of feminine helplessness begin to run down her high-boned cheeks.

"Ngh . . . please . . . ugh . . . s-stop," the heroine begged.

Black Eagle only chortled deep in his throat, and tightened his grip on her hips. He began to fuck her harder, faster, his steel-hard cock becoming a sliding piston, plunging deeper with every thrust. Her slender frame shook, and Victory groaned loudly as his cock stretched her defenseless pussy. Sensual energy rolled up her spine making her entire body shiver as her tender cooz gushed warmly around his invading member. Feeling him inside her body, swelling, thrusting, the young heroine tried to hold back a moan as utter humiliation washed through her.

" . . . nnnoo . . . uhn . . . you . . . uuhh . . . can't . . . uuhh . . . do this . . . nuhhh . . . to me . . . oohh . . . "

"Shit yeah," he groaned, feeling her slickness. "You little slut!"

He gave her two more sharp thrusts, then paused. With his metal cock still inside her, she felt his hand coil into her thick brown locks and yank roughly. Victory cried out in pain. Tugging her by the hair, Black Eagle pulled her up from the floor, stretching the bound heroine into an uncomfortable arched position, spreading one of her silken legs out to maximize his penetration. Now every thrust rocked her body. The grip on her hair created a tension that ran through her slender frame and every thrust seemed to reverberate through her entire being, pumping, dominating her, forcing her closer and closer to orgasm.

"Ooohhh oh . . . ah ahh aahh aahhh AH AH AH AHAHAAHH!!"

"That's right you little slut!" Black Eagle said leaning close to her ear. "Scream for me, scream like a little whore!"

Victory tried to resist, tried to hold back the building sensation. The piston violating her soft warm cunt would not be denied. A wave of orgasmic energy broke over her, and the desecrated heroine screamed for him. Helpless against the erotic sensations she orgasmed on his cock, quivering and crying out.

Feeling her utter submission, Black Eagle came as well. Victory whimpered as she felt him gush inside her, filling her with white hot cum, pumping her so full of his seed she thought she could taste it! The sensation made her cum again, flushing so hotly she thought she would faint.

Behind her, Black Eagle groaned and released her hair. The ravaged heroine sagged forward, utterly exhausted, her sensitive breasts slapping the floor of the stage painfully. She trembled, feeling every inch of rigid metal cock as it slid out of her. She could feel his gizm leaking out of her overfilled pussy, mixing with her own juices as they dripped down her thighs in a warm, sticky mess.

Black Eagle stood up, buckling his pants up. "All right, then!" he announced. "Who's gonna start the bidding?"

Victory looked up dully. Who the hell was he talking to? They were all alone in here, weren't they?

The house lights over the auditorium went up just a little. Seats in the first two rows were occupied by cameras on tripods, perhaps twelve or fifteen all told. Attached to each one was a small flatscreen television, showing the head and shoulders of a man. Victory recognized P. T. "Mace" MacKenna, "Iron-man" Blackwood, "Wild Raven" Rowan, Milton Esterhazy St. John . . . some of the most notorious crime bosses in the world! There wasn't one of them whose schemes she hadn't foiled at one time or another! And they had clearly been WATCHING the whole time!

Chapter Five

An odd-looking flying machine resembling an oversized Roman chariot came skimming just over the beach on nearly silent hoverfans. The four henchmen clad in white tunics, hanging onto the railings and feeling a little airsick, didn't dare speak as their commander - a tall, muscular man in full Roman regalia including breastplate, plumed helmet and sword - brought the machine in for a landing on the deck in front of the split-level building.

The Centurion was not in a good mood. He had joined Black Swan's and March Hare's little cabal in the first place because the challenge of acquiring and auctioning off the contents of two Enigma Boxes had sounded intriguing. But March Hare had gotten the first one simply by trading the Dagger of Karnak for it-hardly a sporting proposition. And then it had transpired that the boxes couldn't be opened without a certain code, which Black Swan refused to divulge.

It irked him to be dependent upon any woman, but especially the Swan. He knew the flight capabilities of her airship as well as she did, but she had let him know that she was taking her sweet time getting to the rendezvous, knowing that the auction couldn't proceed without her. And now, upon his arrival, he found her airship already there, hovering over the island! Did the woman take him for a fool? If so, he would be happy to disabuse her of that notion!

The soldier of fortune glanced at the Enigma Box in his possession, pretty useless to him since he didn't know how to open it, and left it lying in the chariot as he vaulted over the rail. "Remain with the vehicle," he snapped to his henchmen as he straightened his weapons belt and sword, marched to the front door, and went inside using his electronic passkey. Briskly he strode across the broad foyer and up the stairs toward the auditorium.

In the dimness at the top of the stairs, someone suddenly reached out to grab him from a hidden alcove. The Centurion sprang like a panther, grabbing his attacker and spinning him around flat against the wall. In that split second, he noted from the light weight of her body that his attacker was a woman, and by the time he had pinned her wrists behind her with his right arm, his left hand caressing her soft, svelte, feminine curves, he had even recognized who it was by the feel of her scanty costume.

"The Swan," he said with a smile, glancing down at her slender bare neck and shoulders while his strong fingers gave her right breast a squeeze through the clingy black fabric of her bustier. "How interesting to meet you here so early. You claimed your ship would take hours to arrive."

"Let go of me," the raven-haired villainess protested, struggling. His smugness, infuriating as it was, was justified. She was helpless in his grasp and they both knew it. Her slight body was trapped against the wall by his superior masculine strength, her slender arms pinned behind her. Her brief miniskirt rode up a little bit, showing off a great deal of her creamy thighs and a glimpse of her panties. If she had still possessed her gauntlets or her wings, she might have been able to break free, but without them she had no more chance than a lamb in the jaws of a lion. There was the autopistol tucked into her belt, but they both knew she'd never reach it. She struggled a little longer, her silken body rubbing suggestively against his, but only for the look of the thing, and because it never hurt to massage a man's ego. "Please," she begged, lowering her eyes. "It . . . it really pains me to have to say this, Malcolm . . . but I need your help."

"You need my help?" he repeated, impressed that she would stoop so low to remind him that they had once been lovers. "You thought you could sell the Enigma Box without me, and now you need by help? That's very funny, Trista."

"It's not like that, Mal!" she whimpered, meeting his eyes. "You know I would never stab you in the back like that!" The girl hesitated, then swallowed her pride. "If you must know, my number one henchman turned against me. He took away my wings, my airship, my Enigma Box . . . everything! I'm completely powerless!"

"A henchman did all that?" the Centurion sneered, letting her go and stepping back.

"From now on, all my henchmen are going to be women, I promise you," the Swan said bitterly, straightening her clothes where he had manhandled her. "Come with me and I'll show you."

She led him down a narrow passage. The Centurion took off his helmet with its plume in order to move more stealthily. Once they had slipped inside the auditorium through a side door, his eyes narrowed as he took in the sight of the henchman standing in the spotlights on the stage, body gleaming gunmetal gray like solid metal. And even more ominous, the beautiful chestnut-haired superheroine he held captive, stripped to nothing but her silver boots and her purple mask, her wrists bound behind her with her own power belt.

"Victory?" the Centurion frowned. "What's she doing here?"

"That's . . . a long story," Swan said with a flush of embarrassment. "But you've fought her before; you know she's no pushover. He took her down without breaking a sweat. That is assuming he still sweats. Something inside the Enigma Box made him this way. He looks like he's pretty much invulnerable."

As the two of them watched from the shadows, the auction was proceeding via the Internet-cams, the bidders making their virtual presence known on computer monitors. Mace MacKenna raised an objection: "I was told that an Enigma Box was for sale. That someone had figured out how to open one."

"Right," Black Eagle said. "I opened it, but it ain't for sale any more. In its place, I got something better to offer . . . Victory! Say hello to the nice gentlemen, toots!"

Capital City's once-proud superheroine was on her knees, her alluring body trembling with utter hopelessness. Her wrists were tied behind her so that her two plump, mouth-watering melons were jutting forward, their nipples hard as top hats from the sheer degredation of being tied up this way with her own invincible power belt. Her little miniskirt had also been removed, leaving nothing to hide her prim, shaven slit, all soft and pink and vulnerable. The young heroine didn't even try to cover herself. In her heart she felt numb, completely overwhelmed by the extent of her shame and humiliation, glutted with it. What more could he do to her now?

"I said SAY HELLO!" the villain snapped. With his left hand, he grabbed a handful of her tangled chestnut brown tresses, yanking her head back and wringing a shrill feminine cry of anguish from her slim throat. At the same time, his right hand cupped the underside of her right boob, lifting it up, jiggling her ample round globe, his fingertips rubbing her exposed nipple and sending an electric thrill of sexual tension rippling down her spine. "Say hello or else I'll strip off your mask too, and let everybody see just who you are!"

That got a response! Victory had lived for so long with her dual identity, obsessed with the idea that her secret must be protected at all costs, an automatic surge of adrenalin swept through her exquisite body at the thought of being unmasked. Her silken skin flushed as she struggled in vain against his superior might.

"No! Please don't!" she cried out. "I'm begging you! I'll do anything you want! Anything!" Her green eyes, full of tears now, tried not to look at him.

The villain released her. "You gotta forgive her; she's a little shy," he laughed. "Now, who'll start the bidding?"

"Just a moment, Mr. Eagle," said a prim female voice from one of the monitors. Jordin's heart sank as she recognized Evelyn Eldridge. Wouldn't you know she'd be here to witness her defeat? "The procedure is that the highest bidder transfers the money to your off-shore account, then you make delivery. All very standard of course. But this auction was arranged by the Swan and the Centurion...both known to us as people who can be trusted to keep up their end of the bargain. Not to put too fine a point on it, but who the hell are you? How do we know we can trust you to make delivery?" Some of the other bosses nodded, making sounds of agreement.

"The way I see it," Black Eagle replied, "you ain't got a choice if you want the item. You don't wanna bid, that's no skin off my nose, sister. But lemme tell you all something: I'm TAKING OVER Capital City, see? Especially with Victory out of the picture, there ain't nobody can stand against me. I've already beaten the Swan, and before long the Centurion will be one of my henchmen, too. That is if he wants to go on breathing."

"I see," said Evelyn. "That seems to be in order, then. Under the circumstances . . . " A thin smile twisted her lips as her cold gray eyes looked at the helpless form of Victory on the stage. " . . . I bid 25,000 Euro."

In the dimness, the Centurion's hazel eyes were hard. "I see what you mean, Trista," he said. "We have to move fast. Go back to my chariot and-"

Suddenly the butt of an autopistol came down on the back of his head, stunning him. As he dropped to the floor, the Swan stood over him, aiming the pistol right between his eyes.

"I'm sorry, lover," she said. "But you heard the man. He's taking over. If I give him you and the other Enigma Box, he'll let me have my wings back. It really burns me, but what are you going to do? A girl's got to look after herself."

"Thirty thousand!" - "Thirty five thousand!" - "Forty thousand!" The bidding rapidly rose above a hundred thousand, then two hundred . . . three hundred. It seemed to stall there for a moment, with the crime bosses licking their lips greedily as they looked out from their computer screens at the sight of the helpless Victory, each and every one of the craving the opportunity to own her. "Going once . . . " said Black Eagle. "Going twice . . . "

"Three twenty-five!" said Esterhazy St. John. "Three fifty!" countered Mace MacKenna. "Three seventy-five!" shouted Rowan . . .

"FIVE HUNDRED THOUSAND EURO!" said Evelyn Eldridge. The room went quiet.

"Going once . . . " said Black Eagle, grinning. "Come on, guys, anybody else want a piece? Going twice . . . SOLD for five hundred thousand euros! And a very wise investment that was, ma'am, if I may say so."

Evelyn gave him a stiff nod to acknowledge the compliment. The other crime bosses looked a little disgruntled.

"The rest of you," said Black Eagle, "can take a fifteen minute break while I make the arrangements with Mrs. Eldridge. But don't go away, because there's still the second Enigma Box." One by one, the crime bosses got up from their computer screens, leaving empty chairs showing, but their Internet connection in place.

Chapter Six

After the fifteen minute break, the crime bosses returned to their places in front of the webcams to see that a few changes had been made. There was the table with the opened Enigma Box, the one containing the stone which had turned Black Eagle into living metal. Standing a little way to one side was a second table with the second, unopened Enigma Box, just as he had promised! The Black Swan, once again in possession of her wings and her strength-enhancing gauntlets, had gone out to the Centurion's chariot, overpowered his minions, and brought the box back.