Hello again,

Following the widespread critical acclaim of my 'House Warming' tale (well - finister, Doc Robo and timo all liked it), I am proud to present the sequel and concluding episode. For those of you who missed the first tale, you can find it a few posts below (http://www.hipcomix.com/forums/viewtopic.php?t=9072555).

Hope you all enjoy the story, and thanks again to fin for letting me play with his characters.

Stephen


Introduction

The only source of light in the dark and dusty basement was the faint glow from an electronic display. The shadows cast by the scant illumination flickered and shifted as the numbers shown constantly changed. Second by second, they ticked down, the digital timer counting its way towards zero. The red glow gave no warmth. The diminishing digits stole all hope from the room, mercilessly seeming to suck in time and lock it away.

A solitary figure occupied the gloomy basement. The pretty, young girl lay on the hard concrete floor. She presented an image of forlorn abandonment. Wide brown eyes glistened with tears as they stared in misery at the timer. Her body shivered, more from fear than from the chill of the night air. Her tight-fitting clothing and the exposed skin of her arms and legs were covered in dust and grime. A normally well-groomed ponytail had come loose and long strands of auburn hair hung around her shoulders and fell untidily in front of her face. The only movement was the rise and fall of her heaving bosom as she gulped air between her sorrowful sobs.

Kitten had never been in so much trouble. Her short career as a crime-fighter had seen more than its fair share of danger and peril, but she had always been confident of escape, always sure that the good guys would triumph in the end. The big difference in the past had been the reassuring presence of the Pink Pussycat. Even when they had both been tied up in some devious villain’s death trap, Kitten knew that her mentor and friend would find a way to turn the tables. Tonight she was alone. Tonight, for the first time ever, she feared that it really would be the end of her adventures.

The poor girl mewed around the tight cleave gag tied between her lips and tugged again at her stringent bonds. The knowledge of experience told her that the simplicity of this sort of gag wasn’t the most efficient means of silencing a young maiden, but the scarf had been tied so tightly on this occasion that there was absolutely no way for her to form coherent words. The thick band of cloth had been dragged deep into the corners of her mouth. She could feel her cheeks distorted and her trapped lips curled in and squashed against her perfect teeth. Kitten was pretty sure that the gag was redundant anyway. There wasn’t another soul in the basement and almost certainly nobody else was in the entire building. She really shouldn’t have been here herself and she was dearly regretting the foolish curiosity that had put her in harm’s way. She tried hard not to think about what curiosity had done to the proverbial cat.

Long lengths of strong rope had been used to bind the captured sidekick hand and foot. Her wrists had been lashed together behind her back. Loops of the braided cord had been passed horizontally around her wrists then vertically between the bonds, criss-crossing around themselves before being knotted repeatedly. Frantic struggles had only caused the knots to pull tighter and tighter, leaving her fingers numb and tingling from reduced circulation. Further rope had been used to bind the girl’s legs at ankles, knees and thighs. The slender limbs had then been bent back and linked to her restrained wrists. The hogtie held her in a brutal arc with her back bowed most uncomfortably. She was unable to do anything more than flop and roll around in place. Several painful minutes had been spent struggling against the bonds and not once had she come close to getting free.

The red digits continued to flicker, silently measuring Kitten’s remaining allotment of time. Small antennae beside the timer were paired to those on devices planted throughout the building. When the counter reached zero, Kitten had no doubt that the deadly bombs would detonate. MAIDEN HQ would be reduced to rubble and all she could do was wait, powerless to escape her imminent fate.



Two heroes raced across Metrobay, praying that they weren’t too late. Adonis and the Pink Pussycat had only recently made their own escape from jeopardy. Along with Nightengale, they had been captured by two of their most dangerous foes, Madame Mynx and Trixtress. It wasn’t until the treacherous villainesses had turned upon each other that the courageous trio had managed to extricate themselves from a most humiliating ordeal. Nightengale had remained behind to ensure that Mynx, Trixtress and their henchmen were delivered into custody. Adonis and the Pussycat were speeding back to MAIDEN HQ. The plot to destroy the new headquarters had been revealed, but they had no idea when Mynx’s bombs would detonate and desperately hoped that they would arrive in time to rescue Kitten.

The heroes had phoned in a warning to the police and were greeted by the wail of sirens and the flashing lights of emergency response vehicles. A cordon of yellow and black tape sealed off the approach to the home of the Metrobay Allied Investigators’ Dedicated Enforcement Network. When he saw the approaching couple, Chief Spearman moved to meet them, raising a curious eyebrow at the Pussycat’s appearance. Adonis was in his customary black combat suit, but the heroine’s bright pink leggings, gloves and mask were covered by an overly-large, greasy work shirt. Her own costume had been shredded during the course of the evening and the young woman had been for--d to improvise by borrowing a shirt from Mynx’s defeated minions. Arriving at a crime scene half-naked was not the done thing. Fortunately she had recovered her Kitty-Kat collar which was once more buckled snugly at her throat.

The chief lifted his arms to block Pussycat’s path. “I’m sorry, ma’am. You can’t come any closer. Our sniffer dogs have confirmed the presence of explosives. Nobody gets inside until the bomb squad give the all clear.”

“But Kitten’s inside!” Pink Pussycat tried to push by, but the chief’s grip proved surprisingly strong. “You have to let me past. We’ve got to get her out of there.”

A pained expression crossed the chief’s usually stoic face. “Anybody entering the building could trigger a detonation. I’m sorry, I really am. Right now I feel just as useless, but we have to let the experts do their jobs.”

The heroine opened her mouth to argue further, but her words were lost in a sudden deafening eruption of sound and light. Plumes of black smoke and billowing dust blotted out the sky. The force of the blast knocked the Pussycat off her feet and into Adonis. A low rumbling followed the initial thunderous clap, tons of concrete and bricks collapsing to bury the glass entrance leading into the headquarters. When the rolling cloud of dust dispersed, MAIDEN HQ had vanished behind a pile of smoking debris.

“No ... no, it can’t be ...” The Pussycat stared in paralysed incomprehension. It wasn’t until she turned and saw the grief reflected in Adonis’ eyes that realisation struck home. She sagged into her lover’s arms, burying her weeping face against his broad chest. “Kitten ... no ... what have they done?”



Chapter One

The atmosphere in the secure van could, at best, be described as frosty. Above all other things, Madame Mynx absolutely loathed being placed in bondage. She had no qualms about restraining frightened young girls or interfering heroines, but being on the receiving end of such treatment was an altogether different matter. During a drunken celebration following a particularly successful endeavour, Max Indeks had once made the mistake of asking her to be his roped plaything. Her response had left the man unable to walk in a straight line for several days and had almost ruined a highly lucrative crime partnership. 'Switch' was not a word which could be applied to this dominant woman.

Yet here she was, locked inside the vehicle's steel walls with her hands cuffed behind her back. It was intolerable. Mynx fumed as the police transport carried them closer to Metrobay's secure prison complex. After previous defeats she would often spend hours ranting against the crime-fighters who had thwarted her plans, swearing revenge against whichever hero or heroine had defied her will. This time, however, the Pink Pussycat and her allies were spared Madame Mynx's wrath. Tonight there was only one woman whom she blamed for her predicament, that bloody stupid bitch sitting on the opposite bench.

Trixtress smiled in amusement as she watched Mynx's dark eyes smoulder behind their black mask. She knew that Mynx was furious, blaming her for allowing Pussycat, Nightengale and Adonis to escape. It was a little unfair, but Trixtress didn't mind. She seemed completely unconcerned by the fact that they were being driven towards a lengthy prison sentence. Unsuppressed mirth danced behind Trixtress' own red eye-mask. It had taken great effort to contain her laughter while Nightengale had waited for the police to collect the defeated villainesses. Their bruised underlings had been loaded into one van with Trixtress and Mynx given a second van all to themselves. Now that they were alone, she could finally quit the pretence and put her plan into action.

Swaying slightly, Trixtress crossed the moving vehicle and plonked herself down beside her fellow prisoner. Ignoring the hate-filled glare, she smiled sweetly and presented her handcuffed wrists towards Madame Mynx, the index finger of her right hand extended stiffly outwards.

"Hey, Mynx. Pull my finger."

The black-clad villainess stared incredulously at the request, "I beg your pardon?"

Trixtress grinned in encouragement and flexed her wrists, "You heard. Pull my finger. I've got a surprise for you."

What sort of juvenile game was this? Mynx was about to snap insulting advice on exactly where Trixtress could stick her finger, but then sighed and shook her head. The woman was clearly demented. It would probably be easier just to humour the bizarre demand. She twisted around until they were sitting back to back then reached out and tugged on the extended digit. To Mynx's astonishment, the gloved finger, and then the whole hand, came away in her grip, slipping through the metal band of the handcuffs. It was a false hand, the plastic hand of a mannequin! Trixtress pulled in the opposite direction. The restraints now dangled from only her left wrist. She brought both arms to the front of her body and wriggled within her tight PVC jacket. Mynx dropped the artificial appendage to the floor, watching in astonishment as Trixtress' real right hand popped out of her sleeve.

"Ta da!" The grinning woman posed like a stage magician showing off a successful illusion.

"How did ...? When did ...?" Mynx gaped in wonder. Deciding that she really didn't care how the trick had been performed, her tone swiftly shifted to an urgent whisper, "Quickly, check that box in the corner. Spare keys are probably stored inside." The viewing panel between the driver's compartment and the holding area was currently slid in the closed position. The guards up front should be unaware of the escape attempt, but no time could be lost if they were to complete this unexpected opportunity to break free.

Trixtress prised open the strongbox and rummaged through its contents. She glanced nonchalantly over her shoulder, apparently lacking Mynx’s desire for alacrity, “Did you finish planting the devices at MAIDEN HQ?”

“Yes, of course I did. Hurry up before the guards hear something.”

“And did you position them exactly as I had directed; red around the perimeter, blue at interior intersections.”

“I think that I know how to read a blueprint. Don’t worry, the mayor’s plans have been defeated. That whole building will lie in ruins by now.”

“Mmm, maybe ...” Trixtress turned to hide a mischievous smirk. “Ah, here we are. Oh, and look what else I have found.”

A small, silver key unlocked and removed the ineffectual handcuffs. Madame Mynx strained to see what else Trixtress had discovered, but her view was blocked by the other woman’s back. She tugged impatiently on her own cuffs, wondering why she had ever teamed up with this nut-job.

Keeping her hands and the items they carried behind her back, Trixtress minced across and sat astride Mynx’s lap. She leaned in close, pushing her breasts against her companion’s ample cleavage, “Mynxie-mynxie-mynx, what am I going to do with you? I would love to say how much I have enjoyed our time working together, but we both know that would be a lie. You’re an arrogant, stuck-up cow and for someone with your reputation, you’re actually quite a prude.”

“What? How dare you? I ... mmph!”

The angry words were silenced as Trixtress plastered a layer of sticky duct tape across Mynx’s mouth. She ripped two more lengths from the roll and pressed them firmly in place, welding the red lips securely shut. She laughed as Mynx continued to protest, tossing her head and snorting through her nose with indignant fury.

“Shh!” Trixtress placed a finger over the taped lips, “Remember what you said about alerting the guards. In case you haven’t guessed, I’m dissolving our partnership. Fortunately, I have already found somebody who has a real sense of fun, somebody who shares my humour as well as my more deviant ambitions. Have a lovely time in prison, my dear. I’ll be sure to send you lots of letters.”

With a mocking giggle, Trixtress planted a sloppy kiss on Mynx’s forehead then knelt and grabbed her feet. The discarded handcuffs were lifted and locked around Mynx’s kicking legs, fastening them to one of the vertical support struts of the padded bench. Trixtress moved to the rear of the van and for--d the doors open. They had reached the quiet roads outside the city limits and the van was travelling at a relatively slow speed. A final wink said her farewell before the laughing villainess braced herself and rolled into the night.

Mynx was left screaming muffled expletives into her gag, fighting impotently against her bonds. That bitch! That bloody bitch would pay for this!



Kitten slowly opened one eye and then the other. I’m still breathing. The thought could scarcely be believed. Red digits facing her continued to flash, frozen at zero : zero zero. I’m still alive. She had no idea how this miracle could be true. It had seemed likely that the world would fall about her head when the countdown had completed. The sounds of repeated explosions had set her bones shaking, the noise so loud that her ears were still ringing. But there had been a distant, muffled quality to the cacophony. A fine, sprinkling of dust had trickled from the ceiling, but the plaster and concrete of her surroundings seemed intact. Kitten laughed into her gag. She was still breathing! She was still alive! Somehow she had survived certain death and lived to fight another day.

Great, but she was still bound and gagged in a stringent hogtie. She was still alone in a dark, underground chamber. What should she do now? What would the Pink Pussycat do? Well, duh! Try to get loose, of course. Now that her thoughts were no longer consumed with terrifying visions of her own demise, she could apply her efforts with greater calm and renewed purpose. Hey, she was a daring, costumed heroine, not some helpless damsel in distress. Kitten’s spirits were soaring, practically giddy with the rush of adrenalin and emotional relief.

The brave girl turned her attention to her bondage. Tight coils of pressure bit into her flesh at wrists, ankles, knees and thighs. Her wrists were welded together inseparably, her legs could do little more than shuffle as one. Her supple body had been honed by hours of combat training, gymnastic exercises and cheerleading practise. Lithe muscles could cope with the contortions of the hogtie, but its short connecting rope hampered any movement around the room. The flexible strands of rope felt like rigid bands of steel, but ropes could be sawed through where steel could not. Knots could be unravelled where locks could not.

Kitten flexed her fingers and twisted her hands. The brown, elbow-length gloves of her costume provided some protection to her creamy skin, but her fingers felt cold and tingled with the odd sensation of pins and needles. The restraints were reducing the flow of blood to her extremities. It was important that she kept working to keep them alive and flexible. If her fingers became completely numb, they would lose all sensitivity and become useless to her escape attempts. The gag wedged between her lips was an annoyance, but it could be ignored for now. A few explorative prods with her tongue had dispelled any notion of pushing the cloth from her mouth. Fortunately it didn’t seem to hinder her breathing. Kitten chewed on the scarf and focused on higher priorities.

She was bound in the basement of a newly constructed building. The sidekick reasoned that there must be some stray tools or unfinished materials somewhere nearby, anything with an exposed sharp edge could be the key to her release. Kitten rolled onto her side and glanced around her dark environment, searching for just such an item. Her roving gaze noted the small blue light near a high corner of the ceiling. It came from one of the devices left by Madame Mynx. The light had activated when the timer reached zero, but there had been no fiery detonation. Kitten shrugged and thanked heaven for small mercies. Her fingers brushed along the ropes within range of her hands while she continued her visual exploration. The knots which secured her wrists were inaccessible, but she had located one of the hogtie’s bindings. Once it was unpicked, she would have much greater movement.

A grinding noise and metallic clang interrupted the young heroine’s progress. Her heart skipped a beat with a dread realisation that she had no idea how badly the upper floors might have been damaged. Could the ceiling collapse after all and crush her under an avalanche of debris? But the noise hadn’t come from above, it was coming from the furthest corner of this room! Kitten twisted around cautiously. She saw the vague, shadowy outline of a head and shoulders, quickly followed by a bright beam of light. Blinking rapidly while her vision adjusted, Kitten was astonished to see a garishly clothed man climb into the basement through a hole in the floor.

The figure was dressed ridiculously. His main apparel was a bright green body stocking. The tightly-clinging garment would not have been her recommended fashion choice for the feeble physique it covered. It matched the dyed green shade of the man’s hair, but clashed horribly with his equally bright purple boots, gloves, mask and cape. Kitten groaned in dismay. No crime-fighter would choose a costume with such a complete lack of dignity. Not another villain! Surely life couldn’t be that unfair.

The newcomer seemed equally surprised (although a great deal more pleased) to see the sexy sidekick lying bound and gagged. His flashlight swept along the length of her wriggling form as he paced across. He focused the beam on her face and knelt for a closer inspection.

“Well, well. What do we have here? A delightful little surprise. Kitten, isn’t it? Syman says you’re coming home with me tonight. I’m sure Trixtress will love meeting you.”

Kitten groaned again and tugged urgently at her bonds. She hadn’t recognised the outfit, but that one phrase told her all that she needed to know. Syman Sayz was well known to the heroines of Metrobay. This pervert was infamous for his sick games of verbal domination. His physical bearing might not pose a threat, but somehow he always seemed to have a cunning ruse to gain the upper hand. She wondered what devious scheme had brought him here tonight.

“I expect that you’re wondering what devious scheme has brought me here tonight. Syman says he will enlighten you with exposition. A pretty little intern in the mayor’s office generously presented me with a copy of the blueprints and mission statement for these facilities. Well, eventually she was generous enough to do what Syman said. Holding her sister hostage may have helped persuade her decision. Lovely family, beautiful breasts. I’ll miss them ...”

For a moment the man seemed lost in memory, but eventually he shook his head and continued, “Anyway, when I read about the contents of this headquarters’ vaults, I simply had to find a way inside.” Syman walked across to the huge metal door which dominated one wall. “Did you know that when the sophisticated sensors in this building detect a major attack, say from explosives at the exterior doors, they cut off all outside communication lines, including the computerised alarms to police headquarters? Did you also know that those little boxes, a gift for Trixtress, are emitting an electro-magnetic pulse which should neutralise all internal locks and alarms?”

Syman pushed gently on the massive door and Kitten watched with mounting concern as it smoothly opened with absolutely no resistance. Two feet of impenetrable steel and state-of-the-art computer circuits had been rendered useless by the EMP interference. The vaults were already filled, ready to serve Metrobay’s defenders when MAIDEN HQ began official operations next week. Lying on the floor, she could see a glimpse of Motorcycle Girl’s amazing bike, the bio-converter machine designed by Adonis, there were even duplicates of Pink Pussycat’s power collar and her own power belt.

“It’s a shame that the rubble keeping the authorities at bay prevents me from taking all of these goodies.” Syman’s voice echoed as he moved into the vault to loot through its contents, “But there’s really only one treasure that I’ve come for. Ah, thank-you Dr Llewelyn.”

The villain exited the vault holding a tiny item in his gloved hand. It was about the same size and shape as a computer’s USB pen-drive. It wasn’t a gadget that Kitten had seen before, but Syman seemed delighted to have taken it into his possession. He slipped the device into his pocket and returned to Kitten’s side, taking out a knife to slice her leg ropes and hogtie. A slow smile spread across his face as he allowed his hands to roam across her firm body, stopping to linger at the two small nipples which pushed through the fabric of her costume.

“We’ll have to use the utility tunnels to make our escape, but I can see that you’re in no position to complain. Who tied your gag? They did a wonderful job. Syman says you’re going to experience lots of wonderful restraints over the next few days. Syman says he’s going to take great sexual pleasure toying with you. Won’t that be nice?”



Holding down two jobs certainly kept a girl busy. Anybody wanting to know the truth of that statement only had to ask Samantha Sable. Less than two hours after she had delivered Madame Mynx and Trixtress to the authorities, she did a quick change out of her Nightengale outfit and made herself ready for her second occupation. Quite frankly, it was the last thing that she wanted to do. The news of the blasts at MAIDEN HQ had been all over the television. Samantha’s heart went out to Pink Pussycat. She couldn’t imagine how the Pussycat would be dealing with the loss of Kitten. If she had been given a choice in the matter, the adventuress would have called in sick and taken the day off to comfort her fellow crime-fighter.

But she didn’t have that choice. One didn’t simply call in sick to an organisation like ROPE. Thus it was in the guise of Lady Payback that Samantha answered a curt summons from Max Indeks.

The multi-billion dollar leader of Restrained, Obedient, Punished and Enslaved was standing in the opulent surroundings of his penthouse office. Polished surfaces of dark marble were a perfect choice for their occupant; hugely expensive, impressive to look at, but ultimately cold and sterile. The office was vast, its size meant to intimidate visitors. To Samantha, it merely made Max seem small and petty. Long windows from floor to ceiling offered an unobstructed view of Metrobay’s skyline. Max was fond of gazing out at his domain, claiming ownership of every business, every home, every life. The view reminded Samantha of why she lived her double life, reminded her of all the innocents she worked to protect.

There was the sound of a fly-zipper being fastened as she crossed the wood-panelled floor. Max turned to face her, tucking the tails of his shirt into his Armani pants. A young girl knelt beside him. She was dressed in a harness of thin, leather straps and shining metal buckles, a costume which did nothing to cover her nakedness. A matching collar was secured at her neck, proclaiming, as if there could be any doubt, that her position in life was that of a slave. Her hands were cuffed behind her back. As Samantha watched, the girl’s tongue flicked out to remove signs of the creamy fluid which had spilled over her lips and chin.

Samantha, Lady Payback, raised an eyebrow at the shameless display, “Is this a bad time? I can come back later.”

Max took a seat behind his expansive desk and fixed a level gaze on his favourite enforcer. Lady Payback gleamed under the intensity of the penthouse’s spotlights. Polished black leather covered her from neck to toe. The form-fitting catsuit hugged her shapely breasts and rounded hips. Long boots were buckled from ankles to knees, their hardened heels and toes looking purposefully ready for conflict. Black leather gloves drummed on folded arms with a bold display of attitude. Lady Payback’s hard eyes mirrored that attitude beneath her thin mask, a cool, arrogant defiance that was emphasised by her slicked haircut. Max wouldn’t tolerate such insolence from many people, but he valued this woman’s skills and indulged her forthright demeanour.

“You took your time getting here. Where have you been? No, never mind. I don’t really care. Here, read this.” Max pushed a folded letter across the desk. He glanced at the kneeling slave, “Are you still here? Get out. Report to Human Resources and instruct them to give you twenty strokes with a flogger.”

Lady Payback ran her eyes over the letter, “Is this for real? Surely even he wouldn’t be stupid enough to blackmail ROPE.”

The note was from Syman Sayz. The villain had never really found a place in ROPE’s hierarchy. He was viewed as something of an amateur, his results often embarrassing to the organisation. The letter was a demand for a considerably large sum of money. If the staggering price wasn’t paid, Syman threatened to destroy the financial assets of ROPE’s most prominent sponsors and investors.

“Can he even make good on these threats?” Lady Payback was very sceptical, “Our backers must have suitably rigorous security measures in place.”

Max rotated a laptop to allow his minion to see the display. A complicated spreadsheet was open on screen. The key fact highlighted among the columns of numbers was the flashing zero in the lower right corner.

“This is a share account from one of my private portfolios. Five minutes after that letter was delivered, the account was emptied of all assets. A runt like Syman Sayz shouldn’t even know the identities of our investors, but his list of potential victims is completely accurate and could leave us in financial ruins. I can assure you that his threat must be treated with the utmost seriousness.”

Lady Payback was astonished. Raiding Max’s funds was an incredible feat of electronic larceny. She was impressed that her volatile employer was managing to contain his fury. “Are you going to pay his demands?”

Max was silent for a long moment, almost as if he couldn’t bring himself to admit his acquiescence. His eyes burned with anger when he finally spoke, “Yes, but I want you to make the drop-off. Follow him. I want to know where he is and how the hell he has done this. Nobody defies me like this and gets away with it.”



A persistent buzzing roused Kaitlin Sinclair from a troubled sleep. Warm light pushing through her bedroom’s lace curtains told her that morning had come, although she felt totally unrested. Her pillow was still damp from the many tears she had shed. A hollow sickness gnawed at her insides. She couldn’t believe that Kitten was gone. It made no sense. The thought of her young friend’s bright eyes and plucky spirit caused fresh tears to flow.

The buzzing continued. Kaitlin was tempted to ignore it, to let the world look after itself. But the sound was too important to dismiss. Its familiar call didn’t belong to a mere alarm clock or telephone. The grieving woman wiped tears from her eyes and opened the jewelled box which sat on her bedside cabinet. She lifted the famous pink eye-mask and matching ears and slipped them onto her face then moved across to her desk and computer.

The PC’s wallpaper showed two cute kittens tangled in a ball of yarn and was cluttered with bookmarks for chat rooms, links to favourite entertainment sites and shortcuts to her favourite online stores. One icon was flashing in urgent shades of red, causing the speakers to buzz with the alert which still clamoured for attention. Kaitlin depressed a very specific sequence of keys on her keyboard and shifted her mouse to double-click on the icon. The desktop immediately transformed. The girlish wallpaper and icons vanished, replaced with a series of live news feeds, criminologist search engines and a library of detailed city maps. The new layout was no less serious for its bright pink backdrop. The attached web-cam blinked into life and a secure communication window popped open.

The beautiful face revealed belonged to the brilliant scientist who had designed the Pink Pussycat’s software and many more of her clever gadgets. Dr Desdemona Llewelyn was an undeniable genius. She possessed no less than three different doctorates, spoke eleven languages (both modern and ancient) and counted several Nobel prize winners among her professional peers. She was also extraordinarily good looking, although she would never believe it if told.

“Pink Pussycat! Thank goodness. I’ve been trying to get hold of you for hours.”

Pussycat gave a wan smile, but shook her head, “I’m sorry, doctor. You’ll have to find Felina or another of our allies. After what happened last night, I really don’t ...”

“But it’s about last night,” interrupted Dr Llewelyn, “The building wasn’t destroyed. The explosions caused large amounts of superficial exterior debris without touching the insides. It was really quite a remarkable feat of structural engineering. The blasts were directed with great precision, bypassing load-bearing vertices while causing a cascading wave-front of concussive vibration. The measurements of the triggering chemicals would need to have accounted for material density, construction technique, ...”

The scientist drifted into a detailed hypothesis that meant nothing to the Pink Pussycat. But she wasn’t listening anyway, her mind reeling from the import of this news, “Wait a minute. What are you telling me? Is Kitten alive? Where is she?”

The beautiful doctor blinked her wide, brown eyes, “Sorry, didn’t I say? Yes, as far as we know, Kitten is still among the living.”

Pussycat gave a joyous whoop and spun in her seat. Kitten was alive! She knew the awful alternative couldn’t have been true. A nagging afterthought cut her celebration short, “What do you mean ‘as far as we know’?”

“Kitten wasn’t inside the building when the search teams managed to dig through the blockade of rubble. We think that she may have been kidnapped. The inner vaults have been broken into and a very important invention of mine has been stolen. I call it the Data Analysis Miner with Self-Encapsulating Logarithms, or DAMSEL. It’s designed to interface with any computer system, hijack host protocols, adapt itself to encryption or firewall routines, and act as a universal GUI to any neighbouring platforms. In short, plug it in and it will get you any information from any computer any where.” Dr Llewelyn lowered her long lashes and looked guilty, “Some of the coding I used might not be completely legal. I only ever intended it to be used for honourable purposes, but in the wrong hands ...”

Pussycat shook her head. She wanted to know about Kitten not some hi-tech back-door key. “Do we have any clues?”

“Yes, we do. I personally supervised the CSI team‘s findings. Pieces of rope were recovered from the basement. Close inspection retrieved two distinct sets of skin particles, both of which turned up hits in our DNA database. One was Kitten, naturally, and the other belonged to a known felon going by the name of Syman Sayz. That’s all I really have at the moment. Oh, except to say that Trixtress escaped custody before reaching the city jail.”

“But Madame Mynx is locked away? Good, then that’s who I need to talk to next. Thank-you, doctor. I can’t tell you how happy you’ve made me.”

Pussycat cut off the connection and sprang into action. Kitten might still be in danger, but at least there was a fresh chance to save her. Mynx had planted the bombs at MAIDEN HQ. She was bound to know something that would lead to Trixtress or Syman Sayz. The heroine grabbed the rest of her costume and called instructions to her maid.

“Annabelle, dust off the Kitty Cycle. I need to reach the prison as quickly as possible.” Kaitlin tutted, there was no response. Where was that silly girl anyway? Typical! Never around when she was needed.

Chapter Two

The playgrounds behind Metrobay Elementary School were deserted at this time of night. Swings, slides and see-saws were silhouetted as strange skeletons against the dusky horizon. It was an odd place to be making a covert business transaction. Then again, mused Lady Payback, given Syman Sayz’s obsession with childish games, maybe his warped mind viewed this as a perfect location. At least the fool had been sensible enough to wait until no children remained on the premises.

The formidable enforcer strode confidently past sand pits and empty benches. Nobody who saw her would have suspected that the attaché case in her left hand contained enough money to buy half the city’s real estate. Of course, few people had witnessed Lady Payback’s approach to the rendezvous site. She had taken great care to ensure stealth and discretion en route. Petty muggers and pickpockets didn’t scare Samantha Sable, but tonight she didn’t want any distractions. She had refused Max’s suggestion of backup muscle or tracers hidden in the money. There was no point in risking their discovery by Syman and blowing the whole operation. She would rely on her own skills to deal with the treacherous crook.

Something moved in the shadows to her side. Lady Payback stopped and turned to face the blurred form that edged forward, “Don’t be shy. Why don’t you come out and play? Somehow I didn’t expect Syman would have the balls to come himself. I hate it when I have to deal with minions.”

The figure shuffled into the open and Samantha’s breath caught in her throat. The high boots, the leopard-print top, the auburn ponytail and thin eye-mask. She couldn’t believe it! “Kitten? Is that you?” A for--d cough shut the astonished relief from her voice. Samantha Sable might be overjoyed to see the young sidekick, but Lady Payback would not be. But what was Kitten doing here? Was the Pink Pussycat nearby? Lady Payback’s tone shifted back to its usual haughty confidence, “You had better scamper home, little girl. Adults have business to attend to tonight.”

“Sy ... Syman says to leave the case at my feet and then back off.” The girl’s voice was full of misery and a hint of something else, an aroused breathlessness that was almost as out of place as Kitten’s very presence.

“Syman says? Are you working for him? Is he nearby?”

“Please,” a desperate pleading showed itself in Kitten’s large eyes, “Please, do what Syman says. He’s making me ... Ooh! Ow!”

Kitten’s body jerked upright and she shuffled forward another few steps, giving Lady Payback a better view and at least a partial understanding of the situation. Wide leather bands circled each of Kitten’s wrists and secured them in place at the tops of her thighs. Similar cuffs were fixed to her booted feet and attached to a shackling length of chain; that explained her hesitant, shuffling movements. There was one last item of apparent bondage. Tight black lines passed around the girl’s waist and plunged between her legs. Lady Payback could now see that Kitten’s costume had been slit so that the crotch strap could be pulled deep between her exposed pussy lips and snugly into the crack of her backside. Kitten was contorting in her bonds. Her legs were trembling and she seemed to be simultaneously trying to twist away from the invasive garment and to bear down on it with increased pressure.

“Kitten?” This time Samantha couldn’t hide her concern, “What’s going on?”

“Stop asking questions and hand over my cash.” An irritated male voice shouted from further back in the twilight shadows. “If you really must know, our dear little kitty has an amusing little butt-plug locked in place. She’s been wearing it for hours and still manages to squeeze out orgasm after orgasm when I make it expand and vibrate using the controller I’m holding. She has also learned to dread its electrical shocks, a punishment when she doesn’t do what Syman says ... or just for my entertainment. Watch.”

A muffled high-pitched buzz emitted from the bound girl’s backside. Kitten’s eyes crossed and she bit down to avoid crying out. Her fingers formed claws, but tugs with her wrists couldn’t break free from the heavy thigh straps.

“It really is a marvellous little toy,” continued Syman. “The perfect means of training reluctant assistants. I’ve already sold more than a dozen units to Delisha and Maestro. I’m sure that they’ll be put to good use in their hands.”

“All right, all right. I get the point. Stop torturing the poor kid. Here’s your money.” Lady Payback glared as she took three paces forward and set the case of unmarked notes on the ground. She watched Kitten’s ongoing sexual agitation and retreated to her original position.

It galled the poor captive to be carrying out Syman’s orders, but there seemed to be no immediate alternative. The villain had been very careful to keep her in some sort of restraint ever since her abduction during the robbery of MAIDEN HQ. The slim girl may have been even smaller than his scrawny build, but he knew that she would easily best him in combat. Tight ropes, secure handcuffs and buckled straps had removed any such opportunity. The evil plug cramming her sensitive rear cavity also compelled obedience. Its electro-shocks went straight to the core of her being with no means to evade or resist their cruel jabs. The only thing which defiance would accomplish at this point would be to provoke further pain and distress.

Kitten bent to retrieve the case and its valuable contents. She gasped and wobbled, struggling to keep her balance as the intimate intruder was driven further up her passage. It felt so incredibly, wonderfully, awfully filling. Hours before, she had blushed in humiliated embarrassment when Syman’s gloved fingers had massaged slick lubricant to grease her tight little opening. He had prodded and rotated until two knuckles disappeared inside her warmth, all the while mocking her with taunting commands, ‘Syman says this, Syman says that.’ What a freak. If she had thought that his finger was bad and the plug worse, she had been completely unprepared for the erotic sensations when he had first inflated the rubber toy. The girl’s legs had buckled so that only her chained wrists had kept her standing. Reflexive actions caused her thighs to clench, gripping the rippled cone and wriggling her butt to heighten the exquisite confusion of arousal. As Syman had shamefully revealed, the young girl had climaxed repeatedly, the penetration of her bottom keeping her aroused beyond anything she had experienced before.

Her cheeks were flushed and sweat glistened on her forehead when she shakily stood with the case gripped in one shackled hand. The prolonged pleasure was becoming as unbearable as the painful shocks. As she moved to Syman’s side, she hoped that he would remove the device now that she had done as he asked. Keep her tied-up if he must, but no more of this dizzying torment.

“You’ve got what you want, Syman” Lady Payback raised her voice, “What proof do we have that ROPE’s investors will be safe?”

“Syman says that he won’t touch your funds. If you know anything about me, you’ll know that I never go back on anything that Syman says.”

Like hell! Lady Payback kept her scepticism to herself. After she completed the second part of her mission, there would be no reason to put blind faith in a madman’s delusional sense of honour. She backed away with her arms raised. As long as Syman didn’t get spooked, it should be a simple matter to pick up his trail and discover his hideout. Once that was done, there would be plenty of time for Nightengale to spring to Kitten’s rescue and clean up this whole mess.

“No problem. I’ll let Mr Indeks know that you’ve received payment and no longer pose a threat to us. I’m sure that he’ll ... Ouch!”

Lady Payback cried out and slapped a hand to a sudden sting on her bum. Her groping fingers brushed against a tuft of feathers at the end of a slim, metallic needle. She pulled the object out of her tender flesh and stared at it in shock. Her vision was already starting to blur, “A tranquilliser dart? What have you ...uuh.”

Syman and Kitten both stood in surprise as Lady Payback’s leather-clad body slumped into the dirt. Syman lifted his head as his partner, Trixtress, walked across, a small pistol casually swinging at her side.

“That wasn’t part of the plan! Why did you do that? Max will be furious if he thinks that I planned a double cross.”

Trixtress laughed. She knelt on the ground, tenderly entwining her fingers in Lady Payback’s black hair and sensuously stroking the unconscious woman’s cheek. “I have a history with this one, an old score to settle. You’ve got your money and the little brat. I’ll take this one as an added bonus.”

Her voice dropped to a private whisper, “Relax, Syman, everything will go exactly as I intended from the start.”



This had to be one of the worst ideas that she had ever had. The Pink Pussycat ruefully shook her head and followed her new ‘colleague’ into the abandoned warehouse. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. No, scratch that. It had seemed like the only idea at the time. For that matter, it still seemed like the only viable course of action. An interview at the prison had confirmed the likelihood that Syman Sayz and Trixtress were working together. They had captured Kitten and stolen the DAMSEL computer interface. Time was of the essence and the Pink Pussycat had no leads to work from. Except one. And so it came to this, working in partnership with her most villainous foe, Madame Mynx herself.

Mynx glanced over her shoulder and gestured for the Pussycat to keep up. She had been only too happy to reveal all that she knew about Trixtress. The imprisoned villainess still raged that the demented vixen had escaped while leaving her cuffed and gagged in the police van. Her fury only grew when she discovered that MAIDEN HQ still stood. When the superficial damage was repaired, the building would fulfil the dream of uniting the resources of the city’s crime-fighting heroes. Mynx lusted for a chance of revenge against her former ally. She had promised to help the Pussycat track down Trixtress, with one small condition attached. Mynx insisted on personally leading the hunt and on being present when Trixtress was finally apprehended.

The Pink Pussycat had been repulsed by the idea, but Mynx had been adamant and in the end she had very little choice. It had taken some effort to convince the warden, but eventually he had agreed to release the criminal into the Pussycat’s personal custody. An array of precautions had been taken to ensure that the villainess couldn’t take advantage of this chance to cause mischief. Gone was her provocative costume of tight fishnets and clinging leather. Instead she was dressed in the black and white stripes of prison overalls. A thick bracelet was locked around Mynx’s left ankle, a device adapted from ROPE‘s arsenal of slave accessories. It contained a radio-tracking emitter and an alarm linked to a transponder carried by the Pussycat. Not only could the authorities track Mynx’s every movement, if she strayed too far from her guardian, a blaring signal would alert anyone within earshot. Of course, the most effective precautionary measures were the sharp senses of the Pink Pussycat. Despite agreeing to this insane plan, the beautiful heroine was far from trusting Mynx and wouldn’t be letting her guard down for even a second.

The obsessive scrutiny was beginning to chafe on Madame Mynx’s already frayed temper. “Are you coming in or not? It’s just an empty warehouse.”

Pussycat had paused at the entrance and was cautiously looking about for signs of a trap, “It’s the same warehouse where you and Trixtress held us captive. You’ll excuse me if I show a little prudence.”

“Just hurry up. I don’t want Trixtress escaping because of a nervous scaredy-cat.”

“What’s the matter, Mynx?” The Pink Pussycat stepped over the threshold and peered around the dusty room, “Are you so eager to get back to your cosy little cell? Missing the barred windows already?”

The villainess clenched her teeth and spun to face the heroine. Her hands were bunched into tight fists at her sides and her shoulders shook with barely suppressed rage, “You just can’t help yourself, can you? Always have to have the last word. Always have to throw out some snide little insult. If only the people of Metrobay knew you like I do. You’re nothing more than a sex-hungry slut out for an adrenalin-fuelled power trip! We’re more alike than you care to admit.”

“We are nothing alike!” Pussycat’s voice hissed, but her eyes blazed at the indignity. “How dare you say such an awful thing. I do what I do because of people like you and Trixtress. Somebody has to stand up against ROPE and protect the defenceless women of Metrobay.”

“Rubbish.” Mynx took a threatening step closer. “How many times have you been put in a compromising trap? And how many times have you gone home smiling with a warm glow and slick pussy-juices? Any sane person would run as far as they could, but you keep coming back for more. Tell the truth. You love being captured and you love being sexually dominated by your so called enemies.”

Pussycat laughed. This was outrageous. “You really are twisted, aren’t you? Is your sense of right and wrong so far gone? This little trip has been good for me. It’s reminded me why your kind need to be locked up and the keys thrown away.”

The laughter was the last straw. Mynx raised a hand, intending to slap the mocking smile from the insolent heroine’s face, but Pink Pussycat was faster. She grabbed Mynx’s wrist and glared at her through narrowed eyes, “Careful, Mynx. There are no Men-cubs around and you haven’t robbed me of my power collar. Do you really feel lucky? Then go ahead, make my day.”

Two pairs of eyes locked in a titanic battle of wills. The muscles of Madame Mynx’s arm quivered, but the Pussycat’s grip remained firm. In the end it was Mynx who relented. With a snarl of defeat, she twisted away and paced across to an untidy corner of the warehouse. She scooped a crumpled piece of paper from the floor and held it towards her nemesis.

“Here, this is what we came for.” She kept her face averted, unwilling to look at the other woman.

Pussycat reached out to take the paper, “What is it?”

“Trixtress supplied our explosives, but she collected them from a third party. Given what you’ve told me, I’d guess that it was Syman himself. That address is where she made the pick-up. It’s probably where they both are now.”



The horrid butt-plug had finally been removed, a small mercy for which Kitten was extremely grateful. However it was about the only positive thing to be said for her latest plight. Both of the beautiful captives had been stripped to their underwear. For Kitten, this meant a lacy bra of soft, brown silk and an ultra-thin bikini thong. Lady Payback was clad in a slightly more practical sports bra and matching panty combination of shiny, black latex. The enforcer's clothing may have covered a little more flesh, but the supporting garments also pushed her breasts and buttocks into the perfect shapes for display purposes. Syman and Trixtress had taken great delight in fondling the soft bodies while cutting away their outer layers.

The prisoners had been left alone for a few moments. They were bound identically in a new position. Thick braided ropes wound in long coils up the lengths of arms, from wrists to elbows, and legs, from ankles to mid-calf. The strands had been pulled tight and knotted securely, looking like bizarre snakes constricting the slender female limbs. Each rope, and by extension the girls themselves, hung from beams high in the ceiling. Kitten and Lady Payback were suspended in mid-air, their backs facing the floor, their arms and legs pointing straight up. Nothing else supported their semi-naked bodies. Futile attempts to escape their bonds only caused the prisoners to sway from side to side or to slowly spin in place.

Lady Payback glanced across at Kitten and whispered a low inquiry of concern, "Are you OK?"

Kitten glared back in suspicion, "Why do you care? I know who you are. You work for ROPE. Don't try to fool me with your false compassion."

Samantha sighed and looked away. Her fellow heroines knew nothing of Nightengale's secret life as Lady Payback. Did she dare to trust Kitten with the truth? It was a risk that could compromise her position as a double-agent inside the heart of ROPE’s organisation.

“Listen, I know that we’ve been on opposite sides in the past, but take a look around; we’re in the same predicament this time. Believe me, I want out of here just as much as you do ... and to do that, we’ll have to work together.”

Kitten’s brows came together as she frowned doubtfully. Lady Payback’s arguments made sense, but the idea of working for one of the chief lieutenant’s of ROPE? Eww! “What do you propose?”

Samantha gave a small sigh of thanks. Maybe they could escape without revealing her secrets. “Syman and Trixtress are very dangerous together, but I can’t believe that they really like each other much. We need to turn them against themselves.”

“Divide and conquer you mean?”

“Yes, exactly. If we can ...”

There was no time to plan further. A door swung open and Trixtress sauntered into the room. She smiled broadly as she bent to slap both girls’ backsides. “Ah, the lovely Lady Payback. Trust you to turn up. Was Maxie very upset when we ‘borrowed’ his shares?”

“You’ve gone too far this time. We’ve always had our rivalry, but acting against ROPE is insane. When Max finds out ...”

“When Max finds out that I have thwarted Syman, captured Kitten and retrieved the DAMSEL device, he’ll probably give me your job. The job that should have been mine to begin with.”

Lady Payback’s eyes widened, “You’re setting Syman up so that you can turn him over to ROPE.”

Trixtress beamed in delight, “Yes, of course I am.”

“But you betrayed Madame Mynx. No one will fall for this.”

“Mynx is in jail and in no position to interfere and I can be very persuasive when I want to be. Besides, do you think that Max will care about the fine details when I’m standing in his office with the DAMSEL device itself? Can you imagine what he could do with access to any computer system in Metrobay?”

Trixtress leaned in close and nibbled at her captive’s ear, “I’m not sure how I’m going to implicate you as Syman’s accomplice, but I’m sure that something will come to mind. Any suggestions? And just in case you were thinking of warning Syman, here’s a nice big ballgag for you to chew on.”

Lady Payback could only growl mumbled abuse as the black gag was for--d between her lips and buckled in place. Trixtress laughed again and gave her prisoners a sly wink before calling out, “Syman, darling, the girls are ready for you. It’s time to play with our pretty guests.”

Chapter Three

From their semi-reclined, mid-air positions, Kitten and Lady Payback could do nothing but sway and watch helplessly as Syman Sayz followed Trixtress into the room. He looked even more ridiculous than usual with a wide grin spread across his face and a small bulge at the crotch of his garish green and purple costume. He set a number of items on a bench beside the captured heroines. Lady Payback shuddered at the array of crops, clamps, dildos and other embarrassing sex toys. Kitten’s alert eyes went to the small device carefully placed at the end of the bench. It was the DAMSEL interface, the gadget stolen from MAIDEN HQ which had the potential to do so much harm in the hands of evil-doers.

Trixtress saw the object of Kitten’s attention and slapped her face to avert the gaze, “Don’t get any ideas. We worked hard to get that little toy. Using it against ROPE was just a trial run. Soon the computer systems of banks and governments will be open to us.”

Lady Payback looked across. So that was how they had stolen Max’s shares and obtained ROPE’s secret list of sponsors. She added another item to her list of things to do; Get free, Rescue Kitten, Defeat the villains, Retrieve that gadget. She looked up as Syman moved across. Achieving the first of those objectives would be a nice start.

“Such beautiful ladies, all tied-up and waiting to bring me pleasure,” Syman cooed in eager anticipation as he gazed down at the suspended captives. His hands stroked the silky, smoothness of Kitten’s exposed skin and the bulge of his erection grew a little more prominent. His roaming fingers stopped when they reached the edge of her lacy bra. “You have a wonderful taste in lingerie, my dear little girl, but I don’t think that you’ll be needing these pretty garments for much longer. Trixtress, Syman says we should strip the ladies naked.”

“Magnificent idea, Syman.” Trixtress grinned wickedly as she retrieved a small pair of scissors from the bench. She turned to the squirming Lady Payback, grabbing a handful of hair and provoking a gagged grunt of pain when she jerked the enforcer’s head back, “I would advise you to keep quite still and co-operate. These scissors are very sharp and will be very close to certain body parts. We wouldn’t want my hand to slip and cause any unpleasant accidents, would we?”

Lady Payback froze. She stared into the villainess’ mirth-filled eyes. There was no telling if her implied threat was serious or not, but given their long and turbulent history, Samantha wasn’t about to take any chances. She relaxed her tensed muscles and hung in docile submission, meekly allowing Trixtress to go about her sordid task.

Now that her victim’s compliance had been gained, the malevolent villainess seemed disinclined to hurry. Her red-gloved fingers idlely tickled their way along one of Lady Payback’s thighs, tracing little whirls and spirals as they gradually made the journey from knee to hip. Goosebumps were raised on the captive’s flesh and she shivered in her bonds, the lingering caress contrasting with the obvious danger of her situation. Lady Payback for--d her body to lie still again when she felt cold metal press against her sensitive inner thigh. The tip of the scissors slipped around the hem of her latex panties and a purposeful snip accompanied the blades’ easy cut through the first half inch of fabric.

Probing fingers followed in the wake of the small shears. As Lady Payback’s vulnerable vagina was revealed, snip by snip, the fingers softly rubbed against the tender opening. When enough of the glistening lips were visible, Trixtress pushed two digits inside, twisting and pressing with a slow, sensual rhythm. The restrained target of her caress moaned loudly and screwed her eyes closed. She was fighting desperately to resist her mounting arousal, but it was fast becoming a losing battle. Trixtress’ touch was masterful. She seemed to know exactly how to manipulate Samantha’s body, pushing just deep enough and then withdrawing, rubbing a thumb over her clitoris on the way out. Lady Payback could feel her juices starting to flow, a glorious, warm wetness radiating from her loins. If her tormentor continued for much longer, a humiliating orgasm was sure to follow.

“Having a good time, little whore?” Trixtress was enjoying her rival’s ordeal immensely, laughing at the obvious conflict between her mind’s resistance and her body’s unwanted reactions. A final cut caused the panties to fall to the ground, “My, what a thick nest of tangled curls. How very unsightly. I may have to shave you later. I much prefer to play with smooth little cunts. Why, I haven’t seen such an untidy mess since that slut, Nightengale, was tied before me.”

Trixtress voice trailed off as a confused memory crossed her mind. She frowned and shook her head, dismissing the ludicrous notion. She wasted no time in slicing away the tight bra which supported Lady Payback’s ample bosom. The captive was now completely nude apart from her thin, black mask, but Trixtress wasn’t finished with the scissors. She opened the blades and positioned them either side of one pert nipple. Lady Payback’s eyes shot open and she watched in horror as the scissors closed until they were only millimetres away from the tip.

“Don’t worry. I would never hurt you like that. But I wonder ... what happens if I do this?” The hand holding the scissors remained rock steady as she bent her head over the breast of her prisoner. The villainess blew ever so gently then flicked out her tongue, leaving a warm lick over the fleshy bud. Once again Samantha felt herself betrayed by her body. Nerve endings sparked into life at the erotic touch and sent hot blood pumping into the quivering nipple, which immediately grew stiff and stretched out as though to invite more attention. The engorged nipple was now even closer to the sharp scissors. Samantha swallowed nervously as she felt a slight scrape from their dangerous edge.

“Ha!” Trixtress withdrew the scissors and mercifully tossed them away. “Just a little object lesson. I can give you pleasure or I can bring you excruciating pain. You lie completely at my mercy. Remember that, bitch.”

In the meantime, Syman Sayz had been playing his own games with the bound Kitten. Her frilled underwear had been shredded with even less effort than Lady Payback’s. Syman had been mesmerised as her pussy and breasts were uncovered. They were so beautiful, so soft, so young and perfectly formed. The round swell of her tits drew his hands like magnets. The villain had to cough and lick his dry lips before he could find his voice.

“Oh, little Kitten. This is going to be so much fun. Syman says he’s going to enjoy grabbing a handful of those lovely globes.”

Kitten groaned and tugged at the ropes on her arms and legs. Syman pawed at her delicate mounds, smiling happily as he squeezed their slight weight. He pressed his palms down, squashing the breasts flat against her chest then laughing in delighted amusement as they sprang back into shape when he released his grip. The pervert seemed to be having a good time, but his mauling grope was doing nothing for the girl.

“Let go of me,” she pleaded, “You’re hurting me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll make you a deal. I’ll leave your boobies alone if you’ll suck my cock instead.”

Syman was quick to tug down his pants and offer his hard organ to her lips. Kitten wrinkled her nose in disgust. He wanted to put that thing in her mouth? Although, her lips twitched with a half-hidden smile, it was such a tiny little thing. She probably wouldn’t even notice and it seemed a better choice than further abuse to her aching breasts.

Tentatively, she stretched her neck and brought her lips to the head of the unimpressive penis. Her tongue extended to circle its swollen rim and then trailed down the stiff length, hoping to get used to the horrid taste before taking it fully into her mouth. She winced as a salty dribble of pre-cum trickled onto her tongue. The awful act could only be postponed for so long. Poor Kitten dreaded to wonder what the Pink Pussycat would think as she opened her mouth and slid her lips down the organ’s shaft. She bobbed her head, swallowing down a desire to vomit and sucking as Syman pushed with his pelvis.

The sudden twist on her left breast came as a painful shock when the villain unexpectedly pulled out and scolded her in a stern voice, “You naughty girl. How dare you suck on me like that?”

“What? But ... but you told me to.”

“Ah, but I didn’t say ‘Syman says’, did I?” Kitten’s jaw dropped in dismayed astonishment. Was he serious? Apparently so, because he continued to lecture her as if she was a disobedient school girl. “Honestly, the rules are quite simple. You do what Syman says and only what Syman says. Such wilful misbehaviour will need to be punished later. Trixtress, shall we change partners?”

“Yes, lets.”

The two villains linked hands in a parody of dance partners and swapped their places, pirouetting gracefully as they passed. Syman now stood between Lady Payback’s spread legs, “It seems a shame to waste Kitten’s work. Syman says it’s time to give this pretty woman the fucking she deserves.”

Without further ado, the lust-filled man shoved inside the defenceless female. His modest erection easily slipped into her slick pussy, but, he reminded himself, it wasn’t size that mattered, it was what you did with it. And Syman certainly seemed to know what he was doing. His hips thrust forwards as he hugged Lady Payback’s slender waist and pulled her towards him. He pounded energetically, gasping his pleasure in time to her gagged moans. Lady Payback bounced up and down, jolting in her bonds with the force of his impaling penetration.

Trixtress was never one to view sex as a mere spectator sport. She had strapped a wide leather harness around her waist and between her legs. Jutting out from the front of the harness was the largest, widest dildo that Kitten had ever seen. Trixtress grinned at the girl, not bothering to hide her evil amusement. She seized Kitten’s legs and wriggled to line up her approach.

“Get ready for the ride of your young life,” she gloated, “This might hurt at first, but just lie back and you might even have some fun by the end.”

“You can’t do this,” Kitten was appalled at Trixtress’ intentions, “We’re both women. You can’t possibly want to stick that inside me.”

“Oh, I certainly can.”

The tip of the plastic phallus was already nudging at Kitten’s tight little entrance. Trixtress pushed with increasing pressure, the dildo slowly disappearing as it was pressed inside.

Kitten was gasping with the intense sensations, “You ... you can’t do this ... you ... you never said ‘Syman says’.”

All activity in the room seemed to pause as every pair of eyes swivelled towards Kitten. Trixtress was glaring in clear annoyance; Syman was regarding her in surprise; Lady Payback looked impressed and mumbled gagged encouragement.

“Don’t be silly,” snapped Trixtress, “That’s his gimmick, not mine.”

“No, she’s right.” Syman turned to face the villainess, “We all have to play by the same rules or the game’s not fair. Syman says you have to pay a forfeit.”

“A forfeit! I don’t think so!”

The two had withdrawn from their captives and stood toe-to-toe. Trixtress had her hands on her hips, the dildo still poking forwards, and was glaring at her supposed partner. She was furious that her fun had been interrupted and insulted that he thought that she should obey his nonsensical rules. Syman was frowning in irritation. He prided himself on following the same guidelines that he imposed on his victims and was affronted that Trixtress should behave otherwise. Lady Payback watched in approval, glad that their attention was not focused on her. Momentum during Syman’s vigorous humping had lifter her higher into the air, taking tension from the ropes from which she hung. She had been able to use the increased slack to slip out of half the coils circling her right arm. Having worked partially free, she now had a further chance to complete her escape.

“Bend over my knee. Ten hard spanks should repay a first offence.”

“I’ll do no such thing. Back off before I really get upset.”

“Why don’t you both back off? This little party is over.”

Both Syman and Trixtress spun at the sound of a third voice. Two proud females stood at the entrance to the room. One was clad in a famous pink outfit, the other in less familiar black and white prison stripes.

“Pink Pussycat! Madame Mynx?”

“You bet it’s me,” snarled Mynx. “It’s time to repay a debt, Trixtress.”

Battle was swiftly joined and, for once, the Pink Pussycat and Madame Mynx were on the same side. They made a formidable team. Mynx’s all out drive for vengeance against Trixtress was complimented by the Pussycat’s more restrained efforts to subdue her foes without excessive injuries to either side.

While the fight went on, Kitten and Lady Payback renewed their efforts to get free. The luckless Kitten still found no success, but Lady Payback was able to build on her earlier progress and soon unravelled the whole of her right arm. She quickly unknotted the remaining ropes, dropping to a crouch to survey the situation. It looked like Pink Pussycat and Madame Mynx were winning the combat. Kitten was spinning wildly in her bonds and getting further entangled. The stolen computer device still lay unattended on the bench. Her first priority was obvious. Snatching the DAMSEL device and ignoring everything else, Samantha ran to the corner of the room where her leather catsuit had been dumped. Getting dressed was always a smart first move.

By the time that Lady Payback had finished donning her costume, the fight was over. Syman Sayz was lying on the floor, hogtied and gagged with his own restraints. Trixtress was slumped in a heap, groaning in pain and tied in ropes savagely bound by Madame Mynx. With victory confirmed, the Pink Pussycat dashed to Kitten’s side. She checked for injuries as she reached for the ropes which bound her young sidekick.

“Not so fast, Pussycat.” Mynx called out a challenge, “I notice that your little helper is still out of the fight, whereas my ROPE employee is ready for action. Lady Payback, get this tracker off my ankle and then we can deal with these foolish heroines.”

“Don’t do this, Mynx.” Pussycat moved protectively to shield Kitten. “You’ve made sure that Trixtress won’t escape justice. Now keep your bargain and return with me to jail.”

“When I made that deal, I wasn’t expecting Lady Payback to be fighting at my side. I think that changes things slightly, don’t you?”

Samantha Sable’s mind was working furiously. This was a situation that she had hoped never to face; caught in the middle of a direct confrontation between the two parts of her life. Clearly Madame Mynx should be taken into custody, but how could she do that while dressed as Lady Payback? But if she chose to preserve that identity, how could she stop the Pink Pussycat and Kitten from coming to harm? She picked the lock of Mynx’s security anklet, recognising the ROPE model it was based upon. With her expertise, it was a simple matter to remove the device, but realisation of its function gave a possible answer to her dilemma.

“Come on, Lady Payback. Grab those ropes and let’s take this cat down.”

“No.”

Madame Mynx and a tense Pink Pussycat both blinked in surprise at Lady Payback’s refusal to obey a direct command from one of ROPE’s highest operatives. Samantha kept her nerve and replied to Mynx’s angry stare, “I’m sorry, ma’am, but the authorities know where you are and will already be responding to your tracker. My prime orders came from Mr Indeks himself and they have been completed. If we run now then your escape is a bonus. Staying to deal with the Pussycat represents an unnecessary risk given the circumstances.”

Mynx’s gaze shifted from Lady Payback to the Pink Pussycat and back again. Finally she tutted and spun on her heel, “Very well, I bow to your judgement. The Pussycat will just have to wait for another day.”

Samantha gave a small sigh of relief as she followed Mynx outside, keeping a wary eye in case the Pussycat decided to pounce. Sometimes the board was so badly set up that stalemate was the only acceptable outcome.

Her momentary anger at seeing Madame Mynx and Lady Payback escape was forgotten as soon as the Pussycat turned to deal with her friend. She quickly cut Kitten free from her bonds and eased her to the ground, “Are you all right? I’ve been so worried.”

“I’m fine.” Kitten smiled weakly and leaned on her mentor. She thought back to how this whole affair had started, “I take it that your date with Adonis didn’t go too well?”

They were still giggling some minutes later when a black-masked face peered around the doorway. Lady Payback tossed the DAMSEL device to an astonished Kitten before retreating with a conspiratorial wink, “Here, I get the impression that this would be safer in your hands. Take better care of it next time, OK?”



Epilogue

After a hard day of adventuring, it was nice to come home and relax. A cosy fire burned in the living room of Kaitlin Sinclair's luxurious mansion. She and Kitten were curled at opposite ends of a comfortably padded sofa, wrapped in a soft, much-loved blanket. The nose and whiskers of Kaitlin's furry, cat slippers peeked from under the edge of the blanket. The girls were tired, but happy.

Annabelle, Kaitlin's maid, entered the room carrying a tray. She placed two steaming mugs of milky cocoa on a side table and loaded a suitably soppy chick-flick into the DVD player. Her eyes fell on the recovered DAMSEL device which rested on Kaitlin's arm rest. For a brief moment, a small smile of relief flashed across the maid's face.

"Will there be anything else, Miss Sinclair?"

Kaitlin cupped her hands around the warm mug and sighed in satisfaction, "Mmm, thank-you, Annabelle. No, I don't think Tabitha or I will need you again. Just check that there is enough hot water for two baths and then give yourself the rest of the night off."

"Very good, ma'am."

Tabby sipped her own drink, "Let me see if I have this straight. Madame Mynx thought that she was working with Trixtress to destroy MAIDEN HQ."

"Yes."

"Whereas Trixtress was really working with Syman Sayz to steal the DAMSEL thingamajig from inside the headquarters so that they could blackmail ROPE."

Kaitlin nodded.

"But that was just a ploy so that Trixtress could 'retrieve' the device and boost her reputation within ROPE."

"That's right."

"And while you were working with Madame Mynx to find us, Lady Payback was trying to help me escape and actually made sure that we could bring the device to safety?"

"Complicated, isn't it?"

Tabby shook her head, "Wouldn't it just be easier if the good guys wore white masks and the bad guys wore black?"

Kaitlin laughed, "I agree, but maybe with pink for the good guys. There is little to be gained by questioning the motives of Trixtress and her kind. They are devious, treacherous liars." The heroine smiled and reached out to squeeze her young ward's hand, "The important thing is that we can always count on each other. The Pink Pussycat and Kitten against the world."



Pink Pussycat.
The adventures continue.
Only at HIP Comix.

Great job!

This worked very well within the Pink Pussycat universe. The characters were true to the existing comic characters and the peril was very worthy of exploration.

I hope to see other examples of this kind of HIP fan fictions.

Excellent story, Stephen!!

Even better than the first installment.

I love the DAMSEL acronym - ha ha.

Thanks guys! I very much appreciate your comments.

i just found time to read this. first class. a great bondage epic, and a fine superheroine story.

i especially enjoyed the double-triple cross.


if you ever want to take a crack at our end of the
universe you're welcome to. in the meantime, thanks
for a wonderful story.

More great stuff, Stephen. A fanfic based on a mythos that itself hasn't been completed yet. I am extremely impressed. How long did it take you to write that?

Thanks for the praise.

This one took about three or four weekends at about 3,000 words per chapter. I find that to be a reasonable chunk to get the words flowing without meandering into repetitiveness or staleness.

Thanks again.