GOLD

WELCOME TO THE LABYRINTH

Written by Mr K

Before I could see them, I could hear them. Their voices sounded young, like teenagers. I could hear a bubbling and youthful joy in the rhythms above me. My vision fuzzy and unfocused, my captors were only shadows, one male, one female.

“Who is she?”

“I don’t know, but she can fly.”

“Fly? How? What...?”

“Well look at her. We’re dealing with a superheroine here. Look ... look at the gold body suit ... the all-in-one body suit. And she moves like the wind, she flies, she ... she’s a superheroine ... some sort of blond, flying super woman. She’s ours now, though.”

“Where was she? How did you catch her?”

“She was down in the body bank - in the labyrinth. She saw everything.”

“How ... how did you catch her?”

“Energy pulse. I used a high rating, but she’s still alive. I put the new cuffs on her, so I think she’ll stay put.”

The feeling was coming back into my body now. I could feel some sort of cuffs holding my wrists together at the small of my back and the same sort of thing pinning my ankles together. I could feel my thick, blond hair matting my face.

“Look at her body.”

“What?”

“It’s a perfect human female body.”

“We’ll take her to the body bank?”

“Yes, but later. It’s been a long time. I can’t remember ....”

One of them manipulated my body a bit. Strong hands began to move my legs.

“Remember...?”

“Before we put her in a body tube. Let’s just remember...”

I was expecting them to undo my ankles so that they could spread my legs, but instead they started at the top. My breasts are large, and drew their attention first. Through my second-skin gold cat suit, I felt a mouth on each nipple. Their sucking was furious and hard, like they were trying to draw milk from me for survival. My nipples went hard in the slick gold fabric, giving them two little, tight nuggets to sup on. One, the woman I think, began to bite my whole left breast, squeezing, kneading and taking it in great mouthfuls. She bit and bit as if she wanted to take pieces of it into her.

At one point they stopped and looked at each other, one shadow to another, and agreed.

“It’s as good as I remember. We’ll get information out of her later, right now we’ll just remember old times.”

“Good old days on Mother Earth.”

“It has been a long time.”

Hands began to search around my big, muscular thighs and hips. This would be a long night.

They had me for over an hour. It was a strange session, with them biting every inch of my body, never removing my costume. Eventually, I gained enough strength to talk.

“Who are you?” I asked my molesters. My voice was hoarse and strained.

“We are the Congregation. You are going to die in the labyrinth.”

“I have no idea what you mean. Why must I die?”

“You found us. You saw too much.”

The male opened his designer pants and produced a massive erection.

“You must forgive us. We’ve been away from all of this for a long time and need to satisfy ourselves. We promise your death, when it comes, will be swift.”

More questions. “Explain. Where have you been? What does this mean? Who are those people in the tubes downstairs?”
Even as I asked these questions, he was rubbing his cock on my face, using my cheeks, eyes, nose and hair to masturbate.

“We can’t tell you all of that. This is so very good.”

The woman was lifting my legs and biting my buttocks now. Hard passionate bites.

“You have special powers. You’re like the other woman we captured - the one in purple. She has red hair.”

“You have another woman like me? In one of those tubes?”

“Yes. She’s called Mystic,” said the woman casually. Now I knew. They had captured Kristen - Mystic - and were keeping her in this place.

“Tell me ....” He shoved the hard organ in my mouth, choking my words back. I was compliant, sucking him until he came in my mouth with a salty rush. His semen was hot and bitter. He screamed out, rocked by the orgasm, pulled back, and slowly put his cock away.

“Well, I’m done. You?” he asked the woman. She wiped her mouth and nodded ‘yes.’

“You came here to find the people in our storage, woman?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll be one now. All questions will be answered.”

She took my legs, he took my upper body, and they carried me off.


Honored Guest

Instead of taking me to the storage room, my captors carried me up the long staircase, past oil paintings and ornate wallpaper. Every now and then we would pass one of their friends, also beautiful and young, who would pause and look at me.

“Who is she?”

“Interloper. We want Father to see her before we use her for the new flesh. She was in the labyrinth.”

They carried me through the wide halls full of suits of armour and weapons, full of music and art and child-like laughter, until we reached a drawing room. There, I was dumped on my back. From the floor, I could see the female was blond like me, and also lush-bodied. She was about twenty years my junior and wore a a blue blazer and khaki skirt. He was blond also, beautiful also, and wore slacks in place of her skirt. They smiled, grabbed handfuls of my hair, and effortlessly dragged me to my knees.

“Father, look at what we found.”

Father was like them. Older, but still attractive. Well-dressed. He seemed to be quite at home with all of the books and maps of the drawing room.

I looked to my right, caught sight of myself in a long mirror. This was what I looked like as a captive. While I was enslaved to Scorpio’s brother, I never really knew what was going on. My mind was clouded, so I had only vague impressions of the collar he put on me, the rope and chains, his hands on my body. I had a clearer picture of the lesbian show he made me put on with Mystic, but it was still foggy. Nothing was foggy this time.

My body was still covered in the second-skin golden body stocking that I wear, but thick shackles were linked around my golden-booted ankles and pinned my gloved wrists together just above the curve of my butt. Scorpio’s brother had raved over my butt, and it seemed this new master was equally impressed.

He smiled and moved toward me.

“Hello. Welcome. I take it my kids have been experimenting with you ... with your body.”

“Yes. I have questions about you and them ... and this place. What’s going on in this house? Why do they talk about life on Earth in such vague and past terms?”

He chuckled and continued to look me over.

“You have questions. We have questions. That woman in purple had questions. All will be answered soon enough.”

He tilted my head back and looked into my eyes.

“Soon enough,” he smiled. He then looked up at the young people who’d captured me and sampled my body. “She’s been cooperative? Not as feisty as the other?”

They vigorously shook their heads. “She was unable to fight and barely said a thing as we had her.”

Father looked back at me.

“You’ve been a prisoner before. You know not to resist too much.”

“Yes.”

“Good. You’ll be patient for this, then. I had to paralyze the red-haired one for this.”

He went to a drawer, opened it, and produced a pair of black leather gloves. With a smooth motion and a Cheshire Cat smile, he slid he large hands into the gauntlets. He turned and walked to me.


Wet Leather

I’d been captured and tortured before, but a foe had never entered me until that night. Scorpio’s brother played with me, sucked and bit and finally had me put on the show with Mystic.

When the villainess called Succubus had me, she made me give her head and drink milk from her breasts.

The Hunt Club put a chastity belt on me, which kept me immobile while they fondled me. Father was the first to enter Gold.
He used his thick, gloved fingers. With the nod of his head, a diamond-shaped swath of material disappeared from my crotch, letting the big lips of my labia and my thick, golden muff be seen. Next, he used some unseen force to pin me to the ground, undo my leg shackles and force my legs wide apart. My wrists stayed chained. The young ones laughed and smiled as he knelt between my thighs and began to massage my cunt.

“You’re getting juicy.”

I said nothing. Soon there was a thick, wet, slapsuck noise as his leather fingers plunged into me. Currents of sex were flowing through me.

“So, you have questions,” he laughed. “Well, we left Earth a long time ago, you see. And now ...oh, are you coming already?”

I tried to hold it off, but I came for him. Scorpio’s brother had done it, and now this Father was also able to make me come. Even as I screamed, sweat staining my body stocking, nipples hardened again, and my back arching against the carpeted floor, he pumped harder and rubbed my clit. My cunt brine was gushing over his leather fingers. Out of the corner of my eye I could see my myself, face flushed, cringing and helplessly coming off for my captor. He was still speaking, explaining who these people were, but all I could hear was the sound of my own orgasm.

“You and Mystic didn’t come here together, but you made the same mistake. You should have left the clues alone and enjoyed an evening elsewhere. Well, since you’re here, we’ll make the evening as enjoyable as we can.”

He slipped the two fingers into my mouth, feeding me my own salt. My cunt was more pungent and musty than Mystic’s, I recall. I gagged as he pushed the thick fingers to the back of my throat.

“Quite enjoyable,” he laughed.

He started into my vagina again.

“Why are you doing this? Explain it all to me again. If I’m never going to leave, why not, right?” I said. I felt another vicious orgasm coming,

“I will be happy to, but you first.”

He placed a leather-gloved hand on my face, while the other was still in my sex, and a surge of power came through his fingertips. I heard my voice. My own voice, my own brain, was working independent of my will. I revealed my origin as a superheroine. The Scandinavian magic, the runes .... I explained it all. They learned about how I’d studied with the circle of Norse witches and learned their ways until I mastered the powers to use for the “white way” - the good. I told them how I still go back to them in Norway to renew myself. I told them of my weaknesses.

When he released me from the psychic grip, I passed out.

When I awoke, I was again in chains. For some reason, they still had not put me into their storage as they did with Mystic. Instead, they had me suspended from the ceiling, my booted toes just dangling above the concrete floor, just barely touching. My wrists were up in thick cuffs and gray chains that ran all the way up to the shadows above me. The material that had vanished from my crotch was still gone. My mind wandered back to a conversation I had with Mystic - Kristen - back in Boston.

We were dressed in our standard Friday night clothes - jeans, leather jackets, cowboy boots - and drinking. She’s a beer swiller, while I tend towards Merlot. As people squeezed past our table in the crowded bar and the juke box played 80’s tunes, we talked freely about being superhuman.

“Don’t love your powers too much,” I said, smelling the bouquet of my drink. It was a nice little Merlot. I heard a man across the room, through the crowd, tell a waitress to put our drinks on his tab. I read his thoughts about how I looked to be about thirty and what a blast it would be have both of us at once that night. I laughed.

“What?” smiled Kristen.

“I’ll tell you later. Don’t forget that we’re still mortal and we now carry the weakness of both the power and the mortal coil. I mean, we can fly, but we can still fall.”

She was nodding, big pretty blue eyes fixed on me. She was twenty pert, wild and given to acting on impulse. At forty, I liked to think I knew a little better.

“All I’m saying is, we aren’t goddesses.”

It was a week later that a muscle-bound villain in red - the brother of our fellow heroine Scorpio - had us under his control. First, he captured me with his pheromones, then Kristen was lured in and taken. He could have killed us both, but instead had us put on a lesbian show for him. As she straddled me, feeling my breasts and rubbing her spandex crotch against my hip, I remember thinking how the most dangerous villains aren’t the ones who just kill you. They obviously see you as a threat. The most dangerous ones are the ones who know they can kill you anytime, so they savor it all and toy with you.
I remembered this as I hung in chains in the Labyrinth months later.

The steel door opened and Father came in. He was a damned handsome man, I must say. Tall and gray, with wide shoulders and a muscular physique, he was the type to draw my attention in a bar .

“You’re awake,” he smiled.

“I still don’t know what this is all about. The bodies that I found in the city, the man that I chased, the storage that I found in this house.”

“And these references to not being on Earth,” he smiled.

“Yes.”

“Think of this. Some kids are out cruising around get hungry. What do they do? They want something tasty, something fun .... what does one do?”

I was honestly puzzled.

“McDonald’s?”

“Bingo. Take-out that, although it may not nourish, feels good.”

“And this connects to you how?”

He began to pace around me, every now and then giving my body a shove so that I would sway like a pendulum.

“We travel, Gold. We enjoy ourselves. We find a planet, look at what it has to offer, and take what we want. On most planets it’s minerals. Earth humans have something special. Earth, for us, is sex.”

He clutched my full hips and steadied me. He could feel how helpless I felt dangling there.

“Human sensuality. We have nothing like it on our planet and have seen nothing like it anywhere. We have no bodies like these. No feelings like these.We enjoy using your bodies and your species for pleasure . You give us touch and feeling and ....”

Again, his hands were on my breasts, this time squeezing and twisting. “We inhabit your bodies because they feel and we use them up because they feel.”

“The dead ones I found ....” I began.

“Those? Those we actually had in deepest way.”

“You had sex with them? And they died? That could kill the mood.”

He laughed. His was still manipulating my breasts, pressing them up and together, then apart, then sinking his fingers into their mass.

“That’s what happens. Human bodies simply can’t absorb our energy. Let me show you how we enjoy your type. By the way, this is how you will die.”

He stepped back, releasing my tortured breasts, and snapped his fingers. My cuffs opened and I fell to the ground, all six feet of me sprawling on the moist stone of the underground labyrinth. Weak, I lay there in a crumpled heap while he enjoyed the sight of my defeated body. Long limbs and womanly curves in gold stretch material were at his mercy. I tried to rise, but felt his powers holding me there.

“As you see, I have greater powers then my kids. Get on your hands and knees.”

I was able to come up to my hands and knees, my head hanging down, my wet hair pouring down in twisted moist coils. That was as far as I could get. There was a clanking of chains, and I knelt on all fours- helpless - as he fastened a dog collar around my neck. This was just like what happened to Arachnae a year ago. Here it was again, that weird Superheroine Humiliation Complex. A soldier at war kills his foe when he can. A cop makes the arrest. But these villains, they waste time trying to humiliate you. When I was held by the Hunt Club, they not only paralyzed me with the belt, but propped me up so I could watch them capture Arachnae, who had found their lair. Through a video camera, I watched as they monitored her infiltration of their complex, shot her with a sleeping dart, kicked and beat her and chained her in her semi-conscious state. They dragged her by her hair and breasts. The main attraction, though, was to have me watch as they lead her around on a dog leash.

Walking with her wrists bound and a thick collar joining her to the hunt master, Arachnae was walked down a gauntlet of huntsmen. They slapped her, bit her breasts and ass, fingered her through the red and blue body suit, and kissed and licked her. She was drowsy, staggering and helpless to stop them. When she would fall, she would be yanked back to her feet. Arachnae is a beautiful woman with a body to die for, so they acted like school boys with a new toy.

Now it was my turn to be in chains, only this captor had me crawl like a dog.

“You’re my little bitch. Understand?” I was on all fours, progressing down the cold stone passages of the underground labyrinth. My large breasts hung down, my muscular thighs quivered. I didn’t answer him.

“Do you understand!?!”

A yank on the chain.

“I understand,” I coughed. “I’m your little bitch.”


GOLD CHAPTER II - THE WAY OF ALL FLESH

Stone.

Cold.

Footfalls.

Their compound, The Labyrinth, was just that. It was a coiled network of dead ends, passages, stairwells and twisting turns. All of this was under the manor and, from what I could pick up from the discussion around me, was built during their last visit to Earth. I must have crawled the extent of the entire thing that night. I’d given up trying to rise or fight. The powers of this Father character had full control. With my vagina still exposed, but the rest of my gold cat suit still in one piece, I crawled around on the dog leash. All around I could hear people screaming and the sounds of sex.

“Hear that? From behind the doors? Those are all of my children, The Congregation, having their way with humans we’ve collected. Each one will expire. This is how I will finish you, Gold,” he said. As he’d done over and over during our stroll, he leaned down and slapped my swollen cunt lips. He then fondled my breasts and continued our walk.

“Now, I have something to show you.”

We stopped at one of the doors and he jerked on the leash.

“Up lady! Lady!”

A captive superheroine, a woman of mystical powers now neutralized, I followed his orders and rose up on my “hind legs”. He’ d back his powers off just enough for me to be able to come up on my knees. My “paws” instantly rose up in a begging posture.

“Good girl. Look.” He pushed the door open. My mind immediately went to stories of the Kraken and the Scylla. Tentacles with rows and rows of suction cups seemed to come from everywhere at once, filling the room. I couldn’t really make out an actual body from which they came, just thick dull green glistening membrane that lined the walls, ceiling, and floor. It dripped and it pulsed. In the middle of it all was Mystic.

Like my costume, her purple cat suit was still whole, save for a piece of material gone from her vagina. Her body, lean, muscular and taut,was inverted and arched in a painful bow. Several tentacles had one leg. More had an arm. Another twisted an arm behind her while another pulled the legs wide and apart, exposing her crotch. Naturally, one was inside her. Smaller feelers were pulsing on her diminutive breasts and some even coiled through her red hair. Slime ran over her body in gushes. Her face was a blank.

“This is what we are in our natural form. You see, we can enjoy your bodies in our form or your’s. These are the ones who had you earlier.”

“So, you are parts of a whole in your natural form? No individuals?”

“We can all merge, or a few at a time, but there must always be fusion with another. Come now.”

He closed the door and continued to walk his bitch. Still, he would stop to spank me or finger my cunt. I remained calm, passive, more concerned about Mystic than his stupid interstellar frat boy games. In my normal life, I’ve often enjoyed the type of things he did to my body, but as Gold, it was a challenge to endure - not so much as a humiliation, but as a pain the ass.

“Now is your time,” finally said.

He took me into a room and shut the door.

Inside was a collection that would make DeSade lay down and weep. I recall iron maidens, St. Andrew’s Crosses, racks and the like. He scooped me up and carried me like a baby to what looked like a gynecologist’s table. Helpless, I watched in the mirror as my six-foot-tall, muscular form was moved around, strapped into stirrups, buckled under leather straps and held spread-eagle. My vagina was open to him. I still could not struggle.

The old magic users had told me to face death with my eyes open, and I was not afraid. It was a crummy way to go, but I was not going to flinch.

“I’m staying human to have you,” he said, opening his robe to produce a monster cock. “This the end for you.”

He stood between my legs, and entered me.


GOLD III - OPEN SEASON

Pain is a personal thing, even for super-types. What wounds one is a brush-off for someone else. For me, it takes a whole like of bone-deep pain to really slow me down and stop me cold. Father had found it. As he pulled himself off of me, his sweat dripping down on my metallic cat suit, I was ripped by a blizzard of stinging pin pricks. My whole body - every nerve- had been inflamed by his inhuman fucking. I was all screamed out, and was just wallowing in suffering now.

“You’re alive,” he marveled, his face agape. Just then, his “children”, back in human form, but naked, ran into the room. They were also covered in shock.

“Mystic lived!” they exclaimed.

“I see,” he said looking at me. “This is wonderful. It seems that, as human’s go, these superheroines are the only ones who can absorb our energies. We can enjoy their bodies more than normal women’s. Their physiology is our key.”

The room was filled with inhuman laughter. Raising my head a bit, I could see Mystic being dragged into the room. She was out like a light, and being dragged by her ankles.

“Store these two together. Liquidate the humans in our storage space. Begin searching. From this moment on, we collect the superheroines of Earth!”

I gave into the pain and passed out.


SHAKE DOWN THE THUNDER

I was a zombie. I could hear, think, see, but I was a statue. They had taken me by the arms and muscled me into one of hundreds of glass tubes. Each had held a human mortal. Now they had been freed up for us. Freed for superheroines. The door was sealed and I felt each muscle go stiff as a clear gas filled the tube. I stood like a soldier at attention as the Congregation, beautiful and lean, moved around the room. They studied my body, prepared tools, and spoke mentally to one another. They bid over who would have me next.

Mystic was in the same situation, standing across from me. Helpless.

There was an exalt from the end of the hall, and I knew their new project was really underway.

I had met the heroine called Thunder only once before. She had been there, during my fight with Succubus. Her energy bolts had weakened the enemy, who had transformed into a monster form, but was captured along with me. Mesmerized, she stood stock-still in her yellow-trimmed purple body suit and watched helplessly as Succubus turned me into her whore. Shape shifting from her petite, beautiful, human body to a seven-foot-tall, bat-winged creature, the Succubus had me deliver my tongue to her giant red clit.

“You’re next,” she giggled to Thunder.

So, here was Thunder again. Again we were both captured. This time, I was the one who could only stand helplessly.
Thunder was a tall - almost as tall as me - and costumed her curves in a skin-tight, wet-look purple cat suit. Unlike Mystic’s, which covered her from neck to toe, Thunder’s costume left her arms and shoulders bare. It showed her lush cleavage and framed the contours of two perfect brown breasts. I think that she was a mix of several different backgrounds, beautifully baring traits that seemed black, Asian, Latina, and Mediterranean European all at once. That night, she was soaking wet, unconscious, and being dragged by her yellow-booted ankles. The slick wetness of her costume showed the outlines of her large nipples and the thickly-grown mound of her delta.

The Congregation had gone hunting for heroines.

I would find out later that they’d used their mental abilities to track down the energies given off by the use of powers like our’s. They found Thunder fighting with our arch enemy. Scirocco, who slipped away as Father snapped his fingers and sent the brown woman tumbling into the river.

They did a good of tying her up, I must say. Father watched as one of his women tied Thunder’s ankles in a crossed position. Layers of rope, and her sleek, athletic legs were trapped. Second-skin wet spandex rose and conformed to thick quads and smooth, chiseled calves. The ankles were yanked back until her heels touched the firm, roundness of her butt. One lifted the woman at the waist while the other lashed the rope around her slender torso. Once around the waist, once up and over her left shoulder, again around the waist, then up over her right shoulder. Then tighter. Then tighter so that the ropes cut in against her limp, torso. Another secured her wrists to overhead chains and a winch moaned to life, winding the chain up and dragging her into the air. Father stopped her when their faces were close.

“We come here to enjoy your bodies. Now we need not worry about expending them too quickly.”

His words fell on deaf ears, as Thunder’s head sagged to one side. Her eyes were closed and her sensuous, full lips hung in a senseless pout. Thick, wet black curls framed her face.

Father peeled away the upper portion of her body suit, exposing smooth brown globes and large, black nipples. His lips curled in a smile.


EMBRACE

Thunder gained her powers by chance. I studied with Nordic Wiccans to gain my powers, but hers came by dumb luck. One good lightning zap during a London storm, and she was empowered in-utero. Her mom didn’t make it, but she was left able to fly and concentrate energy blasts. Powerful ones. When we finally got free of Succubus, I watched as she took out the villain's minions with frightening bursts of electricity.

Her powers were nowhere to be found on the night of our captivity to the Congregation. She’d had a fight with that bitch that calls herself Scirocco, The Bringer of Winds. They’d exchanged electric blasts for gusts of wind and tossed each other around for an hour of so before Father and his crew showed up. Thunder would tell me later how the older man simply snapped his fingers and every ounce of power died in her. She felt herself drop like a stone as Scirocco sped away. She felt waves close over her.

Powers depleted, hanging in chains, Thunder’s large black nipples became sucking candy for her captors. She was little more than Jessica Matthews now, as I was little more than my regular identity, Tracy. We were just female bodies.
Two women were sucking her nipples and fingering her mound as I was taken out of the tube. She was moaning now, and they were dragging me to the ropes and chains that dangled from the ceiling. Instead of trussing me up like Thunder, they put me in a hanging spread eagle. My feet were anchored to the floor, spread far apart in a broad, open, straight-legged stance. My wrists were locked in dangling chains and stretched out above my head. Both of us, large-breasted, lush and helpless were being shown what it means to be an object.

There was a gurgling noise, and I looked over to see the aliens who were sucking Thunder shift to their true form. In a second, she was encircled in tentacles. To my left, some that were still in human form were taking a stock-still Mystic from her holding tube. They took only seconds to string her up, chaining her ankles, spreading her legs, and hanging her upside down. Her wrists were chained to her waist and her red locks dangled down. Now, one after the other dissolved into their alien form and joined the single, growing beast as it fondled the three of us. A green arm slithered up my left leg and wrapped around my waist, as another coiled tightly around my neck. They encircled my thighs and breasts and soon I was in the snuggling embrace of the creature. Every inch of my metallic-look- gold-clad body was covered. I was mummified. I was cocooned in the green arms.

This was another supervillain fetish I still try to figure out. They like to mummify. At least some do. When Eclipse and I battled The Sculptor, I experienced it first-hand. We’d crept into his loft to free what we thought was a captive woman. She was probably going to be found tightly-mummified and in a drug-induced stupor like all of his victims. None could be totally roused from their drug sleep and all had SCHONE tagged on their bodies.

We’d only been there for a minute before the place was flooded with a thick green gas. It clogged my nose and mouth, painted the back of my throat and drained any sort of strength I had out of me. I clutched at my throat and made a feeble attempt to fly. All I ended up doing was crashing to the carpeted floor. I convulsed with choking coughs and looked up at Eclipse through the haze. She was on her knees, also gagging. A second later, she was sprawled across my body and I was out.

Just like with the Congregation and their multi-armed persona, I awoke to find myself helpless. I was on my back, strapped to an operating-type table, as was Eclipse. Her body was similar to mine -tall, long-legged, large-breasted and muscular. Her hair was blond, and, while my costume was metallic-gold, hers was a midnight black latex sheath that seemed to be painted to every detail of her body. A mask came up her neck and covered her face just above the nose. It reminded me of Alley Kat's costume without the exposed diamond of cleavage.

Much of the captivity is a blur, but I remember our scrawny, academic-looking host rubbing his palms and smiling.

“Don’t worry. I’m going to turn you into beautiful women.”

I watched, groggy, my head sagging, as he took hours to tightly wrap her black-clad body in a thick white gauze, all the while muttering “Beautiful .... Beautiful...”

Soon she was a simply a white hour-glass silhouette, with only space enough to breath. Lovingly, his hands followed her helpless contours.

“Beautiful...”

Then he did it to me.

The Congregation tentacles embraced me with the same tightness, not penetrating me, but sealing me up in a slimy full-body hug. Their voice spoke again in my head.

“You will stay this way forever, Gold.”


TEA PARTY

I never actually passed out. I went limp. My cunt gushed like a sluice box. I was dumped to the stone floor when they were done, as were Mystic and Thunder. We were dragged again, Mystic and I, back to the posh sitting room. With no ropes or chains to hold us, they sat us in plush chairs, laid our hands on the arm rests, and opened our legs. We were helpless, living dolls. Vacant. Their powers and the marathon of groping had cast a veil over us. We’d been drained and exhausted.
Left alone, vacant-faced with sopping cunts, we waited for the next trial. The whole room, with it’s art and thick drapes, was laden with the musty smell of our sex.

More of the beautiful men and women milled around the room. They sipped tea, eat scones, and commented on how beautiful we were. Again, my mind wandered back to being made a mummy by the Sculptor. Once we had both been bound-up into perfect hour-glass mummies, Eclipse and I were adorned with garlands and fruit. The Sculptor had a group of friends over that night. He showed us off - two helpless heroines among his statues. They also chatted about perfect our shapes were.

“Perfect big breasts.”

“Wonderful hips.”

History repeats.

The beautiful people sipped tea and wandered the room. They talked about us. The door opened and in came Father. The others watched as he walked his new bitch, Thunder, into the room. She crawled on all fours, as I had, her head pulled up by the dog collar.

“Explain who you are,” he chuckled.

It hit me that she was still resisting. She ground her teeth and shuddered, but finally gave up. Her voice was crisp and British, her words forced.

“I’m your bitch.”

The strain in her face told me that she was fighting them with every ounce of her being, but losing quickly. It was like when the hunters injected Arachnae with aphrodisiac. They surrounded her, their cocks unsheathed, and waited for her to give in to the potion and take one into her supple mouth. She grimaced in the same way Thunder did now. He jerked on her leash and laughed and Thunder began to masturbate through the open crotch of her costume.

“And what do bitches do?”

She hiss through her teeth and shuddered, even as juices dribbled from her thick, brown lips. Her large nipples went hard in the purple body suit and she broke.

“They eat cunt.”

With that , she was on me. She ate me more wildly than any lover had before. Loud, smacking, gushing sounds came up from between my thighs and the first tremors of orgasm rocked my long body. Father moved forward, his massive cock out again, and entered her from behind as I came over and over. I looked up to see Mystic being inverted again, her legs spread, men and women took turns tasting her.

The night wore on that way. I discovered that Mystic had a stronger taste than Thunder, and that my own juices tasted sugary when tasted along with Thunder’s off of Mystic’s mouth. We finally ended up stretched out side-by-side on the floor, frantically masturbating and staring at the ceiling.

“What do you think folks?” asked the naked and flushed Father.

“A true dish.”

“They were great.”

“I want more Thunder.”

“Oh, more of the blond, for me.”

Father knelt over me and smiled.

“ I want to gather more of them. I have an idea.”

He must have transmitted something to them. Without a word, we were scooped up and carried through the hallways. One woman got creative, slipping her thumb into my anus, one finger up my cunt, and dragging me like a six pack. The Sculptor had made a foot rest out of me, paralyzing me in a doggie position and placing me in front of his recliner. He’d connected lines to Eclipse’s wrists, ankles, knees, shoulders, head - everything to make her into a living remote control puppet. He sat with his feet on my back, clicking a remote and laughing as her body jerked and twisted in an erotic dance for him.

Objects.

Again, we were placed on tables. Each of us, our minds under control, our bodies at their mercy, lay there as something was placed in each of our vaginas. It felt like some sort of small, smooth capsule and my muscles instantly squeezed down around it. A new energy ran through me. Something electric.

“Now, bitches, you will go out. You will find your fellow heroines. We will channel out energies through you and you will collect their unconscious bodies to bring back. You can’t resist can you?”

“No,” we said in unison.

“You will do our bidding.”

“Yes.” One voice.


END GAME

When they have you under control, anything is possible. I’d been through the sex toy thing more than once. I’d also been through their need to use captured heroines as weapons. It only made sense that whatever powers you have might be of use to a villain.

When I was seeking out Vixen in Hong Kong, I found out all about that. She had captured her sister, Alley Kat. That I knew. What I was to learn was that Vixen had programmed her brain to act on command as part of an animal control experiment. I’ll never forget the mind-numbing pain of Alley Kat’s grip on my breasts as she captured me from behind. Her strength had been increased ten-fold and it felt as if she was trying to rip the large, round globes from my body. She shook me and twisted them until Vixen gave her a command.

“Give her a toss!”

Alley Kat - the lean, lithe, black-clad heroine - sent me flying into a stack of oil drums. Groggy, I couldn’t fight as she lifted me up by my hair. I looked up at her -beautiful blond slave - and did nothing as she struck me in the temple. They stripped my body suit down to my waist and used length after knotted length of rope to hang me by my breasts from the ceiling.

“Never try to come between sisters,” Vixen laughed as she hoisted me up. Even after I escaped from that bind, Alley Kat was able to capture me for Vixen. With her speed, with her power, she snatched me up in a bear hug and squeezed me into blackness.

Peregrin’s ability to fly made her a useful tool for Succubus. When she was a mind slave, her long, Latina body - a brown and black blur as she flew in her skin-tight body suit - scooped up Arachnae and carried her higher and higher until the speed and the altitude knocked her out.

Alley Kat and Peregrine were under complete control back then. Thunder, Mystic and I were semi-controlled. We could talk, but had no free will as far as commands. They told us what to do and we simply did it.

The Congregation walked us out into the night air. There was no need for collars and chains. We were slaves.

“What did you put in our bodies?” I asked.

They were only too eager to explain. Control pods. Clear minds. Puppet bodies. A powerful charge from their energy source flowed through us. We knew that we had to do their bidding and could only choose what we were told to do.

“You’ll bring Scorpio to us, “ Father told me. He fondled me again.

He stepped down the line.

“You will bring Eclipse, “ he told Mystic.

“And you....” His hand was on Thunder’s right breast. “You will bring ....”

“Nothing,” she snapped in her crisp English accent.

He paused.

“I will bring you nothing.”

Her voice was like a shock through the fall air. It hung there, a moment of panic and confusion for Father and the others. It hung there, and I recalled that I never told Mystic about how villains can be over-confident. About how Vixen the Hunt club, Succubus, all of them lose focus and forget details.

Thunder came alive. I felt the air crackle as she released her first blast of energy. They didn’t smell like human’s when they burned, these Congregationists. They revert to their original form and smell as alien as they look.

Thunder was in motion defeating the aliens who still held the rest of us in bondage. She did that flip that I’ve seen her do, and issued a blast of ball lightning.

A psychic impulse ran through us, and Mystic and I moved to defend our captors. She was preoccupied with fighting the Congregation, and was taken completely by surprise as we struck. I fought to resist the impulse, but they were in control. I attacked Thunder.

I grabbed Thunder around the thighs, again taking in the deep smell of her crotch. Mystic had her by the breasts. She screamed in pain, even as she out a thin beam of energy and set fire to another mass of slime and arms.

A burst of my golden energy issued from my body, sending Thunder into spasms.

“Yes!!!” screamed Father, his half-human mass dissolving from the energy blast. We would have had her, if she hadn’t produced a stun burst, blacking us out. As I faded, his words came back to me. A powerful charge. An energy source.

We woke up in the tall grass. I’m not sure where we were compared to their mansion, but my body no longer hummed with the energy of the Congregation.

“Their energy source recharged you and cleared your head,” Mystic said, her Boston voice wobbly and tired.

Thunder was crouching next to our prone bodies, her gorgeous body framed in the moonlight.

“That’s right, love. Then you were set free by their demise.”

All three of us stood, our bodies throbbing with pain. I was a mass of bites, bruises and scars.

“This has been a great evening,” Mystic chirped. She was nursing her right breast.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” I laughed.

Thunder ran her finger through her hair and looked at us. “If it’s any consolation,” she said, London-smooth. “You were a couple of great lays.”