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Scenes from #1 - "The Ecstasy Connection"

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  • jreynolds88
    I m sure that most of the readers of this group have seen at least one of these novels, but you may not have seen them all. Some day Google will scan them
    Message 1 of 12 , Jan 3, 2011
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      I'm sure that most of the readers of this group have seen at least one of these novels, but you may not have seen them all.  Some day Google will scan them all, but for now they're only available in ancient paperbacks.  So I'd like to start putting up good bits from them, starting with the first novel in the series.  I'll continue as long as there's encouragement!  

      So to start off, here's the back cover blurb:

      The Baroness packs in her sleek, voluptuous body the lethal power of a tigress.  To the world, she's known as Baroness Penelope St. John-Orsini, model, millionairess, and international playgirl.  But to a crack team of superspies, she's "the chief" - the deadliest of them all.  She knows how to make it hot for a man - in bed or in action!

      And the excerpt inside the front cover:

      Gradually, Penelope realized where she was.  She was in the domed chamber with the giant transparent brain.  Her voluptuous body was spread out naked on a table, her arms and legs strapped down, her head fitted with some sort of metal bowl.

      "Ah, Baroness," came an ominous voice, "you're an extraordinary woman.  You have a fantastic capacity to feel sensory impressions.  It's a pleasure to play upon you."
       
      "Are you through?" she taunted.

      "Why, no, Baroness.  We're just coming to the best part.  Now I'm going to stimulate the sexual pleasure center of your beautiful brain."

      There was a humming sound.  Bright lines of colored light began to writhe through the giant brain.

      Penelope felt a tingling sensation all over her skin, then flashes of heat.  Then the room grew dim as wave after wave of ecstasy welled up from the very depths of her being...

      Sadly, this scene doesn't exactly exist in the book, in the manner of trailers everywhere.  Here's the first we see of our heroine:

      The Baroness was a startling beauty, with huge luminous green eyes and the spectacular cheekbones made famous by the pictures in Vogue and Elle and Claudia and Harper's Bazaar.  Her mouth was wide, generous, showing a flash of strong white teeth when she smiled.  Her hair was a dramatic swirl of rich glossy black, that swept past her cheek and bounced springingly at shoulder level.

      Her splendid body, long-legged, willowy, and supple as a cat, was dressed for the party in a black, scoop-necked nylon evening gown by de la Renta; it bared her back down to the sacrum, and was cut so low in front that her breasts showed twin blushes of pink at the borderline.

      And here's the first view of her in motion:

      Without any apparent preliminary bunching of her calf muscles, she jumped four feet straight into the air, doing a simultaneous back-flip.  Her feet shot out, and caught him full in the chest.  One hand hit the floor to support her weight.  The other caught the hem of his jeans at one ankle and tugged sharply toward her.

      The big man flew backward, off balance, and landed in a chair.  It splintered under his weight and he smashed to the floor.

      Penelope completed her cartwheel and landed in a standing position, the robe flapping open.  She fastened it and watched Skytop struggle to his feet, a rueful expression on his face.

      "Beautiful!" he said admiringly.  "That was a new one!  I never saw it coming"!

      I'll add more as time and interest permits.




    • haldeman2068
      By all means jreynolds please continue with the excerpts from the Baroness novels. While I m not certain when someday will come for Google to scan all 8 books
      Message 2 of 12 , Jan 5, 2011
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        By all means jreynolds please continue with the excerpts
        from the Baroness novels. While I'm not certain when someday
        will come for Google to scan all 8 books it is worthwhile to
        give everyone here a few scenes/excerpts from each novel. You
        have my encouragement and interest as I'm sure many here will
        give you the same encouragement. I(as well as everyone else)
        look forward to many posts from each novel continuing as you will
        with The Ecstasy Connection.


        --- In TheBaroness@yahoogroups.com, "jreynolds88" <jreynolds88@...> wrote:
        >
        > I'm sure that most of the readers of this group have seen at least one
        > of these novels, but you may not have seen them all. Some day Google
        > will scan them all, but for now they're only available in ancient
        > paperbacks. So I'd like to start putting up good bits from them,
        > starting with the first novel in the series. I'll continue as long as
        > there's encouragement!
        >
        > So to start off, here's the back cover blurb:
        >
        > The Baroness packs in her sleek, voluptuous body the lethal power of a
        > tigress. To the world, she's known as Baroness Penelope St.
        > John-Orsini, model, millionairess, and international playgirl. But to a
        > crack team of superspies, she's "the chief" - the deadliest of them all.
        > She knows how to make it hot for a man - in bed or in action!
        >
        > And the excerpt inside the front cover:
        >
        > Gradually, Penelope realized where she was. She was in the domed
        > chamber with the giant transparent brain. Her voluptuous body was
        > spread out naked on a table, her arms and legs strapped down, her head
        > fitted with some sort of metal bowl.
        >
        > "Ah, Baroness," came an ominous voice, "you're an extraordinary woman.
        > You have a fantastic capacity to feel sensory impressions. It's a
        > pleasure to play upon you."
        >
        > "Are you through?" she taunted.
        >
        > "Why, no, Baroness. We're just coming to the best part. Now I'm going
        > to stimulate the sexual pleasure center of your beautiful brain."
        >
        > There was a humming sound. Bright lines of colored light began to
        > writhe through the giant brain.
        >
        > Penelope felt a tingling sensation all over her skin, then flashes of
        > heat. Then the room grew dim as wave after wave of ecstasy welled up
        > from the very depths of her being...
        >
        > Sadly, this scene doesn't exactly exist in the book, in the manner of
        > trailers everywhere. Here's the first we see of our heroine:
        >
        > The Baroness was a startling beauty, with huge luminous green eyes and
        > the spectacular cheekbones made famous by the pictures in Vogue and Elle
        > and Claudia and Harper's Bazaar. Her mouth was wide, generous, showing
        > a flash of strong white teeth when she smiled. Her hair was a dramatic
        > swirl of rich glossy black, that swept past her cheek and bounced
        > springingly at shoulder level.
        >
        > Her splendid body, long-legged, willowy, and supple as a cat, was
        > dressed for the party in a black, scoop-necked nylon evening gown by de
        > la Renta; it bared her back down to the sacrum, and was cut so low in
        > front that her breasts showed twin blushes of pink at the borderline.
        >
        > And here's the first view of her in motion:
        >
        > Without any apparent preliminary bunching of her calf muscles, she
        > jumped four feet straight into the air, doing a simultaneous back-flip.
        > Her feet shot out, and caught him full in the chest. One hand hit the
        > floor to support her weight. The other caught the hem of his jeans at
        > one ankle and tugged sharply toward her.
        >
        > The big man flew backward, off balance, and landed in a chair. It
        > splintered under his weight and he smashed to the floor.
        >
        > Penelope completed her cartwheel and landed in a standing position, the
        > robe flapping open. She fastened it and watched Skytop struggle to his
        > feet, a rueful expression on his face.
        >
        > "Beautiful!" he said admiringly. "That was a new one! I never saw it
        > coming"!
        >
        > I'll add more as time and interest permits.
        >
      • ppsantos
        I can t help but feel excited reading the excerpt. I ve been trying to forget all I ve read about the Baroness so that I can have the same thrill I had the
        Message 3 of 12 , Jan 6, 2011
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          I can't help but feel excited reading the excerpt. I've been trying to forget all I've read about the Baroness so that I can have the same thrill I had the first time I read the novels when I reread the novels all over again. If only the unpublished Baroness 9 & 10 would surface...

          For sure, the Baroness novels got the formula right!

          --- In TheBaroness@yahoogroups.com, "haldeman2068" <haldeman2068@...> wrote:
          >
          >
          >
          > By all means jreynolds please continue with the excerpts
          > from the Baroness novels. While I'm not certain when someday
          > will come for Google to scan all 8 books it is worthwhile to
          > give everyone here a few scenes/excerpts from each novel. You
          > have my encouragement and interest as I'm sure many here will
          > give you the same encouragement. I(as well as everyone else)
          > look forward to many posts from each novel continuing as you will
          > with The Ecstasy Connection.
          >
          >
          > --- In TheBaroness@yahoogroups.com, "jreynolds88" <jreynolds88@> wrote:
          > >
          > > I'm sure that most of the readers of this group have seen at least one
          > > of these novels, but you may not have seen them all. Some day Google
          > > will scan them all, but for now they're only available in ancient
          > > paperbacks. So I'd like to start putting up good bits from them,
          > > starting with the first novel in the series. I'll continue as long as
          > > there's encouragement!
          > >
          > > So to start off, here's the back cover blurb:
          > >
          > > The Baroness packs in her sleek, voluptuous body the lethal power of a
          > > tigress. To the world, she's known as Baroness Penelope St.
          > > John-Orsini, model, millionairess, and international playgirl. But to a
          > > crack team of superspies, she's "the chief" - the deadliest of them all.
          > > She knows how to make it hot for a man - in bed or in action!
          > >
          > > And the excerpt inside the front cover:
          > >
          > > Gradually, Penelope realized where she was. She was in the domed
          > > chamber with the giant transparent brain. Her voluptuous body was
          > > spread out naked on a table, her arms and legs strapped down, her head
          > > fitted with some sort of metal bowl.
          > >
          > > "Ah, Baroness," came an ominous voice, "you're an extraordinary woman.
          > > You have a fantastic capacity to feel sensory impressions. It's a
          > > pleasure to play upon you."
          > >
          > > "Are you through?" she taunted.
          > >
          > > "Why, no, Baroness. We're just coming to the best part. Now I'm going
          > > to stimulate the sexual pleasure center of your beautiful brain."
          > >
          > > There was a humming sound. Bright lines of colored light began to
          > > writhe through the giant brain.
          > >
          > > Penelope felt a tingling sensation all over her skin, then flashes of
          > > heat. Then the room grew dim as wave after wave of ecstasy welled up
          > > from the very depths of her being...
          > >
          > > Sadly, this scene doesn't exactly exist in the book, in the manner of
          > > trailers everywhere. Here's the first we see of our heroine:
          > >
          > > The Baroness was a startling beauty, with huge luminous green eyes and
          > > the spectacular cheekbones made famous by the pictures in Vogue and Elle
          > > and Claudia and Harper's Bazaar. Her mouth was wide, generous, showing
          > > a flash of strong white teeth when she smiled. Her hair was a dramatic
          > > swirl of rich glossy black, that swept past her cheek and bounced
          > > springingly at shoulder level.
          > >
          > > Her splendid body, long-legged, willowy, and supple as a cat, was
          > > dressed for the party in a black, scoop-necked nylon evening gown by de
          > > la Renta; it bared her back down to the sacrum, and was cut so low in
          > > front that her breasts showed twin blushes of pink at the borderline.
          > >
          > > And here's the first view of her in motion:
          > >
          > > Without any apparent preliminary bunching of her calf muscles, she
          > > jumped four feet straight into the air, doing a simultaneous back-flip.
          > > Her feet shot out, and caught him full in the chest. One hand hit the
          > > floor to support her weight. The other caught the hem of his jeans at
          > > one ankle and tugged sharply toward her.
          > >
          > > The big man flew backward, off balance, and landed in a chair. It
          > > splintered under his weight and he smashed to the floor.
          > >
          > > Penelope completed her cartwheel and landed in a standing position, the
          > > robe flapping open. She fastened it and watched Skytop struggle to his
          > > feet, a rueful expression on his face.
          > >
          > > "Beautiful!" he said admiringly. "That was a new one! I never saw it
          > > coming"!
          > >
          > > I'll add more as time and interest permits.
          > >
          >
        • jreynolds88
          So Penelope is on the trail of a new drug making its way through New York, Ecstasy, or the Big E. This was written before MDMA came to known by that name.
          Message 4 of 12 , Jan 6, 2011
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            So Penelope is on the trail of a new drug making its way through New York, Ecstasy, or the Big E.  This was written before MDMA came to known by that name.  She's hooked up with a bunch of hippies who take her to a party in a loft in Soho where E pushers are supposed to be.   She's weaponless except for a poison needle in her cigarette holder.  The party is half zonked-out druggies, and half Mafiosi in pin-striped suits.  It's a trap!  They're going to kill everyone in the city who knew anything about E.   Penelope quickly strips naked and takes cover in a mass orgy that's going on in the center of the loft.  She shields herself amongst the bodies when the hoods open fire, then  prepares to go into acrobatic killing machine mode:

            Penelope began to hyperventilate, forcing oxygen into her bloodstream.  Deliberately she concentrated on every muscle and tendon of her body in turn, applying to each the strength-amplifying prana of the Kung-Fu exercises.  She had no intention of ending up in the packing cases.

            She opened her eyes and stared without blinking.  The Kung-Fu prana would let her keep it up for at least four minutes.  She stopped breathing.

            "Hey, this one's still alive," a voice said in her ear.  The pile of bodies shifted.  Nina's voice said, "What kind of a bum trip is this?" and a gun went off deafeningly.

            There was a shadow at the periphery of her vision.  "They, here's the broad who gave me the lip," a voice said.  It was Vic.  "Will ya look at them tits!"

            "Ah, she's dead," another voice said.

            "I don't care.  I'm going to put a bullet in the left one, then the right one.  Right through the old nipple.  Watch this."

            He leaned over her.  She could feel the cold muzzle of an automatic poking at her breast.  He was straddling her.  His thighs shielded her right hand.  She pointed the cigarette lighter like a finger, one end braced against the heel of her hand.  She squeezed.

            There was a sharp phhhht.   Vic's hand clawed in agony at his crotch.  The other hand, holding the gun, jerked upward in an involuntary spasm and emptied the whole magazine through the skylight above.   Vic gave a bloodcurdling scream and dropped twitching to the floor.

            The black-widow venom must have stung like a thousand bees in the three-fifths of a second it took him to die.

            Penelope was on her feet before the rest of the second was out.  The mobsters were staring open-mouthed at Vic, tyring to figure out what had happened.  Only one of them had wits enough to swing his gun in her direction.  Fortunately, he was within arm's length.

            In a continuation of the same smooth surge that had brought her to her feet, Penelope swung with the stiff outer edge of her left hand and drove the splintered bones of the bridge of his nose into his brain.  He died in a cloud of pink foam.

            Another was beginning to raise his gun.  In Penelope's right fist, the expended cigarette holder became a yawara stick, the ancient weapon of fighting Buddhist priests.  It hit him under the chin, snapping his head back and breaking his neck.

            So far, the Baroness had been in action only three seconds.  The other gangsters were still paralyzed by the sight of the naked woman, covered with blood, hair flying and breasts quivering, moving like a streak of lightning among them.

            Their hesitation let her reach the Don, Anthony Cremona.  He flung up a thick forearm to block the blow that seemed to be aimed at his face.  But it was his wrist Penelope was after.  She got it with his unwitting cooperation and carried it around behind his back in the same lunge that put her in back of him.  Her other hand balled into a bone-hard fist and punched him in the upper arm, paralyzing the nerve center there.  His arm dropped, useless as an empty sleeve.

            She pressed the cigarette holder into his eyeball.  He moaned with fear.

            "You've seen what this can do, Don Anthony," she hissed in his ear.  "Now do exactly as I say, or you'll get a poison needle right through the eye."

            He nodded eagerly.  He didn't know the black holder was empty.

            The mobsters shuffled about uncertainly.  A woman was by definition an inferior being, in the society.  To see one manhandling their Don was an impossibility.  Their minds were slow to comprehend it.

            "Tell them to move back," Penelope said.  She poked his eyeball for emphasis.

            "Back, back, get back!" he said, sweating.

            They moved away a few steps.  The Don had given them orders.  This was something they could grasp.  The Don would have things under control shortly.

            "Walk!" Penelope said.

            She pulled him along backward, keeping his massive bulk between her and the ten guns.  He balked.  She kneed him, expertly, in the testicles.  He made a retching sound, then staggered backward with her.

            She made it to the door before they were able to recover their wits.  On the landing she swung Cremona around.  Two bulky men in coveralls that read "Cremona Family Movers" were coming up the stairs.

            The gunmen inside would be coming after her within seconds.  The only way was up. 

            She planted a bare foot on the small of Cremona's back and pushed with all her strength.  He shot forward and tumbled down the stairs like a bocci ball.  The moving men went down like tenpins.

            She didn't wait to see.  She sprinted up the stairs toward the roof exit.  It was barred.

            A face poked out of the loft room.  It looked downstairs where all the commotion was.  Penelope tugged at the bar.  It wouldn't give.

            The man on the landing below chose that moment to look up.  "The bitch is up here!" he yelled, raising his gun.  Penelope fell backward.  A .45 slug ripped through the door where her head had been.  Her legs kicked up at the bar, catching it with two hard heels.

            It was a double karate kick, powerful enough to break bricks.  The bar across the door was only wood.  It splintered and the door flew open.  Penelope did a reverse flip and plunged through the exit before the hood  below was able to snap off a second shot.

            Four kills in ten seconds while in her birthday suit!  Plus Kenyon drops in some exotic martial arts terms, and has a brief comment on male Italian gender and hierarchy attitudes.    With this series you get it all!


          • artsippo@aol.com
            That was a well written scene. Lots of action. No wonder I really liked the series. Art ... From: jreynolds88 To:
            Message 5 of 12 , Jan 7, 2011
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              That was a well written scene.  Lots of action.  No wonder I really liked the series.
               
              Art



              -----Original Message-----
              From: jreynolds88 <jreynolds88@...>
              To: TheBaroness@yahoogroups.com
              Sent: Thu, Jan 6, 2011 10:06 pm
              Subject: [TheBaroness] Re: Scenes from #1 - "The Ecstasy Connection"

               
              So Penelope is on the trail of a new drug making its way through New York, Ecstasy, or the Big E.  This was written before MDMA came to known by that name.  She's hooked up with a bunch of hippies who take her to a party in a loft in Soho where E pushers are supposed to be.   She's weaponless except for a poison needle in her cigarette holder.  The party is half zonked-out druggies, and half Mafiosi in pin-striped suits.  It's a trap!  They're going to kill everyone in the city who knew anything about E.   Penelope quickly strips naked and takes cover in a mass orgy that's going on in the center of the loft.  She shields herself amongst the bodies when the hoods open fire, then  prepares to go into acrobatic killing machine mode:

              Penelope began to hyperventilate, forcing oxygen into her bloodstream.  Deliberately she concentrated on every muscle and tendon of her body in turn, applying to each the strength-amplifying prana of the Kung-Fu exercises.  She had no intention of ending up in the packing cases.

              She opened her eyes and stared without blinking.  The Kung-Fu prana would let her keep it up for at least four minutes.  She stopped breathing.

              "Hey, this one's still alive," a voice said in her ear.  The pile of bodies shifted.  Nina's voice said, "What kind of a bum trip is this?" and a gun went off deafeningly.

              There was a shadow at the periphery of her vision.  "They, here's the broad who gave me the lip," a voice said.  It was Vic.  "Will ya look at them tits!"

              "Ah, she's dead," another voice said.

              "I don't care.  I'm going to put a bullet in the left one, then the right one.  Right through the old nipple.  Watch this."

              He leaned over her.  She could feel the cold muzzle of an automatic poking at her breast.  He was straddling her.  His th ighs shielded her right hand.  She pointed the cigarette lighter like a finger, one end braced against the heel of her hand.  She squeezed.

              There was a sharp phhhht.   Vic's hand clawed in agony at his crotch.  The other hand, holding the gun, jerked upward in an involuntary spasm and emptied the whole magazine through the skylight above.   Vic gave a bloodcurdling scream and dropped twitching to the floor.

              The black-widow venom must have stung like a thousand bees in the three-fifths of a second it took him to die.

              Penelope was on her feet before the rest of the second was out.  The mobsters were staring open-mouthed at Vic, tyring to figure out what had happened.  Only one of them had wits enough to swing his gun in her direction.  Fortunately, he was within arm's length.

              In a continuation of the same smooth surge that had brought her to her feet, Penelope swung with the stiff outer edge o f her left hand and drove the splintered bones of the bridge of his nose into his brain.  He died in a cloud of pink foam.

              Another was beginning to raise his gun.  In Penelope's right fist, the expended cigarette holder became a yawara stick, the ancient weapon of fighting Buddhist priests.  It hit him under the chin, snapping his head back and breaking his neck.

              So far, the Baroness had been in action only three seconds.  The other gangsters were still paralyzed by the sight of the naked woman, covered with blood, hair flying and breasts quivering, moving like a streak of lightning among them.

              Their hesitation let her reach the Don, Anthony Cremona.  He flung up a thick forearm to block the blow that seemed to be aimed at his face.  But it was his wrist Penelope was after.  She got it with his unwitting cooperation and carried it around behind his back in the same lunge that put her in back of him.  Her oth er hand balled into a bone-hard fist and punched him in the upper arm, paralyzing the nerve center there.  His arm dropped, useless as an empty sleeve.

              She pressed the cigarette holder into his eyeball.  He moaned with fear.

              "You've seen what this can do, Don Anthony," she hissed in his ear.  "Now do exactly as I say, or you'll get a poison needle right through the eye."

              He nodded eagerly.  He didn't know the black holder was empty.

              The mobsters shuffled about uncertainly.  A woman was by definition an inferior being, in the society.  To see one manhandling their Don was an impossibility.  Their minds were slow to comprehend it.

              "Tell them to move back," Penelope said.  She poked his eyeball for emphasis.

              "Back, back, get back!" he said, sweating.

              They moved away a few steps.  The Don had given them orders.  This was something they could grasp.  The Don would have things u nder control shortly.

              "Walk!" Penelope said.

              She pulled him along backward, keeping his massive bulk between her and the ten guns.  He balked.  She kneed him, expertly, in the testicles.  He made a retching sound, then staggered backward with her.

              She made it to the door before they were able to recover their wits.  On the landing she swung Cremona around.  Two bulky men in coveralls that read "Cremona Family Movers" were coming up the stairs.

              The gunmen inside would be coming after her within seconds.  The only way was up. 

              She planted a bare foot on the small of Cremona's back and pushed with all her strength.  He shot forward and tumbled down the stairs like a bocci ball.  The moving men went down like tenpins.

              She didn't wait to see.  She sprinted up the stairs toward the roof exit.  It was barred.

              A face poked out of the loft room.  It looked downstairs where a ll the commotion was.  Penelope tugged at the bar.  It wouldn't give.

              The man on the landing below chose that moment to look up.  "The bitch is up here!" he yelled, raising his gun.  Penelope fell backward.  A .45 slug ripped through the door where her head had been.  Her legs kicked up at the bar, catching it with two hard heels.

              It was a double karate kick, powerful enough to break bricks.  The bar across the door was only wood.  It splintered and the door flew open.  Penelope did a reverse flip and plunged through the exit before the hood  below was able to snap off a second shot.

              Four kills in ten seconds while in her birthday suit!  Plus Kenyon drops in some exotic martial arts terms, and has a brief comment on male Italian gender and hierarchy attitudes.    With this series you get it all!


            • jreynolds88
              Continuing from the last scene, our heroine is escaping from a horde of hoods, having killed several in the process: The night air was chilly on her bare skin.
              Message 6 of 12 , Jan 7, 2011
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                Continuing from the last scene, our heroine is escaping from a horde of hoods, having killed several in the process:
                The night air was chilly on her bare skin.  She looked around.  She was on a crazy rooftop landscape, sprouting chimneys and skylights and water tanks as far as the eye could see.  To the north the skyscrapers of mid-Manhattan rose like glittering sentinels.  They were dominated by the Empire State Building, a thousand-foot stone phallus in the foreground.

                There was no time to plan.  She was naked and weaponless.  She could kill any man foolish enough to come within striking range of her fingers or feet.  But they had guns.  They could kill from a distance.

                Penelope sprinted for the nearest cover, a shed-like structure topping an airshaft.  The hard gravel of the roof bit into her bare soles.

                Crouched in its shadow she saw half a dozen men spill out of the doorway she'd just left.  Five of them held pistols in their fists.  The sixth held a mandolin case.

                "Careful, Al," someone said.  "I don't know how she did it, but she killed Vic and Eddie."

                "She's just a broad," Al said.

                They were fanning out over the roof.  Penelope gathered the powerful muscles in her thighs and calves and sprinted for a chimney.

                "There she is!"

                Bullets kicked up gravel around her, stinging her legs.  She made it to the shelter of the chimney.

                "Fred, Vito, circle around back.  You boys spread out and follow me." Footsteps crunched on the gravel.

                "Aaah, you guys are a bunch of old ladies.  She's naked as a jaybird.  She can't do no damage."

                "Al, come back here!"

                But Al continued toward the chimney, his feet slapping on the rooftop.  The Baroness looked at the chimney top.  It was a double chimney, with the shaft facing Al about three feet higher than the far side.

                Without hesitating, she jumped and caught the lip of the lower stack.  She pulled herself up, the rough brick scraping her knees and elbows.  At the top, crouching to keep from showing herself, she lowered herself into the stack.  It was a tight fit.  The narrow space flattened her breasts, squeezed her hips.  She braced herself, just a couple of inches from the top.

                "Hey!" Al's voice was full of consternation.  "She ain't here."

                She heard footsteps circling the chimney.  When they returned to the far side, she popped up like a jack-in-the-box.

                "Surprise, Al!"

                Al was still staring, pop-eyed, at the incredible vision of the naked woman, her breasts smeared with blood and soot, when she did a quick handstand and flip and came down on him, feet first.  The gun went flying.  When he reached for it, he found the long, luscious legs entwined around his waist.  He staggered a step while the Baroness rode him, then pitched forward.  The hands he threw forward to save himself were suddenly imprisoned.  He landed on his face with the combined weight of his own body and the woman who was astraddle him.  His shattered skull began to ooze brain tissue like toothpaste.

                She had Al's gun now.  It was  Colt Super .38 automatic, similar to the Government Model .45 she was familiar with.  It fired nine rounds.  She checked the clip.  Al had been nervous, firing at her when she sprinted for the chimney.  There were only four rounds left.

                And five armed men coming after her.

                "Al, whaddaya mean, she ain't there?"

                Penelope leaned out from the chimney, gripping the Colt in both hands, aiming at the man who had spoken.  The heavy gun kicked in her hands.  To her horror she saw the bullet send brick fragments flying on the cornice behind him.  The slug had missed its target by six inches.  That dolt, Al!  The gun was improperly sighted!

                "Hey, she's got Al's gun!"

                "You okay, Vito?"

                "Yeah, a broad'll never hit you when she's aiming.  It's when they don't mean it that you hafta watch out."

                They both laughed coarsely.  Penelope gauged the direction of the laughter, did a quick calculation in her head to compensate for the si-inch throw to the left, leaned out again and fired.

                Vito was still laughing when the .38 slug caught him right in the middle of his forehead.

                Two rounds left.  Four targets.

                "Hey, watch it, you guys!  Take cover!"

                "The broad's dangerous.  Fred, go back down and get reinforcements."

                She couldn't allow that.  She took a quick peek.  There were four shots immediately, whistling past the chimney or thudding into it.  Another person would have waited, tried again.  Penelope's thinking was quicker.  She appeared at the other side of the chimney.  But they'd been watching.  A bullet nicked the brick near her face.

                In that split second she'd seen Fred, halfway to the roof door.

                She put the gun in her mouth, her strong white teeth clenched on the trigger guard.  She bent and grasped the seat of Al's pants with one hand, his shirt collar with the other.  His body was heavy - at least one hundred and eighty pounds.  She gathered strength and heaved.  It came up off the floor.  She swung the body back and forth like a pendulum, once, twice, three times.  When it had enough momentum, she let go.  The corpse did a swan dive four feet from the chimney.  There was a flurry of shots.  The body jerked and twitched from the slugs crashing into it. 

                 But Penelope was already on top of the chimney again, the Colt automatic in her teeth.  While her body was still scrambling over the top of the stack, she caught the butt and fired a snap shot at Fred.  He pitched forward, his spine severed.  There was a clear shot at another target.  She squeezed the trigger and grip safety even as she was swinging the big gun around.  It went off in her hand at the end of the swing.  The bullet caught her target square in his beer belly.  He floundered, squawking, his life running away through his fingers.  Penelope dropped lightly to the roof before the next bullets whistled overhead.

                The gun was empty.  But the two remaining goons didn't know that.  And they'd be scared now.

                "All right, boys," she called sweetly.  "Throw down your pieces and put your hands on top of your heads, and maybe you'll stay alive."

                An obscene word answered her.  There was the sharp click of a safety catch, and a burst of .45-caliber machine gun fire sprayed the chimney.

                It was the mandolin player.

                Stalemate.  Until they realized why she wasn't firing back.

                There was nothing to be gained by waiting where she was except death.  But she'd die if she left the shelter of the chimney.

                There was only one thing left to do.

                She jumped off the roof.

                They didn't see her fall.  The edge was just a few feet behind, and the bulk of the chimney shielded her.  The empty gun in her teeth, she backed to the parapet, relaxed all her muscles and tumbled over.

                The street was six floors below.

                But there was an ornamental frieze running the whole length of the building, just below the top floor windows.  All these old loft buildings had them.  She'd made a note of it when she arrived earlier.

                It was a comfortable three inches wide, curlicues of decorative concrete.  She grabbed with both hands as she fell past.  There was  a jolt that almost tore her arms from their sockets.  Her fingers were scraped raw.  She hung by both hands, dangling fifty feet above the cement sidewalk.

                She glanced downward.  The trucks and the moving men were still there.  A couple of hoods had come out to talk to them.  They seemed excited about something.  No one looked up.

                Hanging by one hand now, she transferred the gun from her teeth.  Holding it by the barrel like a hammer she smashed the fifth story window in front of her and dived through.

                Inside, a gaunt unshaven man looked up in astonishment at the fantastic apparition that had crashed through his window in a shower of broken glass. He was on his knees in front of an open copy of Playboy, propped up on a stand with a candle and bouquet of wilted flowers  nest to it.  The harsh smell of burning hemp was in the air.

                "Every night!" he said.  "Every night I pray for the Playmate in the centerfold to come to life!  You're real!  You've come to me!"

                Penelope ignored him.  She stepped to one side of the window frame and peered down.  The moving men were looking up, attracted by the sound of breaking glass.  Their heads jerked farther back as they talked to someone on the roof.  In a few moments, they'd begin to realize what had happened.

                "Miss September!  Speak to me!"  the kneeling man cried.

                Penelope wiped her forehead with a forearm.  It came away streaked with chimney soot and blood.  "Do you have a raincoat?"  she said.

                "Raincoat?" he said vaguely.  He tried to stand up, but he was too stoned to rise.

                She went to his closet and found a grimy raincoat.  There was  hat to go with it and a pair of sandals.  Wincing with distaste, she put them on, tucking her long black hair into the hat.

                "Come back, come back!" the gaunt man called, but she was already out the door.

                It was another staircase, another street door than the one she'd used entering the loft.  She passed nobody on the way down.  She emerged into the street, head down, hands in pockets, shoulders hunched to conceal the swellings of her breasts.

                The moving men and the hoods on the roof were shouting back and forth.  "He's dead, I tell you.  Don Anthony's dead.  He broke his neck when that woman pushed him down the stairs."

                Penelope felt a grim glow of satisfaction.  At least she'd managed to kill Cremona.  It was partial justice for the seven tons of corpses lying in the loft upstairs.  Revenge for poor, harmless Ralphie Pardon and Bunny and Nina and Infra Red.

                "She must still be in the building." the mandolin player was shouting.  "Get in there, all of you.  We're going to tear the place apart, room by room."

                Nobody looked at Penelope as she walked by, hunch-shouldered, taking long strides like a man.  She passed the little knot of men and was abreast of the lead moving van when its driver stepped into her path.

                "Hey," he yelled.

                Without breaking stride she sprang forward, three fingers extended toward his solar plexus.  They sank into beer-bloated flesh up to the knuckles.  His entire body seemed to deflate like a balloon, stunned by the massive shock to heart, liver, and lungs.  Penelope didn't wait to see if she'd killed him.  She sprang into the open cab door of the giant moving.  The engine was running.  She engaged the clutch and put it through each of its eleven gears.  By the time she reached the end of the block the big van was doing eight.  She glanced in the rear view mirror.  They were still too disorganized to have started pursuit.  By the time they did, she'd be several blocks away.

                The big moving van roared through the nighttime streets, running red lights and scaring the hell out of cabdrivers.  Penelope's hat had fallen off in the fight.  Passers-by looked up in amazement as the van swerved dangerously around corners, scraping parked cars, with a beautiful, soot-smeared woman with long black hair wrestling the big wheel.

                She ditched the truck two miles away and hailed a cab.  The driver didn't even blink at the sight of the beautiful brunette with the dirty, blood-streaked face who climbed into the rear sear.  You see all kinds in New York.

                Man, that was one tough town in the 70s.  Massacres and gun battles on roof tops and not a cop to be found.  I have to give the mandolin player credit for nerve, though - when this blindingly fast and strong demon woman asked him to surrender, he just started firing. 

                The bit with the centerfold-worshipper was nice but was also a complete throw-away; you never see him again.  There may be a little autobiography there!








              • jreynolds88
                The pleasure drug Ecstasy is traced to Hong Kong, and a gangster there named Petronius Sim. He s an enormously fat British aesthete, and this episode s
                Message 7 of 12 , Jan 10, 2011
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                  The pleasure drug Ecstasy is traced to Hong Kong, and a gangster there named Petronius Sim.  He's an enormously fat British aesthete, and this episode's super-villain.   Her NSA controller and modeling business manager, John Farnsworth, arranges a photo shoot in HK.  Once there a British spy named Pickering starts tailing her, and soon becomes her plaything.  She sets herself up as bait and gets invited to Sim's mansion where she meets his mad scientist, Dr. Jolly:

                  "Here comes Mr. Sim now," Dr. Jolly said.

                  She looked at him inquiringly.

                  "He likes to be surrounded by music when he's in the mood," the doctor explained.  "There are loudspeakers everywhere.  They're switched on by body sensors when he approaches.  The sound follows him."

                  The voices swelled to a heartbreak sweetness.  Mr. Sim lumbered into the room, a pinkish elephant in white silk.  His feet sank into the rug up to the ankles.

                  She must have looked surprised.  He smiled, amused.  "Yes, I do get up and move about sometimes.  Out of my own environment, it's less tedious to be wheeled."

                  There was a houseboy at either elbow.  One of them sprayed a perfume atomizer in front of Mr. Sim's face.  He inhaled deeply.  "Ah, essence of roses," he said.  "My fragrance of the day."

                  He waddled over to the chair facing her.  It was a great puffy thing that seemed too high and convex to sit in.  One of the houseboys pushed it into his enormous buttocks.  Mr. Sim leaned, rather than sat.  The chair began to give, like soft dough.  In a few moments he had sunk into a sitting position.  The serving girl brought him something that looked like a pink basketball with a tube protruding from it.  He put the tube in his mouth and sucked, squeezing the ball.

                  "We found the infrared scope in the heel of your shoe, by the way," Mr. Sim said pleasantly.

                  Penelope said nothing.  Did that mean that the other devices had gone undetected?

                  "I don't enjoy fencing," Mr. Sim continued.  "the need for instant gratification has always been one of my character defects.  Who are you, Baroness? Who do you work for, and just why have you taken an interest in me?"

                  Penelope estimated the distance and positions of Mr. Sim, Dr. Jolly, the two houseboys - who she saw now were rather muscular and hard-looking types.  A quick leap out of the damned billowy chair she was sitting in, and she thought she could disable the two houseboys before they could react.  Dr. Jolly wasn't a physical type, and Mr. Sim wouldn't be able to get out of his chair fast enough to be a threat.

                  "You will tell me," Mr. Sim said.  "Eventually, that is.  It would be more pleasant for all of us if we cleared the air now.  I'm quite aware that your man followed Major Pickering yesterday, and that you must be wondering about a device he took from one of my servants."

                  Before she could throw herself out of the chair, Penelope felt a pair of incredibly strong hands imprisoning her arms.  She twisted around and saw the granite-rough face of Happy Molloy, Sim's bodyguard.  He had crept up behind her chair silently, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet.

                  She tried to break free, but he pushed her back into the soft trap of the chair.  Her feet were off the floor.  There was no way for her magnificent musculature to gain the proper leverage.

                  "Damn you!  Tell this ape to turn me loose," she said.

                  Mr. Sim looked pained.  "Please, no harsh words.  It's esthetically upsetting to hear them from someone as lovely as you.  Now I think we'll just search you for weapons and remove any possible source of tensions.  Hsun mi!"

                  One of the burly houseboys approached her warily.  He circled to her side, to avoid any possibility of a frontal kick.  He bent to give her a pat-down.

                  The iron grip Happy was holding her in was what made it possible, giving her something to brace against.  With a lightning motion she swung both legs sideways.  her heels caught him just below the knees.  He pitched forward, off-balance.  Her knee, one of the body's eight deadly striking weapons, came up sharply to catch him in the face.  She felt his bone and carilange crunch.  He screamed.  She continued the upward momentum.  Happy's instinctive reaction, when she kicked the houseboy, was to tighten his grip and tug backwards.  That helped.  She swung her legs up and back over her head, supple as a circus acrobat, and caught him squarely in the chest with both heels.  No man could have withstood the incredible striking force concentrated in the ting heel areas - not even Happy.  It would be like being stabbed by two billys, wielded by two brawny policemen simultaneously.  He staggered backward, his grip broken.

                  She landed behind the chair, head over heels, already planning her fall and the smooth motion to draw the Bernadelli VB she had holstered on her thigh.  But Happy had tugged her off-balance, throwing her timing off a second or two.  She heard Dr. Jolly shout, "Stop!"

                  She froze.  It was the unmistakable tone of a man with a gun in his hand.  She tossed her hair out of her eyes and saw him standing there, holding a .32-caliber Beretta Puma very professionally in two hands.  It was pointed unwaveringly at her chest.

                  "My instincts are confirmed," Mr. Sim said.  "You are a very dangerous young lady.  You move beautifully, my dear, like a jungle animal.  But be assured that it would not be possible for you to leave this villa alive."

                  The bit about the speaker system that follows one through the house is a nice throw-away piece of tech.   I don't think it was possible to do in the early 70s, but it's not that difficult now.
                • jreynolds88
                  Penelope has been captured by the gluttonous Petronius Sim and his mad neurologist Dr. Jolly. They have worked her over in their brain stimulation machine,
                  Message 8 of 12 , Jan 13, 2011
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                    Penelope has been captured by the gluttonous Petronius Sim and his mad neurologist Dr. Jolly.  They have worked her over in their brain stimulation machine, demonstrating the utter control they intend to take of the world's leaders.  Now she's back in her padded cell of a bedroom:

                    She was in a large, egg-shaped bedroom, fussy with satins and frills.  She was nude, lying on her stomach on a pink coverlet.  Her hands were chained behind her back.  There was something heavy and cold on her ankle.

                    She twisted round and sat up.  The pink light she'd imagined was a night light over by the door.  The cool air was coming from an air conditioner over at the window.  The window had steel bars, painted pink.

                    Slowly, gingerly, she stood up.  There was a wave of dizziness that passed after a moment.  God she was weak!  Her senses were muzzy from the drugs they'd been giving her to keep her quiet.

                    Drugs!

                    They'd underestimated her magnificent physical condition, her reserves of strength.  The drug had worn off before it was supposed to.

                    That meant that somebody would be coming to give her another dose.  Probably soon.

                    It would be her last chance to get out of this padded hellhole.  If she failed in this attempt, they wouldn't give her another chance.

                    Tomorrow morning, Dr. Jolly had promised to give her pain.  The other sensations he'd inflicted had been the most extreme she'd ever experienced.  She shuddered, unable to imagine what the pain might be like.

                    The chain on her ankle kept her within a five-foot radius of the bed.  She bent over and tugged at it with all her strength.  It was no use.  It would have anchored an elephant.

                    There was a dressing table over at the wall, a bathroom door on the other side.  She couldn't reach them.  There was nothing she could use as a weapon.  Nothing.

                    There was a sound at the door.  A key in the lock.

                    The Baroness leaped back on the bed.  She was on her back, her hands behind her.  She closed her eyes to slits.  She forced her breathing to slow down, approximating a drugged sleep.  A yoga exercise slowed her heart, drained the blood from her face.

                    The door opened.

                    Penelope concentrated on her yoga exercise, making the entire remaining strength of her body flow into her leg, the one with the chain on it.

                    A muscular Chinese girl in a nurse's uniform padded into the room.  She crossed to the bed.  Penelope closed her eyes all the way, just in time, as the nurse thumbed her eyelid to look at the pupil.  By that time Penelope had rolled her eyeballs back in their sockets, the pupils dilated by the yoga technique.  The nurse gave a little grunt of approval.

                    When she dared open an eye slightly, the nurse was standing by the side of the bed, adjusting a syringe.  She put a hand on Penelope's hip; apparently she intended to give the injection in the buttock.

                    The nurse heaved.  She was bent over Penelope, just about where Penelope wanted her.

                    Penelope whipped her leg in an arc.  The slack chain came up like a jump rope and curled around the nurse's throat.  Penelope wound it round once more with another flashing movement and pulled down with all her might.

                    It was too quick for anything more than a strangled squawk  from the nurse.  She slid down like a broken doll to the floor, her neck snapped.

                    Penelope hopped to the floor, one leg imprisoned by the nurse's weight.  She squatted, her back to the body, and felt around the nurse's cap.  She was in luck.  It was held in place by two bobbie pins

                    It was no use attacking the steel stanchion.  The chain was permanently welded to a metal ring.  But the cuffs would have to be snapped on and off.  So would the band around her ankle. 

                    She probed the lock.  It was a good one.  That helped.  She was able to kick over the tumbler without jamming it.  It took her more than twenty tries, less than three minutes.  The cuffs fell off.  the anklet was easier.  She could see what she was doing.

                    She tiptoed naked to the door and risked a peek.  The nurse's cart was outside, a tray of syringes on it.  No one was in sight.  She pulled the cart inside and shut the door.

                    Merely being naked, drugged, and chained up won't stop this gal.  Next up - rampage.
                  • jreynolds88
                    Her escape continues: Someone had finally come to look for the nurse. She spun to the doorway and flattened herself against the wall beside it. She was
                    Message 9 of 12 , Jan 22, 2011
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                      Her escape continues:

                      Someone had finally come to look for the nurse.

                      She spun to the doorway and flattened herself against the wall beside it.  She was thankful that she'd at least had time to put on the bra;  it would hold her comfortably in the next ten seconds of violent physical action.

                      The two buttons, connected by their long thread, were in her right hand.

                      The door swung open.  A burly orderly with red hair stepped into the room.  When he saw the cart, and the nurse's body beyond it, he took a step toward them. 

                      Penelope flipped one of the buttons.  It swung around his neck like a bolo on its thread.  She caught the button in her other hand, the wrists crossed over.  It was the style of assassination invented by the thuggees of India, except that they'd used a coin knotted into a kerchief.  She pulled her wrists past each other with all her strength.  The noose tightened.

                      The orderly's hands clawed at his throat, unable to find anything to grasp.  Penelope hauled on the buttons.  The thread sank deep into the orderly's neck.  He sagged to the floor, dead.
                      Another kill and she makes it to the outside of the super-villain's Hong Kong mansion:

                      She melted into the shadows, flattened herself  down behind some plantings.  The aromatic essence of flowering ginseng came to her nostrils.  She was lying beside a low border of smooth, perfectly round stones about the size of grapefruits.

                      She could see the guard standing in front of the pagoda-roofed booth by the gate.  He was a squat, chunky man in blue pajamas and cap.  He was holding a light SIG automatic rifle by ts pistol grip, the barrel dangling negligently next to his leg.  There was a silencer on the muzzle;  Mr. Sim was considerate of his neighbors.

                      She'd have to cross fifty feet of open space to get to him.  The Swiss-made SIG weighted only ten pounds.  He'd have it up and firing, one-handed, before she could cover half that distance.

                      A light went on above.  Penelope looked up.  The window had pink bars on it.  Somebody had discovered she was missing.

                      Whatever she was going to do, it had better be fast.

                      She unzipped the pink dress to her waist, reached behind her and unhooked the bra.  Her breasts fell free.  She shrugged out of the straps, not bothering to zip up the dress again.

                      She fastened the ends of the bra to the trunks of a pair of dwarf ornamental trees, growing a yard apart.  She hoped they'd hold.

                      She pried one of the grapefruit-size rocks loose and dropped it into a cup of the bra.  She checked the position of the guard for distance and trajectory.  She'd never practiced with the polymer catapult; she knew hse had only a small chance of hitting her target the first time.

                      An alarm went off.  The guard looked up at the lighted window.  How long did she have?  A couple of minutes at most.

                      She hauled back on the bra with all her weight and strength.  It stretched reluctantly.  It was like drawing a bow with a thousand-pound pull.  The ornamental trees creaked.

                      She let go.  The rock arced through the air.  It caught the guard squarely n the face.  He went backward, his legs flailing, and the back of his head squished against the guard booth.  His skull had cracked like a walnut.

                      She wasted a few seconds undoing the ends of the bra from the tree trunks.  It wouldn't do for them to find out about it.  Balling the bra in her hand, she dashed across the fifty feet of open space and made the shelter of the booth.  She paused to listen.  Nobody had seen her.

                      There was one more obstacle: the outside guard.  She passed a weary hand over her eyes.  God, she was tired!  She'd give anything for an upper, a real one.

                      She peered through the Judas-hole.  The guard was standing, his back to her, facing the roadway.  There was no traffic outside at the moment.

                      The door opened inward.  She kicked it open, grasping the ends of the bra in either hand.  In a smooth, flowing motion she swung the bra over the guard's neck and jerked it toward her.  Her knee was in the small of his back; her shoulder braced against his upper spine.  She pulled and pulled with the last dregs of the strength.

                      He flopped like a landed fish.  He was big, strong.  He almost got away from her a couple of times.  She slid her knee upward and got the sole of her foot against his spine.  She tugged sharply on the bra.  There was a snapping sound.  She stepped aside and the guard topped backward into the booth.

                      She stood there exhausted.  Fifty feet behind her an egg-shaped door swung open.  A dozen armed men boiled out into the garden.  Penelope staggered out into the roadway.




                    • jreynolds88
                      Our heroine has just managed to escape from the Hong Kong villa of the vile Pretonius Sim, but she s exhausted. She stumbles down to the harbor and collapses
                      Message 10 of 12 , Apr 16, 2011
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                        Our heroine has just managed to escape from the Hong Kong villa of the vile Pretonius Sim, but she's exhausted.  She stumbles down to the harbor and collapses on a dock of the boat people.  One takes in her and nurses her back to health, but then attempts to sell her to a brothel.  She refuses politely, but he's disgusted and informs on her.  That night Sim's henchmen surprise her while sleeping, drug her and bring her back to the villa.  Sim is eager to experiment on her brain.  He pairs her up with Nigel Pickering, who turns out to be from MI-6 and has also been captured.  They're guarded by a huge juice-head named Happy, who has a wire into the pleasure center of his brain.  Penelope and Pickering  are stripped naked and chained together, and so of course have wild sex before being taken off to the Lab:
                        They came for Pickering at six in the morning.
                        The Baroness was dozing lightly, her head cradled in the hollow of Pickering's shoulder.  They'd made love all night, between Happy's hourly visits.  The two of them were drained, at peace.  Their last memories of reality would be good ones.

                        The door opened and Happy came in.  He crossed ponderously to the window, keeping well away from the bed, and opened the drapes. Bright morning sunlight flooded the room.

                        Two white-clad attendants pushed a wheeled cot into the room.  Straps and buckles hung from the sides.  A nurse followed them holding a syringe.  It was the same one Penelope had made use of during her escape.

                        Five burly gorillas in hospital orderly uniforms came next.  Only two of them were Chinese.  The others resembled the waterfront riffraff you can find all through western Europe.

                        "The man goes first," the nurse said.  She gave Penelope an evil smile.  "We'll be back for you in an hour, bitch, as soon as Dr. Jolly preps your boyfriend.  I'm going to enjoy watching him drill a hole in your skull!"

                        The gorillas closed in swiftly and efficiently and pinned Penelope and Pickering to the bed.  There wasn't much they could do with their hands chained behind their backs, but Pickering managed to knee one of the men in the groin.  Penelope gave another gorilla a good bite in the arm.

                        The nurse approached Pickering with the syringe.  She paused to check the calibration of the plunger, then leaned over.  With a sudden violent effort Penelope got a leg free and lashed out.  Her heel caught the nurse in one breast.  The woman screamed and staggered backward, clutching at the breast.

                        The gorillas got Penelope's leg under control.  The nurse advanced warily, her face looking sick and bloodless.  She drew back a meaty arm and slapped Penelope hard across the face.  "I'll kill you , you bitch!" she screamed.

                        One of the orderlies restrained her.  "Dr. Jolly will be mad if she's damaged," he said.  The nurse calmed down and gave Pickering a shot in the arm.

                        Only when he was thoroughly tranquilized did they unchain him.  Happy fished the key out of his pocket and unlocked the manacles.   They lifted Pickering's limp body off the bed and strapped him to the cot.  He was conscious but helpless.  His head lolled and he said in a slurred voice, "Feels ... feels marvelous, Penny m'dear.  What's in a brain anyway?"  He began laughing helplessly.

                        The nurse glared maliciously at Penelope.  "It may interest you to know that he's going to remain conscious all during the operation.  The brain doesn't feel pain, but he'll know everything that's happening to him.  And so will you!"

                        The gorillas released Penelope as if on signal and stepped back quickly from the bed.  Not quickly enough.  Penelope jabbed a hard elbow into a muscle-bound solar plexus.  The man doubled over, making a retching sound.

                        "Don't be nervous when you come to give me my injection," Penelope called to the nurse, "but I'm going to get you in the other boob!"

                        The nurse turned a shade paler.  She marched from the room without a word, followed by the orderlies pushing Pickering on the cot.  The gorillas left, one of them limping, one doubled over, and one bleeding from the bite on his arm.

                        "I may bite it off!" Penelope yelled out the door.
                        Next up, Happy gets his fondest wish while Penelope displays extraordinary electrical engineering skills.
                      • jreynolds88
                        Penelope has her hands chained behind her back, has one leg chained to a bedpost, and has been stripped. She s about to be wheeled off to the lab for
                        Message 11 of 12 , Apr 19, 2011
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                          Penelope has her hands chained behind her back, has one leg chained to a bedpost, and has been stripped.  She's about to be wheeled off to the lab for vivisection, and is being guarded by a huge former gangster and now juice-head named Happy:
                          Happy started to leave, circling widely around the bed.

                          "Happy!" Penelope said sharply.

                          Dull Chimpanzee eyes swung toward her.  "Whaddaya want?"

                          "My chain's coming loose."

                          Furrows appeared in the huge dented head.  "Whaddaya trying to pull?"

                          "You can't afford not to check, Happy.  If I get away, Mr. Sim will be angry with you.  You won't get your five-minute jolt of pleasure."

                          He considered it laboriously.  Finally he walked around and peered at the steel stanchion from a safe distance.  "You're just trying to mix me up.  That chain's okay."

                          Penelope sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, her chained hands supporting her in back.  She thrust out her breasts.  "Happy, darling, wouldn't you like to have a little fun with me?  I'd like to have a last fling before they open my head."

                          He shook he great misshapen head.   "Lady, there's nothing as good as what I get from this."  He tapped the rectangular outline of the transistorized device in his pocket.   "I wouldn't do nothing to make Mr. Sim mad at me."

                          "How about money?  I'm a very rich woman.  Get me out of here and I'll make you rich... rich enough to be free of Mr. Sim."

                          Something like panic flickered in her dim eyes.  "Free of Mr. Sim?  You're crazy!  Listen, I ain't talking to you no more.  You're trying to mix me up."  He started toward the door.

                          "Happy!  When do you get your jolt of pleasure?"

                          "Later on today, after I done my job."  He continued walking.

                          "How would you like to have it right now?  This minute?"

                          He stopped.  "Whaddaya mean?"

                          "I know how you can stimulate your pleasure center.  And not for just five minutes.  As long as you want."

                          His eyes came alive for the first time.  They shimmered darkly like pools of machine oil  "You're outta your mind."  he said.  He patted the transistor device in his pocket.  "This is the only thing that'll give me a jolt.  It's turned to the right, whaddaya call it, frequency.  It's a different number every day.  Only Mr. Sim knows the right number."

                          "You don't need that."

                          "Whaddaya talking about?  You're driving me crazy!"  Tears flowed from his eyes, trickled down the great craggy cheeks.

                          She spoke with cold authority.  "Get me that pillbox on the dressing table.  There's something in it."

                          He turned automatically to obey.  When he had the Fragonard pillbox in his giant paw, he suddenly frowned.

                          "No, I ain't coming hear the bed.  Tell me from there."

                          Penelope didn't let the disappointment show in her voice.  "All right.  But come a little closer."

                          He lumbered forward and stopped just out of reach of the chain.  He opened the lid of the box.

                          "There ain't nothing in it!" he said.

                          "The box has something called a two-plate magnetron built into it.  It works like a radar or a microwave oven.   You can adjust the frequency by sliding the lid.  Somewhere on the scale is the frequency that will induce an electric current in the wire that Dr. Jolly planted in your brain."

                          He stood there, uncomprehending.

                          "Go ahead," she said impatiently.  "Slide the lid about half an inch."  His thick thumb moved the lid.  "What do you feel?"

                          "Nothing," he said.  "Just, like, it's sort of warm on my face."

                          "That's the microwaves.  Move it another hair."

                          "Hey!" he said.  "It's like I'm seeing flashing lights."

                          "You're getting warm," she said.  "We're stimulating the visual centers in the thalamus.  Keep going."

                          He sniffed.  "I smell something.  Like lemons."

                          "Keep going."

                          "It's coming!  It's coming!  I can feel it!"  He held the box up hear his head.

                          "Happy?" she said.

                          But he couldn't hear her.  His face was wreathed in a profound inhuman joy.  "It's stronger!" he said, "Better than it's ever been before!"

                          That wasn't surprising.  It took only a couple of milliamperes of current to stimulate the pleasure center - no more than the natural electricity generated by the brain itself.   The magnetron in the pillbox was inducing a current hundreds - possibly thousands - times stronger.  The platinum wire in his head must be heating up like an electric toaster.

                          He rocked on his heels, making animal sounds.  His steam-shovel jaw was open in a loose smile.  She could see a huge tent growing at the fork of his trousers.

                          She could smell something burning.  A thin wisp of smoke rose from his scalp.  He went on smiling.  He looked happier than she'd thought it possible for a human being to be.

                          The burning smell grew stronger.  It was like cooked meat.  He swayed, but managed to stay upright, the look of angelic joy transfiguring his face.  The smoke circled his head like a halo.

                          A great animal cry of pleasure came from his throat.  He toppled like a tree.

                          ... And fell in the opposite direction.

                          Penelope cursed.  She'd been banking on his falling toward her.  She stretched herself along the floor, pulling the chain taut, her hands useless behind her.  She tried to reach his trouser cuff with her strong white teeth, but she was several inches short.  She stretched her spine till she thought it would crack, but it was no use.

                          She sat up, her breasts cradled against her knees, and thought it over.  Something pink and wispy caught her eye.

                          It was her bra - the one made of super-strength polymers - still dangling along the leg chain where Mr. Sim had left it.

                          She worked it up the leg chain, up toward her wrists.  She caught one end in her hand.

                          She hopped as close to Happy's body as she could and turned her back to him.  She cast the bra two, three, four times.  On the fifth try she managed to lasso his big feet with the loop of the shoulder strap.  She hauled the body over toward her.

                          Her hands trembling, she fished in his pocket for the key.  A moment later the chains were off.

                          Would it be nit-picking to note that the early radar tubes were two-pole magnetrons, not two-plate?  Why yes it would.  Next up, payback.


                        • jreynolds88
                          Penelope has just overcome her guard, the monstrous gangster Happy, and has managed to shed her chains. She s still trapped in the middle of Petronius Sim s
                          Message 12 of 12 , Apr 24, 2011
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                            Penelope has just overcome her guard, the monstrous gangster Happy, and has managed to shed her chains.  She's still trapped in the middle of Petronius Sim's Hong Kong lair, though, and his henchmen are coming to vivisect her:

                            There was a tentative sound at the door.  Quickly the Baroness rolled Happy's body under the bed and got back on top of the satin sheets.  She arranged the chain, hiding her ankle under a fold of the sheet, and put her wrists behind her back.

                            The door opened.  The nurse came in and closed the door behind her.

                            "I sneaked back ahead of the others," she said.  "I just came from the operating room.  I wanted you to know that they've already got your boyfriend's head in the cage.  They're going to start scooping out his brain tissue any minute now."

                            "You came back to tell me that?" Penelope said dryly.  "That was nice of you."

                            "No.  I came back to get even with you while you're still able to feel pain."

                            "If you come anywhere near me, you'll be sorry."  Penelope said in an amused drawl.

                            "I'm not getting within reach, you she-devil!  But this is!"

                            She stepped forward.  Penelope could see a heavy leather strap in her hand.

                            "Aren't you afraid of making Dr. Jolly angry?"

                            "Dr. Jolly is interested in your head.  You're going to feel this on your body!"

                            She took a long stride, swinging the strap.  The brass buckle snaked through the air toward the softness of Penelope's breasts.  Penelope jackknifed upward and caught the strap easily in her hand.  She pulled and the nurse toppled toward her, an astonished expression on her face.

                            Penelope hit with with a balled fist in the pit of the stomach.  The nurse doubled over.  Penelope raised both fists and gave her a sledgehammer blow on the nape of the neck.  The nurse crumpled.

                            Quickly Penelope stripped her.  She buttoned herself into the white uniform.  It was tight across the bust, loose everywhere else.  But it would have to do.

                            The white sneakers, fortunately, were too big rather than too small.  She stuffed the toes with a corner of satin sheet.  She tucked her long black hair up under the white cap.  There was a surgical mask in the pocket.  She tied it over her face.

                            The nurse was still breathing.  Penelope debated killing her, then, against her better judgment, she tied the woman's hands with the leather strap, bound her ankles with her bra, and stuffed her panties in her mouth as a gag.  She stepped boldly out into the corridor.  Nobody paid her any attention.

                            She gambled that the operating room would adjoin the chamber with the giant brain.  The operation was going to be one of Dr. Jolly's masterpieces.  He'd want all the input he could get from the brain's twinkling position lights and the computer that was wired to the system.

                            She avoided the fur-lined elevator and took the spiral ramp instead.  The sight of a nurse with a surgical mask hurrying somewhere didn't seem to surprise anybody.  Penelope found the big circular bank-vault door to the brain chamber.  A red light burned above it.  She'd been right!  Dr. Jolly was using it as an operating room!

                            She spun the brass wheel.  The door opened with ponderous silence.  She stepped inside and spun the inside wheel, locking it.

                            The operation was in progress.

                            Pickering was strapped to a stainless steel tabled under a battery of lights.  The lights were what kept the white-clad people around the table from noticing her.

                            There were six of them.  She recognized Dr. Jolly despite his mask.  A nurse had just handed him something that looked like an electric drill.

                            There was another nurse near a tray of instruments.  And a man monitoring a solution that dripped into Pickering's veins through a rubber tube.  There was a man whose eyes looked Chinese over his mask - Dr. Lee, she decided.  And a technician sitting at a computer terminal, checking the confetti-like readouts that were spewing forth.

                            Pickering's head was clamped in a metal cage whose bars offered a precise guide to the layout inside his skull.  The tiny metal probes would be guided entirely by computer once Dr. Jolly got Pickering's skull open.

                            Penelope took a cautious step forward.  Pickering's head had been shaved.  They'd already made the incision in his scalp, holding back the flaps of skin with some things that looked like little fish hooks.  His eyes where open.  He was watching the operation through a mirror above him.  He was smiling.

                            "Now, Major Pickering," Dr. Jolly aid, "I want you to tell me exactly what you feel."" He pressed a button and the drill whined into life.

                            Penelope walked briskly forward, toward the nurse with the tray of instructions.  Dr. Jolly squinted at her through the operating lights.  "Nurse Jenkins, is that you?  I hope you're sterile."

                            Penelope took a scalpel from the startled nurse.  "Quite sterile," she said.  "Germicidal, in fact."

                            She plunged the scalpel deep into Dr. Lee's belly.   The nurse screamed.  Penelope pulled the scalpel out of Dr. Lee and sliced the nurse's throat.  A quick leap took her over to the computer technician.  He scrambled to his feet, knocking over his chair, and started backing away.

                            The anesthesiologist started to get up to help.  Dr. Jolly said, "Stay where you are, you fool!  Keep the patient alive!"

                            He circled toward Penelope, the buzzing bone drill in his hand.  The computer man took the opportunity to grab for Penelope's scalpel.  Penelope stepped back and delivered a mighty kick between the legs that lifted the technician off the floor.  He fell to the floor whimpering, holding his ruined testicles, his knees drawn up under his chin.

                            The other nurse was screaming.  Penelope said, "Shut up you, or I'll cut your silly throat.  Get over there and sit down." The nurse shut up.  She sat down.

                            Dr. Jolly came toward her in a crouch, trailing electrical cable.  The bone drill whined.  He made a feint toward the Baroness.  She backed away.  The drill would go through bone as easily as butter.

                            "The Baroness, isn't it?  How did you get away?"

                            "It was easy.  The people around here seem to be short of brains."

                            He stabbed again with the drill.  She backed away another step.  The drill was longer than her scalpel, and Dr. Jolly had longer arms than she did.  Combined, they gave him a good two feet of extra reach.  He herded her backward.  Her back pressed against something with a cold and crinkly texture.  It was the giant brain.

                            She could tell from Dr. Jolly's eyes that he was smiling under the mask.  "That's as far as you go," he said. 

                            His eyes roved over her body, evidently picking the spot he'd plunge the whirring bone drill into.  He seemed to have settled on her left breast.  Penelope curled her lip in contempt; it was about what she would have expected from a sexual cripple like Dr. Jolly.

                            The defense against the bone drill would be the same as the karate defense against a knife, she decided.  She refused to let herself be impressed by the whirring bit.

                            His eyes warned her a split second in advance.  She flashed the scalpel from side to side just as he struck.  The hand movement distracted him.  His eyes followed it, spoiling his aim with the drill.  She leaped to one side, making herself invulnerable to a straight thrust, and kicked sideways at his knee.  His leg buckled.   She let the scalpel clatter to the floor and grabbed for the handle of the drill and the wrist of the hand holding it.

                            If he could have borne letting go of the drill at that moment, he would have had a free hand to attack her while both her hands were occupied.  But instead he brought up his other hand and tried to wrestle the drill away from her.

                            They staggered back and forth, struggling for possession of the drill.  Penelope's hand was jammed on top of this thumb pushing the button, and the drill buzzed away like a swarm of angry hornets.  They wrestled silently.  Dr.  Jolly's mask fell off, and she could see his mouth contorted with effort.  He was trying to push the point of the bit into her belly.  She swiveled her hip and the drill whined past her.  He tried again, and this time the drill went between her legs, ripping an instant hole in the skirt only inches from her groin.

                            But she was stronger than he was.  Tall as he was, he was a sedentary type.  Inch by inch, she forced the drill upward.

                            "Naismith!" he screamed.  "Never mind the patient!  Help me!"

                            Penelope gave a final push.  She watched the point of the drill disappear into the precise center of his forehead.  He looked surprised.  There was a moment of resistance as the drill chewed through bone, then it suddenly plunged all the way into his head, sinking through the soft jelly of the brain.

                            Dr. Jolly gave a prolonged sigh and fell backward, brain tissue oozing through the hole in the middle of his forehead.  Penelope dropped the drill and whirled, scooping the scalpel up from the floor where she'd dropped it.

                            The nurse was still sitting where she'd been told, her eyes bright with horror.  But Naismith, the anesthesiologist, was tiptoeing toward the door.

                            She brought him down with a flying tackle.  She held the scalpel at his throat.  His frightened eyes stared at her.

                            "Dr. Jolly told you to keep the patient alive," she said through tight lips.  "You're going to do just that.  Do you understand?"

                            He nodded eagerly. She let him go back to his drip bottle and monitoring instruments.

                            The giant brain, deprived of computer control and Dr. Jolly's input, had gone wild.  Great ripples of colored light were bubbling up from its depths, illuminating the entire chamber with an eerie flickering light.

                            Penelope moved toward the metal cage that held Pickering's head.  She bent over the shaved scalp.  His eyes looked at her from the overhead mirror.

                            "Hullo, Penny." he  said.  "This seems to be my day for seeing you in a mirror on the ceiling."

                            She gets him stitched up and on his feet, and then together they demolish the place.  They find a room full of juiceheads madly repeating some task in order to win the pleasure jolt, and turn off the current.  The juiceheads then go on a rampage to find Sim so they can get their fix back.  They discover him floating in a rose-petal bath, having just taken an enormous dose of the Ecstasy drug.    They rip him apart, which is described with entirely too much relish.

                            Afterwards, Penelope visits Pickering in the hospital.   He asks her for the formula for Ecstasy, and she sweetly tells him that she destroyed it - neither MI6 or the CIA should have such a weapon.   He laughs, admits she's right, and they get it on.

                            And that's about it!   She kills about sixteen people in the course of these eight entries, ten of them while starkers.  It's a level of S & V that I don't think any other series ever matched. 

                            And this isn't even the wildest one!  In terms of over-the-top-ness, that's probably #4, "Hard Core Murder", which has her starring in a snuff film staged in a Roman arena built in the California desert.   She's in the most peril in #5 "Operation Doomsday", where she gets staked out in the Arctic with a slash on her thigh to draw the wolves.   She does the most damage in #3, "Death is a Ruby Light", where she fights her way into three separate secret bases.  If others would like to continue these excerpt series, there's a lot to draw upon!

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