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From: Echo <echo@nym.alias.net>
Subject: {ASS} Damsel in Distress 6/? by Echo (MF)
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RE
Copyright remains with author. This story is *not* to
be reposted, posted elsewhere, It is *not* to be made available
in any media for profit. You are entitled to one hard copy for
your own amusement.
**WARNING** as this story progresses we will be heading
towards the area on non-cons or semi-cons
sex. If this offends, don't get interested now.
Note: The WWW site mentioned in this story does *not* exist.
The address: darkdamsel@damsel.com does *not* exist
Dark Damsel: Damsel in Distress by Echo
Chapter 6
End of article -- what next? [npq]
alt.sex.stories #4136301 (8 more)
From: darkdamsel@damsel.com (Dark Damsel)
Subject: Damsel in Distress
X-Newsreader: Forte Agent 1.5/32.452
FRIENDS! Come and see me in some HOT situations JPG's MPG's
and MORE. I guarantee you will not be disappointed!!!
http://www.super-heroine.com/~bzx/dd
LUV 2 U ALL. While at the site, drop a line and let me
know what you would like to see. Who knows? Your wishes
may come true!
End of article -- what next? [npq]
Renee Jimson closed the newsreader. Her face was like
stone. She had looked at four of the alt.sex groups and the
post was in each of them. Many would simply erase the post
as being spam, but many would follow the link and see what
they would see. Renee had followed it, herself, and found
that there were now JPGs taken from the MPGs and others which
were high resolution scans of photographs.
There was a thread on alt.sex.stories.d covering the
situation. The authors who had written Dark Damsel stories
were in their glory and had reposted them. New chapters
were being added; new stories started. The more twisted
characters were insisting that the pictures were indeed of
Dark Damsel, confirming what they'd thought of her all along:
she was a slut meant to be used. Others suggested that the
photographer (small p) had found a model who looked similar
enough to Dark Damsel to fool those who had not seen the
crime-fighter up close and in person.
In a blue funk Renee turned off her computer, put all
thoughts of her business out of her mind, and stepped out
of her apartment building.
It was a beautiful summer day. A warm breeze wafted
the scent of flowers across the lawn; a few white clouds
moved lazily across the sky; the sun shone brightly and
the air was fresh and clear. Renee was oblivious to it
all. She walked aimlessly, her only enjoyment coming from
the respite of being just another woman walking down the
street, lost in her own thoughts, anonymous.
No one paid any attention to her, except for the odd
busker or panhandler. This would all change if her identity
as Dark Damsel came out. She'd be able to go nowhere. Even
now, if she went out as Dark Damsel there would be all the
eyes, watching her, wondering if the nude pictures of her
were real, hoping they were. Yes, the public would love to
know that it was really her in the photos. Dark Damsel,
symbol of justice, of good, would be knocked down to the
status of mere mortal. Others would feel better about
themselves through the degradation of an Idol. The tabloids,
of course, would have a field day.
Renee came out of her reverie and saw that she was just
a block away from Hub City Police Department Headquarters. Maybe
she'd visit 'Uncle Teddy'. He always made her feel better. Yes,
that is what she would do. She began walking past a street
news stand towards HCPDHQ when she noticed a headline in a paper
which read: Dark Damsel: In the Flesh?
Heart sinking she picked up a copy and read the article.
There was no stopping the snowball now. In the article, the
writer wondered at the relationship between the police and the
'unmasked' crime-fighter. Even if the photos were false, the
publicity would do the police no good.
"Damn!" Renee's voice was just harsh enough to bring
the head of the vender around. She shrugged it off and turned
towards Head Quarters.
"Hello, Ms Jimson," the guard at the front desk greeted
her.
"Hi, Fred." Fred had been one of her father's friends, oh
so long ago. "Think I'll be able to see 'Uncle Teddy'?" she
asked hopefully. "And the name is Renee, as you well know,"
she pouted.
Fred laughed as he handed her a visitor's badge, signing
her in. "Uncle Teddy," he rolled his eyes, "will probably be
very happy to see you. It'll take his mind off of all this
Dark Damsel garbage."
"Dark Damsel?" Renee tried to sound puzzled.
"You haven't heard?" Fred sounded surprised. "Yeah, Dark
Damsel. Someone got a model who looks a lot like her and put
up some pictures on the internet. Disgusting stuff, I hear.
It has all happened before, what with Minx and Sapphire and
others, but they aren't as closely connected with us as Dark
Damsel is. Also, those pictures were obviously of models, not
the real thing." He shook his head sadly and looked down at
his hands. "Well, whoever did this sure put us on the hot seat.
We have uptight religious rightists up our asses right now,
excuse the language." Fred looked around to make sure no one
was within hearing distance. "Frankly I'd like to put something
up their asses (one ass is particular), and I still have it from
when I walked a beat."
Renee had to laugh. The picture of grizzled old Fred
shoving a nightstick up Reverend Jones' rear (for who else
could it be) was comic in the extreme. Reverend Jones, never
having seen her, had condemned her for her costume, which
was 'so vulgar not even a harlot would be seen in it'. Yes,
she might even pay to see that. She told Fred so, which
earned her a laugh in return.
"And Dark Damsel?" she asked. "What if that was her?"
"Renee, I walked a beat for 10 years. I had snitches
who you wouldn't want in your building, let alone in your
apartment. They helped me do my job. One was a stripper,
a decent one. A couple were prostitutes. Did it matter
what they did? Hell, no. Even if Dark Damsel is the one
in the photos, even if she did it off her own bat, what the
hell does it matter?" old Fred asked her earnestly. "She
*helps* us. Far as I know she's never broken the law. So,
she's a helpful citizen. I'd rather sit across the table
and hoist one with her, or with the stripper and prostitutes,
than I would with the ever so unhelpful good citizens who
are upstairs just now." Fred snorted, "If we had to count
on them to help solve crimes, we'd never get anywhere." He
broke off as another citizen approached his desk.
"Kirpath's office? Third floor. Turn right as you
get off the elevator." The man walked away.
"Fred?" There was warmth in Renee's eyes as the old
policeman turned back to her. "You are a great guy, and if
you were five years younger . . ."
Fred broke up. When he recovered he looked at his watch.
"Go on up. They've been here for 45 minutes. That's about
as long as your Uncle Teddy'll put up with such nonsense.
He'll appreciate a break."
"Renee! What a wonderful surprise," Commissioner Delcourt
smiled, standing and opening his arms.
Renee hugged the old gentleman tightly. "I hear you've
had a busy morning."
"Busybodies!" Delcourt sputtered. "As if I cared a rat's
ass for their squeamish stomachs. Bah! 'Tarnishes the image
of Hub City's Police Department,'" he mimicked the good
Reverend Jones.
"Now, Uncle Teddy," Renee remonstrated.
"Okay, Renee. It gets to be too much sometimes, though."
He paused. "So, what can I do for Jack's daughter? You know,
there isn't a week goes by that I don't think of him. He was
a good man, far to good a man to be gunned down like that."
Renee knew Delcourt wasn't just saying that. He kept a
picture of Jack Jimson and himself on his desk. They had
been fishing buddies, partners, friends. It had been on the
day that Jack Jimson was buried, when they handed her the
flag which had covered his coffin, that she had determined
to become Dark Damsel. One year later, on the anniversary
of his death, Dark Damsel had caught her first criminal
and begun her long association with the Police Department.
"Sorry, I got lost in thought," Renee confessed. "What
did you say?"
"I asked if there was anything I could do for you."
Delcourt returned to his chair and put his feet up on his
desk. "Mind you, I'll be just as happy if you merely came
to visit. Already you've cheered up my day."
The intercom buzzed before Renee could reply.
"Commissioner, Officer Nasturant to see you."
"Thank you, Sandy, send her in." He turned to Renee,
"This won't take to long, have a seat.
Rebecca Nasturant walked in with some files in her
hand. She went straight to Delcourt's desk, not really
noticing Renee. Renee watched her, remembering that this was
the woman that Uncle Teddy had the hots for, even if she was
only half his age.
"Here are the files, sir. I cross-referenced them with
known felons and unsolved cases. I think the pattern is clear.
With respect to the other matter . . ." Rebecca noticed Renee
and stopped short.
"Of course. You haven't met," Delcourt stood. "Rebecca
Nasturant, may I introduce the daughter of my late partner,
Renee Jimson." There was that something in Delcourt's voice
and face which asked the pair to like each other.
As the two women shook hands Renee felt herself subject
of a very intense look. It was as if Rebecca were memorizing
her features. "Renee Jimson. Pleased to meet you." She
paused. "I feel as if I've met you before . . . no, I guess
not."
But she had, Renee smiled to herself. They had met when
she was Dark Damsel. She would have to be careful. This
woman was very sharp.
"The pleasure is mine," Renee smiled and Rebecca turned
back to the Commissioner. At his nod Rebecca continued.
"Yes, sir," she shrugged. If the Commissioner wanted
to talk shop in front of a civilian, who was she to say
him nay? "As to the other matter, Minx was seen in the
vicinity yesterday, but nothing ties her to the crime. I've
come up with nothing at all which would suggest that she has
anything to do with any criminal organization." Her
emotionless, matter-of-fact tone was back again.
At the mention of Minx, Renee looked up sharply. She
hadn't been too sure how much truth Kitty had told. Now it
appeared that rumours of Minx's death had been somewhat
exaggerated. Renee breathed a sigh of relief.
"Perhaps you could ask Dark Damsel to check her out,"
Rebecca suggested.
"No," Delcourt answered, "right now it might be best for
all of us if Dark Damsel maintained a low profile. We are
a police department, let's do some police work!" His tone
softened almost imperceptibly, "Thank's Rebecca. Good work."
"Thank you, sir." Rebecca turned and ghosted out of
the room.
"Lovely woman," Renee grinned at Delcourt.
"Now stop that. She's far too young for me," Delcourt
replied, though he seemed pleased at Renee's comment.
"Get outa here. You're still a fine figure of a man!
She'd be lucky to get you." Renee frowned, "Of course I'm not
sure I could get used to calling her 'Aunt Becky', but . . ."
She ducked as a pencil was flung her way. "Okay, Uncle Teddy.
I give. I was just in the neighbourhood and thought I'd drop
in and say hi."
Delcourt glanced at his watch. "How about going out with
an old man for some lunch. You can catch me up on your life.
Met any eligible young men lately?" He took Renee's arm and led
her out the door.
Renee laughed, but her thoughts went back to the discussion
in Delcourt's office. Perhaps it *would* be a good idea if Dark
Damsel did lay low for a few days. There was nothing like lack
of news to kill a story, though there would be speculation.
It might help her through the worst of it, however. The public
was quick to forget.
"So, Kitty, what's the news?" The Photographer asked
his lover as she came through the door. It was dark in the
room. Both preferred it that way.
"Dark Damsel has, apparently, fallen off the edge of the
world. No one has seen or heard of her in three days. The
papers think she's given up the crime-fighting gig." Kitty
put down the bag of groceries, opened up the refrigerator
and began restocking it. "If she has, then we've won."
"No!" The word was harsh. "No. Not yet. She has
to be taught her lesson. He'd want it that way."
"Would he?" Kitty inquired. "Have you asked him? Are
you sure about this?"
"I don't need to ask him. Remember what he did for us?
Think of where we'd be without him." The Photographer's
voice became soft. "He gave us life, Kitty, and she took
his away from him." He put his arm around the woman's shoulders
and squeezed. "Besides, you know he doesn't want us connected
with him in any way. But word came to us, didn't it?"
Kitty allowed herself to relax into The Photographer's
embrace. "Yes, love, it did. But that was almost a year ago
and it came from someone who hadn't seen him in well over a
year previous to that. So, that word is over two and a half
years old at best, possibly three. A lot can change in three
years."
"We owe him, Kitty."
"Yes, love, we owe him." She reached up and stroked his
neck as he nestled in behind her, arms around her middle. She
ground her ass into him and felt him begin to harden. "You want
her, don't you, you bastard?"
He laughed. "You had her and gave her rave reviews,
remember?."
Kitty laughed. "I remember. Oh!" The Photographer
had reached up and grabbed her breasts. "Mmm." Kitty licked
her lips and pushed the refrigerator door closed. She laughed
as The Photographer picked her up and carried her to the bedroom.
He dropped her onto the bed, then threw himself on top
of her, covering her mouth with his. After a long, hard, deep
kiss, they broke apart, both catching their breath. Kitty
looked up at him and grinned.
"You want her bad. I can tell." She reached down and
slapped his ass. "What do you want to do with her?" The
Photographer opened his mouth to answer her question, but Kitty
put her hand over it and shushed him. "No, love, don't tell
me." The Photographer's eyebrows rose in question. "Don't
tell me, show me!" She dug her fingers into his ribs and
tickled him.
The Photographer rolled away on the king-size bed and
got to his hands and knees, facing Kitty who was on hers.
"You really want me to show you?" he asked, and licked his
lips.
Kitty grinned. "Come on, big boy, let's see what you've
got," she told him lewdly. "I'm Dark Damsel and I don't think
you have what it takes." Kitty dropped one eyelid in a slow
wink.
"Bitch!" The Photographer tore at his pants. In a few
moments he was free of pants, underwear and shirt. Kitty
was still there, grinning at him.
"Whatchya gonna do about it?" she purred at him.
The Photographer was up in a flash, standing on the bed.
He stood over Kitty and grabbed her t-shirt about the middle,
lifted and pulled it over her head. Kitty's hair flew wildly
about. He then lifted and her 'til she faced the mirror on
the dressing table.
"Ooow," she squealed in delight as she was lowered to
hands and knees. She looked in the mirror, head up, to see
her breasts hanging down, her face framed by the brown hair.
She wiggled her ass suggestively and gasped as her lover gave
it a slap.
The Photographer dropped behind her and grabbed her shorts
and pulled. They, and then her panties, came down. Soon both
were thrown to the floor. The Photographer knelt between her
spread legs and Kitty hung her head in mock shame even while
arching her back to give him a good angle.
"Ow!" Kitty felt her lover grasp her hair and pull back,
lifting her head up.
"I want you to watch, bitch," he growled. "Watch yourself
as my cock goes into your pussy."
Kitty could feel his cock-head at her lips and she obeyed,
watching herself in the mirror. Her eyes widened, mouth opened,
and she gasped as she felt him penetrate her. "No!" she cried
out, getting into the spirit of things, even though she enjoyed
the sensation.
The sex was rough, hard sex, yet delicious for just that
reason. Kitty reached back with her left hand and began to rub
her clit. Soon her gasps were echoing through the room, mixed
with the grunts from The Photographer. Kitty saw her breasts
swaying with every thrust from her lover. Her right arm tired
and she collapsed on the bed with her ass still high in the air.
Kitty wailed out, shuddering in pleasure. The Photographer
stepped up his thrusting and she moaned under the assault. Then
he was finishing: one, two, three hard thrusts, then holding
himself in her as her legs gave out and he flattened her on the
bed. It took a minute for him to recover sufficiently to begin
kissing her on her neck and nibbling on her ear.
"You were great," he said affectionately.
"I enjoyed being Dark Damsel, if only for the moment," she
replied, squirming out from under him and turning on her side.
"Which brings us to the next question: How do we get her out of
hiding and into your clutches?"
"I have an idea," he replied as he snuggled in behind her.
Kitty wondered what that would be as his breathing evened
out and he relaxed into sleep. Whatever it was, she was sure,
it would be a good one.
End of Chapter 6 of Dark Damsel: Damsel in Distress, by Echo
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