Ultimate Control 5: Her Amazon Adventure Begins
By Elrohir, Elrohir57@gmail.com
Our heroine interrupts a rape in progress.


(This is another tribute/sequel to McInvictus' Ultimate Control, found in
volume #30 of Miscellaneous Stories. Ultimate Control 2, 3, and 4 are in
volume #33).

She awoke from the best sleep she'd had in ages, and it seemed to have agreed
with her body, too-- she was physically stronger and more well-defined than
she had ever been. She rather wished she could have kept a little fat on top
of those muscles, because as it was she would to have to wear loose clothing
to disguise them so as not to frighten away her victims. She dressed in the
biggest item she could find from her former wardrobe, a jogging suit that had
belonged to her husband. It would do until she went to the first clothing
store she could find in town. She found the clothes she wanted and smiled
sweetly at the 20-something girl who was monitoring the dressing room. She
gazed intently into the girl's eyes and cooed "Honey, be a dear and take the
anti-theft tags off these, would you?" She erected herself to her full height
of 5'11" and looked benevolently down at the girl, like a firm mistress
training her dog. "Well?"

The girl visibly gulped. "S-sure" she said timidly. She fumbled with the
deactivation tool from the desk and clumsily began removing the tags, her
hands shaking. The girl wasn't exactly sure what she was feeling: a little
fear and a lot of intimidation, certainly, but there was heat emanating from
this woman, and magnetism, too. When she finished removing the alarm tags, she
looked plaintively up at the woman, like a toddler showing her mother her
first crayon drawings. The woman beamed at her, lighting her up, and then
moved in so close to her that she could feel the heat from the woman's body,
along with a strangely alluring scent.

"Thank you so much" said the woman in a sultry voice, "I hope to see you
again, soon." At that the woman slowly licked her lips and, although only
inches away, blew a kiss into the girl's face.

"U-uh!" escaped from the girl's mouth as a thrill passed through her, making
her shudder. She was a little shocked and confused, with a head rush that made
her have to sit down to keep from being dizzy. She watched in awe as the woman
prowled, cat-like, away toward the front of the store. There was a quick flash
of a strange, steamy image of her body entwined with the woman's that asserted
itself into her mind for a brief second. When her head cleared, the girl
suddenly found that the crotch of her panties was completely soaked ... . It
was almost a half-hour later that she finally realized the woman had left
without paying for her items.

She found a Nissan dealer in the upscale part of town that offered a "gently
pre-owned" GTR for sale. It was a sort of non-descript color of metallic
charcoal gray, not really flashy at all, although it still had that muscular,
capable look that all GTR's have, which mirrored its soon-to-be new owner. She
barely paid any attention to the salesman droning on, although her
newly-eidetic memory subconsciously recorded every word. After a suitably
polite listening period she quickly said "I'll take it!" The salesman lit-up,
visions of commission dancing in his head. "I have one condition, however" she
winked. "I will only buy from the owner of this dealership, and I will need to
discuss some special financing."

"Our Sales Finance Manager usually handles that" mumbled the salesman, the
smile fading from his face, as his prospects of rolling in the green faded. He
took her to the Sales Finance Manager and whispered in his ear. It was a
relatively expensive car that had been for sale a little while, and the boss
had said if they had any chance of selling it, they should take it. There was
a brief whispered consultation, during which she maintained a low-power stare
into the SFM's eyes that inflamed him and soon made it impossible for him to
stand up without embarrassing himself. He nodded to the salesman, smiled shyly
at the glowing goddess of a woman, and without getting up he waved them over
toward a large mahogany door that read "Benny Dick, Owner and General
Manager." The SFM keyed his intercom to give the boss a minimal warning that
they were coming ... . As they passed a gaggle of car sales men and women in
the showroom, all conversation stopped as every eye followed her. She
pretended not to notice even though she knew it would happen. She was wearing
a mid-thigh length white sheath dress that showed off all her dangerous
curves. After she passed, several of the salesmen suddenly found a seat and
crossed their legs, while a few others (including one of the sales women) ran
to various restrooms and locked themselves into stalls.

Mr. Dick was a former NFL football player about 50 years old who stood head
and shoulders taller than most other men. He smiled and shook her hand when
the salesman introduced her and then ushered himself out. "So you're the
little lady who wants to buy the GTR?" Although he was serene in appearance,
she could see the pupils of his eyes were fully dilated as he took in every
contour of that little white dress. As their conversation continued, she could
feel his ego. It was even bigger than his body. He had a forceful, supremely
confident personality that exuded great power, like a proverbial bull in a
china shop who would break and destroy anything he wanted. She would love to
drain some of that power, but that was not why she was here. She knew, too,
that if necessary she could eventually wrestle his mind into submission, but
it would take a lot of time and concentration, and she was in a bit of a
hurry. Better to take the path of least resistance and wait until she had at
least softened him up a little before launching a frontal assault. Like a
judoka using a larger opponent's own weight against him, she would use against
Benny Dick the very thing that gave him such great personal power, his size
and confidence.

She said the car was to be a birthday present for her husband, and that she
would pay $20,000 down on it by putting it on his Visa Black card. (She had
taken the card out of the wallet of the Big Man she drained in the club
parking lot the night before. That victim would be unconscious in the hospital
for at least a week, so it was likely no one had yet noticed that the card was
missing. She knew she was leaving a paper trail, but soon she would manipulate
the system to obliterate any future record of her existence.) He asked if
using her husband's card wouldn't spoil the surprise. "Not until the bill
comes!" she chuckled, and they both laughed together. His interest was piqued,
because a $20k down payment would mean a decent profit, whatever happened. If
she defaulted on even the first payment, they could repossess the car and keep
the down payment, then sell the car to someone else. Oh, this was going to be
good! In addition to the down payment, she said, she was willing to offer him
certain "intangible" compensation for expediting the deal.

"What would that be?" he asked, pleasantly. He had already taken the bait; it
was time to set the hook.

"Well, I've been following your life and career for some time" she lied (she'd
speed-googled him that morning, using her new expanded memory to ingest every
useful fact about him), "and I've been desperately wanting to meet you. The
compensation I propose" she said matter-of-factly as she opened the clasp at
the back of her dress and stared deeply into his eyes, "should be mutually
beneficial to both of us." She wriggled out of the dress and let it fall,
standing before him naked except for a thin gold necklace, a gold charm
bracelet, and white high-heels. She stepped over to the office door and locked
it while, without thinking, he keyed the intercom to the receptionist/operator
and told her to hold his calls. She slowly came to him, allowing him to watch
her sexy, languid movements for some time, heightening his anticipation. She
pulled his head down to kiss her, a strangely wet, even a little sloppy kiss
in which she injected as much of her saliva-born essence into his mouth as
possible, which to his surprise he found incredibly tasty and intoxicating.
(It would take a while for her essence to work on him, she knew, but she
didn't care, she was having fun toying with her prey) His hands seemed to have
minds of their own as they roamed over her brick shithouse body: big, BIG
boobs, a tiny six-pack-abbed waist that flared out to full hips with an
incredibly round ass, all of it supremely sculpted muscle. She lay down on the
thick rug in front of the couch at one end of the room, and spread her legs
wide. "Take me, and don't waste any time getting to it." He practically ripped
his own clothes off. He tried to take a slow and leisurely tour of her body at
first, but soon couldn't contain himself. He almost immediately assumed the
top position and thrust his substantial rod into her.

She cried out a little bit just to reward him, then began to use her
musculature to make him feel things he'd never felt before. He felt he might
explode at any moment, but (with the aid of a silently whispered command from
her) he proceeded to go to town at full tilt for more than 50 minutes,
surprising himself with his own performance even though instinctively he knew
that in some way she was controlling his stamina. He eventually began to tire,
but his pride wouldn't let him stop going at as hard as he possibly could.
Suddenly she detected minute disturbances in his heart rhythm indicated he
might be dangerously overextended, so she immediately grabbed his arms and
rolled him over so that she was on top with him still inside her. She flexed
her steel abs and glutes, slamming his cock back and forth inside her,
alternately pounding her clit and g-spot. Faster and harder she continued
slamming, overwhelming him with electric pleasure, until he began to feel pain
with every stroke, although he could not help but be transfixed by the sight
of those incredible abs flexing. He was beginning to cry because of the pain,
but he could not stop her even if he wanted to because he was in such awe
watching her power fuck him beyond anything he'd ever experienced.

At last, when she knew he couldn't take any more, she reached behind her and
grabbed his balls, shouting "COME WITH ME, MY BEAST! NOW!" And he did, bucking
like a bronco with each contraction. She continued riding him expertly like a
cowgirl even as she roared lioness-like with her own orgasm. She sensed his
last contraction coming, and when it did she compressed both his balls with
her hand, forcing the last of his love nectar into his final load. He screamed
like a little girl in his ecstasy, then fell silent and motionless, completely
drained. (Well, not COMPLETELY, she thought. She would have to accomplish THAT
sometime in the future.) He closed his eyes, a broad smile on his face. He
came back to himself a few moments later when she rose up off of him.

"So! Do we have a deal?" she said, as if there had been no break in the
discussion.

"God, yes!" he exclaimed. "Er, but ... " he was gambling she would not be
angry at the suggestion, "only on condition that we both 'compensate' each
other this way again sometime."

"Agreed" she said matter-of-factly "at a time and place to be named later, of
course." With a sigh of relief he shook her hand and looked her in the eye
like a good businessman. Her fiery blue eyes again met his and engulfed him.
He was falling into them, would do anything to stay in them forever ... but
she blinked, and the consuming fire was gone. A sense of melancholy was
overtaking him as he realized she had broken the connection and was about to
leave, and he could not stop her by any means. "Do I need to sign anything?"
she said by way of farewell.

"Hell no! I'll take care of all that later. I'm too exhausted to lift a pen
right now, anyway. Make your payments when you can", he said hopefully, though
he did not feel any hope at all.

"Zip me up" she said when she had wiggled back into the dress. It was her way
of letting him pretend she needed his help with something, even something this
trivial. He zipped up the dress and fastened the little clasp at the top. She
turned and kissed him, a long, wet kiss that sealed the deal. He was
completely imprinted on her now. She released him, smiled, unlocked the office
door and walked out with the smart key to the GTR in her purse. He walked
behind his desk and tiredly sat down without even putting his clothes on. He
put his head down on the desk and sobbed for several minutes, partly because
he knew he could never possess her, but more because she had humbled him by
turning him inside out and had hung him out to dry, forever shaking his
confidence, the major source of his power. He would forever be a changed man.

She would drive away, but not until after visiting the service bay and bending
the car computer repair technician to her will. She made him set up the car's
GPS reporting system to always list its location as Sebring International
Raceway, so that the Nissan's control system would allow it to be switched to
race mode, and to keep anyone from tracking her movements. She drove to the
hotel, packed and set out on this beautiful spring evening for even sunnier
parts down South. Before she hit the open road, however, she decided to get
acclimated to the GTR by taking a turn through Hill Park just southwest of the
city, which had a long, winding road through it with several overlooks that
offered a view of downtown several miles away. She heightened her perception
and judgment, putting the GTR through its paces at what any observer would
think was a ludicrous speed for the tight turns on the hill. It was just after
dusk, when the park was supposed to be closed, although there were no gates to
be locked. There were warning signs that anyone found inside the park by the
city park ranger after dark would be fined, which was good for her in that
there was no traffic on the road. She relished tossing the supercar around,
augmenting its automatic systems with her own enhanced precision driving
abilities.

As she rounded the last bend before reaching the overlook at the top of the
hill, she was surprised to see a beautiful new orange/yellow Ford Mustang Boss
302 stopped on the side of the road, its passenger door wide open. She braked
to a stop, but did not see anyone inside. Suddenly she heard muffled screams
from the edge of the woods about 50 yards away. She peered through the growing
darkness to see a girl lying on the ground screaming, with a burly tattooed
man on top of her, obviously raping her while a tall, skinny youth stood guard
with a small pistol in his hand. She cursed the fact that she was wearing a
white outfit which would make her a great target for the gunman, so she
ditched her clothes in the car and crept toward them in the darkness, her
tanned skin effectively camouflaging her in the dim light.

"Come on, JP! When do I get my turn?" whined the lanky one.

"Shut up, Jimmy! I'm almost done here ... Come on, baby, scream! Make me feel
like the big man I am!" He slapped her hard across the face. The victim
obliged him, screaming out in pain and fear, her face stinging, her sex
hurting with each brutal thrust.

"YOU THERE, STOP WHAT YOU'RE DOING OR THERE WILL BE CONSEQUENCES" called a
voice from the darkness. She quietly changed her position just in case the
gunman took a shot at the sound.

"Dammit, JP! There's somebody out there," hissed Jimmy. "Let's leave her and
go!"

JP, however, was in the zone and almost ready to finish his complete
defilement of this little bitch who had dissed him, even though they'd
actually never met before. They ALL dissed him, sooner or later, so they ALL
had to pay. JP barely broke stride as he commanded his stupid sidekick: "One
more minute, motherfucker! You're the one with the gun, take care of whoever
it is." Scared shitless, Jimmy fired a shot in the direction the voice had
come from.

"AAAGH!" she cried, in order to reward him, then again quietly moved in a wide
arc that took her closer to her hapless assailant. Jimmy crept forward to see
if he'd scored a hit, holding his gun up at the ready. Having no formal
training in marksmanship, he kept his finger up to its second knuckle on the
trigger. Suddenly a hard hand gripped the pistol and rotated it upward,
trapping his finger in the trigger guard. The gun fired off into the air.
Jimmy was jerked forward until his momentum was halted by an iron knee that
crushed his balls up into his body. Jimmy gasped, and would have cried out if
it were not for the punch to his throat that broke his larynx and fractured
his hyoid bone. He went down without making a sound and lay there choking. He
would not be getting up ever again.

JP heard the shots and figured Jimmy must have taken care of business. He was
too distracted to really care like he should, pounding his way toward jizzing
into this hoe bag college girl. He never heard the supersonic brachial stun
that struck his neck, shocking the nerves in his neck and momentarily cutting
off the supply of blood to his brain. As he collapsed, two hands grabbed under
his armpits, lifted him like a rag doll and threw him ten feet away where he
landed in a heap. She went over to the girl, who was wearing a sports bra but
was naked from the waist down except for her running shoes. A pair of jogging
shorts lay on the ground nearby. "You're safe now" she said quietly to the
girl, who was still sobbing but sniffled out a heartfelt thank you. She went
over to unconscious tattooed rapist and retrieved the cell phone from the
pocket of his jeans, which were down around his ankles. The jeans were
spattered with fresh cum; he must have shot his load as he flew through the
air to his resting place. She walked back over to the girl and asked if she
was hurt very badly. The girl replied she just had scrapes and scratches from
being grabbed and drug away, and some red marks from being slapped repeatedly,
and, you know, the rape part ... .

Suddenly they heard the Mustang's engine start. Damn! JP must be tougher than
she thought. She handed JP's phone to the girl and told her to call 911 and
tell the cops to come to the top overlook in Hill Park. She sprinted back to
the GTR and fired it up. JP thought he had mad driving skills, but he began to
question himself when in no time the bad bitch's headlights appeared in his
rearview mirror. She was on his back bumper a few seconds after that, bumping
his rear end just enough so he could feel it whenever he slowed down for a
turn. Her accelerated self was driving the GTR like it was on rails around the
tight, twisty curves of the park road, while JP was fishtailing like crazy on
every turn. She could see him look at her in his mirror every few seconds, a
look of terror in his eyes. He just couldn't shake the bitch, and every so
often she would get right on his bumper and blare her horn, which startled and
unnerved him each time. He was overdriving himself and he knew, but he had to
get away. He just couldn't let another bitch diss him like they all had,
especially this one, who was likely to diss him right into jail.

They hit a long, steep, straight grade which ended at the park gate. She
slowed her perception a bit so she could enjoy the feeling of speed, then she
smiled and hit the gas hard, pulled to right a little and then went back to
the left as she shoved JP's right rear bumper at an angle. The Mustang pivoted
clockwise into a sideways skid, and before JP could steer into it, his left
rear wheel caught the rough left side edge of the pavement, flipping the
Mustang in a sideways roll. At about the fourth or fifth revolution the car
rolled off the left side of the road and down the embankment until it was
halted by a large tree, coming to rest on its left side, its roof against the
tree. As the deployed side air bag deflated, JP marveled that he his only
injury appeared to be a sprained ankle. He had to crawl out the car and jump
down, which was quite painful even though he tried to favor his good foot. He
went to his knees with the pain, and decided to take a moment to breathe. He
placed his left hand on the car's frame to help him get to his feet. With an
iron grip she slapped a handcuff on that hand and drug him to near the middle
of the car where the other cuff was hooked to the stanchion that braced the
bottom of the rear quarter panel at the front of the rear wheel well. He tried
to swing his free fist at the hand's owner but was rudely interrupted by the
haymaker to his jaw that knocked him unconscious ... .

When he came to, he found he was hanging in sort of a standing position, being
supported by the handcuffed left hand and his right arm that was thrown into
the opening of the passenger door, which was half-closed on the arm. He
gingerly pulled his right arm out and allowed the door to close. He began to
turn around but was stopped cold by a sharp pain in his groin. He looked down
to see that a metal bar, apparently the stanchion for the other rear fender,
had been torn free and then bent around the frame of the car, twisted shut
like a twist tie, and then bent tightly around his cock at its base and
twist-tied shut again. He tried to pull his member out of its tight prison but
discovered it was held too tightly to slide out, and for good measure a
radiator clamp had been tightened around the end of his cock just behind the
head, so that it dug into its head whenever he tried to move.

"Hello, Shithead!" She said sweetly. "Here let me free up that hand for you."
She used a key to remove the cuffs from his hand and from the stanchion to
which they'd been secured. "I borrowed these from a State Trooper yesterday,
and I plan to give them back, sometime ... . Oh! I forgot""this is yours, I
found it in your toolbox in the trunk." She handed him a small hacksaw.

"What's this for?" JP muttered, afraid what the answer would be.

"You'll see in a minute." She had taken the liberty of cutting a long strip
from his wife-beater tank top while he was out. "I saw something like this in
a movie once," she said cheerily. She grabbed the stanchion to which he'd been
handcuffed, and in an impressive display of strength wrenched it free from the
car. She used her fingers to depress one end of the hollow stanchion into a
funnel-like point. She picked up a headlight assembly that had its lens
broken. She nestled the assembly into a part of the car's frame near the back,
with the curved back part of the headlight on the bottom, like a little bowl.
She took the long strip of fabric and wedged one end in the cracked plastic
lens at the edge of the bowl. She then took the stanchion and jammed the
pointed end into the gas tank, puncturing a small hole. She fixed the
stanchion in the hole and angled it to where drops of gasoline began running
down the stanchion and falling into the makeshift bowl. . JP's eyes widened
when she produced the Zippo lighter she'd taken from his pocket and fired it
up. Tears welled up in JP's eyes as he began to realize what was happening,
and when she lit the opposite end of the long strip of fabric, she chuckled to
see the urine flowing from JP's cock inside its little prison. "I guess you've
figured it out, JP!" He had pissed himself, since he knew he could not reach
the wick from his current position. "I figure you have maybe five minutes
before the flame reaches the gasoline; it will take much longer than that to
use your hacksaw to cut through the metal holding your dick and/or the
radiator clamp cock ring. There is, however, something else that won't take
very long at all for you to cut through. It's your decision, though. Either
way works for me, JP!" She blew him a kiss, which made him shudder. She
sprinted up the embankment back to her car. It was such a nice spring day that
she put the windows down as she drove away. She hadn't gone more than a few
yards, however, when she heard a blood-curdling scream and saw in her mirror a
large fireball erupt from down the embankment. "Darn!" she said. "I guess it
didn't take as long to ignite as I thought ... ."