Ironmales Defeat Pt 01

At five in the evening, he arrived at the steps of City Hall as promised. Driving there, he saw the crowds get thicker as he neared the steps. The gawkers had come as he knew they would. He got out of the black sedan and saw her at the top of the steps. She was, as always, dripping with sexual energy, wearing a tight black latex dress that zippered up the front and black heels. Her fit, but curvy body straining the stitching of the dress. Her long blonde hair was done up in a tight bun and in her right hand she held a riding crop.

He closed the door, looked up at her and silently climbed the stairs wearing the costume that had come to define identity, a suit of form-fitting elasticized chain mail. With every step, he felt more dread. He had been defeated. He would sacrifice his himself for the city, but he didn't know if she would hold up her end of the bargain. For him though, there was no choice, she held all the cards.

"I am here, as promised," he said as he reach the top, his eyes locked on hers.

"Yes, always a man of your word. Ever the hero," she snickered. Her eyes went up and down his body. "Now then ... strip."

His eyes narrowed. "That was not part of the deal. You simply said surrender."

"Yes. Surrender. That means you are in no position to make demands."

They stared at each other for a long minute.

"I will kill them all," she said. "You know I will. ... Strip."

He stood like a statue. Breathed in. And began to undress, reaching down to grab the bottom on his shirt.

As he pulled it off, he heard the clinking of the woven steel and felt the sun on his torso. His body was toned and scarred from a dozen years of his work. He had been in many difficult battles before, battles from which he thought he wouldn't return, but this was something different. It was defeat and being forced to shed his costume in front of the city was a level of exposure he had never felt. Over the years he had trained hard and honed his skills. He was proud of his body and, yes, to some extent, vain. But this level of physical familiarity was something between him and his girlfriend - and occasionally from villainesses like her. To be shirtless in front of the city, with cameras rolling, gave him a feeling of helplessness that was new.

"Now the lower-half," she said, eyes on his body. She was enjoying watching his unease.

He unclasped and lowered the pants, and stepped out of them. He stood before the crowd in just a pair of tight black trunk shorts. Unmoving. Staring at her.

"That's enough," he said with anger in his voice.

She walked toward him. "Yes. Enough. There's no reason to make this X-rated. For now." She stood in front on him and trailed a single finger down his chest, over his abs and then back up. "For now," she repeated and walked around him slowly trying her hand over his body as she did.

She got to his back, leaned and whispered. "I can see into minds, you know. That's my real power. And I have seen into yours. I know your fantasies."

His breathing changed and his face fell into a look of shock.

"I know all your fantasies," she continued. "I know you have fantasized about this very scene." She leaned back and traced the crop down his back. "The righteous hero surrendering himself to save the citizenry." She leaned in once more. "And I know what happens next. Smile for the cameras, IronMale."

He looked out at the crowd and the bank of cameras. All the eyes on him. He saw dark haired reporter with whom he had often flirted. She was looking at him differently, staring. He felt himself stiffen slightly and tried to fight back against the arousal that was suddenly pushing its way into his head.

"Now, here is what is going to happen," the woman in latex said. "There is helicopter arriving. You are going to walk over to it with me. When we get to it, I am going to lock an iron collar around your neck and you are going to climb in with me. Your new life is about to begin. Do you understand?"

"Yes," he answered uneasily, eager to leave now.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Latexia."

On cue, the helicopter landed. She locked the collar onto his neck and got in. He stood there, collared, dazed, wondering could this have happened? When she sat down inside she yanked the hero in by the chain now attached to his neck. His head jerked, and he slowly climbed in.

As they lifted off, she leaned into him once more and drew her nails across his chest. "I'm curious IronMale, how does it feel to be a slave?"

He stared straight ahead. He had never faced a challenge like this. If she really could read his mind, the things she must know. How can one escape from a prison created by his own fantasies?

TO BE CONTINUED