Waylaid, Spiderwoman Closeup

Spiderwoman offered no signs of resistance as she was dragged toward the Stallion's van, its rear door already open.  The screech of her costume's rubbery fabric rubbing against the stones awkwardly punctuated the otherwise quiet morning.


Releasing his grip on her, the Stallion, while still clutching his cattle prod in one hand, opened the other door of his van.   His eyes widened when he saw its interior was empty. 

"Mother of God," he shouted in exasperation.  "Where's my ties?"  He then remembered answering a call from the Kingpin before leaving.   Talking with him, or more accurately stated, listening to him always made his flustered.  In his nervousness he had forgotten to grab his bag of ropes and chains as he went into the garage.  He stared at Spiderwoman, pondering what to do in the absence of any restraints to properly bind his prey.

Spiderwoman lay face-down where the Stallion had dropped her.  He flipped her onto her back with the toe of his boot.   He was surprised at how attractive she was.    He had removed her mask after rendering her unconscious, half-expecting her face to be hideously battle-scarred.  It was anything but that.   His mind turned back to the matter at hand.  Lacking anything to secure his captive with, he decided a few additional shocks would ensure her unconscious cooperation.   He jammed the end of the prod between her breasts.   He squeezed the trigger multiple times.  Spiderwoman quivered and shook spasmodically with each jolt.