I have never wanted to be gagged more.  

And I’ve wanted to be gagged a lot.  It’s kind of my whole deal.

Anything to shut this chick up and end this dumb argument.

“So you deliberately came along with me, putting me in danger, when you don’t even want to help people?”

I sighed.  Duh.

“What about you?”

“What about me?” she asked, all incredulous all of the sudden.

“Are you so different from me?  You have no powers, no special suit or armor or weapons.  You run around in a costume that’s as revealing as mine, only black leather and fishnets instead of white latex, and you carry around your own handcuffs!  If that’s not begging to get tied up and put in peril, I don’t know what is.”  I felt pretty smug about myself, and the shocked look on her face was all I needed to see.

“I am not!  I’m actually trying to help people!”

“Please.  The only difference between you and me is I’m honest with myself.  We’re both out here because we love the thrill of it, the peril, the knockouts, the tie ups.”

“Well, maybe I enjoy the adrenaline rush a little but that’s not the reason I’m out here.”

I rolled my eyes, and started yelling.  “Hey!  Hello?  Bad guys?!”

“What are you doing?” she hissed.

“Trying to shut you up.  HEY!  WE’RE MAKING A LOT OF NOISE UP HERE, YOU BETTER COME GAG US!!!”

“Stop that!”

“No.”  I stuck my tongue out at her.  Childish and immature, I deserve to be gagged every bit as much as Fightgirl.

One of the big goons that had tied us up came back into the room they’d left us in.  His face was pretty plain and his nose was crooked, but he was built like a linebacker, and when they’d tied us to chairs, he’d pulled the ropes the tightest, so he was my favorite of my current captors.  “What the hell is going on in here?”

“We’re making too much noise,” I replied.  “Are you going to do something about that?”

“Do you sluts need something to occupy your mouths?”

My goal had been just to get us gagged, but I liked where he was going with this.

“Why, do you have something big and hard to stuff our mouths with?” I asked.

“Oh, I doubt it,” Fightgirl said.  My head swiveled back to her.  “But I’ve been wrong before.”  Her tone was sultry, seductive, and it was working.  She was getting into it.  “Why don’t you gag her and then you can have some fun with me?”  She winked at me.  She fucking winked at me.  Bitch.

“Waimph!” I started to protest, cut off as he clamped a hand over my mouth.  Fightgirl smirked at me while he grabbed a dirty shop rag off the floor and stuffed it in my mouth.  I protested my gagging as he tied another length of rope several times between my teeth, shutting me up.  I could only watch as he untied the duplicitous Fightgirl from her chair and pushed her to her knees.  She looked up at him, ignoring me as I shook my head and screamed into my gag.

“You gonna be a good little slut?” he asked her.

“Uh-huh,” she said, licking her lips before opening her mouth.  He grabbed her by her hair as he unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock, already hard.  Idiot.  I guess I couldn’t really blame him.  If Fightgirl’s and my positions were switched, I would have happily deep throated the dumb bastard, enjoying every second of it while he pulled my hair and controlled me.  But he’d picked the wrong heroine.

I had to turn away.  You could beat me bloody, and I wouldn’t bat an eye, but judging from his scream, she’d done some real damage, and I just couldn’t look.  He’d had a good dick, too.  A real shame.

I opened my eyes and looked over as I heard a heavy thud.  He was lying on the floor, curled upon a ball, clutching his manhood, screaming.  Fightgirl was sitting on the floor, working on getting her cuffed wrists under her butt and around her legs.  She moved quickly, pausing only to bring her bare feet down on his head, knocking him out.

She hopped nimbly to her feet, still ignoring me as she crept to the door, opening it slightly and peering outside, checking to see if anyone else was coming.  Evidently not, as she eased the door closed again, and she fished a key hidden in the waistband of her shorts out and began unlocking her cuffs.  

After she’d uncuffed herself and untied her legs, she finally turned her attention to me.  “If I take your gag out and untie you, are you going to do anything stupid?” she asked me.  I resented her condescending tone, but I nodded.  Hell, I was the one who’d gotten the guy up here and given her the opportunity to escape, even if it hadn’t been my intention.  Give me some credit.

“Look, I’m going to give you some time to get out of here.”  She, of course, saved my gag for last as she untied me.

“Hnnf.”

“You just stay out of my way while I take these guys down.”

She finished untying me, and I removed my gag.  With my mouth free, I searched for a response.  Yes, I’d gotten us both captured, and it was mere happenstance that we’d run into each other at all.  I guess she was actually trying to stop Berretti, but he’d popped up on my psycho villain radar too, and I was going to have my fun, or let Berretti and his men have their fun with me.  I’d hit a bit of a dry spell in terms of peril lately, nearly getting myself arrested by some straight-laced cops that would have been no fun whatsoever.  I needed this.

“Hey.”  She snapped her fingers, drawing back my attention.  I hadn’t even realized I’d spaced out.  “You hear me?”

I hadn’t, but I did have an idea.  “No, sorry.”  Her handcuffs where back in their place on her belt.

“Just wait a few minutes, and once I’m clear you can-” I nodded like I was paying attention, slowly sidling closer to her until I could reach out and grab her cuffs.  “What the hell are you doing?”  She tried to grab them back from me.  She might carry her own cuffs around with her, but I know my way around handcuffs.  Not how to slip out of them or pick locks (where’s the fun in that?), but I know how to get them on.  I snapped one bracelet around her wrist and the other around mine in about a second, and she just looked at it, stunned.

“There we go,” I said, feeling a grin spread across my face.  I had no idea what my plan was after that, and admittedly I was unprepared for her pulling out her key again, even though I’d like just seen her use it.  I acted on impulse, snatching it out of her hand, putting it into my mouth and swallowing it.

“You crazy bitch!”

I couldn’t refute that.

“Sorry, but I was here first, and if-”

She tackled me, pinning me to the ground, and suddenly her fingers were in my mouth.  I could feel her fingerless gloves on my lips as she pushed her fingers deeper into my mouth.  She was trying to make me throw up.

It occurred to me that if I’d known she was going to go in after it, I should have hidden the key somewhere more fun for her to go exploring.  Now wasn’t the time for that though, and I tried to bite her to get her to stop.  Her hand was too deep in my mouth, and she just rotated her fist, jacking my jaw open.  With my free hand, I found her top and yanked it down.  I grabbed one of her nipples and twisted, hard.

“Augh!  Shit!” she cursed.  I tried to bite her again and pinched harder, holding her wrist cuffed to mine away from us.  She pulled her hand from my mouth and slapped my hand abusing her nipple away.  I tried to roll out from under her while I coughed.

We lay there, side by side, her attending to her nipple, me trying to recover from practically getting fisted in my mouth.

“What… the hell… is wrong with you!?” she asked.

“Honestly?  I have no idea.”  I considered, not for the first time, what it might be like to be institutionalized.  Locked up in a mental institution, kept in a straitjacket and drugged up, taken advantage of by pervy orderlies, twisted doctors conducting sexual experiments on my helpless body…

She was talking again, drawing me out of my fantasy.  “You need help.”

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing.  But right now,” I held up our cuffed wrists, “we have no choice but to help each other.”

“Thanks to you.”

I ignored her sarcasm.  “You’re welcome.  Now we both want Berretti.  There’s no reason we can’t team up.”

“There are dozens of reasons.”

I rattled our shared handcuff.  She glared at me.  I decided to try something, while I had nothing to lose.

“Look, maybe we’re not so different.  We’re both out here in skimpy outfits.  I’m assuming you don’t have any super powers, or you would have used them already.”

“No, I don’t.  But I do know Krav Maga and Hoda Korosu.”

“I have no clue what that is, but if we’re comparing notes, I know the Kama Sutra front to back.”

“That is… not the same thing at all.”

“Whatever, we all have our skills.  Point is, you and I are both out here, in skimpy outfits, fighting crime-”

“Are you actually fighting crime though?”

I returned her glare from earlier.  “Yes, we’re different too, but you can’t tell me you don’t enjoy the peril.  Getting caught, captured, tied up, used, abused.”

Her gaze narrowed, but she didn’t refute the accusation.

“I know that’s why I’m out here, but if I can also actually fight crime, there’s no reason you can’t enjoy getting put through the wringer sometimes.”

She pursed her lips, still refusing to acknowledge I was right, even though I knew I was.

“Admit you like it, or I’m going to be a bitch to work with,” I finally said.  Subtlety was getting me nowhere.

“Fine,” she said, still glaring angrily at me.

“Fine, what?” I asked, enjoying having the upper hand, the upper hand that was cuffed to her own.

“Fine, I… I enjoy getting captured.”  There was a nugget of truth in her voice.

“And why is that?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

I considered it for a brief moment, but while I didn’t know what all those things she said were, I assumed they were some form of martial arts, and I know she could kick my ass, even cuffed together like this.  I could just see her trying to make me puke up the key again, and no amount of nipple pinching would save me this time.

“Fine.  I’ll help you.  We’ll take down Berretti together.”  I help up our cuffed wrists again.  “Literally.”  I smiled.

She tried to keep her serious expressions, but I could see the smile breaking through at the corners of her mouth in spite of herself.

She led the way, and I quickly saw why.  Even with me handcuffed to her right arm, anchoring her down and holding her back, she jumped on the first guy we came across, wrapping her powerful thighs around his neck and throwing him to the ground, and dragging me along after her.  The noise of her taking him down quickly drew the others, four more big hulking specimens of men.  She was good, but I was pretty confident our brief team up was going to be very short lived.  Otherwise, I might have tried hampering her efforts, but I figured it couldn’t hurt if these guys were a little upset with me.

Or it could hurt, and that was good too.

“Watch our left,” she said.  Considering I was cuffed to her left wrist, that was pretty obvious, and I resisted the petty urge to try and switch sides with her as the guys spread out around us.

“You sluts should’ve stayed put,” one of them said.

“You should have tied us up better,” I retorted.  I meant it.

“Now,” Fightgirl said, as if I should know what that meant.  She sprung to the right, jerking me along with her.  I stumbled after her, trying to keep up as my wrist was yanked forward after her, and she suddenly stopped and ducked, using my momentum to basically slingshot me over her.  We hit the first guy, her barreling into his legs as he tried to catch me.  He went down hard, and I landed on top of him, looking down at him.  Normally I prefer to be the one pinned down, but I didn’t have long to reflect on it as she was pulling me along after her again.

I wasn’t actively trying to hinder her, but I think that’s mostly what I was doing.  I guess I was actively trying to hamper her when I cuffed our wrists together, but she was still surprisingly effective in spite of me, even using me like an improvised weapon, swinging me around while I stumbled to keep up, getting me to block for her and slamming me into the guys like a petite human wrecking ball.

I rubbed my now very sore wrist as she finally let me stop.  I was bleeding a bit and already sporting a deep purple bruise from the cuff, but I’ve done worse to myself in self-bondage adventures.  The four guys were laid out, Fightgirl kneeling on the throat of one of them, cutting off his air.  He finally stopped trying to throw her off, and she stood up, rubbing her own wrist.

“Nice job,” she said.  It sounded like she was genuinely praising me.

“Yeah…” I tried to hide the disappointment in my voice.  I don’t think I succeeded, but she didn’t seem to care.

“Come on.”  She tugged on our connected wrists to signal me to follow.  She padded softly on her bare feet down the hall, and I treaded after her, enjoying watching her well toned legs in her fishnet stockings.  Sadly, I don’t think they’d go well with my white latex bikini, which was unfortunate, because they looked great.

A door on our right suddenly slammed open, smashing into her and throwing her to the ground.  I was pulled after her, my arm cuffed to hers crossing in front of me, and I ended up with my back to the door as two more guys busted out of the room.  One grabbed me from behind while the other pounced on Fightgirl before she could recover.

She was hauled to her feet, still looking kind of dazed, and the goon wrapped one big arm around her body, his other hand clamping over her mouth as she started to protest.  I was treated to a similar hold as ‘Big’ Joe Berretti walked out of the door.

I really hoped that the ‘Big’ part of his nickname wasn’t ironic because of how short he was, and actually because he was hung like a bear.  Otherwise, I just hate mobster naming conventions.  I looked to his crotch, but under his perfectly cut and tailored suit, I couldn’t really tell.

“Well well well.  Fightgirl and Tribute.”  I smiled a bit behind the big paw clamped over my mouth.  No one ever knows who I am.  I suppose I usually make a point to get captured and gagged before I can really announce who I am, so that’s kind of on me…

“I don’t appreciate meddling wannabe heroines poking around in my affairs.”

“Hmmmg mmmph!” Fightgirl protested.

“I think it’s time our ‘heroines’ took a little nap.  They’ve had a long day.”

My heart fluttered in excitement.

The goon holding me adjusted his grip as he reached into his pocket.  I felt Fightgirl jerking on my wrist as she struggled next to me, but I just stared down, watching in anticipation as he pulled out a white cloth and a small brown bottle.

Fucking finally.

I don’t even know how long I’ve been doing this, but I’ve been knocked out by being hit in the head, choked out, tasered far, far too many times, but I’ve never actually gotten chloroformed.  Despite its prevalence in the super heroine peril smut I consume, bad guys seem to never actually carry chloroform in reality.

Until now, finally.

Fightgirl continued to fight and struggle next to me.  Don’t you dare screw this up for me.

I’d do my fair share of struggling, that’s what’s expected of you, but I’d wait until he got that cloth over my face.  I’d never forgive myself if I made him drop and break that precious bottle of sweet knock out juice.

I fought to keep still as Fightgirl kept yanking on my wrist.

“Looks like Fightgirl wants to fight,” the guy holding Fightgirl said.

“And Tribute wants to, uh…”  There’s my big, dumb goon.  Just pour the chloroform on the cloth, and put it over my mouth and nose…

Fightgirl stomped on her henchman’s foot, and she was able to break free of his grip.  She dove forward, yanking me along with her.  The guy holding me was only barely doing so as he tried to dose the rag with chloroform, and I was pulled free.  

It felt like slow motion as I watched the brown bottle slip from his hands.  Clear liquid splashed out the open top as it tumbled through the air.  I lunged for it, trying to catch it, but just as the tips of my fingers touched the smooth glass, I was again yanked backwards as Fightgirl kept moving.  I could only watch, helplessly as the bottle hit the floor and shattered.

“Noooooo!”

Blind, frustrated rage overcame me.  I lunged forward, leading with my free hand, balled into a fist.

Truth was, I was going for Fightgirl.  It was her fault.  It was all her fault.  I just wanted to get tied up and abused by some bad guys who thought I was a super heroine, but no, she had to ruin everything.

The goon must’ve grabbed Fightgirl’s legs and pulled her down, and instead of hitting her I sailed past her and struck Berretti in the face.

I’ve never actually thrown a punch before.  I’ve struggled before as I’ve been captured, but it’s all be for show, but this was the first time I’d legitimately struck someone.

It hurt.

Before I could even start to hope that it hurt him as much as it hurt me, and that might be cause for retaliation, ‘Big’ Joe Berretti collapsed backwards, unconscious.  

I’d knocked out a mob boss.

My wrist was snapping back and forth behind me as Fightgirl wrestled with the two goons, but I couldn’t take my eyes of Berretti.

What a disappointment.

This whole day.

Things finally went still and quiet behind me, and the tension on my wrist abated.  Fightgirl got up next to me, staring down at Berretti.  “You took him down.”  She sounded a mix of surprised and impressed.

I sighed.

“Great job.”

I just nodded.  

Fightgirl knelt over Berretti, checking him.  I secretly hoped for him to be faking it, for him to spring up suddenly and grab her, but no such luck.  

She pulled a pen out of his pocket and started to take it apart.  “I’m going to pick the cuffs now.  You’re not going to try and swallow these too, are you?”

“No.”  I held out my arm, giving her more slack to work with as she picked her cuff first.  I watched, unable to keep from thinking that was a pretty useless skill.  She was able to pick a lock with a broken pen, and I was going to have to pass a handcuff key later.

With a click, the cuff sprang open, and she freed her wrist.  I offered up my steel bracelet next.  She moved in a blur of motion suddenly, twisting my arm behind my back.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“You helped me out,” she said as she wrangled my other arm behind my back.  I felt the cool steel wrap around my other wrist, and it made the signature ratcheting sound as she closed the cuff, locking my arms behind my back.  “Now I’m repaying the favor.”

She let me go, and I tested the cuffs, pulling on them.  She knelt down with her back to me.  I couldn’t figure out what she was doing, but I felt a shiver of excitement.

She stood back up, turning to me slowly.  She held a familiar white cloth in her hand, and she was picking pieces of broken brown glass off the noticeably wet surface.

Speaking of noticeably wet, I was very excited.  I knew the heroine wouldn’t do all the things I had hoped Berretti and his men would do to me, be it because of moral standards or anatomical limitations, but she was going to pop my chloroform cherry, and that was enough.

I struggled playfully against the cuffs again, backing away slowly.  “What are you going to do to me?”

“Well I can’t have you getting in my way again.  You helped me take down Berretti, but I can’t trust that you won’t do something stupid again, so you need to be knocked out and tied up out of the way.”  She lunged forward, grabbing me and spinning me around, holding me tightly against her.

“Do it.  Knock me out.  Chloroform me!”

“Hopefully there was enough left,” she said as she clamped the pad over my mouth and nose.

I moaned loudly, feeling the cool, wet fabric over my lips.  I took a big breath in, immediately feeling light headed.  I had to remind myself to slow down, savor it, but she was whispering in my ear, low, seductive.  “That’s it, Tribute, breathe it in.”

I listened, my desire to prolong the experience overridden by my need to obey.

“That’s right,” she purred as I took deep breaths through my mouth and nose, smelling and tasting the faintly sweet chloroform.  My eyelids got heavy.  With only a pair of handcuffs restraining me, I’d never felt so truly helpless as I did in that moment.

The room swirled as my vision got blurry, and my eyes stayed closed longer and longer between blinks.  Fightgirl was still talking, but her words were fuzzy, a sensual drone in my ear telling me to succumb to the soporific fumes.

My final conscious thought before sleep claimed me was that this turned into a pretty good team up.