IV
"The question Spencer raises is an interesting one," the Magyar said. He
was standing on the back steps of his manor house, and he spoke loudly to his
security staff, who had gathered in the cobbled courtyard between the house and
his seven-car garage.
"Ms. Americana's magic belt restored her to life, but it did not save
her from being recaptured. Why? And why was Mastiff able to knock her
unconscious? It is true she was shot in the back and suffered no major injury,
but in days gone by the belt would have protected her even from the force of
impact. A bullet would never have touched her."
He paused and looked over at Spencer, who sat tied in a chair, with
Corgi guarding him. Spencer wore the resigned expression of a condemned man.
"What do you think, Dr. Spencer? You raised these questions - no doubt
to keep yourself alive a little longer. But they are good questions. You are a
scientist. What's your guess?"
"I don't know," Spencer said glumly.
"Speak up, we can't hear you," the Magyar shouted.
"I don't know," Spencer said, loudly this time. "I don't think it was
because of any defect in the belt. This is only conjecture, but I think
something happened inside Ms. Americana."
"Inside her? Indeed it did," the Magyar roared maniacally. "Deep, deep
inside her. What happened is that Miss American Pie got thoroughly fucked by my
swizzle stick and nearly died with happiness. In fact, she did die. Am I not
correct, Spencer?"
"Yes. She appeared to be clinically dead when she was delivered to the
lab."
"And she was dead when you and Toynbee fucked her, was she not?" yelled
the Magyar. There was scattered laughter in the crowd.
"Yes, sir, she was dead when we . . . ." His voice trailed off.
"When you what?" demanded the Magyar.
"When we fucked her," Spencer screamed. Then he burst into tears.
"Have no fear, Spencer. No will fuck you when you're dead. You have my
word on that." More laughter from the crowd.
"But now, let's get a fresh look at the young lady who has caused us so
much trouble." He gestured, and Mastiff and Wolfhound led MA out the back door
and onto the steps. MA again wore the choke collar - but the belt was gone. So
was her cockiness. Her head was bowed, and her dark hair covered her eyes.
The Magyar grabbed a handful of that hair and yanked it so that the
crowd could see her tear-stained face.
"Still beautiful, isn't she?" he yelled. "And look at these boobs." He
grabbed her breasts with both hands, digging his polished fingernails into her
flesh. She flinched but didn't utter a sound.
"Yes, she is still quite a woman," he said. "What she is not, however,
is a superheroine. Even with her belt, she could not escape us. She has been
broken. I broke her. My magic wand proved more powerful than her magic belt."
He stood in front of her. She looked down, evading his eyes.
"Look at me," he said in a low voice. "Look into my eyes, slut."
She raised her eyes. There was a flash of defiance, but it died in an
instant. She was a defeated woman.
"What must I do with you?" he asked.
She didn't answer. He nodded to Mastiff, who jabbed a wooden dowel into
her rectum. MA jumped and gasped.
"He asked you a question, slut," hissed Mastiff.
"I'm sorry," MA sobbed. "I didn't hear it."
The Magyar repeated slowly, "What must I do with you?"
Mastiff slid the dowel back and forth across MA's behind, ready to goose
her again.
"Let me go - please," MA said in a small, desperate voice. "You've
already destroyed me. Please, spare my life."
The Magyar smiled, turned to his "associates" and spread his arms, as if
offering a blessing.
"She says she wants to live," he cried out. "She says I shouldn't snuff
her. What do you say, sisters and brothers?"
"Kill her," they roared in unison.
The Magyar stepped aside, giving the crowd a full view of MA. At that
instant, Mastiff again jammed the dowel deep into her ass. MA rose on her toes,
her face twisted in pain.
Whatever else it might be, this death would not be dignified.
