BDSM Comics #2: Bondage Woman and the Ponygirl Army
by Jennifer Harrison
Author’s Comments: another really silly story – again, if you don’t like puerile humour with your BDSM, go read something else. If you read the whole story, PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT – I need them!
Our story opens with Bondage Woman held in the strictest of bondage [nothing new there then. Ed]. She is suspended in mid-air, held with her limbs stretched out in a human X, manacles and chains of unbreakable adamantium [subs – check whether Marvel has copyright on that. Ed] preventing our superhero from using her superpowers to free herself. Her shiny black latex suit is split from her navel to the crack of her buttocks – the result of a much-needed design modification after her previous dozen costumes had been ripped to shreds by evil supervillains keen to get at the goodies inside, which also accounted for the quick release panels used to cover (at least occasionally) her magnificent breasts. Her pussy and buttocks are being split by unfeasibly large dildos, being driven into her with piston-like ferocity and resulting in the splattering of her pussy juices all over her thighs [nice image, the artist will love this. Ed]
Bondage woman’s luscious red lips are stretched around what looks, at first glance, like a standard penis gag, but this one expands and contracts, simulating repeated thrusting into her throat and, every few minutes, it jerks and pumps huge quantities genuine human semen into her mouth, drawn from an inexhaustible supply purchased from the local sperm bank. With her face streaked with sweat and her hair matted and almost covering her eye mask, her body tenses in its tight bondage as about the millionth orgasm washes over her. She slumps, her head dropping, but knowing the next climax is only minutes away.
A figure approaches – a tall, slender woman with long, silky black hair and Asiatic features. Her impressive cleavage is barely contained by the elegant lines of her dark suit, her waist is pinched to an unbelievable sixteen inches and her flared hips encased in the pencil skirt which seems to pin her knees together. She walks with a languid, sexy swinging of her magnificent ass, the result of her naturally sexy gait but also of the ballet boots laced up tight to her feet, which she places elegantly one in front of the other [excellent, a sexy villainess, just what this series needs. Ed]. She approaches the control panel and flicks a switch. The dildos withdraw from Bondage Woman’s nether regions and her limp body is lowered to the floor, where she wearily props herself up on knees and elbows.
“So sorry to interrupt, Madam”, the oriental sex-bomb says in mellifluous tones, “But the mayor is on the phone.” Bondage Woman fought back her frustration at having her ‘training’ session cut short before her tenth orgasm and dragged herself wearily to her feet.
“That’s okay, Kimi”, she said as she replaced the panels over her breasts and zipped up the crotch of her suit [continuity error – doesn’t she still have a big cock in her mouth ? Ed], “Work unfortunately cums first”.
The superhero had rescued the Japanese beauty from a downtown brothel, where she had been trafficked to service the needs of high-ranking city officials and local crime bosses. It had taken her only minutes to smuggle the kidnapped girl out of the den of carnal pleasures, but she had then had to spend the next several weeks working undercover as a sex slave, doing unspeakable things to unspeakable people, before reluctantly turning over the evidence to the police for a bust which saw the club closed down permanently, much to her regret – it was a tough job but someone had to do it. Since then, Kimi had been her Girl Friday, general factotum and Mistress during her breaks from crimefighting.
BW picked up the bondage-phone, shaped like a pair of manacles joined by a chain, and enjoyed the thrill of the mildly painful electric shock which ran through her body from the handset. She listened intently before curtly saying “I’ll be right there”.
As she mounted the bondage-cycle and fired it up, BW let out a long, satisfied sigh. The twin dildos mounted on the seat slid inside her and, as she raced through the streets of the city, the vibrations of the powerful 3,000 cc engine made for a wild ride. As she pulled up at the lights, revving her motor with a dreamy, far-away look in her eye, the concerned citizen in the car next to her wondered what mission the city’s number one superhero was on this time – it clearly looked like an enjoyable one!
At city hall, she reluctantly dismounted and quickly cleaned up the mess on her saddle, before making her way to the mayor’s office. She gave his secretary a wide smile, recalling the first time they had met, when she had had to lick the prim older woman to orgasm before she would allow her access to the ‘inner sanctum’ without an appointment.
The mayor was pacing his office, nervously and deep in thought. As the door opened and the sexy superhero entered, he stepped forward eagerly and ushered her to a seat with a hand ‘accidentally’ feeling her ample rump.
BW looked at the strange figure of the mayor, the mysterious John Faust [nice literary touch, bring in the intellectuals. Ed]. Dressed all in black – black suit, black shirt, black tie, black cufflinks, black ring, black [okay, we get the picture, get on with it. Ed] – and half his face covered by a white plastic mask [subs – check if Andrew Lloyd-Webber’s got copyright on that. Ed], he did not look like prime election material [oh yeah, sounds like a classic villain to me. Ed]. But he had swept the election on his Free Love ticket (slogan: “Sex: Are You Paying Too Much ?”). Once in office, he had slashed taxes on sex toys whilst hiking them on fast food, and his radical new zoning laws meant that there were more BDSM clubs within the city limits than McDonald’s outlets. Sin City – renamed by statute from Springfield [subs – check if Fox have copyright on that. Ed] – was one of the healthiest, if most morally debased, cities in the country. The mayor looked set to win a landslide re-election in the Fall.
“What seems to be the problem, Mr Mayor ?” BW asked as she sat back and sipped the coffee she had been given. Faust continued to pace.
“Its these disappearances, Bondage Woman – fifty women in the last six months. The only common factor seems to be that they are all stunningly attractive.”
“What about location? Jobs? Ethnicity?”
“No, they are all mixed – lawyers, film actresses, TV stars, weathergirls, sports stars, even a few teachers, nurses and MILFs. Black, white, Chinese, indian, latino, seems to make no odds. Some were living here, others just visiting, the only common factor was they were in the city when they disappeared – which does not look good for me!”
“What about the police? Any leads?” Faust laughed bitterly.
“The only leads they got are on their dogs! They don’t even know where their smokin’ hot Chief of Police disappeared to – and she was last seen in her office!”
“So why come to me, now ?” Faust looked ashen-faced – at least that bit you could see, not the bit covered by the mask, because [we get it, move on. Ed]
“Last night, the latest victim disappeared – my eighteen year-old daughter! A fine piece of ass, even if I say so myself.”
“Okay, Mr Mayor, I’ll get right on it!” As she rose to leave, the latex-clad superhero felt her legs go weak. She looked at her coffee cup in horror.
“Drugged!” she managed to croak as she slumped to the floor. She was unconscious before she hit it.
Is this the end for Bondage Woman? Who is the mysterious Mayor Faust? Is any woman safe in Sin City? Where is this city and how do I get there??
Stay tuned for the next exciting episode …
Copyright© 2011 by Jennifer Harrison. All rights reserved. I welcome your mandatory comments. Email me at firstname.lastname@example.org