- Added : March 15, 2021
- Words : 4188
- Views : 1562 views
It was mopping up time. The anthill of villains had been kicked over and Justica had time for a little cool down, stopping bad guys for the police to arrest. The first one never saw her. A simple punch to the jaw knocked him flat. The second pulled up too late. Justica timed her kick to perfection and he flew through the air to land in a crumpled heap. The third tried to run past, but Justica was too swift. She raised her arm into a clothes-line which floored him and it was over.
Moments later she watched from a nearby rooftop as the police arrived. When they found the unconscious perps she heard them say her name, and there was a whisper of thanks. One looked around. The officer’s eyes went to the roof, but if she saw Justica she didn’t tell the others.
This roof had been one of Justica’s favourite spots when she started. High above the worst city streets she could wait and listen. That was when she was just another vigilante, before she was comfortable with her powers. Ever since those first nights of amateur detective work and fist fights with burglars and muggers, she had set herself aside from everyone else. At first it was easy. Beating up bad guys was fun. The next step had been to protect anyone who might get close to her. After that she just had to get used to being alone.
The Baron had changed all of that. A misunderstanding with some police officers had caused them to fight an hour until they realised they were on the same side. Justica learned that The Baron had been helping her city by cutting the local mob’s supply lines, taking out smaller mobs and closing corrupt businesses in nearby cities. Now he had come here to finish the job.
Justica had taken a while to realise it, but just seeing the Baron had woken something inside her. She had been ignoring her loneliness for too long. Her mind was coping, but her body could not. The Baron, a giant with a booming voice straight out of a King Arthur film, was hardly her type, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. There was a good chance that he would move on now. Justica would not let him go without at asking whether what she was feeling could be reciprocated. He had implied as much, hadn’t he?
Perhaps the confusion was due to her suit. Her tight black outfit was designed to enhance her powers, not lead men on, but it did give her an impressive figure. Her smooth black helmet hid her identity, disguised her voice, and gave her senses to match her strength. Right now it showed her a nearby rooftop in pristine detail and, finally, there he was. The Baron.
In a few graceful leaps Justica joined the Baron on the roof of an empty building (its tenants scared off over a year ago by the mob). Justica’s helmet told her the city’s surveillance in the area was inactive, cut off by the mob when they tried to escape. They were alone.
“WE ARE VICTORIOUS,” The Baron boomed from within his steel helmet, “WELL FOUGHT, JUSTICA.”
“Yes, justice is served,” she replied, “We have earned a rest.”
“AYE, THAT WE HAVE,” The Baron said, a little less forcefully, “WHAT WILL YOU DO?”
Justica laughed, “Maybe I’ll have a night off,” she said, “Maybe I just won’t patrol quite so hard.”
The Baron chuckled and turned his head, his eye-slit looking away to the horizon. Justica took a step forward and tried to find the words. The Baron spoke before she could.
“IT WOULD BE A SHAME TO PART SWIFTLY TONIGHT,” he said, “DO YOU… CAN WE SHARE SOME TIME AS… AS PEOPLE BEFORE WE PART?”
The Baron made a sound like an embarrassed laugh as he looked at anything but Justica. she was so shocked she took another pace forward and reached out her hand to him. The Baron finally turned his helmet towards her and touched her gloved fingers with the tips of his gauntlet.
“WE LEAD LONELY LIVES, DO WE NOT,” he said, “IT SEEMS A SHAME NOT TO TAKE AN OPPORTUNITY TO CONNECT.”
“Of course,” Justica said, feeling a little uncertain about The Baron’s roundabout language, “Let’s sit together-”
The Baron barked a laugh, then held up a hand as if to say ‘No offense’.
“I DO NOT SIT,” he said, “AT LEAST, NOT IN THIS.”
He reached up to his gorget, as if he were about to remove his helmet. Justica touched his forearms to stop him. For a moment she did not see his sealed armour. She imagined a man, over two meters tall, with a broad chest and powerful arms, his handsome face looking down at her.
“You shouldn’t… we shouldn’t,” she said, her head swirling with indecision, “I can’t. I can’t join you in revealing who I am.”
The Baron reached down almost tenderly and touched her mask. His metal fingers tapped the side of her visor clumsily.
“AND I WILL NOT ASK YOU TO DO SO,” he said, “BUT I AM HAPPY TO REVEAL MYSELF TO YOU.”
Justica watched as The Baron once again touched his gorget. After a moment his hands went to his side and he went stiff. Justica stepped back, on her guard just in case she had been fooled. The Baron just stood there, making faint clicking sounds. Was this a trick, a robot designed to capture her? Or was The Baron having a seizure?
Suddenly the armour opened. The breastplate swung forward with a hiss of well-oiled metal-on-metal. Justica tensed as something pushed its way out of the armour to land crouched at its feet. The figure, a living person according to Justica’s visor, reached up and touched the armour. As it closed they turned to face the black clad superhero who stood ready to pounce.
A woman, thought Justica. It was a woman! Surprise caused her to freeze, her hands still balled into fists. The Baron is a woman. Something inside Justica felt a surge of relief, followed by an uncomfortable jolt of arousal in the pit of her stomach and her loins. It didn’t help that the woman was just wearing nothing more than a sweat-stained short sleeved tunic and a cloth headband. Both were clearly well worn and the frayed material barely came down to her knees. The woman’s bare limbs were shapely, and tanned like her face.
The woman composed herself and smiled. She was older than Justica, perhaps in her forties with more grey hair than her slightly care-worn face would suggest. She smiled a wide warm smile showing white teeth against her olive skin. Her eyes were kind, wide and dark brown, the smile in them dominating her face even as her mouth shrank down to an amused pout.
“Not what you were expecting?” she asked.
Her voice was completely different to The Baron’s; warm and smooth, with a hint of a Spanish or Portuguese accent. Justica forced her body to relax and lowered her hands. As she moved her suit rubbed against her, as it always did, but now certain areas were more sensitive than others. She shifted uncomfortably. The woman in front of her waited patiently, tilting her head as if she knew what was going on behind Justica’s mask.
“No,” Justica said, “But better, I think.” Much better, she thought.
“Well then,” the lady said, “How much of this can you remove so that I also feel like I am speaking to a real person?”
She waved her hand at Justica’s suit and again tilted her head to one side. Justica thought for a moment, then shrugged. She unclipped her armoured gloves, which went up to the middle of each bicep, and removed them. She took the kit-bag from her back and put the gloves inside then removed her thigh-high boots and stored them away too. Justica saw how pale her skin was compared with this woman’s. Standing a few yards from each other Justica realised that even without her boots on there was also a significant difference in their heights. The woman barely came up to her chin.
She began to reach for her helmet, then thought again.
“Who are you?” she asked. The lady just continued to smile.
“I have had many names over the years,” she said, “And most of them would sound strange to you. My fondest memories are from a time when I was called Rosita.”
“Pleased to meet you, Rosita,” Justica said, still indecisive.
“And who are you young lady?” ‘Rosita’ asked, moving her head as if peeking under Justica’s mask.
Justica took a deep breath and removed her outer helmet, leaving her balaclava-like mask in place. Only her eyes showed, but at least she could speak with her own voice and look at the real Rosita, not the synthetic image her helmet provided.
“I’m… Caitlyn,” she said, “You can call me Caitlyn.”
“That is what I should call you,” Rosita said, “But that is not who you are?”
“No,” ‘Caitlyn’ said, “I’m sorry.”
“It is fine,” Rosita said with a wave of her hand, “Pleased to meet you Caitlyn.”
Rosita extended her hand and Caitlyn took it.
“Come, let us sit together for a while,” she said
Caitlyn nodded and Rosita led her over to a small wall facing the ocean. They say together, hand in hand, as the faintest of glows appeared on the horizon. Rosita looked at Caitlyn’s shrouded profile.
“Dawn will be here soon,” she said, “Are you tired?”
“No,” Caitlyn said, “I don’t get tired.”
“Really?” Rosita gasped, “See, I have found something interesting about you, not the suit you wear. So you don’t sleep?”
“Oh, I sleep,” Caitlyn replied, “But I have to make myself. I get cranky and weird if I don’t. Plus staying awake all the time gets boring.”
“So, how are you this way?” Rosita asked, “Did you change?”
Caitlyn looked at the floor, then the horizon, then her hand. If she didn’t trust Rosita she would have taken her hand away, but there it was, fingers entwined with those of the woman beside her. She felt she could trust her, so she had to get over herself and say it out loud.
“I was a driver,” she began, “For a company that delivered valuable equipment. One day we were transporting just another classified do-dad when a truck t-boned us. It had already bounced off a building and a traffic island, but the angle split our truck apart.
“Anyway,” Caitlyn took a deep breath and continued, “My partner died right there and whatever was in the back went off. I don’t remember a thing, but they told me afterwards it just made my heart go weird for a while. Even so, I got the VIP treatment from the hospital.
“I thought someone had a guilty conscience, but it turned out the geeks who built the device had bribed the hospital and taken over my care. After three weeks I was fine but they were pissed. I guess they weren’t expecting ‘normal’.
“Three weeks later and the leader of the geeks just showed up at my apartment looking high. I let him in, like an idiot, and he started rambling about being chased and that everyone else is dead. He had a gun and I was just about to freak out when there was banging at my door. He gave me a smartphone, said I had to do what it said when it said to do it.”
Caitlyn stopped. She had never told anyone this before. Rosita held her hand and looked at her with concern and care. Their eyes met and Rosita just nodded. Caitlyn carried on.
“The door burst open and the guy pushed me back out of the way. He never got a shot off, they just gunned him down. I’ve never seen anything so horrible so close, and for a moment I thought I would puke, but I was just so angry. I went straight at the guys shooting up my apartment and I didn’t even feel the bullets. I just pushed the nearest one and he went flying into the one behind him. The last one saw me coming and blocked my punch, but that didn’t stop me. I broke his arm and his jaw.
“I left and I hid. The phone did explain everything, including who had killed the geeks. I hunted the killers down, did a little crime fighting, and eventually found this suit, which the bad guys had stolen. I moved into the geeks old hidden lab and here I am. Justica, superhero, vigilante.”
“So you are strong and tough because of an accident,” Rosita said, “And a little kindness.”
“Pretty much,” Caitlyn agreed, “How about you?”
“That armour,” Rosita said, “It belonged to my husband. He created it, or he had it created sometime in the late fourteenth century.”
Caitlyn recoiled, but Rosita held on to her hand as best she could.
“Don’t you dare,” she chided, “You are a superhero. Have a little faith that my story is also true.”
“You’re right,” Caitlyn replied, “Sorry.”
“Very well,” Rosita continued, “I did not marry him until over a century later. He had hidden his longevity and needed a wife to complete his disguise. At fifteen I was his convenient bride, taken from a place in Iberia I have long forgotten to sit in his castle and play the part. He spent all of his time in that, terrorising people and extorting their money and their land. We did not even consummate the marriage for six years, and even then I think he needed a potion to help him. I do not know if the armour gave him a problem or he was homosexual, or whatever.
“A few years later his villainy caught up to him. A group had tracked him down the generations, carefully noting what worked against him and what did not. When they caught him in their trap he realised his only options were death in the armour or escape out of it. He chose the latter, and they killed him slowly. When they came to our castle the servants and guards were so terrified they handed me over to the killers of my husband. I was dressed like this, my feet bare, I didn’t even have my hair tied back, and they spoke to me over the bloody remains of my husband. It was revolting, but they were honest with me. They told me if there was a chance that I bore his child within me I would die. Of course, they wanted to know about the armour, so they were arguing over whether they should threaten my life. I showed them my flat belly, I told them he had not been a dutiful husband, but I could not deny he had been in the castle recently.
“They argued again, and one of them said they should kill me if I could not open the armour. Perhaps, I thought, they might kill me anyway, but it might be quick. I had cried all of my tears and I was resigned to my fate. I copied what I had seen my husband do and the next thing I knew I was in the armour, looking down on panicking people, grabbing weapons and shouting about the trap. I fought only the ones I had to and made my escape. I thought about talking to them, but I decided the best thing to do was hide. Every so often I used the armour to travel a great distance, then I hid, then I travelled again, until I could not live under the stars and eat next to nothing any longer. I used the armour to be a mercenary. As I learned more about it I found it contained documents which lead me to my husband’s hidden wealth. Rich, and without the need to do anything in particular, I have fought for whoever has needed me ever since.”
“The armour keeps you from dying?” asked Caitlyn.
“It heals me, yes,” Rosita replied, “And it means that for me only one or two years touch my skin for every twenty or thirty that pass. I did not realise that it would mean quite such an extraordinarily long life when I decided to keep it.”
“Is it lonely?” Caitlyn asked, “I mean, is it always lonely.”
Rosita took her hand out of Caitlyn’s and put her arm around her. moving close together Caitlyn found her hand on Rosita’s bare thigh. Rosita held it there.
“Not always,” Rosita said, “It depends on whether we choose to take the opportunities that fate provides.”
Caitlyn did not need any further encouragement. She slid her hand up and down and Rosita opened her legs bit by bit as she ran her fingers over Caitlyn’s suit.
“This comes off, does it not?” she said, “I can understand that you wish to keep your face covered, but this is not necessary to hide your identity? Nobody would recognise you from what is under there.”
“No,” Caitlyn replied, “But there’s nothing underneath.”
She didn’t say it in a ‘but then I’d be naked!’ way, and she hoped Rosita took it as a shy invitation rather than a rebuff. Without a word Rosita moved away and twisted so she was sitting astride the wall facing Caitlyn.
“And what do you think I have under here?” she said, “The time I am from we kept things very simple.”
She pulled her tunic up at one side, showing a bare hip. Caitlyn looked at it and felt the little glow inside her grow. This was happening. Finally.
Caitlyn stood up and unclipped her suit at the points where her glutes met her thighs. It hinged at the shoulders and she swung her leg to stand astride the wall so Rosita could help her lift it off and set it aside. Still standing Rosita looked at her with her eyes wide.
“You are beautiful,” she said, making Caitlyn blush under her mask, “But you are so thin. How are you so strong?”
“Super muscles don’t need to be big to be strong,” Caitlyn replied, “And I burn off everything I eat. Everyone I meet thinks I’m sick, but no one asks questions.”
“These have not wasted away,” Rosita said, touching Caitlyn’s small but firm breasts, “But what is this?”
Rosita’s hand moved down and her fingers brushed over the area below Caitlyn’s belly button. A thrill went straight to her loins.
“No hair, my dear,” Rosita continued, “Is that natural, or supernatural?”
Caitlyn shook her head and moved forward so Rosita’s fingers pressed into her.
“No, the suit chafes,” she said, “So I get waxed.”
“They pull the hairs out.”
Rosita’s eyes went wide, but her fingers went south.
“This sounds very cruel for such a lovely place,” she said, the tips of her fingers caressing Caitlyn’s mound, “I don’t think I will try that.”
Rosita took her hands from Caitlyn and crossed them over her body to grip the hem of her tunic on either side. In one motion she removed it, baring all. Her body was not quite petite, but it was compact. Age had left its mark, and her ample breasts were no longer as firm as they might once have been. Caitlyn stared at them with their dark bold nipples. Her eyes went down to look between Rosita’s legs where there was a large tuft of auburn pubic hair. Unlike the hair on her head, it was untouched by grey.
“There,” she said, “Now we are equal. Well, almost.”
She touched Caitlyn’s mask then stretched up so they could kiss lightly through the thin material. In moments her lips were on Caitlyn’s neck and chest and their hands were exploring each other’s body.
“Lie down, my dear,” Rosita said softly, “Let me take care of you.”
Caitlyn did not hesitate. She lay down on the cold roof and Rosita followed her. Another quick kiss with the mask in between them and Rosita moved down her body quickly and expertly. She left a trail of excitement from Caitlyn’s neck to her thighs. Caitlyn expected her to keep going, to prolong the build-up, but Rosita was more direct. Her lips were on Caitlyn’s labia before she knew it and gentle fingers were teasing her slit.
“My dear,” Rosita said, lifting her head to look at Caitlyn, “Your invulnerability is preventing me from helping you.”
To demonstrate, Rosita pushed her fingers hard against the neat slit between Caitlyn’s legs. She could feel she was wet, but where there should have been an opening ready to welcome Rosita’s fingers inside it was tightly shut. Caitlyn relaxed and concentrated until slowly Rosita eased her way into her pussy
“That’s better,” Rosita said, settling down to explore every part of Caitlyn’s sex with her tongue while her fingers probed further inside. She seemed to remember every reaction, because somehow she kept returning to the best places over and over and over again. Caitlyn could feel a wave of pleasure building up inside her. Rosita could obviously feel it too because her fingers slowly slid out of Caitlyn’s vagina and her mouth clamped around her clit. From that point Caitlyn was lost. Her orgasm crashed around her, making her weak and dizzy before Rosita’s swirling tongue brought another.
Moments later, Rosita was lying on top of Caitlyn, kissing her neck and caressing her breasts. Caitlyn stretched like a contented cat and pulled Rosita up for another kiss through her mask.
“I should return the favour,” she said.
“I should like that very much,” Rosita replied, rolling onto her back.
Caitlyn touched her mask, then remembered herself.
“Don’t worry,” Rosita said, pulling her headscarf down to make it a blindfold, “Your secret is safe.”
Caitlyn pulled her mask off and engulfed one of Rosita’s large nipples with her mouth. She lay as softly as she could across the smaller woman, savouring the feeling of flesh on flesh. Once she had sucked Rosita’s nipple so it was hard she copied Rosita’s directness, kissing her way to her hairy mound. At first it put her off, but the moment her chin touched the chill of Rosita’s juices beading on her pubes she had to taste them. Within the nest of hair Caitlyn found Rosita’s lips were large and pinker than her skin. Caitlyn spread them gently to see the reddish-pink of her entrance which she teased with the tip of her tongue.
After one taste Caitlyn’s mouth was everywhere at once, exploring Rosita’s fleshy folders as the older woman panted and moaned. Caitlyn’s strong tongue was able to penetrate her opening and she tasted deep inside Rosita before flicking it in and out. When she stopped and licked upwards to the wrinkled hood at the top of Rosita’s lips. Slowly and gently she pulled it back exposing Rosita’s large clit to her softest kisses and caresses. She was clearly not as gentle as she thought, because amongst her panting Rosita gave a squeak of pain. Caitlyn hesitated, but Rosita held her head in place. Caitlyn continued and moments later Rosita was bucking and moaning as an orgasm surged around her body.
So, I can be a little rough with her, thought Caitlyn. Once Rosita’s breathing slowed she slid her middle finger between her lips and deep into her sex. Caitlyn moved it in and out rapidly before hooking her finger to give Rosita a second orgasm. When she slid it out Rosita reached down and beckoned her upwards. Caitlyn obliged and once again lay on top of Rosita, skin to skin, kissing the blindfolded lady.
“That was even than I hoped,” Rosita said, “How are you feeling, my dear.”
“Amazing,” Caitlyn replied, “I didn’t hurt you did I?”
“Oh, I do not mind a little hurt,” she said, “And an hour in The Baron’s armour cures everything. Now, I would like to do one last thing before the Sun steals our time together. Lie on your back my dear.”
Caitlyn did so and guided Rosita, still blindfolded, to lie on top of her. At first Rosita spent some time licking and sucking Caitlyn’s small pale nipples to attention before adjusting her position until they were pussy to pussy. Rosita’s breasts spilled across Caitlyn’s chest, her hard nipples poking into them. As Rosita scissored Caitlyn she felt wiry pubes mashing against her smooth pussy. Caitlyn relaxed herself once more as Rosita’s lips met hers.
Rosita found a rhythm and slowly increased the tempo until they moaned together. Caitlyn could not tell if they came together or apart, once or many times, but Rosita did not stop until she was spent and the first rays of dawn were touching the top of the armour standing across from them on the roof. They lay together for a moment on the hard asphalt of the roof, their sweaty bodies feeling one another’s heat at the same time as the chill of the morning air. Rosita shivered and Caitlyn held her tightly until she began to pull away.
“I am sorry, dearest,” Rosita said, getting up unsteadily, “Please put on your mask.”
Caitlyn did so and reached over to pull Rosita’s headband from her eyes. Rosita pulled on her simple tunic and embraced the still naked Caitlyn.
“Take care my dear,” she said, “I hope one day my wanderings bring me back here to you.”
“Me too, sweatie,” Caitlyn said, “Me too.”
With that Rosita went back to her armour and The Baron left the rooftop. Caitlyn put on her suit and Caitlyn was no more. Justica resigned herself to her lonely life, until she found another or The Baron returned.