Fuchsia Fox : "Someone Is Watching You"

[flirty_but_nice]

The following is a Fuchsia Fox story by Centurion.

During the creation of the story, Centurion so kindly allowed me to hash things out in a bit of back and forth with him. In actuality, It's more like he allowed me to bombard him with all kinds of crazy, over the top, naughty ideas. In other words, he was so kind in letting me in during "creation" of the story. Thankfully, he only took some elements of my overly naughty ideas and came up with what I think is an amazing story. I (we) hope you agree! (I especially hope you agree, for if nobody likes it, he might say, "Flirty, ummm, I think maybe that's the last time I should let you collaborate with me on a story involving my Fuchsia Fox, for you're a bad, naughty influence!")

Anyway, Centurion's having some Internet issues, so he gave me permission to post the story on his behalf. I'll post it in two parts, chapters 1 - 3 today. The balance (Chapters 4 - 7) hopefully next week. Please enjoy ... and remember, your feedback is most welcome!
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Fuchsia Fox: "Someone is Watching You"
by Centurion

Chapter 1 -- Arlington, Virginia


Martin Fletcher, alone in his apartment wearing a t-shirt and lounge pants, kept one eye on the television news while he checked his phone messages. Jennifer was late. He knew that the Smithsonian closed at five o'clock, but that had been almost two hours ago, and it was fully dark now. Even so, he wasn't unduly concerned with his wife's whereabouts. He knew that she had recently been passed over for a promotion through no fault of her own, and she was still a little miffed about it. And whereas most women would probably hit the gym or something when they needed to let off steam, Jennifer was more likely to...


Martin heard a click and felt a sudden draft from the bedroom balcony. He looked up, and there stood the Fuchsia Fox, her alluring frame silhouetted in the window frame, her stunning brunette tresses waving in the evening breeze like a supermodel's. Martin immediately experienced a familiar rush of adrenal at the sight of the superheroine in her tight purplish-pink costume. His pulse began to race, his body felt hot with desire as his eyes ran up and down her sleek form. From her sexy ankle boots, his gaze followed her two flawless legs upward to her wide hips, encased in snug, high-cut briefs. Her slender bare waist and perfectly toned abs curved smoothly toward her delicious bust, those perfect twin hills under in a matching halter top bearing that now world-famous fox-head chest emblem.


But something was wrong... one slender gloved arm was inclined across her chest, holding in place the right side of her halter top, which he could see now was slightly torn. "Angel?" he said, dropping his phone and leaping off the sofa in alarm. "what happened?"


"Oh this?" Jennifer said lightly, stepping past him into the bedroom. "It's nothing. Just a little contretemps. The unstable molecular fabric will repair itself..." With a few graceful movements, she undid the back of her halter top, allowing her supple B-cups to jiggle freely as she removed it.


Martin, following close behind her, arrived just in time to take the skimpy little garment out of her hands. "But how did it happen?" he insisted, surveying the damage.


"It's my own fault, really," she said. "I should have been paying more attention." Reaching up to lay her hands on his broad shoulders, the superheroine stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the lips, her supple breasts pressing against his tshirt-clad chest.


Martin couldn't help kissing back. And down below, his trouser snake couldn't help responding by growing thick and hard, which caused Jennifer to close her eyes with a feminine sigh of contentment. "How did it happen?" he repeated, determined not to let himself be distracted.


"All right then," Jennifer relented, as together they sat down on the bed. Martin began to help her off with her ankle boots. "Where to begin? OK, I was feeling a little bit stressed after work, so I decided to change and go flying. I was cruising over the Leeburg Turnpike..."


***

It was after dark, but the parking lot outside the east entrance of the Twin Pines Mall was brightly lit. A smattering of evening shoppers was going in and out, barely sparing a glance for the nondescript white caterer's van idling at the curb with its side door open, the driver looking nervously back and forth.


Without warning, three men wearing dark clothing and ski masks burst out of the entrance to the mall. The one in the rear was carrying a shotgun to discourage pursuit, while the two in front carried leather bags stuffed with loot from the jewelry store they had just knocked over. Quickly the three men piled into the van and slammed the door behind them. "Let's move!" barked the leader, whipping off his mask. The getaway driver didn't need to be told a second time. With a squeal of tires the van peeled off from the curb, swerving to the left as it tore off across the parking lot.


"Holy shit!" the driver exclaimed suddenly, as a beautiful young brunette girl wearing a skimpy purplish-pink costume suddenly appeared directly in their path. All four of the robbers recognized her at once, of course. How could anyone living in the Washington D.C. area NOT recognize the Fuchsia Fox? The four males each felt a stab of fear mixed in with a thrill of excitement at the sight of the superheroine's stunningly feminine body, from her two nubile young coconuts, thrust out tightly against her fox head chest emblem, to her mouth-watering bare legs that seemed to go on forever...


"Run her over!" shouted the leader grimly.


The Fox boldly stood her ground, planting her legs in defiance. As the two-ton van bore down upon her, the alluring young heroine raised one dainty, glove-sheathed fist and slammed it into the grille -- bringing the vehicle to an abrupt, gut-wrenching halt. As steam poured from the ruined engine block, The Fox stepped back a pace or two and casually walked around to the side, her long legs whispering like silk. "Now, are you boys are going to be reasonable?" she smirked, folding her slender arms beneath her shapely bust as the side door rumbled open.


Evidently they weren't. From inside the van, one of the thugs raised his shotgun and fired. The beautiful superheroine merely sighed as the impenetrable force shield generated by her golden power bracelets absorbed the blast harmlessly. Then the men tumbled out, charging her.


The Fox caught the first one's punch, grabbed his arm and flipped him forward like a poker ship. At the same time, the girl spun around with a flying kick which caught the second one in the chest, knocking the shotgun out of his grasp and sending him reeling backward. The driver threw open his door, intending no doubt to jump the scantily-clad young superheroine from behind. But up came that gorgeous gam once again, hurling him back across the cab and slamming the door shut so hard it was dented.


The gallant lady smiled. She could feel her golden Bracelets of Ishtar almost pulsating, filling her with power, making her feel invincible. Her lean, graceful body seemed to tingle all over with an almost sexual thrill as she took on the men, catching their clumsy punches and slapping back with the flat of her hand. Sharply Jennifer had to remind herself that she didn't need to use her full strength against these thugs.


The three men she was fighting were now on the ground, groaning. The leader, however, had exercised the better part of valor and snatched up one of the bags of loot, legs pounding as he beat feet across the parking lot toward the mall entrance, hoping to lose himself in the crowd. As he got there he met a mob of shoppers on the way out.


"Give it up, bunky," said the Fuchsia Fox, alighting gracefully behind him. "You can't get away from me that easily!"


"Come and get me then!" the thug snarled, dropping his bag of loot and snatching out a thin-bladed Oriental knife from somewhere in his costume.


Jennifer strutted smugly forward, hips swaying seductively. The crowd jammed in the mall entrance didn't seem at all alarmed. They were talking in excited tones, jostling one another and whipping out their phones to take pictures, confident that the Fuchsia Fox could easily handle one lone man.


The robber's knife hand darted out, but the Fox was ready for it, bringing up her right hand to catch his wrist and deflect it, even while she reached for the collar of his shirt with her left hand. But to her surprise, her opponent ducked, slipping from her grasp like an eel as he transfered the knife to his other hand. She realized to her dismay that this guy must have martial arts training! The Fox pulled her neck back as the knife swished in the air just under her nose, but before she could so much as blink, his other hand had caught her bare shoulder, jerking her into a half nelson.


The Fox continued her spin, twisting out of his wrestling hold, but not before his hand slipped down the strap of her halter top, fingers catching in the silken fabric of her costume. There was a sudden ripping sound as the alien cloth gave way, just enough for the nipple of her right breast to play peek-a-boo, and the thug slipped off of her, landing in a crouch.


Jennifer felt her cheeks burning with embarrassment as phone cameras clicked away. In the rough-and-tumble of the fight, the Fox wasn't sure exactly how much of her they were seeing, but the very fact of her exposure was enough to throw her timing off. Like lightning, her attacker caught the beautiful young heroine's arm and twisted it behind her. The Fox gasped with surprise, suddenly finding her smooth, sylph-like body trapped in an arm lock, his other hand clamped over her right breast, fingers rubbing her upright bare nipple.


"Didn't expect that, did you, slut?" the thug smirked, giving her soft boob a firm, suggestive squeeze. "You ain't as tough as people say you are, apparently. Maybe you just never fought a real man before."


A real man? The Fox fought down an unexpected shudder of arousal. Her nipples felt as hard as bullets as he touched her, caressing her breast. Her silken skin seemed to be tingling all over, hot and cold at the same time, as her pulse raced. Incredibly, she felt her hips begin to gently rock back and forth submissively against his body, generating a vague feeling of moistness in her pussy. How could this be happening? The very touch of the man's hand was exciting her, making her want to surrender...


Grimly she fought it down, summoning more power from her bracelets. Irresistable strength rippled through her body as she broke free of her attacker's hold and threw him off. Desperately he tried to jump her again, but she pivoted on her left foot, bringing her silken knee up into his crotch hard enough to knock the breath out of him. Another punch to the side of his head, and he was down for the count.


Police cars were pulling up now. The Fox stood holding her halter top secure with one hand until the officers took charge of the robbers, then mumbling some excuse, the superheroine took off into the dark, autumn sky.


****


"...and well... that's it," Jennifer concluded, blushing.


While she had been telling him the story, Martin had continued to undress her, removing her ankle boots, then her elbow-length gloves, even slipping off her briefs. The bracelets of Ishtar themselves remained locked permanently in place. Then he had taken off his own clothing, and now that the two of them were lying in bed, cuddled under the sheets in one another's arms. Jennifer was perfectly aware of how her story had affected him.


"I can't help noticing," she said delicately, "how much Little Martin seems to enjoy hearing about me getting my butt almost kicked." His penis was pressing against her thigh even now, thick and hot.


"I'm not saying I like seeing you get beat," Martin said quickly. "It's like... well, it's the whole male/female thing. Guys are supposed to be on top. A girl like you, so strong and so powerful... don't get me wrong, I love that about you... but just the thought of you overpowered, taken and manhandled..." His voice trailed off because by this time his cock was doing all the talking for him...


"Oh my God..." Jennifer whispered breathlessly, her voice hushed with awe. "It's so HARD!" With scarcely any prompting from her actual brain, she pushed aside the sheets, her lithe young body sliding downward along Martin's torso. Her fingers ran lightly over his rippling abs as she took him in hand. He was like a block of wood! Martin let out an almost beastial moan as she rubbed her fingers up and down along his rigid shaft, manipulating him. He hissed with pleasure, lying flat on his back as she moved her lips into position, engulfing his knob and taking him into her mouth, a little bit at a time, her hot tongue playing over the ridges and veins of his cock. Jennifer felt her own body responding in kind, her pussy getting hot and clammy as she worked him gradually into a gushing climax, ejecting his semen into her mouth.


When she was finished, she settled herself back into place alongside his chest. "oh darling," she purred, "you wouldn't believe how wet I am right now!" She paused as another idea seemed to occur to her. Somewhat timidly she held out her wrists, proferring the bracelets of Ishtar which were the only things she was wearing. "Martin, try to remove them."


"But they're locked," he protested. "Ishtar said--"


"Yes, but my mother also said that the protocol had activated in response to my feelings about being married to you. Please try."


Martin didn't quite get was she was driving at, but nevertheless he reached up to depress the catches. To his surprise, the two invincible alien artifacts released at his touch (like a woman surrendering to her lover, he thought). "Wow! Are you telling me that since I'm your husband, I can remove your bracelets and render you powerless any time I want?"


"Looks that way," Jennifer sighed. Watching as he put her bracelets on the nightstand out of her reach, she lay back on her side of the bed, stretching her arms above her head in a posture of total submission. "And now I'm just a completely helpless girl... oh whatever shall I do?"


Martin needed no further encouragement. He rolled over on top of her, his strong hands seizing her arms and pinning her firmly to the bed as his mouth claimed her. Teasingly at first, he kissed the tender flesh of her torso, making his way to her breasts, rubbing her erect nipples with his tongue. Jennifer squirmed underneath him, spreading her legs wide in welcome as he cock found her opening and entered. "Ohhhhhhhgod!" she moaned, delirious with pleasure as his sweet member thrust into her juicy tunnel, in and out like a piston, riding her to a climax. "Oh take me, baby... take me hard..."


"D-darling?" she whispered, a few minutes later after they had come down to some extent. "You might have something with that male/female dominance/submissiveness stuff. Earlier today when... when that guy grabbed my breast... I mean, when you're fighting your body is full of adrenalin anyway... but when he grabbed me, I felt this incredible surge of arousal. It might have been just because I was feeling a little bit vulnerable... or it might have been just because he was a stranger, grabbing me where he shouldn't have... where he had no right..."


Martin grinned. "A stranger, eh? It turns you on, being manhandled by a strange man? This has possibilities..."


"Wait a second, sport!" she said, slapping him playfully on the chest. "If you're thinking about a threesome with one of your army buddies, you can forget that right--"


"No, no, nothing like that," he said quickly. "You know I wouldn't let anyone but me anywhere near your pussy. I have something else in mind..."


******


Chapter 2.


The night club was noisy, the crowded dance floor thickly packed with the energetic bodies of young people of both sexes. The music was loud. Dozens of small spotlights were mounted up in the bare metal rafters, swiveling back and forth and changing color, adding to the confusion.


The moment she stepped inside, Jennifer felt her pretty knees begin to tremble, her heart fluttering with apprehension. Not that the club was bad... it was just not the kind of place she would normally come to alone. Nervously she touched her wrists, hoping for the reassuring feel of her all-powerful bracelets of Ishtar, but she was disappointed. All she felt was her wristwatch and a charm bracelet. Martin had taken her power bracelets and her Fuchsia Fox costume away from her while she had been in the shower, refusing to give them back until the evening was over. Jennifer looked around the night club, feeling incredibly vulnerable without her power items. It took a substantial amount of willpower to keep from bolting and running on the spot.


The clothing she was wearing certainly did not help her to feel any safer. Her short-sleeved white poplin shirt was respectable enough, except that the front was undone just one button too far, allowing a glimpse of the lace cups of the ivory demi bra she was wearing underneath, pushing up the undersides of her relatively small breasts like some kind of training harness. The subtle difference in color meant that in the right light, the outline of her bra itself was visible through the thin white fabric of her shirt like a ghost. Around her swan-like neck, she wore a black choker and a thin gold chain with a Saint Christopher medal dangling tantalizingly just above her cleavage. Below the waist, she was wearing a maroon pleated miniskirt, and underneath that a pair of sheer black thigh-high stockings with black slingback heels.


How had she let Martin talk her into this? The deal was that they arrive separately, pretending that they didn't know one another. Was he already here, watching her entrance in secret? For some reason, the idea made her feel giddy.


Along the sides of the room were tables with lamps. Jennifer spotted the bar on the other side of the dance floor. She plunged into the room, jostled by dancing couples as she made her way across. She could feel the eyes of unattached men staring at her bottom, and self-consciously tried to put a little seductive wiggle into her step. A hand suddenly slapped her on the booty and simultaneously a man's voice said, "Hey, babe! What say?" before the scantily-dressed girl he was actually dancing with wrapped her slim arms around his neck and forced his attention back upon her. Jennifer's cheeks flushed, overcome with conflicting emotions.


Without warning, another guy slipped his arm around her waist, grabbing her right hand and twirling her around so that her miniskirt rose up high, flashing her stocking tops briefly before falling back into place. Before Jennifer quite knew what had happened, she was dancing with him, her heart beating faster as her sensuous young body responded to the insistant, throbbing rhythm of the techno-music, her legs obediently following his lead. One song gave way to another, and then to another, and with each change a different man would grab her, hardly giving her the chance to catch her breath. Jennifer was feeling a bit naughty, being passed around from one man to another like a skank, but for Martin's sake, she was williing to play along. The music helped. She could allow the beat to control her, loosening her inhibitions as it drove her into an almost sexual frenzy. Her skin felt hot and clammy, especially her legs covered by her silken stockings, so that when her skirt flew up, which it did frequently, it was almost a relief. The men dancing with her were staring at her boobs, watching them jiggle. Her nipples, protruding demurely from the top of her demi-bra, were visible only as bumps in the fabric of her shirt, but friction as they rubbed against it was almost unbearable. She knew that her dance partners were getting an eyeful, but it hardly seemed to matter. Deprived of any means of protecting herself, she could only trust that the love of her life was watching over her, ready to rescue her if things got out of hand.


Finally, mercifully, the D.J. running the music machine gave them a break, and Jennifer's anonymous dance partners melted away into the dark. Making her way to the bar at last, she ordered a large glass of Cabernet. When the wine arrived, she took a big gulp to steady her nerves. As she fumbled with her clutch purse for money, a man behind her slapped a twenty on the bar. Martin, at last! she thought to herself with relief, turning gratefully toward him.


"I've got it, looker," the strange man grinned. Jennifer vaguely recognized him as one of the men she had danced with. He was certainly a hunk -- broad shoulders under his light-colored jacket, a massively well-built chest under his darker shirt. He had a precisely calculated amount of manly stubble on his square chin, and a smile that made Jennifer weak in the knees.


"Th-thanks," she stammered, taking another drink.


"Oh you can do a lot better than that, doll," he said, leaning in with his mouth puckered, his right hand groping at her left breast.


Jennifer quickly turned her face aside, so that his lips caught her on the jawline, kissing her neck instead. "Not so fast, tiger," she said apologetically, struggling to fend him off while she looked frantically around for Martin. "I'm a marr--" She stopped short, remembering their arrangement. According to the rules, she wasn't supposed to be a married woman tonight. For all she knew, Martin could have sent this guy to test her! "Er... let me at least finish my drink, first."


"Anything you say, doll," he relented, leading her to an empty table. "As long as I get another dance."


In her present state of mind, Jennifer had no attention to spare for the pale green eyes which were watching her closely. The eyes belonged to a young man, about 29 or 30, who was standing unobtrusively in the dark corner beside the bar. His name was Irwin Butz, and he seemed nervous and ill at ease. His clothes looked a little too big for him, but he somehow gave the impression that they always did. He had been standing there for some time, ogling the girls in their short dresses and taking occasional gulps of his drink, although no one spared him a glance. And now he was watching Jennifer the way a cat watches a bird, alert for the slightest move, the slightest sign of weakness. He licked his lips.


Another man sidled up beside him. This one had a tough face, was dressed in an expensive tailored suit and casually vaping at an e-cig. He glanced around at the girls with an almost amused look, as if he saw far prettier girls every day. "Why you come here, Dr. Butz?" he said quietly, betraying an Eastern European accent. "You not like my girls no more?"


The nervous young man took a gulp of his drink. "I can't afford your girls anymore, Mr. Spivak," he said bitterly, feeling his loins stiffen at the very thought. Janosz Spivak ran a discreet gambling den and house of ill repute. Most of his girls were kidnapped from the Czech Republic and brought to America using forged visas, where they were virtual slaves. The fact that they couldn't speak a word of English meant that would do literally anything you wanted them to do, because their very lives depended upon it. Unfortunately Butz was not that good a gambler. He had run up such large debts that Spivak had cut him off until he was repaid. He had to find other means to get his rocks off...


Spivak shrugged. "Is just business, doctor. Nothing personal. Speaking of business..."


Butz reached into his pocket and brought out a small envelope. "Here," he snapped. "I hacked into the INS files. This is the information you asked for. Are we square now?"


Spivak took another drag on his e-cig before taking the envelope. He felt the thumb drive inside, but didn't look at it as he slipped it into his own pocket. When he looked at Butz, his eyes were hard as stone. "I tell you when we square, doctor. Good night."


As he walked away into the dark, Butz went back to staring at Jennifer. He couldn't have said what made him single her out for his attention, but she was just so tasty, she made his eyes water. It wasn't so much her face, which was, okay, kind of average, but the way she moved on the dance floor, the way she seemed to throw herself into it. And that slutty outfit certainly didn't hurt. She would probably be phenomenal in the sack! She was sitting at the table now, crossing her alluring legs, her side slit of her miniskirt parting to show him a tantalizing glimpse of creamy white thigh above her stocking tops. Oh God he couldn't stand it! He knocked back the rest of his drink and ordered another.


Oblivious to all this, Jennifer flirted with the hunk who had bought her drink, her manicured nails tapping on her wine glass as she surreptitiously darted glances around her. Martin had to be out there somewhere, watching her in secret, making sure that she was playing the game. With an impish smile, she leaned closer to her escort, determined to play it well. The guy's eyes bulged as he enjoyed the bird's eye view he was getting of her rack, her tiny nipples making little bumps in the front of her white shirt. Daringly he sidled closer to her, reaching under the table to caress her nylon-clad knee, inching ever upward, hoping to cop a feel of her smooth thigh...


Jennifer suddenly felt her smartphone vibrate inside her clutch bag. Saved by the bell! she thought. "Just a sec, I've got to get this," she muttered, whipping out her phone.


It was a text... from Martin! "I'M WATCHING U" it said, and immediately changed to a photo of her enterring the night club in her provokative outfit. A second later another photo came up of her dancing, and then another, and another.


Jennifer squirmed a little bit in her seat, her legs rubbing sensually together in her silky stockings, while her pussy began to feel a little moist with arousal at the thought of Martin spying on her all the time. With trembling hands, she quickly thumbed back, "Whr r U?" and sent it.


A moment later, the reply came back: "LK @ THE HOT PIX I FOUND..." And then a series of photos flashed past one after the other -- of the Fuchsia Fox! They had to have been taken at the Mall during her little escapade a few days earlier and posted on Instagram. Jennifer felt her skin begin to flush as she saw the beautiful, ultra-powerful superheroine in the hands of that thug, being grappled and fondled, her soft breast clearly being squeezed like a ripe orange, her nipple mostly hidden but obviously being touched. The look on her face was one of arousal, and as Jennifer looked at it now, the entire incident seemed to come back to her full force, making her whole body shiver with desire. And then with a sudden gasp, she realized that these pictures must be all over social media by now!


Desperately she started to type, "Where did you get those?", but her hands were shaking too hard. Her companion suddenly decided that all this texting wasn't getting him laid. "Come on," he said impatiently, grabbing Jennifer's hand and pulling her to her feet. "You can yak at your girlfriends later, babe. Let's dance!" Pretty much powerless to resist, she had just enough time to lay her phone on the table before he had swept her away to the dance floor.


Butz watched them go, hardly believing his good fortune. His object of desire had left her cell phone on the table unattended, next to her half empty wine glass. His pale eyes darted back and forth from the table to the couple. The song was a relatively slow one, and as they bumped together, she wrapped her slender arms around his neck, slowly grinding her chest slowly back and forth across his, while his hands were busy massaging her pert body up and down, from the smooth curve of her shoulders all the way down to her tight little ass. Yeah, Butz thought, they were clearly too busy to notice him. Glancing around to see if anyone was watching, he walked to the bar and ordered her another glass of wine.


His eyes darted back out to the couple to check on their progress, then he sidled over to their table with the wine. Taking his own smartphone out of his jacket, he touched it nonchalantly to hers. Thanks to a sophisticated surveillance app he had written himself, it quickly bypassed her security and hijacked her phone, copying her contact information and address book into his phone. Butz glanced at the screen long enough to note the girl's name: Jennifer Traylor Fletcher. Jennifer! That was a pretty name... Smiling with anticipation, he quickly put his phone away and he pulled out a small packet of white powder, which he mixed in with the wine in his glass. Taking care that no one was looking, he surreptitiously switched it with her nearly empty glass.


Meanwhile on the dance floor, Jennifer felt hot all over, her pussy seemed to be dripping with lust. The music was still pounding away in a tribal rhythm that seemed to latch onto her spine and move her against her will like a puppet. Her hips were rocking back and forth in total sync with his. Nearby another girl was twerking, and unconsciously Jennifer copied her movements, bouncing up and down against her partner's wonderful chest. My God, what am I doing? she thought. In her mind, she was only thinking of Martin watching her; she was dancing for him, performing for him. The other people in the night club no longer existed...


Her dance partner, however, was thinking only of getting into her pants. His right hand caught her left, twirling Jennifer's slim body around into a dip, while his left made its way to the front of her blouse, bravely grabbing a handful of her modest but pert boob. The girl let out an involuntary squeal of outrage, which was totally lost against the thumping beat of the music, as her suitor squeezed her breast like a cantaloupe, fingers digging and fondling hard as if he were trying to force it upward out the top of her bra cup. She felt the top button of her shirt pop open from the pressure, just as the hunk's mouth swooped down and captured hers with an open-mouthed kiss.


Jennifer's head was spinning. Oh God he knows how to kiss, that's for damn sure, she thought submissively, as his tongue invaded her mouth, dallying enticingly with hers the way his hands were playing havok with her lissome young body. His other hand, no longer content to simply squeeze her sassy little booty through the fabric of her skirt, slipped through the slit and encountered warm, tender flesh. Jennifer suddenly felt his fingers exploring where he shouldn't, tugging at the edge of her pink nylon cheekies, probing relentlessly toward her juicy snatch... No! she thought with shock, that's Martin's property!


"Stop it!" she blurted, pulling back with a feeling of alarm. When the hunk persisted, Jennifer's right hand flew to his cheek with a resounding SLAP! "I said, that's enough!" she glared, turning abruptly on her heel and stalking away, leaving her partner looked perplexed.


"Cock-tease," he muttered, and went off looking for fresh game.


Feeling drained and a little wobbly, Jennifer lunged for her table to reclaim her drink, stumbling almost straight into the arms of a young man with pale green eyes. Her right breast crushed against his forearm, causing him to almost spill his drink. "I'm so sorry," she murmured, disentangling herself. "I'm such a klutz tonight. Please forgive me..."


"Oh think nothing of it," Butz said, his eyes locked onto her cleavage. Through the gap where her shirt was undone, he was looking straight down into the valley in between her perfect breasts and the lacy cups of her mostly exposed demi bra. The front clasp was hanging by a thread, where her dance partner had come within a whisker of undoing it. As a result, her right cup was riding somewhat askew, letting the nipple and aureola of her right rosebud peek out. Holy fuck he was thinking, as down inside his pants, his trouser snake was dancing the macarena. What a slutty little trollop she is!


Jennifer picked up her wine glass and raised it to her lips, taking a deep, thirst-quenching gulp. The little guy was still staring at her bosom, his eyes bulging. Nervously she slipped her phone back into her clutch purse and snapped it shut, not realizing that the action caused her blouse to gape open. "Something I can help you with?" she asked innocently.


"Well, I..." Butz began, pausing while he watched her take another mouthful of wine, not realizing that it was drugged. He smiled triumphantly. Give her another few seconds and she'd be putty in his hands, helpless to resist as he took her out to his car. And then...


Then, wouldn't you know it, some other guy butted in, his left hand snaking familiarly around Jennifer's slender waist. "Did it hurt you when you fell from Heaven, Angel?" the stranger said, ignoring Butz as if he didn't exist.


Martin! Jennifer nearly blurted out, her whole body quivering with a mixture of both relief and lust. At the last second, she remembered to play the game. "It did hurt a little," she purred, awkwardly setting her wine glass on the table, still half full, "but luckily you were there to catch me..." She felt like a damsel in distress, rescued in the very nick of time, and fortunately had no idea how apt the comparison was.


"I want you to leave with me, right now," Martin whispered urgently into her ear.


Jennifer suddenly felt as if her entire body was going to melt into a warm, gooey puddle at any moment. "Take me home now," she said, her voice a little slurred, "or lose me forever..." Her legs didn't seem to want to work right as he steered her toward the exit.


Butz watched them walk out the door, seething internally with frustration. It wasn't fair! The chick was rightfully HIS! Why did this bastard have to come along and snatch her away, just when he was this close to nabbing her? Angrily, he followed them.


***

Chapter 3 --


"Sorry I was late," Martin was saying, as he walked Jennifer across the parking lot to his car. "I just got caught up in watching you... do you have any idea the agony you put me through, you little tease?"


Snuggled safe in his arms, Jennifer could take a good guess, from feeling the size of his one-eyed monster pressed against her thigh. "Serves you right," she giggled, stumbling a little.


"It sounds like someone had a little too much to drink," he said sarcastically as he unlocked his car door.


"I did not!" she replied indignantly. "I'll have you know... I'll have you know I only had one little bottle... I mean one glass... one tiny glass..." Her voice trailed off, looking down at her chest as a new, impish thought seemed to strike her. "Hey, dude, wanna see my titties?" she giggled, unbuttoning her shirt and yanking it wide open, letting her two marvelous coconuts jiggle deliciously in full view, barely held in by her skimpy little lace demi-bra.


"Not just now," Martin said quickly, covering her up and looking around to see if anyone else had been a witness


"Oh come on!" she insisted, unfastening her bra. "You wanna see them... you know you want to..."


"I'll look at them later, I promise," Martin said, as with difficulty he managed to get her inside the car.


Irwin Butz, who had been following behind them concealed in the shadows, had to bite his tongue to keep from groaning out loud, his boner swelling up inside his trousers and throbbing like a bastard. It wasn't fair! He had spiked the girl's drink with a "date rape" drug, and now this stupid interloper was reaping the benefits! He considered leaping out and knocking the guy down, but on second thought he looked bigger and tougher than him. So he contented himself with watching jealously.


As they drove off, Butz scrambled for his own car. With the app he had installed to hijack Jennifer's smart phone, he activated her GPS chip, enabling him to easily follow them. As he did, he scanned through the message contents of her smartphone and found several pictures of the Fuchsia Fox which this "Martin" had sent her. Oh god, he was a fan of the Fuchsia Fox! But then wasn't everybody these days?


They arrived at a nice fifth-floor apartment in Arlington, not too far from the Army base. By that time the small dose of "date rape" drug Jennifer had ingested had worn off to some extent. She was able to walk inside the building with him on her own two feet. Butz checked the address against the contact info he had lifted from Jennifer's phone, and there he got a surprise. It was HER address! Looking through her contact list, he found "Martin Fletcher", same address. What the fuck -- they were living together? Same last name. MARRIED?


It didn't make any sense. Why would a couple go to a club separately and pretend they didn't know one another? This guy must be a real jerk. If Butz had a girl like that, he would never let her out of his sight. He'd probably keep her under lock and key, chained to the bedpost or something so that she wouldn't get any ideas!


The next day, while she was at work, Butz hacked into the building's security system to get hold of the access codes, then got into Jennifer's apartment by posing as a repair man. He planted four hidden surveillance cameras -- one in the living room, two in the bedroom giving two different angles on her bed, and one in the bathroom so that he could watch her while she showered. Then he searched the apartment. He ignored artworks and electronics and other valuables; he wasn't here to steal. But in the bedroom, he looked through Jennifer's clothes. He sifted through her lingerie, playing with her bras, stockings, camisoles, teddies and nightgowns, picturing her modeling them for him. He dug through her panties, holding them to his face, feeling the silky smoothness which had so intimately caressed her softness so many times, inhaling the sweet fragrance of her, groaning as his boner rose up, stiff and hard. He took a pair of pink nylon bikinis away with him.


The other closet Butz hardly paid any attention to. It was HIS closet, her husband's. Butz had already found out his name -- Captain Martin Fletcher, US Army, attacked to General Hanson's staff at the Pentagon. As he slipped out the door, Butz grimly thought, He has got to go!

***


Over the coming weeks, Jennifer became something of an obsession with him. Butz was a software engineer with Starr Industries, which held a few Department of Defense contracts, so he had to be careful. Every morning he would get up early to watch his hidden camera feeds on his big, high definition plasma screen as Jennifer showered and got dressed for work. It turned out that she was a tour guide at the Smithsonian, which in Butz' mind was the next best thing to a librarian. Often he would find excuses to take off from work in the middle of the day so that he could go to the museum and watch her from a distance, looking so prim and proper in her conservative blouse, skirt and necktie, and try to remind himself that this was the same girl he had seen at the night club in that sluttly little outfit!


In the evenings, he would rush home to his cluttered house so that he could watch Jennifer arrive in her apartment, get undressed and change into usually an oversized tshirt or a crop top and shorts. On good days, her jerkola husband worked late, so Butz could watch her in peace as she curled up on the sofa reading or studying or watching sitcoms on television. If he was very lucky, she took a long bath, shaving her legs and bikini area. On bad days, the husband was there in the evening, all lovey-dovey. He called her "Angel", if you could imagine anything so nauseating. They touched one another often when they were together, and kissed for no good reason, until Butz couldn't stand to watch. He would mute the audio and then snap off the video angrily, and yet thirty seconds later, he couldn't help himself, he had to turn it back on to watch them making out on the sofa, while he jerked off into the panties he had swiped from her.


One thing puzzled him. A few times, Jennifer didn't come straight home from work. Butz would sometimes make off with the plans for some low-priority weapons system from Starr Industries -- one that the government had cancelled the funding for, usually -- and try to cobble together a prototype. He could sometimes sell them to Spivak, or more likely to one of spivak's even more shady colleagues, in order to pay off his debts. On these evenings Butz would sit at his work bench, trying to concentrate, but in reality he would be watching the empty apartment, wondering where Jennifer was or what she was doing. And a few times, she would just appear in the bedroom without having come through the living room -- he knew because his camera covered the door. She would just step into the line of sight of the bedroom camera and into the bathroom, already in her bright pink underwear, already peeling off her bra and snatching up a bathrobe! The way Butz figured it, she had to be coming in through the bedroom balcony, which wasn't covered by either of the bedroom cameras. But why would anyone do that? Especially since they were on the top floor, five stories up?

***


Then came the day the mystery was solved. Butz was already feeling disgruntled because Spivak had contacted him earlier in the week with another assignment, this time to steal files from the Homeland Security department. That meant even tighter security he would have to work his way through, and it was going badly. He had also been working for weeks on a prototype for a device which would generate a focused electromagnetic pulse, capable of disabling pretty much any machine that ran by electricity, and only when he had finally gotten the damn thing to work did it dawn on him that not even Spivak's more shady colleagues would have any use for such a device. All that work, wasted! And to make matters worse, he felt out of sorts because the girl Jennifer was out again; only the dirtbag husband Fletcher was in the apartment, watching a basketball game. Butz watched him morosely out the corner of his eye with the sound muted.


The program Fletcher was watching broke in with a special news bulletin. Butz flicked on his own television set. The beautiful, red-haired reporter from channel 3 (Nice rack, Butz said to himself) was giving an on-the-scene running commentary about, apparently, an ORCUS terrorist attack at Union Station, which was even now in the process of being foiled by the invincible superheroine known as the Fuchsia Fox.


"There! I think you can see..." the reporter gushed excitedly as the camera, situated at a safe distance, zoomed in on the action. "Yes, I think you can see that Washington's resident protectress has things well in hand!" And surely the Fox was using her incomparable body as human shield to protect a crowd of passengers coming from the train depot. Bullets were ricochetting off her nubile young frame as the scantily-clad girl plowed into the black-clad terrorists, knocking their guns aside, high kicking, punching, scattering the brawny men as if they were bowling pins. There was a struggle with the group's leader, none too clear through the television cameras, a moment of doubt as the two wrestled, and then the saucy superchick had wrenched some sort of satchel away from him. Without a moment's hesitation, she soared upward into the sky with it, the camera wildly trying to follow... BOOM!!! the satchel exploded with a thundering crash that shook windows for a block around!


"OH NO! FOX!" the reporter screamed, breathlessly scanning the dark sky for some sign. "Does anyone see her? Is she all right?" A moment later, the camera picked up a falling figure sheathed in bright fuchsia spandex, tumbling toward the ground. With a heavy THUNK!, the superheroine landed on the roof of an automobile. The police officers moved in, raced by the reporter and her camera crew to be first on the scene, the terrorists all but forgotten in their concern for the fallen angel. "Wait! It's okay!" the reporter said, pulling up short as the Fox sat up, rubbing her delectible backside but looking no worse for wear. Catching sight of the camera crew, the superheroine gave them a jaunty wave, as if to reassure them that she was perfectly fine. Moments later, the police having taken the beaten terrorists into custody, the Fox took off into the night sky and vanished.


Butz stared at the television screen as the red-headed reporter recapped the story. "Once again, if you're just joining us, several people wounded tonight as five armed men opened fire at Union Station. One of them apparently had a bomb, which was exploded safely by our resident superheroine, the Fuchsia Fox. Up next we have--"


Butz clicked off the sound impatiently. Oh yeah, the Fuchsia Fox, he was thinking. If he had the choice between fucking Jennifer or the city's sexy superbabe, he couldn't be sure which one he would go with. Not that he'd ever have the option -- both of them were way out of his league. He was trying to concentrate on his work again when suddenly the girl of his dreams appeared inside the apartment, breezing into the living room from the balcony -- not Jennifer, but the Fuchsia Fox! What the fuck--? Butz felt his jaw drop as his eyes scanned her lovely young body, sheathed in that famous purplish pink halter top and briefs, elbow length gloves and everything. His eyes ogled her two perfectly supple breasts, rising and falling beneath her fox head chest emblem. It was clearly not some cheap cosplay costume, either.


Butz watched Fletcher scramble off the sofa and to his feet. The Fox strolled casually up to him and they kissed -- not a friendly, "good-evening-how-are-you-doing-citizen" kiss, either. It was a full-on, open-mouthed, "baby-I-missed-you-so-much" kiss, with Fletcher grabbing a handful of the sassy superheroine's short brunette hair and tugging her head back, while his other hand caressed up and down her sleek, exquisite torso! Butz frantically reached for his joystick -- the one that controlled his hidden cameras, that is -- to unmute the microphones.


"--all right, Angel?" Fletcher was saying, coming up briefly for air. "It looked like you took the full force of that explosion."


"It was nothing," the Fox replied. "What's a couple of pounds of C4, more or less? Nothing my force shield couldn't easily handle."


"But it must have hurt, even so." Fletcher said. "That was a heavy impact you took."


The Fox gave him a playful smile. "If you're so concerned, why don't you check me over for bruises?"


Fletcher's hands were already lifting up the front of her halter top. Butz nearly bit his tongue as he unfastened the hook in the back and stripped the spunky superheroine's top completely off, letting her gorgeous little boobs pop into view as he tossed the garment to the sofa. Butz felt his wanger sit up and beg inside his trousers as Fletcher ran his hands all over the Fox's pert nubbins, squeezing them like oranges. The superheroine moaned with pleasure, turning her face upward to receive another tongue kiss from him, and at the same time giving Butz the shock of his life. She was Jennifer! No way! Butz immediately began thinking of para-photonic distortion screens, which could theoretically alter a person's appearance. There were rumors going around that the Fuchsia Fox had access to advanced technology. She must be something like that built into her costume!


"Darling, please?" Jennifer said, holding her wrists out to Fletcher submissively, her brown doe eyes looking into his while he undid the clasps of two golden bracelets which Butz had hardly noticed she was wearing. Fletcher tossed them carefully to the sofa to join her halter top as Jennifer, shooting him an impish look, scooted out of reach and moved hurriedly toward the bedroom, shedding her elbow-length gloves on the way. Butz followed her vicariously on his big HD plasma screen. By the time she arrived in the bedroom, Jennifer was taking off her ankle boots. Fletcher caught her and backed her against the bedroom wall, holding her there while she snaked her hands lightly around his broad shoulders for support.


"Oh Jenn... oh sweetheart... I want you so..." he murmured, as his hands encircled her trim waist, yanking her hips suddenly forward so that he could kiss her again, passionately. Their mouths were all over each another -- kissing eyes, noses, chins, murmuring endearments to one another as though they hungered beyond the power of words to express. Butz watched enviously as Fletcher's hands caressed Jennifer's wonderful naked tits, touching their supple softness, pinching the hard little bullets that were her nipples.


All at once his mouth left hers and moved downward along her swanlike neck and soft shoulders. "Oh baby, please," Jennifer moaned, her arms cradled his head to her chest as he kissed and sucked at her tits. "Please yes, darling... ravage me, take me, don't hold back..." His fingers slipped into the waistband of her briefs, tugging them down over her hips and letting them fall to her shapely ankles, where she deftly stepped out of them.


Jennifer suddenly let out a feminine squeal of delight as he cupped both hands under her naked butt cheeks and lifted her up, carrying her to the bed. Butz scrambled for his joystick to zoom in for a close up as she lay sprawled flat on her back with her legs spread wide and invitingly, displaying her naked pussy for her lover, her tousled brunette tresses spread out behind her. Butz groaned, rubbing his throbbing boner through his pants... but only a second later, that idiot Fletcher obscured his view of her succulent moistness by thrusting his face into her snatch. Butz cursed in disappointment. Although he couldn't see her girl thing from here, he could focus on her upper body. Her eyes were closed, her hands were on her little titties, fondling herself as she wiggled against the sheets, her toes curling with ecstasy. Butz could picture vividly what he would be doing in Fletcher's place, eating her pussy, sucking up her girl juices, his fingers groping at her clit.


There were no words now. Fletcher quickly shucked off his own clothes and joined her on the bed, displaying his enormous one-eyed monster. Jennifer bit her lower lip and moaned at the sight of it, squirming beneath his body as he mounted her. He entered her with a single, forceful thrust of his hips that made her groan with rapture. She cried out as Fletcher arched over her, bracing himself with his arms and grunting through his teeth as he began fucking her. Butz unzipped his pants, digging out the pair of panties he had stolen from Jennifer as he began stroking his weiner in sync with Fletcher. He felt a little bit frustrated; from this angle all he could see was Fletcher's back, boning the living daylights out of his dream girl.


After a few minutes, the two of them switched positions, Jennifer climbing up onto her knees as she got into a cowgirl position over Fletcher's upright cock. This was much better. Now Butz had a good view of Jennifer's gorgeous bubble butt, flexing as she rode Fletcher's shaft up and down its entire length, gasping with pleasure. And from the side angle, he could see her sweet little coconuts bouncing in rhythm with her motions, her brunette hair dancing around her face as she cried out. Butz was sweating, his own dick was throbbing like a bastard as he sat back in his chair pumping it savagely, imagining that it was his rod ramming in and out of Jennifer's wet, hot little tunnel. And when he finally ejaculated into her panties, it was more semen than he had ever thought he had in him. Jennifer herself was still panting with lust, but a few moments later, she also came in a hot, liquid rush, letting out a scream of rapture as she fell onto the bed, exhausted.


"Mmmmthat was good!" Jennifer purred, laying side by side with Fletcher, her head leaning on his shoulder. "If I didn't have to go out and earn a living, I'd want to do that twenty-four hours a day!"


"With you, Angel," Fletcher replied, "I think I could do it twenty-four hours a day." The post-coital silence was momentarily broken by a soft, hissing sound. "Did you just fart?" Fletcher said.


"It must have been you," Jennifer said indignantly. "Girls don't fart. It's a well-known fact."


"Really?"


"Girls are sweet and delicate," she explained, snuggling against him. "Guys fart, because basically you're animals. Big... hairy... half-savage... uhhhhh animals..." She sighed contentedly.


"Thank you. I try," Fletcher said modestly.


Butz groaned, but with disgust rather than arousal. Cuddling. Personally he had never see the point to it. Spivak's girls were always waiting for the next customer, and when he had to procure his own, he had to beat feet before the drugs wore off. He didn't see any reason to care if the girl enjoyed sex anyway. He reached over to mute the sound again, and...


"Guess what I dreamed last night?" Jennifer said, biting her lip. "I dreamed you were a supervillain."


"Me? A supervillain?" Fletcher said.


Butz stayed his hand out of curiosity. "Well... let me tell it from the beginning," Jennifer said. She shifted to a more comfortable position lying half on top of Fletcher, her supple breasts pressed against his chest, one exquisitely smooth leg flung across his legs. "I was at the university, in the assembly hall. In the Suit, of course. I'm being presented with some kind of award, or presenting somebody else with an award, I can't remember which. Hundreds of people are there. And suddenly this supervillain in this bulky green armor appears on stage. He says, 'Fuchsia Fox, prepare to get creamed,' or words to that effect. And I cock my cute little tush at him and say, 'Bring it on, creep,' or something like that..."


"You have such a way with words," Fletcher commented, kissing her on the lips while his hand rubbed her naked ass.


"Mmmmm," she moaned, sliding her leg up and down along his tingling skin. "Er... where was I? Oh! So I jump the guy, okay? And before I can so much as take a swing at him, he grabs me by the wrists and stops me cold! I was just stunned! I mean, he's as strong as I am! And the next thing I know, he's taken by bracelets away from me! 'Without these, you're just a helpless little tramp, aren't you?' he says. 'Admit it! Say it out loud!' I mean, I'm struggling and fighting back, but there's absolutely nothing I can do! He has me! All I do is gasp, 'Yes! Yes! I'm powerless without them! Please don't hurt me!'"


"Man, oh man," Fletcher said, shifting somewhat uncomfortably underneath her. "Then what happened?"


"Well, I'm struggling, right?" Jennifer said, her cheeks flushed with arousal as she got deeper into the story. "And the guy starts stripping my costume off! He peels off my top, then he throws me down and strips off my pants like he's going to DO me right then and there! He says, 'You strutting little cock-tease! You want me to do it, don't you? You want me to take you here and now, don't you?' And meanwhile I'm naked and feeling so completely powerless in his hands, I don't know what to do. I mean it's humiliating, but at the same time I'm getting so wet! I'm teetering right on the brink of saying, 'Yes! Yes! Take me! Do whatever you want with me!'"


"Oh God," Fletcher groaned. "Is this... is this still on the stage, with all those people watching?"


"Yeah! Hundreds of people, watching, taking pictures and everything! And suddenly his mask is off, and it's YOU! It's you inside the armor!"


There was another little pause as Fletcher digested this developement. "And then what happened?"


"Er... then I woke up," Jennifer said, a little bit sheepishly, "with my coosh practically dripping wet and needing your cock. You were asleep next to me and I nearly woke you up so you could finish me."


"I wish you had," groaned Fletcher, breathing a little heavily. "That would have been great."


Jennifer smiled. "Speaking of which," she said impishly, "it feels like Little Martin is reloaded and ready for Round Two. What do you say?"


Fletcher leaned down to kiss her again. "I say 'Bring it on.'" he said, completing the motion to push her onto her back, where he began mounting her again.


Butz didn't want to hear anymore. His brain was buzzing. It had come as enough of a shock to learn that the dream girl he had been stalking was actually the sexiest and most powerful superheroine in the city, but... wait a second, what was this? A deliciously fiendish plan was taking shape inside his head... a plan to get out from under Spivak's extortion, once and for all. After all, how much do you suppose the owner of a white slavery/prostitution ring would be willing to pay to have the honest to goodness Fuchsia Fox delivered right into his hands?

***

to be continued ...

[flirty_but_nice]

Just a quick note to let y'all know, Centurion's internet woes continue. He let me know that he received email notice that he's received some PMs from here at the SH Forum, but because of his ongoing internet issues, he's not able to access his account here to check on and respond to the SHF PMs. Ergo, he hopes those of you trying to PM him are patient and understanding about why he's not responding.

(Might be presumptuous of me to assume that the PMs he's received are about this story, but just in case they are, I thought I'd offer the preceding explanation. )

[flirty_but_nice]

And here are Chapters 4 & 5 ...
By Centurion

Chapter 4 --


The following Saturday, as a quarter to five, Jennifer, along with the other tour guides and guards at the Smithsonian, went through the usual daily ritual of making sure there were no stragglers as they locked up the building. Tonight there was a quick staff meeting in the break room, presided over by Lisa Maxwell (the girl who won out on the promotion to assistant to the curator).


Jennifer idly checked her messages on her smartphone, and found this from Martin: "Hey, Angel! Remember that dream you were telling me about? Tonight after work meet me at 1309 River Road, Bethesda. Follow the signs and prepare for a nice surprise. And WEAR THE SUIT! xoxo"


At first blush, Jennifer was puzzled. Dream? What dream? Then she remembered -- the dream she had related to him about being captured by him. Suddenly she felt a surge of adrenalin, making her pulse race and her skin feel flushed. He wouldn't... he couldn't be talking about THAT, couldn't he?


"Jennifer, is everything all right?" Lisa said sharply, breaking into her thoughts.


"What?" she blurted out, looking up sheepishly and seeing that the meeting had been dismissed and everyone else was already halfway out the door. "Oh, sorry. Er... fine... everything is just fine."


Washington was on high alert these days for terrorist activity, making it risky and somewhat reckless to change in public places. But by now Jennifer was feeling much too antsy to wait until she reached the safety of her apartment. She strode briskly down the Mall, her prim, knee-length skirt swirling around her legs, looking left and right, then managed to dodge a foot patrol of Homeland Security cops and duck into an empty information kiosk next to the Washington Monument. With only that pathetically thin plyboard partition to screen her from discovery, she quickly shed her staid Smithsonian uniform, laying aside her sky blue skirt, blazer, blouse and necktie in favor of the sexy little purplish-pink costume of the Fuchsia Fox.


As she flew out to Bethesda, the Fox couldn't help wondering what sort of surprise Martin had in mind for her. The address turned out to be an abandoned high school. The sprawling building was dark and deserted, but by the light of a streetlamp, the bewildered superheroine was able to read a hand-drawn sign on the main door, saying, "Enter". Intrigued, she pushed the door open and stepped inside. She found the corridor illuminated by a string of small electric lights, just enough to find her way by, but not bright enough to be visible from outside. There was another sign with an arrow on it -- "This way to the auditorium... if you dare!"


Jennifer felt goosebumps erupt along her satiny skin on her arms, legs and midriff where her costume didn't cover. The auditorium? She followed the string of lights with a growing sense of anticipation, high heels echoing slightly in the vast, empty building. Martin couldn't really be planning what she thought he was planning, could he?


At last she opened the door to the auditorium. It was in a decrepit state of repair, with paint and plaster peeling from the walls. The windows had been blacked out. All the seats had been removed so that it amounted to one enormous, cavernous room. But there was heat and light -- a space heater and three bare bulbs mounted on tripods, casting their vivid glare over the area. On the stage was a small podium, and behind it was a moldy curtain hung as a backdrop. There was even an "audience" in the form of twelve or so mannequins, both male and female, spaced across the floor facing the stage.


Oh God! Jennifer couldn't believe that Martin had done all this for her! She stepped inside the room, hearing the door close and lock behind her with only a slight pang of anxiety. Surely Martin would have arranged it so that they would have privacy. Feeling a little sassy now, the superheroine walked slowly down the center aisle, letting her hips sway seductively as she wondered where Martin was hiding...


Suddenly one of the mannequins standing at the very front whirled around, revealing that he was in fact a living man. He looked big, his body bulked out in a green padded suit, his face covered by a hood and mask which even obscured his eyes and distorted his voice. "We meet at last, Fuchsia Fox!" he barked, taking a step closer. "Your luck has truly run out, you silly American tramp! This time you have met your match!"


The Fox bit her lower lip, suppressing a moan of arousal. Oh Martin my love! she thought dreamily. That was a pretty good taunt, she had to admit. And the fake almost-Russian accent was a nice touch, so sexy and arousing. Jennifer's heart was racing like mad. The idea of being "captured" by him here excited her -- the very thought of being taken, here in this filthy old building, was making her pussy quiver with anticipation! Her impulse was to just run up to him and surrender, allow him to take the bracelets off, and then throw herself at his mercy, letting him do whatever he wanted with her -- just as long as he had brought along an air mattress and some clean blankets, that is.


But the sassy superlady knew that she couldn't make it that easy. Just as before at the night club, she had to play the game out. She knew that the scenario ultimately called for her to be "defeated", but after all the trouble he had gone to, she owed it to him to put up a little bit of a fight first. Okay then, she thought. "Fat chance, loser!" she said with a cocksure tilt of her head, defiantly planting her hands on her shapely hips. "I happen to be a superior woman! I'm going to knock the stuffing out of you!"


The spunky supergirl was just wondering whether she should take the initiative or let him go first when he charged, moving surprisingly fast in that bulky suit, his right fist already drawn back for a punch. Jennifer nearly laughed. With her superior agility, it was child's play to step aside and let his clumsy blow whiz past her, at the same time spinning around with one lissome leg driving into his abdomen -- remembering in the nick of time to go easy on him. Even so, he was flung sideways, caught himself, and came at her again with a backhand left that almost connected. The Fox ducked, caught his outstretched arm and flipped him, sending him flying with a crash into one of the mannequins.


"Oops! Sorry," Jennifer winced, biting her lower lip and hoping that she hadn't hurt him. But he picked himself up quickly enough; the suit must be better padded than it looked.


He came at her again, his padded fist clocking her in the jaw with a blow that snapped her head around. Since the Fox didn't have her force shield up, she fell to her knees, seeing stars. Hey, he wasn't playing around! For some reason, it only made her heart beat faster. She supposed he was only getting back at her for treating him so roughly... Ooooh she couldn't help thinking, if he wants it rough, I'll give him rough...


But no... it was high time that she started losing. As he bore down upon her once more, the Fox executed a catlike forward somersault and lunged, pivoting on her right heel and going into a spinning back kick, which she intentionally "misjudged". Her opponent took full advantage of her lapse by stepping forward and catching her alluring leg about mid-calf. Unexpectedly trapped off balance on one leg and teetering on her heel, the heroine started to fall backward, only to have his strong arm snake around her slim waist, momentarily patting her pert little spandex-clad tail on the way to seizing her bare midriff. Oooh that was good!


"OH NO!" Jennifer gasped theatrically as she stumbled helplessly, breathlessly into his strong, masculine arms. "Unhand me, you creep!"


"I have you where I want you now, sweetcakes," her captor gloated. "You not so tough." He held her prisoner, his gloved hand stroking the smooth, bare skin around her knee, while his other arm firmly held her waist so that she couldn't pull away -- not that she even remotely wanted to. Jennifer hissed with pleasure as he let her leg drop slightly, his hand seeking unerringly along her bare, vulnerable inner thigh, delving into her juicy cleft, rubbing her slit through the flimsy fabric of her costume. Her skin felt hot and flushed, her blood singing with desire...


Oh God, Martin, that's that spot! the Fox wanted to say, closing her eyes and spreading her thighs a little more as his groping fingers invaded through the leg hole of her briefs to touch her naked pussy lips, a little more roughly than he usually did. Her head was spinning; she was having trouble catching her breath. She inclined her face upward toward her strong male captor, meekly offering her lips to be kissed, but somehow through her erotic haze she realized that a little further protest was called for. "Get... your filthy paws... off of me, you pervert!" she said, struggling half-heartedly.


"Come here to me, tramp," he grunted, shifting his grip to her slender arms, yanking them behind her and grabbing her wrists.


"Oh no! Please" the Fox whimpered. "Not my power bracelets, I beg of you! They're the source of all my powers! Please you can't... you mustn't remove them..." Oooh this is it! Jennifer thought, her skin tingling all over, her pussy warm and oozing with lust... he's going to disarm me now, and then... Her heart was pounding like a drum in between her pert breasts in anticipation of what was to follow...


But something was wrong. He fumbled with the catches, but he couldn't seem to release them. {i]Ooooh please hurry![/i] Jennifer thought frantically. The mood was in danger of slipping away if he didn't hurry...


Her captor seemed flustered. "Help me!" he grunted, and suddenly two more men, hidden among the mannequins, stepped forward, capturing the Fox's arms and holding her still while the big man wrestled with her bracelets.


Jennifer gasped aloud, finding herself outnumbered and manhandled. Two m-m-more strange men? she thought weakly, feeling her pussy gush with even deeper arousal. For a moment the Fox felt overwhelmed as the new arrivals took possession of her, their impertinent hands taking advantage of her preoccupation to touch her. The one on her left hooked his free hand around her willowy waist, briefly slapping her pert little caboose before his arm looped downward to catch her leg, lifting her up slightly and stroking her smooth inner thigh. Ohhh she was so damp down there, she couldn't believe it! The one on her right was even bolder, letting his hand caress the front of her torso, gliding roughly over the tempting hills and valleys of her breasts, tugging at the top of her halter. Her nipples were bullets, easily visible through the delicate fabric of her costume, and every time he touched them, Jennifer felt the irresistible urge to rub her tender young flesh against his hands.


Oh God, I'm going to cum any minute! the Fox thought, closing her eyes with pure bliss, her breath hissing in a ragged rasp as her libido went into overdrive. Martin was still struggling to get her bracelets off, but that no longer concerned her. She could see now that he was just teasing her, trying to prolong her suffering. And as long as these two friends of his were so good with their hands, she was content to let him take his time.


But then she felt the guy's fingers undo the back of her halter top. The lower strap came undone, letting the front her top flop loosely over her jiggling B-cups. His audacious hand took advantage by slipping underneath it, grabbing at her sweet, naked tits and pinching her exposed nipples! Oooooh... myyy... God!!!


Wait a second! Jennifer suddenly thought, her brown eyes snapping open with alarm. Something was wrong! Martin would never allow another man to strip her of the protection of her halter top's image-enhancing properties, risking the exposure of her true identity!


Her superheroine instincts took over. Summoning power from her invincible bracelets of Ishtar, the spunky girl broke free of the men holding her, bring one exquisitely formed knee into one's stomach, then grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and hurling him into his partner. Angrily she made a grab for the big one in the padded suit. He ducked at the last second, but not before she managed to snag his mask and pull it free!


It WASN'T Martin! This man was blonde, with cruel eyes. And right on the heels of that realization came a rush of humiliation so powerful it almost made her cum: Oh God, she had just blurted out to these strange men that her bracelets were the source of all her powers!


Meanwhile, up on the stage, hidden by the curtain, two other men had been watching the whole thing -- one with a hard face, wearing an immaculately tailored suit, and other younger, in ill-fitting clothes. "Is this some kind of double cross, Butz?" Spivak hissed quietly. "You said removing bracelets would make her powerless."


"Not to worry, not to worry," said Butz, his upper lip sweating. "I thought this might happen. That's why I brought along plan B." Actually he hadn't thought anything of the kind. He had seen Fletcher remove the bracelets with his own eyes and had no earthly idea why Spivak's bodyguard couldn't do the same. Even so, he scurried to a card table where he had set up a cylindrical, black metal-and-plastic box about two feet long and six inches in diameter. On one end was a circular slit from which protruded a small, squat projection. He made sure this barrel was aimed through the curtain in the heroine's direction as he adjusted the controls. "After studying news films of the Fuchsia Fox in action many times, I hypothesize that her powers are the result of some kind of superior technology..."


"So what?" said Spivak frantically. "She's beating up my best enforcers!"


"So, if it's technology, it can be distrupted with a focused electromagnetic pulse," Butz lectured as device began to hum. A glow appeared at the end of the barrel, sending out waves of invisible energy toward the battling superheroine. "All I have to do is find the right transverse phase polarity..."


Four additional men had charged into the auditorium from the side doors, converging upon the Fuchsia Fox with six-foot fighting staves tipped with electrostatic probes on the ends. The superheroine caught the tip of one with her right bracelet, feeling the jolt of a high-voltage electrical zap that shot through her svelte form and made her body cringe all over. Ignoring the pain, the gallant girl slipped under his guard with a side kick to his abs, grabbing his belt and tossing him thirty feet across the room. Punch, kick, spin, ram, kick again -- she was a graceful ballet of motion, never allowing the hapless men to lay a hand on her as she tore through the gang like a whirlwind. Within moments they were scattered across the floor, groaning.


The man in the padded suit turned toward her with an electric stun-rod of his own, just in time to collect a fist striking his chest with the force of a battering ram. The weapon flew out of his hand as he tumbled backward. The Fox raised one flawless eyebrow grimly. If he was still standing, he must have a couple of layers of Kevlar under that suit. So much the better.


"Who do you work for?" the Fox demanded, her fists bunched as she advanced upon him threateningly. "Who set me up?" She felt a tingling sensation on her skin, saw the charged tip of his stun rod wink out, but in her anger at being duped, at being made a fool of, she payed no attention. When he refused to answer, she whomped him in the stomach like a punching bag again and again, driving him backward toward the steps leading to the stage.


Spivak grabbed Butz by the collar. "Do something, Butz!"


"Patience is a virtue..." the nerd murmured, sweat beading up on his brow as he rapidly made adjustments to his machine. The hum intensified...


The Fox grabbed the bodyguard by the collar, hauling him off the floor in spite of his size and his padded costume. "Last chance, perv," the superheroine glared. "Who hired you?" She drew back her right fist, ready to throw another punch, and suddenly the power aura around her body generated by her bracelets of Ishtar just seemed to fade out, like an old-fashioned incandescent light bulb during a power failure. She could feel it diminishing rapidly until there was nothing left but a feeble glow. The man she was holding in the air dropped like a stone, her weak, feminine triceps was no longer capable of supporting his weight.


"What the matter, little girl?" the man sneered. "Run out of juice?"


Two of the men behind her suddenly seized her, pinioning her suddenly powerless arms behind her. The Fox struggled, but there was nothing. For the first time, the power of her bracelets of Ishtar had deserted her, leaving her in the lurch, defenseless and helpless in the hands of her enemies.

***


Chapter 5 --

The Fuchsia Fox dug in her high heels and tried as hard as she could to fight, but the two men on either side simply picked her up like a helpless child, leaving her long legs dangling in empty air. "Unhand me!" the superheroine protested sulkily, wriggling uselessly in the clutches. "Get your hands off of me!"


The man in the padded uniform removed his headpiece and gloves, revealing a short buzzcut to go with his cruel face. "You not so tough, eh baby?" he sneered leaning forward as if to steal a kiss. Jennifer quickly turned her face away, but he reached downward, his hand forcing its way between her thighs to make a grab at her snatch. "Maybe you give us a free sample of that juicy American cooz, eh?"


Just then, the curtain on the stage was abruptly whisked aside by a well-dressed man in a gray, tailored suit. "Everything okay, Lemil?" he said, looking down at them all.


"Piece of cake, boss," the big blonde hulk grinned. "Piece of crumb cake."


Spivak glanced briefly over his shoulder. The Fox caught a glimpse of a second man, younger, wearing ill-fitting clothes, busy packing up a black cylindrical machine. "Is this permanent?" Spivak asked this man.


The younger man licked his lips nervously. "Uh, you mean her loss of powers? Should be. The EMP fused any circuits that exist in her costume."


Spivak came down the steps until he stood in front of the Fox, where he looked her over appraisingly. Jennifer felt slightly slimy as his hard eyes rolled over her heavenly young body, from her sexy fuchsia ankle boots, up her alluring bare legs, to the tempting v of her scanty briefs, over the exquisite curve of her supple hips and her toned midriff, finally coming to rest on her nubile young bust, heaving up and down as she looked up at him with fright. "Not bad," he pronounced judiciously. Reaching up, he cupped both hands under her breasts, feeling them up and squeezing her coconuts like a farmer examining fresh produce at the market.


"Keep your filthy hands off of me!" the spunky superheroine spat, squirming in the hands of the men restraining her. They only laughed scornfully at the futility of her helpless feminine struggles.


Spivak grinned. His hand flew up, slapping her hard across the cheek. "That your first lesson, bitch," he said pleasantly. "Speak only when spoken to." He turned to the big blonde guy, Lemil, and told him, "Put her with the new arrivals. I need to decide which to keep and which to send to Baltimore. This one definitely a keeper. She going to make me rich."


"Yes, boss," said Lemil, also grinning. "You want me to take off her costume?" Jennifer's eyes grew wide with terror at the very prospect. Without her powers, there was no earthly way she could possibly resist.


"Hell no," Spivak said, lighting an e-cig. "You think anybody pay for just another skinny American skank? They'll pay for the costume."


Laughing again, the two men picked up the Fox and, led by Lemil, carried her away out the side door. As soon as she was gone, Butz came out from behind the curtain, carrying his EMP projector. "So, are we... are we square now?" he asked timidly.


Spivak was still grinning. "Look at me, Dr. Butz," he said, pulling out his smartphone and dialing. "This is me, erasing your name from ledgers. Clean slate! What more, you get one year free credit. Any of my girls, any time you want."


Butz licked his lips. "I want HER! The Fuchsia Fox. Tonight."


"Good choice," Spivak said, puffing at his e-cig. "But not tonight. Forty-eight hours breaking-in period. Girls need to be taught who is boss. You can have her night after tomorrow, long as you want."


"Okay then," Butz said, sweating with anticipation. "Night after tomorrow."


"Enjoy her while you can is my advice," Spivak said, taking another puff. "She may not be here long. Oh I know what you thinking. Cash cow, milk her for all she worth. But superheroes? Pffft!" He made a dismissive gesture with both hands. "Maybe she has friends -- Supergirl, Wonder Woman, girls your machine not work on. Who needs hassles? Not when I know a certain Emir ready to pay through nose for her."


Meanwhile the Fox had been carried like a sack of potatoes out a rear door to the parking lot, where a limousine and two black, unmarked vans were waitiing. With the two men still holding her, Lemil unlocked the rear door of one of the vans. Three pretty young women were huddled together against the far corner of the cargo area, shivering in the cold. They looked up at the men in the doorway with eyes wide with terror, but didn't speak. None of them looked more than twenty years old. The two brunettes were dressed in faded blue jeans and too-brief tank tops. One was wearing a light leather jacket, the other only a boyfriend shirt. The third girl was dirty blonde, wearing a long-sleeved off-white sweater dress that came to her knees. All three of them were barefoot, so they must have been cold, sitting out here in this unheated van.


The two men made to shove the Fox into the van, but Lemil stopped them. "Not so fast, popkin," he said with a sneer. Producing a length of zinc-plated chain, he wrapped it tightly several times around the girl's forearms, securing it with a padlock. "Now the cute little superheroine can't escape," he said mockingly. "I feel so much safer." He reached down to slap her on the ass, and Jennifer couldn't help letting out a surprised yelp at the stinging impact. Her cheeks were burning with shame as the three men all laughed, but there was nothing she could think of to say that wouldn't make her feel worse. The men tossed her into the van with the girls and slammed the door.


Inside the dark cargo area of the van, the Fox shivered as her bare skin came in contact with the icy cold metal floor, another humiliating reminder of how powerless she was without the protective aura of her bracelets of Ishtar. Was it true? Were they permanantly disabled? Pushing herself awkwardly into an upright position, she examined the bracelets carefully. They seemed intact. The little blue bead that represented her disintegration beam was still there, but somehow it had become frozen. What she would give for it now. She could see it moving very, very slowly, like a pearl falling through honey, but when she summoned all of her willpower and tried to activate it, nothing happened.


Just then the van lurched into motion, shaking the four girls helplessly around like peas in a can. Soon it emerged onto the highway and began to hum along steadily through the night. Jennifer sagged on her knees, soft shoulders drooping with despair. Her brown eyes suddenly welled with helpless tears, a sob catching in her lovely chest as she sat there, on the very brink of bawling like a baby. Then she happened to look over at the shadowy forms of the other three girls, staring at her wide-eyed in the dimly lit cargo area. The Fox choked down the sob savagely. That would never do. For their sake as well as hers, she couldn't afford to give in to her fears. Maybe she didn't have any powers, but as long as she was wearing this costume, by God she was going to deserve it. She couldn't sit here crying like a sniveling little girl.


"Don't panic, ladies," the frightened young heroine said, with a brave attempt at a smile. "I've been in worst situations than this. My name is the Fuchsia Fox. Can you tell me your names, and how we all got into this mess?"

The girls stared at her uncomprehendingly. One of the brunettes started to cry. "I am called Zdenka," said the blonde tremulously. "It was... it was... how do you say...?" She mimed holding an object in front of her face, clicking a button."


"A photographer?" the Fox said. With some patience, Jennifer pieced together their story. The girls all lived in small towns near Prague, the Czech Republic. They had all been contacted by men, inviting them to have photographs taken. With much flattery, they had been told that they had what it took to be fashion models in America. The men had arranged travel documents for them, but the moment the girls arrived in America, their passports and shoes had been taken away from them, and they had been locked in this van.


Human trafficking, the Fox thought despondently. Just my luck to get caught up in something like this. But it wasn't luck, was it? She had been deliberately LURED into this situation, led by the nose into a perfectly baited trap -- a trap baited with knowledge of her intimate conversation with Martin. Then a nasty thought struck her. Someone must be spying on her in some way, either that or they also had Martin captive somewhere!


The van lurched again, slowing to a stop briefly as someone outside opened a gate, then it pulled into a long driveway. Moments later it halted beside the doors of what looked like a substantial-sized mansion. Before they knew it, Lemil and two other men were marching the four girls single-file down a long hallway lined with open doors leading to tiny bedrooms. Through the open doorways they could see girls their age on beds, wearing silky lace nighties and teddies, or even less, being pawed at and roughly mounted by gross, overweight men. They heard groans and the occasional choked off scream. Forced prostitution thought the Fox, as a shiver ran down her spine. There could be no worse insult to a woman's self-respect and dignity.


The young superheroine heard Zdenka and the other girls just behind her, whispering fearfully among themselves in their native language. "This is America?" Zdenka murmured to her. "This happens in Ameria? Is there no one to save us?"


Jennifer tugged uselessly at her chains once more. feeling a cold knot of despair settle into the pit of her stomach. Tears of shame were welling up her eyes. What possible comfort could she offer her? Without her super-powers, the Fuchsia Fox was in exactly the same boat they were.

***

to be continued ...

[flirty_but_nice]

And in conclusion of this little Fuchsia Fox story, here are Chapters 6 & 7. I (we) hope you enjoy!
Also, please remember that your feedback is encouraged! (Especially if you enjoyed the story. lol <wink>)
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Chapter 6 --

The Fuchsia Fox and the other three new arrivals were taken all the way to the end of the corridor, where there was a door with a padlock on it. This does not look good, Jennifer thought. The room itself look more like a storage room than a bedroom. Two sets of bunk beds were jammed into the corners like an afterthought, but most of the floor space was taken up with crates and stacks of boxes full of cleaning supplies. It was a dismal-looking place, but it was warm.


While Zdenka and the other two girls rushed over to sit cowering together on one of the bunk beds, the superheroine turned on her heel to face the three men who had brought them here. "Where is Martin?" she demanded, just as if she actually had the power to back up her words. "What have you done with him?"


The big one, Lemil, was at least a head and a half taller than her. He looked down at her svelte, feminine frame with casual contempt. "You don't get to ask questions here, whore," he sneered. "You just do as you're told."


"Don't call me a whore!" the Fox snapped, her slim young body tensing for a confrontation. She knew that she was only a girl, she didn't stand a chance against him, but somehow, with the thought of Martin possibly in these people's hands, she didn't care.


"I call you whatever I like, whore," Lemil retorted. He grinned. "Somebody need attitude adjustment, right now."


Suddenly he reached out and grabbed her by both arms, literally picking the girl up and sweeping her into his grasp. Her long legs flailed helplessly as he carried the Fox into the storage room, the other two guards watching from outside in the hallway as he planted her gorgeous little butt on top of a stack of cartons. Shoving her onto her back, he thrust his torso in between Jennifer's slim, bare legs, leaning over her with his hands roaming up and down her sleek, scantily clad body, squeezing her sweet little nubbins through the fabric of her halter top.


"Don't! Get off of me!" the Fox protested, her lissome legs kicking in vain, pushing at him with her chained hands as she struggled to hold him at bay. Her heart was pounding with fear against her ribcage. He was so much, much stronger than her! "Don't you dare touch me you creep!"


He paused, grinning. "Little tramp like you don't deserve it from the front," he smirked. Suddenly, he grabbed her supple waist and flipped her over, face-down across the carton, her chained arms dangled on one side, her spread legs on the other.


"NO! Don't!" Jennifer begged, legs kicking as she felt his fingers tugging at the waist of her briefs. With a sinking sensation in her heart, she felt him pulling her pants down over her upthrust tail, sliding the silken feminine garment long the smooth bare flesh of her legs, all the way to her knees. Then his big, calloused hand slapped her naked butt, wringing an involuntary yelp of pain from her. "Stop it! Don't you touch me!"


Her attacker leaned closer, seizing a handful of her brunette hair and yanking her head back. "How about I take that free sample now, tart?" he growled, forcing his other hand in between her creamy thighs. "Let me have that tasty American pussy!"


Jennifer gasped with unwanted arousal, feeling his overpoweringly masculine body pressed against her from behind, his fingers digging at her rosy flesh as they rubbed roughly across her vulnerable pussy lips. She closed her eyes, her blood singing, her heartbeat racing with helpless lust as he pushed rudely past the moist petals of her flower and invaded her succulent womanhood. Then his thick fingers were working in and out of her vagina, taking what they wanted by force, making her defenseless female body quiver with desire. Her hips were beginning to move submissively back and forth in sync with his manipulation. Maybe it would be better to just give in and save herself further pain. Just let him have her...


Briefly the Fox opened her eyes, and the first thing she saw was Zdenka, cowering on the bed with the other two girls. What would happen to them if she gave up? What would her mother say if she just surrendered to some stray man without putting up so much as a fight? And what of Martin? How would she ever find out what happened to him?


The big bodyguard slacked off for a moment. "This is going to hurt you, little skank," he said. With a sinking feeling, Jennifer heard the clink of his belt buckle being undone. "But better you than me..." Only a moment later, it seemed, she felt the swollen head of his cock, poking at the unprotected entrance of her love tunnel. He was so thick and hard, it took her breath away! Her pants were dangling around her ankles by now; her spine was tingling like a live wire, her pussy aching for him to fill it. The sensitive nerve endings along the inner folds of her labia were screaming, sending urgent messages direct to her thighs to open wider, wider, for God's sake! Her will to resist nearly crumbled...


"NO!" the Fox yelled, struggling like a wildcat, straining to push his massive male bulk off of her. Lying draped across the carton with her wrists bound in front of her, she had no leverage. The girl slumped back, defeated. "No... you can't..." she gasped. "I won't... let you!" Summoning all her strength, she tried again. This time her bracelets responded with a sudden burst of energy which flowed along her arms like a tsunami, charging every part of her body with raw power. The little blue bead was spinning around and around like an eager puppy. Her chains snapped as if they were made of paper as the spunky superheroine swung her arms around, her body soaring upward, flinging off her attacker and throwing him through the doorway as if he were a feather.


Zdenka and her friends squealed with astonishment as the Fox scrambled to her feet, blushing rosily as she quickly pulled her pants back up. "Er... why don't you girls wait right there?" the heroine said sheepishly.


As the Fox sprang for the door, she met the two guards who had been standing in the hallway. They both drew stun-rods and attempted to subdue the stunning young supergirl, but they were too late and too slow. Jennifer crashed into them, disarming them both with a flurry of punches and kicks, dropping them both unconscious in a pile.


Lemil, recovering his wits in his prone position on the floor, suddenly reached upward, latching his beefy hands around the Fox's knees. Raising one flawless eyebrow in a superior smile, the sassy superheroine effortlessly yanked her left leg free of his grasp and pirouetted to her left, gracefully sliding her gorgeous gam across his brawny shoulders and hooking her knee around his neck. The huge man had less than three seconds in which to enjoy the pleasant sensation of her supple, spandex-clad booty crushed against his face and gliding sensuously down his back before the Fox alighted, hauling him upright and jerking his left arm behind him in a ball-breakingly painful arm lock.


"I'm afraid this is going to hurt you, pumpkin," the Fox whispered smugly into his ear. "But better you than me." So saying, she slammed his forehead against the door jamb several times until he passed out and dropped heavily to the floor. Standing over his inert body, the superheroine brushed her hands. "Zdenka, why don't you and the girls find some rope and tie these losers up. This won't take long."


Without waiting to see if she obeyed, the Fox turned and set off briskly down that long hallway, letting her pert little tail sway enticingly with each seductive stride. It was so good to feel powerful again, in control of the situation.


Two of Spivak's goons rushed her, but the young heroine stopped them in their tracks with a high kick and a spin without hardly breaking stride. One of the male customers stuck his head out of his room to see what was going on, dressed in nothing but his socks and holding a revolver in his hand. The Fox fixed him with an aristocratic scowl as her brown eyes wandered down his paunchy gut and rested on his hairy male member, sticking out at half mast between his legs. "I can see why you had to pay for it," she commented archly, then snatched the pathetic weapon away from him and bent the barrel into a U shape. "Stay in there until you're told you can leave!" she commanded, spinning him around and booting him back into the room he had emerged from. To the girl who had been servicing him she added, more kindly, "Tie him up if he tries to leave. Use his clothes if you have to."


Eight more of Spivak's henchmen suddenly arrived, opening fire with automatic weapons. For a moment the hallway was full of the deafening sound of gunfire, bullets ricocheting off the superheroine's force shield in all directions, interspersed with the screams of the girls as well as their customers. Grimly the Fox charged through the men like a hurricane, her dainty fists and lissome legs seemingly everywhere at once.


Spivak, finding himself cornered, grabbed one of the girls and held his own automatic pistol to her head. "Stop! Don't come any closer or I shoot her!"


The Fox halted. Up came her slender arm, the bracelet firing off an achingly thin blue beam which drilled precisely through his weapon like a laser, only barely avoiding taking a few fingers with it. Spivak dropped the useless gun and fled. Dispatching the last of his goon squad, the superheroine burst outside just as his limo, not waiting for the gates to open, crashed through them and sped off into the night. Spivak, seeing the rest of his customers scatter like rats, dialed a number on his smartphone. "Butz, you ass!" he screamed. "You said it was permanent! Then why is she tearing up my mansion? I take this out of your hide, Butz! You are a dead man, you hear me? A dead man!"


Jennifer watched him go, delicately biting her lower lip. She could pursue him, but only at the risk of allowing the thugs she had just beaten the chance to recover and possibly get away. As frustrating as it was, those poor, terrified girls trapped in the brothel were her first priority right now. Reluctantly she went back inside to help them.


The police responded with admirable swiftness to a 911 call from the incomparable Fuchsia Fox, but even so it was nearly two hours before Jennifer could get away, having given her statement and seen the henchmen arrested and the girls safely in the custody of Immigration. A thorough search of the building had turned up no sign of Martin, nor any clue to his whereabouts. Lemil and the other goons disclaimed any knowledge of him. The plan for ambushing the Fox had come from a trusted advisor to Spivak, but they insisted that they didn't know his name.


With no other leads, the Fox could only fly back to her apartment to plan her next move. Alighting on the bedroom balcony as she always did, the weary supergirl started through toward the bathroom, reaching behind her to unfasten her halter top. What she wanted right now was a shower and a glass of wine, then maybe she could think. But something was wrong. The bedside lamp was on. Her lingerie drawer was open, as if someone had been rifling through it. Glancing toward the living room, she saw that the light was on in there too. Her heart began pounding with newly-aroused hope. "Martin?" she gasped, hurrying into the next room with her halter top halfway undone. "Is that you, darling?"


The living room was empty. Disappointed and confused, Jennifer turned and suddenly found herself face to face with that nervous man in ill-fitting clothes. Immediately he shot a cloud of white gas into her face from a small squirt gun. It had no smell which she could discern. But the Fox barely had time to register the shock of finding a stranger here in her own apartment where she thought she would be safe, before a black cloud seemed to settle over her brain, smothering all thought. Going suddenly weak in the knees, the stunning superheroine was unconscious before she hit the floor.


Irwin Butz knelt over her, his pale green eyes glittering with excitement as he looked over her gorgeous, totally defenseless body. "Nighty night, my chickadee," he smiled. "We're going to have fun now."


****


Chapter 7 --


The Fuchsia Fox awoke, lying stretched out face down on a thick blanket. When she tried to move, her muscles seemed stiff and unresponsive. Summoning her will with a supreme effort, the sexy superlady managed to sit up.


"Ah, awake at last," said the man in the ill-fitting clothes. "No false moves, babe. I've got you covered." He was sitting in an armchair about ten feet away, cradling that two-foot black cylinder she had seen earlier as if it were a gun.


The Fox looked around at the room. It instantly screamed "bachelor" to her. It was dominated by a massive six-foot High Definition plasma screen, currently displaying a blue screen saver. There were a few pictures on the walls, but they were mostly obscured by rickety shelving units overflowing with stacks of books, CDs, DVDs and various unidentifiable electronic parts. There was a workbench with a pretty impressive desktop computer, flanked by another bench covered with tools and gadgets. Over nearly everything was a layer of dust which plainly said that she was the first woman to here, possibly for years.


"What have you done with Martin?" she snapped.


"That would be what you would ask first," he said sulkily. "Don't worry about him, babe. He's out of our way. My name is Butz -- Irwin Butz," he added dramatically. "That's B-U-T-Z." The captive superheroine simply stared at him.


"Why don't you ask about this?" he said, gesturing with his cylinder-shaped gun. "After all, this is what robbed you of your precious super-powers. This is a portable, focusable EMP generator. I don't quite understand why the effect wasn't permanent, but I do assure you that a second shot will render you helpless. So don't test me!"


The Fox stirred uncomfortably. An electromagnetic pulse! So that explained the temporary loss of her powers! Meanwhile she could feel her half-Zumerian body chemistry metabolizing the drug that she had been doused with, unfreezing her muscles. She only had to keep this jerk talking a little while longer...


"What have you done with Martin?" she repeated.


"Will you stop it with him?" Butz snapped irritably. "I've gotten rid of him!" He sat back in his chair, trying to get comfortable. "You don't have a clue, do you? I was the one who sent that text message luring you to the school. I hijacked your phone ages ago. Don't you remember? At the rave? You probably don't even remember me, do you?"


The Fox frowned. Now that he mentioned it, she did seem to vaguely recall a guy... but her memories of that night were somehow hazy.


"Ha ha!" Butz laughed, noting her discomfort. "I've been watching you closely ever since then!" With his free hand, he picked up a remote and turned on the plasma screen. It instantly displayed a video of her and Martin, pressed against their own bedroom wall, making out. Martin was in the act of undressing her and carrying her to the bed, where they immediately began to...


"I've got lots and lots of video like this... Jennifer," Butz said. "Do you mind if I call you Jennifer? I feel like we've been intimate for a long time now..."


The Fox felt hot all over. She was appalled at the fact that screen showed multiple angles, as if there were at least four cameras in her apartment! In rapid succession, the helpless superheroine felt vulnerable, used, violated, and humiliated as she watched the images of herself on the screen, riding Martin's cock. "You're sick!" she gasped, struggling to her knees. "You had no right to do that! For the last time, what have you done with Martin?"


"Shut up about him!" the nerd said angrily, jumping to his feet. "You need to worry about yourself! Because in just a minute, I'm going to zap you with my little friend here! And rest assured, I've jacked up the phase displacement so high, it will not only strip you of your powers, but knock you right out!" He was breathing heavily now. "And while you're unconscious, I'm going to have so much fun with you! I'm going to enjoy that juicy little cunt of yours for one thing, and then I'm going to ass-fuck you so hard, you won't be able to walk straight! But first... do know what I'm going to do?" His face was flushed, his teeth bared in a tortured grimace as he pulled a small vial from the pocket of his jacket. "I'm going to give some of this -- ecstasy -- so you won't remember any of it. You're going to wake up in the alley behind one of the local bars, with no memory of how you got there. And the beauty of it is, I can do it again and again, anytime I feel like it, and there's not a single, damned thing you can do about it!"


"I wouldn't count on that if I were you," the Fox said, struggling to her feet on shaky legs.


"Oh ho, that's rich!" Butz scoffed, taking a step back and leveling the EMP gun at her. "Do you me to do it now then? Your conversation bores me anyway. You're much better seen than heard. Well, okay, if you insist. Hasta la vista, baby." He pulled the trigger.


The superheroine didn't even try to evade it, which would have been futile anyway. The invisible beam struck her force shield head on, flaring up like a fluorescent bulb. The hum of the machine intensified, grew deeper in tone. The Fox could feel the pulse now, engulfing her, overwhelming her, making her skin tingle...


The gun began to smoke. Alarmed, Butz frantically adjusted the knobs on the side of the device. The hum ran upward along the scale until it was a high-pitched scream, and then suddenly Butz dropped the gun, because the case was melting into slag. "what the-- what the hell did you do to it? It worked before!"


"No it didn't," the Fox said, cocking her pert little derriere smugly. "Zumerian technology is not susceptible to electromagnetic pulses. What happened was that you managed to cause a worple shift within the quantum flux field of my disintegration beam. You came very close to blowing up half of Bethesda and us along with it. Fortunately my bracelets averted disaster by going into standby mode for an hour, until the matrices realigned. Er... sorry about your little toy," she added, without any sympathy.


Butz was looking wildly around the room for some weapon, or some means of escape. Suddenly his eyes took on a shifty look. "Oh, well. What are you going to do now, arrest me? For what, invasion of privacy? I can't wait for the trial, especially the part where they play that little file in evidence..." He pointed toward the plasma screen. The file was running again from the beginning, the part where she arrived in the apartment and Martin started removing her Fuchsia Fox costume.


"I don't think it will come to that," the heroine said coolly. "I think I'll just start by breaking your left arm. That will give you one arm left with which to delete all that stuff... and your back ups."


Butz's grin faded. Just then they heard the front door of the house crash open. The tread of heavy boots thumped in the hallway. Oh no, not more of Spivak's goons? the Fox thought. Butz must have thought the same thing, because his grin came back as he quickly moved in that direction... and ran straight into Martin Fletcher, in his Army fatigue uniform!


"You must be Butz," Martin said, grabbing the nerd by the collar.


"What are you doing here?" the dweeb blurted. "You're supposed to be in--"


"MARTIN!" Jennifer cried. She would have run over and kissed him out of sheer relief, except that he wasn't alone. More men entered immediatly behind him -- Lieutenant Oscar Jenkins, who had been Best Man at their wedding, followed by a sergeant and four armed MPs.


The soldiers' eyes were all drawn irresistibly to the Fuchsia Fox's delicious curves, momentarily unaware of anything else in the room, even the images playing on the plasma screen. The superheroine realized that it was still showing her and Martin boinking their brains out like a pair of crazed minks in heat. With a strangled yelp, she made a grab for the remote and managed to hit the OFF button.


"Er... Captain Fletcher!" she said with a brave attempt at nonchalance, "what a pleasant surprise!"


"No thanks to Butz," Martin said, as two of the MPs took charge of the nerd. "Apparently he hacked into the Pentagon's secure trunk line and sent a message urgently requesting my temporary transfer to Thule, Greenland for a 30-day survival course. The numbnuts didn't take into account that I would contact Thule to confirm the request. They had never heard of any such thing. So I've spent the last few hours with the Pentagon's IT team tracing the trunk line back to Butz here. I hope I didn't miss anything important."


The Fox planted her hands on her hips. "No, not a thing," she assured him.


Having gotten over the pleasant shock of the superheroine's presence, the soldiers had fanned out across the room. "Hooboy!" said Lt. Jenkins, looking over the gadgets on the workbench. "Some of these are classified projects. Butz, you got some 'splainin' to do!"


"Excuse me, sir," said the sergeant, who had sat down at Butz' desktop. "There are classified files on his computer, too. Schematic diagrams, INS files... and it looks like he's been recording illegal surveillance of Captain Fletcher's apartment. There's a whole file full of mp3s here marked 'Jennifer'." Before anyone could think to stop him, he ran one of them.


The big plasma screen came on again, showing crystal clear, high def images of Jennifer removing her pajamas and her undies and stepping into the shower. The Fuchsia Fox could only stand by helplessly, squirming with humiliation while all the men in the room stupidly ogled her naked tits and neatly trimmed bush.


"That's enough, sergeant," said Martin quickly, reaching across him to close the file.


"But that's HER!" Butz blurted spitefully, pointing at the superheroine. "Jennifer IS the Fuchsia Fox! The proof is right there!"


The Fox felt a chill settle into the pit of her stomach. This was it... the end of her secret identity. All they had to do was play that file...


"Jack, you're delusional," Lt. Jenkins scoffed suddenly. "I know Captain Fletcher's wife personally. I was best man at their wedding. No offense, Fletch..." he added soothingly, "Jennifer's super-hot, but she's not quite in the same league as the Fuchsia Fox!"


"No offense taken, Oscar," Martin said. "In fact, if Jennifer heard you say that..." -- he caught the Fox's eye; no one else seemed to notice that the stunning superheroine's high-boned cheeks had just colored an even rosier shade of pink -- "...I don't think she'd be offended, either."


The MPs cuffed Butz and took him away, still protesting, while Lt. Jenkins sat down with the sergeant to look over the computer files. "He's got so much material in here he's stolen from the D.O.D.," he said to Martin, "he's looking at years of jail time in Leavenworth. I don't think anybody's going to care about a little thing like invasion of privacy. I can delete this stuff if you want."


"I'd appreciate that, Oscar," Martin said. "I'll help you look over his back-up discs tomorrow, in case he's got more copies."


Jenkins gathered up a handful of discs near to hand that Butz had burned, and handed them to Martin. "Of course," he said slyly, "if there are any hot pix like that shower scene that you want to share with your good buddy... I mean, Jennifer never has to know..."


"AHEM!" the Fox said, clearing her throat. "Do you need a statement or anything from me, Captain Fletcher?"


"Uh... not right now, Fox..." he said awkwardly, clutching the discs. "I think... uh... I think we've got everything covered."


"I'll just be moving along, then," the superheroine said. "I have other urgent business to take care of." Martin was willing to lay odds that this "urgent business" included tearing their apartment apart looking for those hidden cameras. All the men paused in their work to watch her sashay out of the room, their eyes lingering on her long legs and her saucy little caboose.

>>>THE END
Story by Centurion (with very minor contributions by Flirty)

(Regarding this being the ending, I tried to convince Centurion for an "aftermath" chapter of Martin and Jennifer / Fuchsia Fox sharing some intimate naughty time together, recounting events and talking about how certain things turned them on, but (probably wisely) he would have none of that. lol)