CATGIRL vs THE TORMENTOR

I applied the final touches to my makeup and smiled at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. It was nice to see my face for a change - all too often, recently, I had looked into mirrors and seen my superheroine alter-ego looking back at me. It was a relief to finally be going out on the town as myself, with my friends, with nothing to worry about. I had a lot of catching up to do - I had spent the last couple of weeks trailing a gang of criminals through the countryside, a chase which had ended with me confronting them, beating them up and leaving them where they were... ahem... bound... to be discovered by the police.

I fluttered my enhanced eyelashes at the sexy brunette in the mirror before turning on my heel and marching into the bedroom. I had already laid out my outfit, but even so I couldn't help but glance towards my wardrobe where, behind a hidden panel, I kept my superheroine costume. I was always at my happiest, at my most comfortable, when I was wearing that get-up, fighting crime, doing good. But this was my night off, and I was going to enjoy myself in a different way.

A few minutes later, I was ready to go out. Dressed in a tight black corset that seemed to scoop up and present my breasts to all nearby onlookers, tight blue hipster jeans that showed off my pert bottom and long legs, and black leather boots with long stiletto heels that showed off my sense of balance and high pain threshold, I was prepared for a night of drinking and dancing. The sides of my black thong were visible above the hips of my jeans - admittedly not fashionable any more, but I still thought the look was sexy as hell and I didn't care about other peoples' fashion.

I skipped downstairs, aware of my every movement being translated into impressive cleavage wobble by my tight corset, much like a butterfly flapping its wings in Africa causing earthquakes in Japan. Happy with my deep, scientific thought for the day, I put on my coat, grabbed my bag and headed outside to my car. A short drive (and a longer time finding somewhere to park) later, I found myself entering a traditional-style pub and looking for my friends - an easier job now, since the haze of smoke I was used to peering through had been banned by recent legislation.

I spied my friends and joined them. I wasn't the last to arrive, which was a bonus. Monica and Amber were already there, with no sign of Jasmine. We exchanged greetings, I placed my coat and bag on a spare chair and I went to the bar to get everyone drinks. I think my corset helped me in getting served quickly, so it wasn't long before I was back at the table with my friends, chatting away and catching up. It was only when I asked after Jasmine that the other two looked at each other, their expressions full of surprise.

"You haven't heard?" Monica asked.

"Heard what?" I asked, suddenly fearing the worst.

"She was abducted by the Tormentor last night!"

"The who?"

"Where have you been for the past few weeks, Laura?"

"Erm... out of town. On business. Who's this Tormentor?"

"No-one knows who he is. Apparently he always wears some sort of mask. The police don't have a clue, but rumours are circling like vultures."

"Rumours? Is Jasmine okay?"

"Jasmine's fine. The Tormentor always frees his abductees the following morning, without fail."

"What does he do to them? Rob them?"

"Yes, but worse than that... he ties them up and subjects them to all sorts of weird sexual deviances... then leaves them, bound and gagged, in some public place to be found and freed. He usually manages to clean out their bank accounts and credit cards..."

"That's terrible. Going back to Jasmine..."

My line of questioning trailed off into silence when I saw that Monica and Amber were both staring at someone behind me, wide-eyed. I turned, and saw that Jasmine was standing right behind me. Her beautiful ebony skin was encased in a black fishnet bodystocking, under which she was wearing a bra and thong. She was also wearing black opera gloves, black thigh-length boots and a solid black collar. I blinked and looked again, not quite believing what I was seeing.

"Hi, girls," she grinned, sitting at the table beside me.

"Hi," we chorused, looking her up and down.

"Have I missed anything?" she asked.

"We weren't expecting you," Amber smiled, "we thought you would be staying in bed after your ordeal."

"Well, you thought wrong," Jasmine said, before downing her drink in one go.

The conversation quickly changed subject, but I was intrigued by this Tormentor. Jasmine had spent last night being subjected to all sorts of degrading sex acts at his hands, but here she was clubbing with us in the kinkiest of fetish outfits... possibly designed to appeal to someone who liked bondage? Was she dressed as she was, because she wanted to be captured again? Perhaps this was why the police were having such trouble capturing this villain... his victims didn't want him to be caught, since they had enjoyed themselves so much in his company. But they would never admit it...

Sounded like the perfect job for Catgirl, my superheroine alter-ego. And as soon as I thought that thought, I couldn't stop thinking about it - I was getting excited about the prospect of roaming the streets as my superheroine alter-ego. I decided that, since time and tide waited for no-one, I should start my investigation immediately. I made my excuses to my friends and left the pub - the night was still young, and there was plenty of time to return to my house, change my outfit and return to the city streets, ready to prowl and hunt down this villain.

But I didn't even get as far as my car. Passing a dark alleyway (I really should have known better) a hand grabbed my arm and pulled me into the shadows. Surprised, I didn't do anything for a moment - my mind was still focused on hunting down the Tormentor, and hadn't quite registered my immediate danger. It was only when a pair of handcuffs was snapped around my wrists that I came back to reality and began to struggle.

"Hey!" was all I managed to say before a large black ballgag was pushed between my teeth.

I kicked out with my sharp stiletto heels, and was pleased to hear a grunt of pain from my assailant. I twisted free of his grip and turned to face him - he was tall, muscular, powerful... dressed all in black, his face covered in a mask. I guessed that I was face to face with the Tormentor. A little earlier than I had hoped, since he clearly had the advantage... I still needed to go home and change into my superheroine costume!

"You'll regret that," he said, his voice rich, deep and melodious despite the threat.

I glared at him, the intent of my expression spoiled slightly by a ribbon of drool rappelling down from my gagged lips. He grinned, dodged my stiletto heels and scooped me up in his strong arms. I gasped - there was little else I could do. He carried me deeper into the dark alleyway and lay me gently in the back of an anonymous white van. He closed the double doors and a moment later entered the front, started the engine and drove me away into the night...

I rolled around on the bare floor of his van, cursing to myself through the gag. This encounter with the Tormentor was definitely not going to plan... I would have to get free, then flee, then change into my superheroine outfit, then return and bring him to justice. And bring him to justice I would, since I already felt humiliated and he had barely started. And then my thoughts turned to what he was planning to do with me... and I renewed my struggles as my over-active imagination came up with all sorts of terrifying scenarios.

Unfortunately, my renewed struggles on the floor of the van resulted in my right breast popping free of my corset... and I spent the rest of the journey struggling not to get free, but to return my breast to my garment before my kidnapper saw my predicament. The van stopped, and I cursed into my gag. The back doors opened and the Tormentor leered in at me - his eyes sparkled when he saw my bare nipple.

"Eager to get started, are we?" he asked, teasingly.

I glared at him, my eyes shooting imaginary daggers. He reached into the back of the van, and I responded by quickly scooting along the van floor, as far away from him as possible. I huddled in the corner, bringing my knees up to my chest, still glaring at him. He smiled, leaned inside, dodged my poorly-aimed kick, grabbed my ankles and pulled me unceremoniously out of the van, making me slide along the floor on my bottom. Within moments, I was draped over his shoulder and being carried into a large, dark, apparently-abandoned warehouse. I looked around, trying to take in my surroundings, trying to memorise this location... since I planned to return in a different outfit in the near future. But one warehouse, to me at least, looks like any other and I wasn't confident that I'd be able to find this place again. So perhaps my best plan of action would be to get free, overpower my captor and call the police... as myself, not as my superheroine alter-ego.

The inside of the warehouse didn't look like any other. The floor was taken up with what looked like various medieval torture devices to my untrained eye... and the walls were lined with sex toys, bondage equipment and fetish outfits... I tried to take it all in, wondering what I would be subjected to...

I gasped as I was dumped on a large, hard table - again, all I could do was glare at my captor as he set about removing my clothes. I was powerless in his strong grip as he quickly removed my corset, my boots, my jeans... but he didn't remove them with the conventional method. Bound as I was, he could have removed them easily with no problems... but for some reason, he decided to use a large pair of scissors to cut the clothes from my body. I shivered whenever the cold blades brushed my flesh, and glared at him as he destroyed my garments. It was totally unnecessary destruction, and left me with nothing to wear for the journey home... which was probably the point he was trying to make.

I blushed, feeling even more vulnerable now that I was bound helpless and almost naked... with just my tiny thong protecting my modesty. But for the moment, however, he was more interested in my bare breasts. No matter how much I twisted and struggled, I couldn't stop him from examining them - he squeezed them, prodded them, cupped them, weighed them. Unfortunately, his rough attentions were proving rather arousing, and my nipples betrayed my arousal...

"I think we're going to get along just fine," he grinned, his gaze not leaving my hard nipples.

He grabbed my ankles and spread them before turning me ninety degrees on the table and pulling me down towards one end. It was then that I saw that I had been mistaken - this wasn't a table, this was a rack! I began to struggle when I saw him pulling my ankles towards the manacles at the bottom of the rack, but he was far too strong for me. Within moments, my legs were bound and I wasn't going anywhere.

He took a key from a pocket in his outfit and quickly removed the handcuffs binding my wrists. I was in no position to fight, however - especially now that he was sitting astride me, pinning me down. He effortlessly moved my hands above my head and fastened them to two more manacles, leaving me spreadeagled on my back, helpless beneath him, wearing just a skimpy black thong.

There was a flash of stainless steel and then I was naked, the remnants of my thong thrown to one side as the Tormentor climbed from the rack and walked around it, looking me up and down as he circled me. My eyes followed him, and it took all my courage to glare at him instead of closing my eyes or looking away. I had an overwhelming urge to bring my legs together, but with them bound apart I could do nothing. Yes, I was naked. Yes, I was manacled to a rack. Yes, my situation looked pretty hopeless. But no, I couldn't let him think that I'd given up hope.

I had tried bondage before, with boyfriends. It had been a laugh, nothing more - I had enjoyed being tied up and tormented, since it made a change from my more dominant alter-ego. It had been nice to lose all responsibility and worry, to give myself over completely to someone else's control. But it had always been to someone I trusted... this Tormentor was a complete stranger, and I didn't trust him at all. No matter how aroused I felt, I knew that I had to get free as soon as possible.

He turned the wheel at the back of the rack, and I was pulled taut - my body stretched as the torture device pulled on my wrists and ankles. I moaned into the gag, wondering if he would treat me like this if he knew that I was Catgirl. My struggles lessened as I found that I could hardly move... I could move my head, my fingers, my toes... and very little else. It was then that my captor placed a blindfold over my eyes, blocking out all light... and making me concentrate more on my other senses.

I gasped with surprise as my nipples were tweaked. I pulled at my bonds, futilely, completely helpless. I was the Tormentor's plaything, and would continue to be until he decided to release me. I then felt his finger (I assumed it was his finger) on my cheek, moving around, wiping away my drool. His finger then traced a line down my helpless body, making me wriggle beneath him. I gasped as his finger found my clit - this invasion of privacy was the last straw, and I struggled hard, trying to pull my wrists from the manacles, trying to bring my legs together...

"You struggle so nicely," came his deep voice next to my ear, "you're really turning me on."

I moaned into my gag, now unsure of whether I should try to get free or not. While I was trying to decide, his finger gently stroked my clit, teasing it out, and my struggles for freedom turned into writhings of ecstacy. I tried to stop when I realised what I was doing - that I was giving in to his erotic torment... but then his tongue took over from his finger, and his finger moved down to stroke my labia, spreading my juices around, getting lubricated enough to push inside me...

I gasped as he sucked softly on my clit - it didn't hurt, but the intense feeling took me by surprise. Blindfolded as I was, everything came as a surprise... including him pushing two moist fingers deep inside me, and curling them upwards to stroke my more sensitive spots... I writhed and squirmed as much as the rack allowed me, groaning loudly into the gag as his fingers began to thrust into me... my whole body now moving with each thrust, and still with his tongue teasing my clit... I felt that my body had betrayed me, by submitting to this pleasure... but it was too much, too intense, and soon my whole being was shaking with wave upon wave of amazing, mindblowing orgasms...

And he didn't stop, he just carried on, while I flailed helplessly in my bondage, cumming and cumming, completely out of control, completely in his power... he licked and sucked, thrust and stroked... and I came again and again.

And then I heard the unmistakeable sound of his zip-fly being undone, and of a condom being unwrapped. A moment later, I felt his hard cock pressing against my soaking-wet labia, demanding entrance. I had no choice in the matter - I was stretched in a spreadeagle, about to be penetrated by this stranger. And I was so aroused, I didn't care - in fact, I wanted to feel his huge hard cock deep inside me.

I wasn't disappointed. He gave me exactly what I wanted.

One thrust was all it took to get deep inside me... and then he withdrew before thrusting again. Each thrust was long and slow, starting from outside and finishing so deep... so deep... I squirmed on the rack, my limbs still pulled taut by the device, helpless as he used me for his own sexual pleasure. My earlier pleasure had only been to make me wet enough to take his huge cock... I knew that, I knew that he was just using me, but still...

He kept his thrusts long and slow, and my breathing became ragged... and loud... even though I was gagged. I gasped with each long, hard thrust, helpless to do anything but take it... deep... He leaned down over me, maintaining his slow pace, and began to lick my nipples. They sprang to attention, and I moaned even louder as I felt him tease them with his tongue and teeth. With his elbows on the hard surface either side of me, he could play with my breasts with his hands... he squeezed them, he teased them... his tongue alternating between my nipples... and all the time he was thrusting hard... but now speeding up, thrusting just as deep but moving faster and faster... I felt him pounding against me, his body moving against me... and I felt him throbbing inside me, as he moved... it seemed to take forever, and I found myself once again on the verge of orgasm... and then he came, and his orgasm triggered mine, and we came together... collapsing... panting... moaning...

My blindfold had slipped a little but he quickly corrected it, cutting off my sight again. He withdrew from me and climbed from the rack, leaving me on my own again... unable to see, unable to move...

And then he placed something on the rack, something small which he stood up on its end, and leaned against my pussy. He then turned it on, and I realised that it was a vibrator. I began to moan again as I felt it against my clitoris... it was wonderful... I pressed myself against it, wanting to feel more pressure, more vibration, but only succeeded in knocking it over and losing all sensation from it. I cursed into the gag. I felt my captor pick up the vibrator and lean it against my pussy again.

"I'm not picking this up again," he said, "so you'll have to be more careful. Now, I need to go through your handbag and see how much money I can take from your credit cards. Don't go anywhere!"

I heard him leave, and realised that I had to escape. Immediately. But how? My wrists and ankles were manacled, tightly, and I could barely move a muscle. I was blindfolded and gagged... and even worse, that vibrator against my clit was proving to be very distracting. I pushed against it, trying to knock it over, since it was disrupting my concentration... but when I pushed against it, I felt it's vibrations go through me... and I gasped, the intense pleasure for a moment too much for me... and I was glad when I failed to knock it over... since I had realised that escape was impossible, and I might as well enjoy myself...

In bondage, particularly when blindfolded, time seems to pass at a very strange speed. The vibrator against my clit was not powerful enough to bring me to climax, but it kept me on the edge... and every time I pressed against it, involuntarily, just wanting more stimulation to take me over the edge, I had to stop myself and relax for fear of pushing it away. I wasn't sure how much time passed, but it seemed to be eternity...

My tormentor returned. The first I knew of his return was him removing the vibrator... I groaned with frustration, since I was just on the verge of orgasm... like I had been for the previous hour or so...

He unfastened the manacle on my left wrist - I was too weak to fight him, and didn't have anywhere to run even if I beat him, what with my ankles and my other wrist still chained to the rack. In fact, all I did was drool slightly as the Tormentor began to rub my left arm vigorously, putting life back into my poor, stretched muscles. And then he pulled what felt like a long rubber glove onto my hand, and pulled it all the way up to halfway between my elbow and shoulder. It was tight against my skin, very tight. He then released my right wrist and repeated the process with another rubber opera glove. He then pulled my gloved arms together behind my back and tightly tied my wrists together, and then my elbows together. The stringent bondage forced me to thrust my chest out in front of me and keep my back straight.

He then released my left ankle from the manacle and rubbed my left leg vigorously - I guessed that he was rubbing in talcum powder, not just massaging my muscles. He pulled a rubber stocking onto my left leg, and then repeated the process on my right. And then he bent my knees, pulling my heels up to my bare bottom, and frogtied me, binding my left thigh to my left ankle and my right thigh to my right ankle.

He picked me up and lowered me onto the floor. I knelt, upright, sitting on my rubber-clad legs - still blindfolded, still gagged, still trying to work out how I could escape. And then he reached down and removed the gag from my lips. As I worked the feeling back into my jaw and licked up all the excess saliva, he grasped a handful of my hair and moved my head forwards - I felt something pressing against my lips, and immediately knew what he wanted. I considered refusing him entry or even biting... but where would that get me? Instead, I obediently opened my mouth for his hard cock and let him use me for his thrusting pleasure...

His thrusting wasn't as slow and gentle as it had been earlier... he gripped my hair hard as he moved my head backwards and forwards on his huge cock... pumping quickly... I couldn't do anything but take him in as deep as I could... and tease him with my tongue... and suck... hard... He thrust his cock hard into my mouth as he came, violently... filling my mouth with his cum... forcing me to swallow as fast as I could... and then he released me, and I licked my lips, smiling.

"And now," the Tormentor announced, "it's time for you to go. I hope you enjoyed your stay..."

I opened my mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a ring-gag being pushed between my teeth and buckled tight behind my head. I shook my head in a futile attempt to dislodge it, but there was no removing it. I had wanted to reply to him, to say that I had enjoyed myself... but desperately needed to cum again, since I was feeling so horny... all thoughts of bringing this man to justice had been forgotten.

I mmmmmphed into the gag as he picked me up and carried me. He placed me on a familiar cold floor - it was the back of the van. I heard the back doors slam and then heard him climb into the front. And then I remembered what Monica had said about his victims being left bound and gagged in a public place... and I began to struggle! The van started and soon we were moving, but to where I didn't know.

Eventually, the van stopped and the doors were opened. The Tormentor picked me up, effortlessly, and carried me - I felt him pause to kick open a door, and then he carried me through somewhere which smelled musty and dusty. I could hear the sounds of people speaking loudly in the distance, but couldn't make out what they were saying. And then he set me down, and removed my blindfold. I blinked for a moment, and just caught sight of him walking away before I took in my surroundings.

I was sitting on some sort of wooden platform, surrounded by various ropes and pulleys. It was dark, and I was bound helpless. I tested my bonds, but I had no way of releasing myself. Just then, a man dressed in an old-fashioned suit, complete with top-hat and cape, approached. He stopped when he saw me, his expression one of surprise.

"Who are you? What are you doing on my trapdoor?"

Trapdoor? And then I realised - I was underneath a stage. And then I heard the roar of a crowd, who had just heard the announcement that this man, whom I assumed was a magician, would be performing for them any second. There was a bang above my head, and suddenly the ropes pulled taut and the pulleys turned and I launched upwards onto the stage... in front of hundreds of people...

Blushing a shade of red somewhere between scarlet and crimson, I turned as best I could away from the crowd amid the sudden flashes of cameras, and drooled all over my naked breasts. Another victim of the Tormentor...

***

The owners of the theatre were very understanding. They realised what had happened to me, and had quickly removed me from the stage, released me from my bondage and found me some clothes. The Tormentor had abandoned my handbag near the back door of the theatre and it was returned to me, so at least I had my keys and phone. My mobile was full of messages from my concerned friends, so I replied with texts to tell them I was okay. I found my car, drove home, and relaxed in a hot bath... I would never live this down. I wanted revenge.

Not just revenge. I wanted to tie myself up and bring myself to orgasm after orgasm after orgasm... I was still feeling so horny after my adventure! First things first... I needed sleep, so I slept all the way to midday. Then I had some breakfast, followed by plenty of orgasms. And then I sat down and came up with a plan for capturing the Tormentor. By late afternoon, I was ready. I took a quick shower, and then opened the secret panel at the back of my wardrobe.

I couldn't help but smile as I ceremoniously laid out my costume on my bed. I stood naked before it, covered in talcum powder, ready for action. The first item I donned was the pussy tail thong, a unique and interesting item I'd picked up from a pretty pervy website. It consisted of a black rubber thong, from which protruded a latex inflatable cat tail, black with a white tip. I quickly used a bicycle pump to inflate the tail before I donned the thong - I grinned at my reflection in the mirror and twirled, watching the tail flick behind me as I moved.

The next item on was a skintight black latex catsuit. This had a handy two-way zip, which went from the throat down between the legs and up between the buttocks... this meant that I could don the catsuit and leave the zips just far-enough apart to allow my tail to poke through. This I did, pulling the shiny rubber material up my legs and arms, all the time watching my reflection in the mirror as my body changed from pale talc'd flesh to shiny black rubber.

The last few items were just simple accessories - a tight black waspie corset to squeeze my waist and improve my hourglass figure, a pair of skintight black leather thigh-length boots with stiletto heels, a pair of black leather opera gloves, a black eyemask and a cute black hairband which created the effect of cat ears protruding from my dark hair.

Being a natural narcissist, I couldn't keep my eyes off my reflection for any length of time. I twirled, I posed, I miaowed, I purred. Despite the corset and tight material, the outfit was surprisingly manoeuvreable. Despite the stiletto heels, I could still run, jump and fight as well as any heroine. I grinned at my reflection again - one of these days, I'd paint my nose black and add some whiskers.

The last item on was my black utility belt - an essential piece of equipment that contained various useful tools and devices for a night of crimefighting. And I'd probably need every last one of them if I wanted to defeat the Tormentor. I allowed myself one last glance in the mirror - Catgirl was ready to prowl.

***

Moving unnoticed through a city isn't as difficult as it sounds, even if you're wearing rubber. I could take care of myself, so had no qualms about skulking in dark alleyways or even navigating the rooftops. I had parked my car nearby (the inflatable tail I wore was designed to be strong enough to be sat on, and was surprisingly comfortable for driving). It was a busy Saturday night in the city centre, and drunken revellers were already mingling with excited clubbers. I smiled when I spied my friends - Monica, Amber and Jasmine - waiting in a queue outside a nightclub. I had phoned them earlier to say that I was going to be a boring stay-at-home, and wouldn't be meeting them for a night on the town. They had understood, given my ordeal at the hands of the Tormentor... although Jasmine had sounded rather jealous!

As I watched, Monica received a phonecall on her mobile. Amber and Jasmine were chatting away, but Monica couldn't hear whoever she was talking to so moved away from the rest of the nightclub queue in a search for better reception and less ambient noise. Her brief journey took her rather close to a dark alleyway... from which a masked figure emerged, put a hand over her mouth and dragged her into the waiting darkness...

I was on my feet in a flash, and leaped from one rooftop to another. I quickly peered over the edge, down into the alleyway, just in time to see my friend being bundled into the back of a familiar white van. I quickly descended via a fire escape and dashed for my car - this was going a lot faster than I had anticipated, and I was in danger of losing my quarry. And, even worse, one of my best friends was in danger!

I leaped into my car, turned it on and roared out onto the main road. There wasn't too much traffic, but for a moment I thought that I had lost the villain... but he soon re-appeared, heading towards the docks. I followed at a discreet distance, trying not to spook him too much. I could only imagine what Monica was going through, no doubt bound and gagged in the back of his van, rolling about as he screeched around corners at high speed.

He eventually pulled into an alleyway between two warehouses. I stopped my car a couple of blocks away and completed my journey on foot. I decided to circle his warehouse once, to get a good idea of what I was facing... but then I ran into trouble. I turned a corner and came face-to-face with a trio of youths, all wearing red bandannas and all leering at my skintight outfit that left very little to the imagination...

"Hi," I said, trying to sound confident.

"Are you that Pussygirl?" one of the lads said, getting to his feet and looking me up and down.

"Catgirl, actually," I smiled, relieved that my voice hadn't wavered.

"If he says you're Pussygirl," one of the other lads said, his eyes not leaving the crotch of my outfit, "then you're Pussygirl."

"Well, whatever. Now, if you'll please excuse me..."

"You're not going anywhere, lady," the third youth said as he circled around behind me, and there were three clicks as all three brandished blades, "until you've shown us your titties."

"I don't have time for this," I replied, "and you three have already had your fair share of gawping at my outfit. Now get out of my way or I'll beat all three of you to a pulp."

"Maybe we don't want to. Maybe we're thinking of cutting open your costume and seeing what goodies you've got inside. There's only one of you and three of us. What are you going to do?"

"Well," I said, keeping the conversation going, biding my time, getting the chance to size up my opponents and work out any weaknesses, "first I'm going punch you in the face. While you're worrying about whether your nose is broken, I'll spin on my heel and sweep the legs from underneath your friend to my right. I'll then duck a poorly-aimed knife blow from your friend to my left, and retaliate by pouncing on him and knocking him out with my right knee."

"No chance," the first lad said before lunging at me.

Completely ignoring my battleplan, I kicked him in the nuts. As he crumpled to the floor in a whimpering heap, I turned my attention to the other two thugs. The one to my right swung his knife at my face, but I had no trouble dodging his blow and kicking him in the nuts too. The third, seeing my pattern, skipped around my next kick and tried to stab me in the side - I thanked the gods for my waspie corset which made my waist present a smaller target, which he missed. I grabbed his knife-arm and threw him to the ground - the knife skittered away along the alleyway, and I kicked him in the stomach, flipping him onto his back. I stood above him, my stiletto heel pressed firmly against his groin while he whimpered beneath me.

I smiled, turned on my heel (an action accompanied by a muffled yelp from my third assailant) and I walked away. Perhaps that was why I liked being a superheroine - the feeling of power and domination. Or perhaps it was the sexy outfit. I couldn't be sure.

I had wasted too much time battling those youths. I had to get inside the warehouse quickly to defeat the evil Tormentor and rescue Monica, the damsel in distress. I found a suitable unlocked window, which allowed me to gain access silently... I was in a familiar room - the main room of the warehouse, with its walls lined with various fetish implements and the floor filled with various large bondage devices.

And then I saw Monica. She was chained to the wall by her wrists to manacles above her head - she was utterly naked, apart from a blindfold and a bit-gag. Her legs were held apart by a spreader bar, and kneeling between her legs was the Tormentor. He was licking her most private parts in a way that made her squirm, writhe, drool and moan into her gag... I had never seen my best friend naked before, and felt like I was somehow intruding...

I approached the Tormentor from behind and coughed, politely, to get his attention.

"I see we have an unexpected guest," he smiled, "You're not invited to this party, Catgirl, but I'd still like to welcome you to my parlour."

"Your reign of terror ends tonight, Tormentor," I replied, trying to sound as superheroic as possible - this was to instill fear in my foe, and to disguise my voice so Monica wouldn't recognise me.

"And what are you going to do about it?" he asked, standing up, readying himself for the inevitable fight.

"This," I said, spinning on one stiletto heel and lashing out with the other, aiming it infallibly at his crotch.

"That's a bit below the belt," he smiled, sidestepping my kick and grabbing my leg - he then raised my foot and sniffed my boot, smiling. "Real leather... nice... I like a girl who wears nice boots."

"Put a sock in it," I retorted, rotating my body so I could bring my other foot up to kick the Tormentor in the face.

"Sexy and funny," he grinned, deftly catching my other leg and pulling me towards him, "You're my perfect mate." I twisted in mid-air and wrapped my thighs around his neck - but as I squeezed, he simply responded by sniffing my crotch. "Nice..."

"You have such a way with words," I said, leaning backwards to plant both hands on the floor as I released my grip slightly, letting my latex-covered legs slide along his neck until I gripped him with my calves. I tensed and then pulled, aiming to throw him over me head-first into the floor in a move I'd learned from Sonya Blade... but he was too strong, too heavy, and instead pushed me to the floor.

"Nice tail," he said, as he sat astride me, pinning me to the floor on my front. He grasped the tail and yanked it - this move resulted in the thong under my catsuit being pulled tight against my pussy, and it made me gasp aloud. I twisted beneath him, and he released his grip from my tail as I rotated underneath. I was lying on my back, now, looking up at him sitting astride me. Before I could strike him, however, he caught my wrists and pinned them to the floor before moving forward so he could use his shins to pin my wrists and thus free his hands.

"This isn't going to plan," I said, squirming beneath him, "Can we start again?"

"Sorry, but no," he said, reaching back to fondle my latex-clad breasts. I closed my eyes and moaned as he cupped my breasts and then squeezed them... But then he stopped, and I was ashamed when I felt disappointed! He turned me over again, pinning me down on my front and pulled my arms behind my back. He reached into his pockets and pulled out a length of rope, which he quickly used to bind my elbows together - I felt myself becoming more and more helpless. Two short lengths of rope were used to bind my wrists to the sides of my utility belt. Once I was securely bound, he helped me to my feet. The finishing touch was a collar, fastened tight around my neck, with a lead that dangled between my latex-clad breasts.

"You'll never get away with this..." I clichéd.

"Already have done, Catgirl. Now, I believe that this young lady is called Monica. She will soon be given the chance to thank you properly for coming to her rescue. But, first, I think you should give her oral sex."

"And if I don't?"

"What makes you think you have a choice?"

With those last words echoing in my ears, he grabbed the lead and forced me down onto my knees. I struggled as hard as I could, but couldn't stop him from placing the lead between Monica's legs and pulling it up between her buttocks, an act which forced my face into her pussy... I wriggled hard, but my actions only resulted in loud moans of pleasure from my best friend. The situation was far too weird for me... and far too intimate with my best friend... but there was nothing I could do. I just hoped that she never, ever discovered my true identity...

Monica writhed on my face as my tongue flicked out to pleasure her - I realised that I had no choice but to do as the Tormentor ordered. All the time, though, I was trying to reach into the pockets of my utility belt for something that would help me... I buried my face in Monica's pussy as my tongue explored - I was aware of her struggling and squirming, trying to get away, but her bondage held her firmly in place and she had no choice but to receive my administrations. My tongue teased out her clit and I sucked gently, causing her to groan all the louder above me. And then a plan developed in my head... I used my tongue to write a message on her clit and labia, with thin long strokes... H... E... L... L... O... She responded with a louder groan, which I took to mean that she understood.

The Tormentor's hands moved around to cup my breasts - I found his attentions a rather arousing distraction, but continued my writing. W... E... W... I... L... L... E... S... C... A... P... E... She groaned loudly again after I paused, and struggled in her bonds. The Tormentor pushed my head into her pussy again, and as I struggled it triggered an orgasm in Monica... her whole body shook as she came, her juices flowing freely...

The Tormentor took a step back, grasped my tail firmly and pulled me to my feet. I yelped with surprise, and looked over my shoulder to glare at him. He only smiled at me and quickly untied my wrists before unfastening my waspie corset and utility belt and throwing them to one side... leaving my wrists free but my elbows still bound together behind my back. He then grasped the catsuit zip under my tail. Quick as a flash, he moved the zip between my legs and up the front of my body, all the way to my neck... effectively unfastening my costume...

"You don't need to do this," I said, as he gripped the two halves of my costume at the front.

"I think you'll find I do," he responded, pulling them apart to reveal my breasts. He pushed me against a hard table (which I recognised as the rack from the previous night), pinning me there with his body as he fondled my naked breasts. I struggled hard against the ropes as he played with my hardening nipples. I opened my mouth to protest, but he pre-empted me by pushing a large black ballgag between my teeth before going back to examining my breasts. "You seem somehow familiar..." he murmured, pulling on my nipples...

"Mmmmmph!" I replied.

"And I'm sure I recognise your voice..."

That statement worried me. Not that I wasn't worried enough, what with being bound helpless by this fiend for the second night in a row... and having been forced to orally pleasure my best friend... and with the constant threat of being unmasked... but if he recognised me from last night... he might actually think that I'd come back for more! That would be so humiliating!

He pulled my catsuit from my shoulders and down my arms, to make sure that my breasts stayed bare. I wriggled in his grip, but only succeeded in making my breasts wiggle most pleasingly. A sight which he obviously appreciated. He grabbed my shoulders and wiggled me some more, his eyes not leaving my breasts as they jiggled around involuntarily. I could only look away and try to hide my embarrassment.

"The great Catgirl," he said, quietly, still watching my breasts move, "reduced to cheap entertainment for an immature villain."

I struggled in his grip again, hoping against hope to somehow get free... but it wasn't to be. It was no effort for him to remove my boots and toss them aside, and then he lifted me up onto the table and attached my ankles to the manacles, forcing my legs to stay spread apart for his entertainment. I laid down backwards, resting on my bound elbows and my inflatable tail.

He grinned at me as he produced a rather familiar large pair of scissors, which he had used to destroy my clothes the previous night. I shook my head at him when I realised what he intended to do... I shouted protests into the ballgag but they fell on deaf ears. I struggled all the harder as he snipped away at my costume, completely destroying my beloved black catsuit, my sexy opera gloves and my cat-tail thong... he then cut the ropes binding my elbows, and effortlessly overpowered me as he manacled my wrists to the top of the rack.

It reminded me very much of the previous night... and perhaps it reminded him of the previous night too, the way he was looking at my naked body curiously. He turned the wheel at the top of the rack, and I was stretched taut... once again... naked and helpless... wearing just my superheroine eyemask, my cute hairband with cat ears, a ballgag and a collar with lead.

"You know," the Tormentor said, as he walked around me, looking my naked body up and down, "I don't think I need to remove your mask to uncover your secret identity."

I closed my eyes, not believing what I was hearing. This couldn't be happening... how had I ended up in this situation? My superheroine career was coming crashing down around my ears... I couldn't believe it, Catgirl's reign of justice halted... not by a master criminal... but by some sex fiend who just wanted to grope lots of women...

"Aah, Monica..." my captor said - I opened my eyes to see him talking to my best friend. "I have a job for you. This is your chance to thank the brave heroine who came to your rescue."

As I watched, he took a huge strap-on dildo harness from the wall and fastened it between Monica's legs. It looked fairly ludicrous, standing there proud and erect... and somewhat threatening, since I had guessed what it was for. He then produced a pair of clover clamps from his deep pockets and attached them to Monica's still-hard nipples - she gasped into her gag, completely unprepared... He then produced two padlocks from his pockets and used them to keep the clamps in place... Lastly, he produced a slender rope from his pockets - one end he tied to the chain between her nipples, the other end he let hang free. The Tormentor then released Monica's wrists from the manacles attaching her to the wall and he then removed her blindfold, bit-gag and spreader bar... effectively freeing her from her bondage (apart from the clamps). She seemed too tired to struggle. He led her forwards and helped her climb onto the rack, so she was kneeling between my stretched legs. He had the other end of the rope held firmly in his hand.

"If you try anything funny," he said, firmly, "remember who's holding the rope." He underlined his point by tugging on the rope, causing the clamps on Monica's nipples to pull and tighten simultaneously, and causing Monica to gasp and put her hands to her breasts, trying to remove the clamps. But the padlocks prevented such action, and she resorted to glaring at her tormentor.

"You bastard," she said.

"Watch your language, dear Monica, or I'll gag you. Now, I want you to pleasure this sexy superheroine who did such a good job of pleasuring you earlier. I want you to use the dildo between your legs... but it's your choice as to whether you make sure she's suitably lubricated first... and hurry up, I have a video camera recording and I don't want it to run out of tape..."

I looked at the Tormentor, in response to his last comment. A video camera? What on earth..? Now, not only did I have to escape, but I had to destroy his video collection too... I was distracted from my escape plan by Monica's tongue gently licking my pussy... I squirmed, trying to pull free of the manacles that held me spreadeagled on the rack, but there was no escape... I tried not to think about what wonderful things my best friend's tongue was doing between my legs, and I tried to focus on something else... but as her tongue pushed between my labia, I knew that such a plan was hopeless...

It was then that I realised she was writing letters on my sex. I moaned into the gag, since the experience was so arousing I had trouble concentrating on the shape of the letters... or even remembering what letters had gone before... but I think she spelled out HELLO. I groaned loudly once she had finished, to acknowledge receipt of the message, and I found myself hoping that the next message would be longer... much, much longer... with plenty of O's...

I... W... I... L... L... F... I... G... H... T... H... I... M... I groaned and shook my head, almost overcome with pleasure, my breath ragged through the ballgag, only just able to concentrate (it took superheroic effort) on the words Monica spelled out to me. I shook my head again, hoping that she would look up and see my response - she didn't stand a chance against the Tormentor, and he would only make life worse for her. I was beginning to think that giving up was the best option... hopefully, we would both be dumped outside sometime soon, bound but out of his clutches... relatively free...

Y... O... U... T... H... I... N... K... U... P... A... P... L... A... N... T... H... E... N... I had no idea what the message was this time, since the P's drove me over the edge of orgasm and turned me into a convulsing, shuddering heap... As I came, the Tormentor turned the wheel on the rack, stretching me out tighter, pulling me taut like a vibrating cello string. And then Monica moved up my body, so she could tease my left nipple with her fingers and suck my right nipple into her mouth... and then I felt her push the strap-on dildo between my legs, using a long, slow thrust to completely fill me with it's thick length...

I groaned very loudly into the gag - submitting completely to the pleasure, I felt her begin to pound my pussy with the huge strap-on cock, teasing my nipples cruelly... it felt like she was enjoying herself as much as I was... The Tormentor pulled the rack tighter still, stretching me so hard I felt something must give, and Monica just kept using my body, thrusting into me, making me cum and cum and cum...

I must've blacked out, since my next memory was of opening my eyes to see Monica kneeling between my legs, trying discreetly to remove the padlocked clover clamps from her nipples. I looked around and saw the Tormentor standing beside the rack, looking down at me, grinning evilly. I mumbled into the ballgag, but he didn't pay any attention.

"And, now," he announced, for the benefit of his video and its future audience, "it's time for the great unmasking of this once-feared superheroine... Catgirl!" I shook my head, frantically, but with a flourish he removed the cat-ear hairband and the eyemask. He looked at my revealed face, his expression one of recognition, and opened his mouth to speak... but was interrupted by Monica.

"Laura?!?"

I looked at my best friend and blushed. I tried to say something into the gag, but it only came out as a muffled mumble. Monica's expression was one of pure shock.

"So..." the Tormentor grinned, "you two know each other, then?"

"We're best friends," Monica mumbled, "but I had no idea... if I'd known..."

"It's too late now," he replied, "but never mind. I appreciate that it's probably a bit weird to suddenly find out that you've been performing all sorts of bizarre sex acts on your best friend... but now it's time for you to do it again, this time with the knowledge of what you're doing!"

I expected him to tack an evil laugh onto the end of that sentence, and was disappointed when he didn't. I wasn't quite as shocked as Monica, but I desperately wanted the gag out of my mouth so I could at least begin to try to explain... but then the Tormentor tugged on her nipple clamp chain, causing her to yelp. She glared at him, he smiled at her and then nodded his head towards my spread legs and my naked, vulnerable, helpless pussy... which was feeling a little sore already, and probably couldn't take much more of this punishment...

"Now be a good girl, Monica," the Tormentor grinned, "or I will put the superheroine mask on you and film a new unmasking. Then I'll send the video of you as Catgirl to my contacts in the criminal underworld... and then I'll send you to my contacts in the criminal underworld... and I'm sure you can probably imagine the rest."

"What do you want from me?" she asked.

"Do your friend Laura. Good and long and hard. And then I'll let you go. Both of you."

Monica looked away from the Tormentor in disgust, and then looked at me. I tried to smile reassuringly, but ended up having to nod at her. She bent down between my legs, and began to lick... and I began to groan... It was a gentle, tender experience... even when she switched to using the strap-on dildo... long and slow, smooth and painless... which meant a longer, slower build-up... to a bigger, more-intense orgasm... she obviously couldn't stop herself from becoming aroused by the experience, since she soon forgot about playing with my breasts and started playing with her own... the Tormentor just looked on as we came together, both moaning and groaning as loud as we could... and then she collapsed on me, exhausted, and I felt myself slip away from consciousness...

***

I blinked, the light a little too bright for me. I opened my eyes slowly, trying to take in my surroundings. I was standing upright, spreadeagled, bound by hundreds of thin straps to a solid wooden board. I couldn't move a muscle, but I could tell that I was coated from head to toe in black rubber. I was looking through what seemed to be swimming goggles... no, wait, it was a gas mask... across a short room to where Monica was bound to an identical board in what I assumed was an identical costume. She, too, was wearing a gas mask and could only move her eyes.

And then I looked to the side, and saw a city street, through a window. We were part of a window display for some fetishy sex shop... helpless... unable to move... left to be gawped at by passersby... with no hope of freedom... hopefully someone would notice our predicament..? Or would they all assume that we were volunteers? How could we get the message across with just our eyes that we needed help... and not look like we were actors pretending that we needed help? Surely someone who worked in the shop would come check on us... sometime...

I couldn't stay in a shop window... I had a criminal to catch! But, then, the crotch of my rubber outfit began to gently vibrate... and I decided that perhaps the crimefighting could wait... I could probably enjoy my stay in a shop window for a little while longer... and I needed the time to work out what I would say to Monica when we were eventually freed...