Humiliatrix

Written by Mr. K

10. Humiliatrix: Dark Moon Rising

 

St. Andrew’s Cross

 

The strap of the ball gag was unforgiving. It was a made of rough, coarse leather and it was harsh against the soft skin of her cheeks. Instinctively, she shifted her jaw about, trying to alleviate the cutting pressure, but that only made it worse, showing her how tightly the leather was pulled against her face. Besides, the ball was too large, and stretched her red mouth out too wide for her to move it much at all. She hadn’t started to drool very much, so she imagined that she hadn’t been unconscious for very long.

 

Slowly, she raised her head, a tangle of black hair falling across her face. Damp and twisted, her hair shrouded her vision, giving her a broken view of the room. She could make out the candles that hung on ornate holders that spouted from the walls. They gave the room it’s only light, and shadows shifted and waved around the stone floor.

 

They had cuffed her while she was asleep. She could tell that she was held by thick leather cuffs that had been secured around her wrists and ankles. Like the ball gag strap, these cuffs were strong, and uncomfortable. Made of leather and metal, they held her lean body against what she assumed must have been a St. Andrew’s Cross – an X rack. Against the busty, supple curves of her body, against the pantyhose nylon of her body stocking, it was hard and cold.

 

As best she could, Dark Moon tried to look around and assess her surroundings. Resistance and escape were pretty much a given “no go” for her. Her body was too weakened, and her bonds were too strong. She just wanted to get a better sense of where she was and what might be in store for her.

 

Stone walls. Candle light. Bondage.

 

That was all she could discern. She was no longer in the factory. She had been taken somewhere else. She was a captive. This was all she could make out.

 

She walked her mind through the events that lead up to this, her body responding to the recollection with pain and weakness. She recalled the cold darkness in the cavernous interior of the abandoned factory where this had all started. Her hands remembered how she crept through the lattice works of girders and beams that spider-webbed the ceiling of the place. She remembered being silent and smooth as she stalked her prey. And she remembered how she crouched and prepared when her targets showed up. High above the factory floor, she looked down and watched as the men brought in their captive.

 

Her first thought was that this looked like a fraternity prank or initiation of some sort; six men in Halloween-style skeleton costumes whooping and applauding each other as they carried a woman in like a trophy. Each one lent a shoulder, or an arm, as they carried the limp form of an conscious redhead through the open doorway of the factory.

 

“WE GOT HER MAN!”

 

“WE FUCKIN’ GOT HER!”

 

The woman was called Mystic. She was a redhead who practiced a Celtic magic form that gave her supernatural powers, and it was those powers that made her one the heroines that protected this city. In the semidarkness, Dark Moon could see the purple of the beaten woman’s cat suit and the curves of her body. She could see the vivid red hair.

 

In that moment, she had to shake her head at how this night had worked out. She had come soaring down the hi-way on her Japanese bullet bike, whipping in and out of what traffic there was, until she found herself in no man’s land. Empty hulls of warehouses and factories, open space where buildings had been leveled, smoke stacks that aimed uselessly at the sky - this was the graveyard that lay just beyond the city limits. She went there to find these Skeleton Crew assholes, with their limited superpowers, and end their mischief.

 

She was stalking them, and evidently they were out stalking Mystic. Looking at the way they carried her in, listening to the way they laughed and cavorted, it was clear that they had set out to lure and capture Mystic. Somewhere, in the darkness and filth of that city, they had trapped and captured her. They had her now, and they were lashing her to a steel chair that stood alone in the middle of the factory floor.

 

Dark Moon waited, breathing in the darkness, as they spread her legs, chaining her shapely, sculptured calves to the steel and rivets of the chair. She looked at how Mystic’s round, perfect breasts were thrust up and forward as they lashed her wrists to the back of the chair.

 

I can move on them now, while they’re occupied, she thought.

 

She had just finished that thought when the women showed up. They were all lush and busty like Amazons, but behaved impishly, swinging on those metal bars and perching on the steel constructions that formed the skeleton of the big, empty building. They were calling her name, cooing to her.

 

“Daaark Moooon …. Daaark Moooon ….”

 

“There’s Daaaark Moooon …. Soooo beautiful ….”

 

“She’s coming with usssss….”

 

She tried to take it in all at once, the gorgeous women in black vinyl and high heels, the model’s hair and gleaming eyes shining in the darkness like beacons. Her eyes came away from the Skeleton Crew binding Mystic, and flashed from one dark silhouette to another. She realized that she knew these women.

 

League of the Black Cat.

 

The dark-haired heroine was moving to grasp the bar in front of her, to begin her own acrobatic attack, when she realized that one, a broadly-smiling, pert, curvy blond, was right next to her. She hung upside-down, grasping an overhead beam with her booted ankles, her short, blond hair hanging down in ringlets. She smiled as her hand came to the ornate, golden buckle that sat at the curve of her waspish little waist.

The last thing Dark Moon remembered was the movement of the little imp’s finger as she pushed the button on the buckle. She would wonder, later, what sort of gas it was. It had a sweet, overpowering smell that filled every sense – an almost floral scent. It settled in the back of her throat, a film that started to tighten her windpipe and squeeze her capillaries.  She saw stars that blazed out and rotated into a swirling darkness. Her caramel skin tingled, then became numb as her limbs became deadened and her hands simply fell asleep.

 

The women of the League watched with cool, amused smiles as Dark Moon, in her black, glossy high-heeled boots, and her black pantyhose skin suit, breathed in the gas, closed her eyes, and simply fell from her place in the network of ceiling bars and girders. Her body arched, limp limbs, firm and defined, dangling loosely from her body and she plummeted head-first.

 

The Latin woman in black would never feel herself strike the concrete floor of the building. She would sleep, spread-eagle in the shadows, while the women swooped down and collected not one, but two superheroines.

 

She would never know what the League women did to the idiots of the Skeleton Crew, and how they took Mystic. She didn’t know whether they had a deal worked out with those guys, or if they had to neutralize them. She would never know how she was transported, but it all lead to her strapped to that giant metal X, ball-gagged, and helpless.

 

There was a photo, though. She would see the sharp color and contrast of a photo that someone had taken of her stretched out on the floor beside Mystic. Both of the women were on their backs, their mouths pursed open, their eyes shut. Her mess of black hair seemed to be reaching out to the mess of shocking red that surrounded Mystic’s face.

Her arms were settled by her sides, Mystic’s were laid across her own tight, flat abs.

 

While she was on the X, a voice came from behind. She darted her eyes, unable to turn her head enough to see the speaker.

 

“Hello, chica. Hello, Dark Moon.”

 

There was a strong cloud of feminine musk that enveloped the gagged super woman as a figure stalked up from behind her. Before she could see her, she could tell that her captor was tall, full-bodied woman. She walked slowly, with a confidence that said that she was in no rush. All of this would be on her time.

 

“Hello, chica.”

 

The woman was captivating. She was a redhead with a pert, little up-turned nose. Her lips seemed poised to kiss some unseen lover. She looked the bound woman in the eye.

 

“I’m Humiliatrix. How are you? Comfortable?”

 

She wore a skin-tight white leather dress that was lit up one side, begging you to look at the long, lean extent of her leg. She wore short Victorian boots. She carried an unlit cigar between her fingers, gesturing with it, drawing small circles near her pert lips with it.

 

Humiliatrix.

 

A spark of recognition turned on in the bound Latina’s mind. She had heard this name before. She knew who this woman was. This was the woman who had captured Gold , captured Night Star, captured Red Devil, captured Bora and her daughter Cold Front, and humiliated them. She could have killed them, but he humiliated them. She felt a cold uprising of fear in her spine and her throat. She felt herself trying to breathe and focus. This leather-clad goddess woman had the upper hand.

 

“You’re fine, that’s how you are. You’re weakened by the drugs that I’ve pumped into you, but you’re good. You’re going to be especially good, in fact. You’re going to be fine.”

 

Her eyes crept up and down the woman’s body.

 

“Perfect. You have these juicy red lips, Dark Moon, and I love seeing them stretched wide like that around the ball gag. I usually like more drool, there must be something in your super-heroine physiology that … hmmm, whatever. You still look great like that. Oh, look at how nice and round and high and firm those tits are. So nice.  And your other lips … mmmm … I like your other lips. I love that cleft. Very nice in the nylon.”

 

She looked up, looking the captive in the eye.

 

“You’re in for the night of your life.”

 

She touched the Dark Moon’s face, then leaned forward to lick the ball gag. She came away with the gloss of the caramel woman’s spit on her tongue.  Her right hand snaked down, and she gently pinched the captive woman’s labia, making her squirm and moan. The big pussy lips were thick and seemed to quiver in the domme’s fingers.

 

“Tell me,” she said, her voice practically a whisper. “Did he touch your pussy like this?”

 

The gagged woman’s dark eyes met those of her captor. All she could do was wait, in that open door, for her to fill in the gaps and show Dark Moon just how much she knew about the cuffed woman.

 

“Ignacio. Did he know how sensitive your cunt lips were? He must have.”

 

With a ball gag keeping her silent, and eyes that burned with confusion and rage, the dark heroine glared at Humiliatrix. Stretched on the St. Andrew’s Cross, her muscles flexed against her bonds and her breasts heaved.

 

“Yes,” said the redheaded dom to her prisoner. “He knew your cunt well, didn’t he? Long before he captured you, long before he knew the power of being a supervillian , he knew your cunt. I guess he just got to know it better when he had you.”

 

Now, the captive woman looked at Dominatrix with a cool, measured stare. This woman knew way too much … way too much … about her. Again, she scanned the woman’s face and body. Did she know this bitch? Was she there when Ignacio, or Blood Choke, as he called himself then, held her?

 

Of course not. She knew that she wasn’t out there in that old, isolated castle.

 

They looked at each other, hanging in the pause. The dominant woman’s fingers were moving again. Her long middle finger slipped between Dark Moon’s big lips, while its neighbors pinched in on the sides, squeezing her prisoner’s big labia through the nylon of the costume. She rubbed them back and forth, creating just a bit of friction, making the bound one moan.

 

“So, when he had you, when he caught you up in that castle in the mountains, you and Cutlass had been stalking him, yes? Tell the truth though, you should have known that it was a trap, and that he was stalking you, as well? I mean, really …”

 

Dark Moon could see herself again, darting around the dank, corridors of that old Spanish castle. The black of her costume allowed her to simply meld into the shadows, and she felt herself almost flowing through the thick shadows and cool air of the castle corridors. Her hair flowed in a trail behind her.

 

“But where was Cutlass?” she smirked. “You two entered that castle together, to capture him together, but where was your sexy little red-haired partner? What happened to Cutlass?”

 

Somehow she knew that, in that castle, all of those months ago, the mental link between Cutlass and Dark Moon had been severed. Chained to that X rack, Dark Moon remembered how she wondered why her psychic eye had gone blind as she climbed the narrow winding stairwell.

 

“And when you found her, he had finished her, hadn’t he?”

 

He had.

 

When she found Cutlass in the upstairs corridor, the woman was a sculpture of defeat. Her high-heeled black boots were still perfectly glossy and shiny, but the fishnet stockings that covered her long, athletic legs were torn open at the crotch, as was her bodysuit.

 

Her shaven pussy lips were exposed, swollen, and red. Even from where she stood, Dark Moon could see the big, distended clit. It seemed to throb and pulse like a beacon between the woman’s legs. Her brutalized sex was pink and red, and stood out fiercely against the black of her fishnets and skin-tight body suit. It was his signature.

 

That black bodysuit, with its white chess knight insignia, had been pulled off her smooth shoulders and down past her breasts. They were large, teardrop-shaped, and when Dark Moon found her slumped in that hallway, their nipples were engorged and red. It looked like Blood Choke had been sucking and biting the fishnetted heroine.

 

“Let’s see, if I recall, she was still alive, and still awake, but no help to you at all.” Humiliatrix had a pondering finger up to her lips as she recalled the details that she had no reason to have known.

 

She was right, though. Cutlass, Tina, in her stockings and bodysuit, simply stared at Dark Moon with an empty gape on her face. She had moist, full lips, glossed red, that hung open as she looked at her Latina partner with sleepy eyes.

 

“He had taken care of her, hadn’t he? He had taken care of that pussy and those big nipples of hers, and put her in a trace. That’s what he does, your man Ignacio. He can leave you in a spent trance, can’t he? But he hadn’t laid a finger on her, had he? That’s his true power, isn’t it?”

 

The ball-gagged woman tilted her head back, her eyes still meeting Humiliatrix’s.

 

“And he grabbed you from behind, squeezed you tight, didn’t he?”

 

He had. Slipping up behind Dark Moon in that dark hallway, the massive man wrapped two thick arms around the woman’s torso. He pinned her arms to her sides and crushed for all he was worth. Dark Moon remembered how she found herself suddenly fighting for breath, her head tilted back as felt the crush around her body.

 

“And he whispered in your ear, didn’t he?”

 

Don’t be jealous of her. I’m here for you, beauty.

 

Her body chained to that St. Andrew’s cross, she remembered the powerful vise of his arms and the supple sucking kiss that he laid on her neck as he squeezed the life out of her. His arms were just below her big breasts, and he heaved them up, displaying them in their sheer, black pantyhose material.

 

He lifted her off the ground.

 

The dark woman wanted to resist, wanted to struggle free of the grip, but found herself unable to collect her wits or her superhuman strength. The man called Bloodchoke had a body full of nanoprobes … some sort of nanoprobe … that flowed through him. When he gave a woman his saliva, his semen, his tears, they would seek the woman’s skin, then enter her, seeking her blood.

 

Humiliatrix spoke very matter-of-factly. “Once those nanos are in your body, he can control them, and thus … if I understand correctly … control your blood flow and your organs’ functions. It was like he had a gun to your head. He had you, and he had Cutlass. He could, literally, make your blood do what he wanted it to. That’s why her clit was big and swollen. You still struggled a bit didn’t you?”

 

Dark Moon, trapped in the man’s arms,  pulled her knees up and thrashed her head, but everything that she did was a farce; there was something in that kiss against her bare neck that flowed in her system now. She felt her nylon-clad legs grow heavy, and her nylon-clad arms grow weak.

 

“He picked you up like a toy and slammed you down on the concrete beside Cutlass. You just laid there, on your side waiting for your new lover. Oh! And he passed his hands over you didn’t he? He passed his hands over you, and you understood his powers.”

 

Squirming on the stone in her black pantyhose material, Dark Moon felt her blood rushing to her cunt. She felt it rushing to her big dark nipples. Her heart started racing, and the world began to spin as he directed the blood to flow away from her brain.

 

“So you finally understood his power. He could tell your blood where to go. You could feel your clit becoming engorged, and your pussy lips swelling. You could feel these …” She roughly pinched both big nipples of her captive. “Getting harder.”

 

Humiliatrix was practically panting at this point, as she slowly paced around the big, black X and the woman who was chained to it. The ball-gagged brunette’s head swam with the heavy feminine musk of her captor, and she felt her own pussy growing sodden and hot. Now she remembered Doom Kitten’s words right after she experienced captivity in the hands of Humiliatrix.

 

“She knew everything about me. She knew how to defeat me, and she made me want it.”

 

For a moment, now, Humiliatrix was silent, and Dark Moon’s mind still tumbled through the details of her captivity to Blood Choke. Dark Moon recalled looking over at Tina, the woman who became Cutlass when she donned the high-heeled boots, fishnets, and bodysuit. The redhead’s eyes were distant, and juice trickled out of her swollen cunt. Her gloved hands made feeble motions, but otherwise, she was just a broken figure.

 

“You know, I never actually laid a hand on her,” Blood Choke said. “I never had to. I can make your bodies respond as I wish by sending your blood where I wish. Look at how engorged your pussy is becoming. Guess that’s hard with you choking the way you are. Yeah, look at how sleepy you’re getting. I’m doing this to you, tramp. I’m changing your blood flow. I’m mastering you, beauty.”

 

Dark Moon could feel her body sinking into oblivion, with Blood Choke looming over her.

 

“He never did quite let you pass out, did he? He allowed enough blood to get through to your brain so that you would linger on the edge. He ripped the crotch out of your costume, just like he had with your little friend,” Humiliatrix explained. Dark Moon, her mouth stretched by the ball gag, could only glare at the sensuous woman. She could not demand any answers as to how this woman knew so damn much.

 

“He actually sent the blood, not just to your pussy, but right into your clit. Right into it. And he kept you confused and dizzy. There was no way you were going to beat this man, just like you’ll never get off that cross unless I take you off.”

 

The man lifted her that night, roughly picking her up with his hands wrapped around her waist. He dumped her over his shoulder, laughing as her legs tremored; her big, hard nipples had brushed the rough leather material of his costume.

 

“But you didn’t quite cum, did you?”

 

Her captive breathed against the ball gag.

 

“You’re body just shuddered a bit. So, he carried you, over his shoulder, and laid you out on a table in one of those rooms, right? Right. Poor thing. You were probably so dizzy and screwed up that you had no idea what was going on.  So, let’s see. He laid you out on your back, with your legs spread, and your arms wide open … You looked great spread out like that.”

 

She paused, and let the prisoner ponder how she knew all of this. Again, she looked up and down the woman’s body.

 

“You look wonderful now, and you looked wonderful then. I love …” She paused and looked at the body of the woman in nylon. “ I love your muscular legs, and your gorgeous, big tits. MMMMM. Tight little narrow midsection here. So, he left you like that, pretty much helpless, and brought in Cutlass.”

 

Dark Moon remembered the sweet smell of Cutlass’ hair as she was carried in, brushed over her own body, and then laid on top of her. The redheaded heroine in fishnets was laid inverted, with her head down between Dark Moon’s thighs. Her own dancer’s thighs were laid over Dark Moon’s shoulders, with her glistening crotch hovering over the dark heroine’s face. Her pussy smelled sweet and clean.

 

“You could feel the faint breeze of her breath against your sex, and she could feel your’s. Bloodchoke changed the flow again, for both of you. More blood flowed to your clits and less to your brains. And all you did was breathe against those big ,wet pussies.”

 

It was almost as if Dark Moon could hear the panting again. It was almost as if she could hear the gorgeous magic-user called Cutlass moan, and feel her squirm atop her. Her own breath caressed the delicate folds of the Cutlass’s sex, as the red-head’s wafted over hers. The room spun, her body weakened, becoming heavy and numb, just as the blue spark of her orgasm rushed to meet her. All it took was the trickle of air that each woman released. All they did was breathe against each other’s swollen pussies.

 

Somehow, Humiliatrix knew everything that had transpired.

 

“Hmmmm. Very little oxygenated blood reaching your brain, and an orgasm overwhelming you. You must have enjoyed that a bit, the erotic asphyxiation. Did you enjoy that?”

 

There was drool, now, and the Latina’s eyes narrowed.

 

“Did you like the way your brain drowned?”

 

She was walking around the room now, out of Dark Moon’s vision. There was the sound of her collecting something up, opening what must have been a hinged box. Dark Moon heard the sharp clack of the box being closed, and soon Humiliatrix was in front of her again. Surrounded by her sweet, powerful musk, she drifted back into Dark Moon’s line of sight.

 

There was a self-satisfied smile playing across her face, and she cocked her head to one side. Two women were silent.

 

Humiliatrix’s hands were moving in circles, one of the other, folding and twisting a length of purple material. She was stretching and twisting something purple.

 

The two women’s eyes met. This was Mystic’s costume. There was a whole story twined between her manicured hands. Somewhere in that mansion, the redheaded Celtic witch was without her costume. Her thick, red muff was glowing out again the white of her skin. Somewhere in that woman’s place, Mystic was stripped of her costume.

 

“We’ve found her thing, actually, I found it sometime ago. She’s having a night to remember. I’ll show you the film, later, of her begging and cumming. You liked it when you watched Cutlass cumming, right? Watching is your thing. And your thing is…”

 

Suddenly, Mystic’s costume was a tightly-stretched garrote in the woman’s fists. Still wearing her smile, she pressed it against the caramel throat of the captive. She wrapped it, and twisted it, and choked Dark Moon into unconsciousness.

 

2.

Her head should have been pounding. She had been gassed, and her air supply had been cut off when the woman strangled her with Mystic’s costume. It was probably her superhuman nature that kept her body from rebelling like that. She remembered when Chimera held her underwater in a hot tub until her body gave up and she passed out.

 

She remembered how Boa, during her battle with the deadly, blond soccer mom, had choked and strangled her more than once. It must have been the second time during that fight, when Boa’s legs were crushing her windpipe. She realized how quickly she had recovered from the last choking session.

 

None of this had occurred to her when Humiliatrix wrapped Mystic’s costume around her throat and squeezed off her air supply. All she knew was that she was at the mercy of this woman, and that passing out with Mystic’s costume around her neck was the least of what she would experience.

 

Ropes

 

The X rack was no longer the thing. She’d been moved. While she was unconscious, the Humiliatrix had kissed her red lips, She’d tilted her head back, and looked at the woman’s features, stroking the cheek bones and running her fingers through the jet-black hair. Cupping her face like a lover, she kissed the lush lips again, this time catching the upper lip and sucking it a bit.

 

“You’re so damn beautiful.” The words came out with force and passion. It was like she couldn’t say it profoundly enough. Her hands came down to the twisted purple costume that was twined around Dark Moon’s neck. She tightened it, pulling and twisting as if to make an unconscious woman even more unconscious. The sinew in her arms flexed, and she watched the color change in the Latina’s face.

 

“So fucking beautiful. Such a dirty whore.”

 

Seconds ticked by, and the tension left the red-haired dom’s shoulders. She let her hands drop, and the costume clung there, as if ordered to continue strangling the heroine. A taciturn look of purpose crossed the villainess’s face, for just a second. Humiliatrix reached up, uncuffing the woman’s right wrist. The firm, sinewy arm dropped, dead weight, down to the side of the woman in nylon. She sagged on the X rack.

 

Staying on the same side, she knelt and undid the captive’s right ankle, releasing the black, leather boot. The tension was relieved, and the shapely leg relaxed, bending, flexing the athletic muscle in the quads and calves.

 

“Such a beautiful, fucking whore.”

 

Next, she undid the left arm, and stayed crouched in front of the sleeping heroine. With her arms undone, Dark Moon toppled over, arching over the body of her captor. The cascade of black hair poured down Humiliatrix’s back and the beaten woman’s arms flopped listlessly forward. With her torture subject draped over her shoulder, Humiliatrix undid the left ankle, and stood, holding Dark Moon over her shoulder in a classic carry.

 

There was a pause, as she caressed the firm globe of Dark Moon’s ass. She took a deep relaxing breath, feeling the texture of the pantyhose costume under her hand. She ran her hand down the long legs.

 

Dark Moon’s body swayed and limply bobbed as the victor carried her out of the room and into the long, dim hallway. As if they were made of the shadows themselves, two of Black Cats appeared at either side of their mistress. Instinctively, they reached out and touched the nylon-clad body of the knocked-out woman.

 

“Do you want us to tend to her, mistress?”

 

“No, sweeties, I’m going to play with this one myself. Thank you.”

 

They said, in unison, “As you wish, mistress.”

Humiliatrix took a step, then another, then one after the other, each time staying mindful of the bobbing weight of the woman on her shoulder. There was no resistance, there was no squirming; the captive on her shoulder was little more than an object.

 

When she got the next room, she started phase two. The idea for the floor of the room came from a discotech that she visited in Rio. It was one, giant television screen. The floor on which she danced had changed and shifted it’s images as the rhythmic feet of dancers came down on them. This one was simply a long-playing video of Humiliatrix’s choice. Each of the four walls was a floor-to-ceiling bank of televisions, playing the same film that she had programmed into the floor.

 

The ropes that hung from the ceiling, she had found in a shi bari dojo. In fact, it was in the dojo of the Japanese villain who called himself Shi Bari. Masked and taciturn, he was the Asian version of The Ropemaster, a man who had dedicated his life to the mastery of the art of layer bondage.

 

She learned suspension bondage from him.

 

Humiliatrix laid the dark-haired woman face-down on the television floor. For a moment, she was a spread-eagle silhouette against the dancing, grey snow of the screen. She was a shapely and lean black form against the indifference of the hissing television.

Humiliatrix looked down at the beaten woman and smiled; this never got boring. This never lost its flare. Whether it was Gold, Lone Star, Snare, or this woman - no matter who it was – having a heroine to humiliate was delicious.  Their screams were delicious. Their helplessness was delicious.

 

 Pulling the rope down from the overhead pulleys she started to bind the Latina heroine. She crossed Dark Moon’s ankles over each other, wrapping rope and in and out around them. She wrapped the rope against the leather of her boots. She threaded the rope in and out between them, over top and underneath, until the woman in leather and nylon was bound at the ankles in a tight shibari wrap. She pulled the crossed, bound boots forward.

She did the same to the woman’s wrists, tying them tightly in a crossed position at the small of Dark Moon’s back and linking them to the crossed ankles with a short, tight strand. Next, she did the elbows, pulling them tightly behind her, and binding her that way.

The tension pulled her into a bow, a natural hog tie. Her big, round breasts rose up off the floor.

 

She noted this, but continued to bind the woman. She ran a length of rope between the sharply-defined nylon thighs of Dark Moon, then brought it up and around, crisscrossing the woman’s narrow waist and circling her breasts. Sheathed in nylon, they were well prepared for being wrapped and bound. She did this, meticulously squeezing the big right breast into a peak, and twining the length of cord around and around the soft, dark captive. She made the coils tight, squeezing it deeply against the prisoner’s flesh, watching with pure relish as the rope squeezed deeply into the unconscious woman’s right breast.

 

Again, she secured the coils around Dark Moon’s body, then wrapped it around the other side, encircling the other breast. She imagined that the tanned flesh and big, black nipples of her toy were becoming flushed and discolored as the ropes forced her blood to do its bidding. She couldn’t see them below the nylon body suit, she was sure that her tortured breasts were monuments to skilled roping.

 

Her hands went up to the ropes that came down from the pulley. She adjusted them, just right, and pulled the ropes taut. Every inch of cord that entrapped Dark Moon pulled up tightly. It squeezed her flesh and dug against her muscle. It pulled sharply between her thighs, wedging deeply into her sex. As the pulley squeaked, and Dark Moon was pulled into the air, the rough rope rubbed against her big clit.

 

She was still just beginning to drool. She was beginning to wake up.

 

“Welcome back,” smiled Humiliatrix, as the t.v.’s – the t.v. floor and t.v walls – came to life. As her eyes opened, Dark Moon came to understand. She could see herself, right then and there, suspended, on the screens. She was being filmed.

 

“You’re suspended in the air, Dark Moon, and I’m filming you.  Can you feel the rope digging hard between your pussy lips? Isn’t that great? I loved pulling your cunt open and just fitting that rope right up in there, right through your costume. So, you’re swaying a little bit, your starting to drool around your ballgag, and … as the crotch rope gets tighter … your pussy is starting to drool also.”

 

The ropes and the pulley were squeaking. The bound Latina, her body curved into a bow, was slowly swaying. She was arching her neck, trying to raise her head, but finally surrendered to the pain in her neck and back. Her head sagged down.

 

She huffed and panted, moving her muscles as much as she could.

 

“So, I want to talk some more about your captivity in the hands of Blood Choke. That was a bad day for you. It was a bad day for Cutlass, as well. Look at the screens.”

 

She would never know how this woman got crisp, vibrant video of her torture at the hands of the leather-clad man called Blood Choke, but there it was. The pictures of her hanging there went away, and were replaced by a film of her at the mercy of Bloodchoke. She saw him grabbing her around the throat and pulling her up sharply. Her booted toes dangled down, hovering over the floor for a moment.

 

He slammed Dark Moon down on a heavy work table, on her back. Eyes half-open, groggy, she lay on her back on the table with her legs open. A handful of thick, black hair was enough to drag the beaten woman to the edge of the table, so that he could leave her with her head hanging over the side. Suspended above the massive tv screen in Humiliatrix’s room, she watched her captivity all of those months ago play out in front of her.

With Humiliatrix’s thick rope pulling up between her lips, and a ball gag coaxing the drool between her other lips, she watched as the big villain on the screen adjusted her, making sure to have her head sagging backwards over the edge, and her ankles and wrists aligned with the thick leather cuffs that were bolted to the tabletop.

 

Spreadeagle.

 

“Look at how rough he was when he strapped you down. He just straps those big thick leather bands on you. Nice. Those were thick cuffs, and you were so weak from the way he was controlling your blood flow; you must’ve felt helpless as hell. You’re like a rag doll. I like the way those straps, those big, thick straps go across your thighs. You have an athlete’s thighs. Very nice. Nice and thick. ”

 

Pussy juice was welling out of Dark Moon now, collecting in her nylon and dropping in globs and streams down on the glow of the screen. Humiliatrix could see the muscles flexing in the sleek woman’s body. She was trying to resist. Dark Moon was trying to resist the ropes that she had used to suspend her, and it was delicious to watch.

 

“He was ready for you; look at how those cuffs were spaced out just right for your body.  It was just right to hold you in place, see? And see how your head hung down, backwards, over the edge? He planned that just for you. Mmmmm … I love the way your hair hangs down. I guess you didn’t expect any of that when you and Cutlass thought you’d hunt him down, huh?”

 

On the screen, her red lips were pursed and open, her eyes half-closed and unfocused. She breathed hard, trying to cling to consciousness, as he went to his crotch and freed the massive tool. Already hard, he went without a pause as he moved forward, and pressed his crotch to her face. Watching that video, strung up by Humiliatrix, Dark Moon could remember the powerful smell of his crotch and how Blood Choke moved to her mouth. She watched as, with his gloved left hand he took hold of the hair that poured down from her place on the captivity table and held her head firmly in place.

 

Dark Moon began gagging instantly as the big meat slid into her mouth.

 

“Listen to you gagging. Look at how your body rocks and convulses when he pumps his hips, when he drives down your throat. He’s giving you the shaft,” laughed Humiliatrix as the scene unfolded. The spit-slick cock went in and out of her red mouth as the victor went down her throat.

 

His voice came across the audio portion of Humiliatrix’s display.

 

“Ok, Dark Moon, I have something for you.” He looked up at the doorway. “Cutlass! Come back in here with your toy and show Dark Moon. Come in and use your toy, or I will kill her. I will fucking drive all of the blood away from her brain, she will die, then I will do it to you.”

 

Cutlass was already on her way into the stone room. The young beauty in the black high-heeled boots, black fishnet stockings and black body suit staggered into the room. He was torturing her, manipulating the blood flow of her lean, sculpted body as she walked into the room. Along with the cuffs on the table, he had prepared tools. Cutlass’ lean body was festooned with a long, thick, curved strap-on dildo.

 

The thing gleamed like onyx as the meager light of the room danced on it. She moved up to the table, between the spread legs of Dark Moon. Her voice was strained and halting.

 

“Dark Moon … he’s forcing me. I … can’t …”

 

As she watched, hanging over that huge video screen, she felt herself going back, deeper and deeper into her captivity. Humiliatrix’s words trickled into ear.

 

“She was too weak to finish and you had a cock in your pretty little mouth,” Humiliatrix said. “Watch this. I love this part.”

 

Cutlass, Tina, panting and struggling, her moist, painted mouth hanging open, climbed like a cat on to the table. On all fours, perfect salon hair hanging down, she pressed her large breasts and curvy body down on Dark Moon’s form. The Latina was coughing and gagging on the cock of Bloodchoke as Cutlass laid down on top of her, moved her hips forward, and rubbed the thick, wide head against the crease of Dark Moon’s sex.

 

“He told her to rape you … hard. He said ‘do it hard,’ right?”

 

Dark Moon watched from her perch, her web of rope suspending her above the video. She could see Cutlass climbing on to the curves of her body and plunging the big strap-on tool into her dark, unshaven snatch. She watched as Cutlass started the task of giving Dark Moon a slow fucking. Her hips started driving, and her hands settled on Dark Moon’s shoulders.

 

“You would have screamed, but you had so much cock in your mouth.”

 

There was a close shot of Cutlass’ face. She was gnashing her teeth and creasing her brow as she worked her dildo in and out of the other woman. A bead of sweat rolled down her face.

 

“She was really fucking you, huh? Hmmm. Guess that’s him cumming, huh?”

 

There was another close shot, this time of Dark Moon, gagging and drowning as his milky spume erupted around her lips. Coughing. Strangling. This was when she finally passed out. Her struggling stopped, but she continued to choke, gurgle and spit as her body tried to clear the thick cum from her mouth.

 

“Semiconscious, eh? You were pretty much out of it.”

 

There was a long shot of Cutlass slowly withdrawing her fake cock from Dark Moon’s gushing cunt, and slowly, looking a the tool for a moment, then taking off her strap-on.   

 

“The main idea, I think as I watch this, is that he wanted to humiliate you. He wanted the two of you to know submission and helplessness. And, again, with you, he wanted you to struggle to breathe. He wanted you to feel humiliation. So…” She pointed at the screen. “Cutlass got down next to you, with all of that gorgeous red hair hanging down, and her body doggy style.”  

 

She pushed her ass up in the air a bit, and waited as he tore open more of her costume. Now the ripe, smooth globes of her ass were exposed. She lowered her head and waited.

Two wide, black-gloved hands took hold of her ass cheeks, and spread them wide. There was  a close-up shot of her creamy flesh and the little pucker of her asshole. Off camera, there was the sound of the man monster working up saliva in his mouth, then what sounded almost like a gunshot when he spat on her asshole.

 

Humiliatrix’s film showed his spit crashing into the captive back passage, then two eager fingers rubbing it around, spreading it a bit, pushing inside her for a brief moment. The tight star of her anus surrendered, letting one, then two gloved fingers sneak into her. You could hear Cutlass moan. The camera focused on him taking hold of his cock again. Somehow, the organ seemed even bigger                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             

 

“Did you enjoy watching him fuck Cutlass? Hmmmmm. I guess you couldn’t see it too well being slung over backwards and gagged with jism as you were. Take a look at how he fucked Cutlass.”

 

The tall, lush heroine called Cutlass curled her fingers, took a shuddering gasp, then emitted a pained scream as a massive cock spread her passage wide and fit itself into her tight little asshole. At first his shaft went about half-way, and she clawed the table with a painful gasp. Then the rest of the girthy man’s organ disappeared into her.

 

Back in the castle, back when these films were taken, Dark Moon lay spent and fucked and covered in cum. Beside her, Cutlass, her fishnets and body suit torn to expose her to their captor, arched her body in doggy style as the villain pulled back his thick-veined rod, rammed it home in the heroine’s anus, then pulled back and delivered it to her again.

 

“You lost to him that day, and it went on like this for quite some time. He hanged you at one point, didn’t he? Strangulation.”

 

The film images disappeared in a haze, and Humiliatrix paced around a little bit.

 

“Let’s take a look at your friend Mystic. Let’s see what she’s been up to since you’ve been up there in suspension.”

 

There was a hissing, snowy change in the screen, and there was Mystic. The Celtic witch was in a bright, tiny white room, on her back and helpless. The villain had taken some time with the heroine, and Humiliatrix wanted Dark Moon to have a good look at the work she had done. The costume was gone, this she already knew. Humiliatrix had carried it around like a trophy, and strangled the dark-haired captive with it.  What she now saw, was that Humiliatrix had played dress-up with the naked redhead.

 

She now wore purple high-heeled pumps and purple stockings. She had a purple ball gag on a purple strap in her mouth.  Two of the Black Cats were at her sides, partially holding her, partially caressing her. Mystic was on her back, and the soles of her feet, the purple spiked heels, were pressed together and interlocked. They were lashed to one another in a frog tie with a black strap. Her wrists were crossed and tied on her firm, chiseled abs.

 

They had left out the matching bra, and her large, pink, rose bud nipples announced themselves again the whiteness of her skin and the room that surrounded her.

 

Her eyes were drowsy.

 

Her red hair was spread out like a wave, glowing against the white floor of her prison.

 

She wore a purple leather collar.

 

Pink, sopping, swollen and gleaming in a flash of pink on the video screen, Mystic’s vagina was bare and exposed. Mystic always kept a thick, firey red muff surrounding her cunt, but it was obvious that Humiliatrix, or one of her henchwomen had shaved the heroine’s pussy.

 

Hanging in her suspension bondage, her body at the mercy of this insane domme, Dark Moon’s eyes could not come away from the shaven cunt of her friend.

 

They had taken the time to shave her.

 

It played through her mind.

 

One of the Black Cats reached into a cargo pocket on the leg of her skin-tight, black body sheath. She seemed to savor the suspense of slowly pulling the long, narrow vibrator out. It was golden and it had two strange prongs.

 

“Watch what my little Black Cats down there do to her,” Humiliatrix said, her voice bubbling and warm. “Oh, that toy is my own invention. Talk about a vibrator! You’ll see.”

 

A dribble of spit fell like a clear jewel from the suspended heroine and glowed on the giant screen.

 

The Black Cat woman turned on the strange vibrator and brought it to bare on the already excited and wet sex of the red-head captive. It looked as though she just grazed it over the prisoner’s thick labia and across the slickness of her pink gash. The thick muscles in her bound legs trembled, and flexed. Her back arched, and she shook her head from side to side. Her eyes widened.

 

“Mmmm … She feels that,” Humiliatrix said.

 

The Black Cat dug that tool into the prisoner’s pussy again, and Mystic bucked and screamed against the ball gag as her vagina betrayed her. Sudden, violent streams of juice spurted from her cunt, shooting around the prongs of the vibrator and forming a fountain. The other Black Cat woman, while her partner had been making short work of Mystic’s cunt, had been taking meticulously opening a wooden box with a velvet lining. While her partner was applying the waves of the wand to the captive’s shaven pussy, her partner was taking out a small shot glass.

 

It was a short, squat classic shot glass with a black, gothic H on it. Smooth and deft, she moved it between the redhead’s thighs and tilted it to accept the leaping spray of juice that shot from Mystic. The glass was shallow, and the woman’s juice filled it roughly halfway. The Black Cat looked at the glass, used a finger to swipe a stray dribble as it traced its way down the arched glass. She touched it to her lips, then brought the glass down to the pulsing pink folds of the bound woman.

 

As Mystic closed her eyes and moaned, the woman scooped up another draught of vagina fluid. She had filled the shot glass.

“Isn’t that great?” mused Humiliatrix. She looked up at the woman that she had hogtied, ball gagged, and suspended from the ceiling. The drooling woman was expressionless.

 

“You’re going to get this treatment, baby. Think about that. Just think about that as you hang there. Watch.”

 

She looked back down at the screen, and the two women watched as Mystic was put into a new phase of her captivity. One Black Cat undid her ankles, stretching out the supple, curvaceous dancer’s legs. The other lifted the woman’s head, holding it up by the red tresses, and removed the ball gag. She pulled it out with one hand and let it hang around  her neck.

 

“Get on your knees, Red,” one of them said. “Get on your knees; your mistress is watching.”

 

They had Mystic by the arms, and they guided her up to her knees. Her hands were still bound in front of her. Her face was still spent and drowsy. One of the women held a handful of her hair, while the other lifted the shot glass to her own cunt juice to her face.

 

“We’re going to unbind your wrists. You’re going to take hold of this glass, this glass here, and you’re going to drink a toast to your mistress.”

 

Her limbs numb in their coils of rope, Dark Moon watched as Mystic, her head bowed, took the shot glass in her fingers. She looked at the thick, cloudy liquid and pursed her lips.

 

“Toast her,” the Black Cats prodded. Their hands were on their hips,  and they towered over the prisoner.

 

Mystic raised the glass. Her words sounded clear, but almost child-like.

 

“To Humiliatrix.”

 

She drank.

 

Shot Glass

 

I was into having them toast me. It seemed only right, after all I did for them, that they toast their mistress. I hadn’t always done it. When I had Gold I wasn’t into the toasting thing. When I had Night Star she didn’t have to toast me. Both of them spurted, which is something that I will always love, but they weren’t made to drink.

 

That was then.

 

When I took Mystic and Dark Moon, I was into purple and black. I was enjoying collecting heroines who had either black or purple costumes. It sounded a bit funny, but I realized one day how perfect they looked, how sexy those colors were on their perfect bodies. I wanted to collect my dark heroines, teach them humility, and admire their beauty.

 

Dark Moon was in black.

 

Thunder Storm was in purple.

Total Eclipse was in black.

 

Snare was one of my purple heroines. She was a recent conquest.

 

“I think you know Snare, yes?” I asked Dark Moon when I had her in captivity.  I had taken her down from her suspension bondage and she was walking a few paces behind me. It was safe to have her there, behind me and off to the right a bit; she was well enough drugged and beaten, well enough told that her misbehavior would result in the death of Mystic, that she would not try anything.

She didn’t drag her feet like some of my prisoners. She walked, her back straight, her damp long hair swept down one side, across her right shoulder, and covering her right breast. It was a thrill that her costume was in perfect order and that she was not bound; it showed total submission.

 

“Yes, ma’am,” she answered. Her voice was smooth and clear. I had explained to her how she was to speak. She could call me “ma’am” or “Humiliatrix.” She would refer to her vagina as her “cunt” and to her breasts as “tits.” Most importantly, though, she would explain, if asked, that they belonged to me.

 

“Her real name is Jeanie, yes?” I knew what Snare’s real name was; I just wanted to hear my little pet say it.

 

“Yes, ma’am.” I could hear her high heels clicking against the floor. I would glance back to look at the strong feminine sway of her body as she took each step. I wanted to talk more with her about Snare and the toast that she drank to me.

 

“She is a truly beautiful woman, don’t you think?” I asked.

 

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

I remembered looking at her stats and information, and falling in love. Absolute love.  36C -24 – 35. 5’6”.

Dirty blond/light brown hair.

 

I then looked at her photos and the video. It was candid shots of the diminutive, busty heroine battling with the Rooks, two of the biggest most powerful villains in town. They’d beaten and fucked Gold more than once, and prided themselves on their guile and powerful swiftness. She was dismantling them.

Martial Arts

Superhuman strength and speed

 

This small, robust powerhouse took them down with a savage fury that seemed to explode from that small frame. She used the Asian art of kali, fighting with two sticks that she kept slung low on a belt on robust curve of her right hip. And she used a rope that she kept coiled on that same low-riding belt.

 

There was basically just a blur of slashing arms and swift movement as would position herself so that one of the Rooks would always be in the way of the other. She would demolish him, then go back to his brother. Back and forth. She would leave them bleeding on the concrete, and becoming more and more infuriated.

 

There was a color shot of her cocking her fighting sticks back in a fighting stance. You could see the full curve of her bust in the sharp, shiny purple of the body suit. You could see how tiny her waist was, and how it flared out in her wide, athletic hips and thighs. You could see the powerful sinew and the flash of dirty blond hair.  And she was poised to strike with those fighting sticks.

 

She would beat men like the Rooks to a pulp with those two stick in a blinding storm of violence, then she would entangle them with a rope that seemed unbreakable. It was obvious that she had superhuman strength and speed. I would learn more about her as time went on, and soon capturing her would be easy.

 

And she wore purple.

 

As if someone had taken careful time with a can of purple latex paint, and the most refined of brushes, her costume embraced her voluptuous body like a perfect second skin. It was glossy and slick, plunging in a bare V of tanned flesh down the front, from her ripe cleavage to her crotch.

 

She was masked, a purple half-face mask sweeping back below her light brown hair, but I could still see her delicate pixy features, with her little up-tuned nose and pert, sensuous lips.

 

She was perfect.

 

“So, I lured her to a secluded part of the city,” I said over my shoulder to Dark Moon as she walked behind me. “It was easy. I invited the Rooks, Ropemaster, Scorpio … the male one. I had Crush join me. It was a real party.”

 

We turned a corner. I walked her into her new cell, then stood aside and watched as my black-clad Latina walked in after me. I wanted to see her framed in the doorway, tall, lean, large-breasted and silhouetted as she entered. And she had that shiny black hair sweeping down.

 

“Get on your knees, right here,” I told her. I didn’t have to bark the order at her; the lush woman in the pantyhose body stocking and leather boots was the perfect submissive little pet. Silent, her eyes focused on the back wall, the Latina knelt.

 

Her jet black second skin was a sharp contrast to the pussy-pink room I’d designed.

 

“Good girl. Make sure your thighs are apart. Wider. Good. Now here,” I said as I went into the cabinet and produced Dark Moon’s shot glass. I took a moment to hold it up to the light, looking at the subtle curve of the glass, and the way the light rode up and down the arc. There was an ornate, black H on the little darling. I ran an fingernail over the ridged texture.

 

“You know what I’m going to expect from you,” I said.

 

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

“ I know that you costumed cuties talk about me. What do they say about me? Do they talk about my love of spurting and juices?”

 

She must heard from, must have spoken to someone. I pictured her talking to Night Star, both of them in their sleek black, skin-tight body suits. I pictured them on a rooftop somewhere in the night-shrouded city, icy wind blowing Night Star’s long red hair around in an uncontrolled twister. I imagined her telling the sleek, brown heroine “She made me spurt. She worked my pussy … I never thought I could shoot juice like that.”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” she said.

 

“Watch this,” I whispered close to her ear. I pressed a button. I continued my story.

 

“All of the men sat around talking about what they wanted to do to her, and we watched as she slipped in through the roof of that abandoned apartment building. I gave them the signal, and my big friends attacked her.”

 

The scene was a gorgeous thing to see. The busty, dirty-blond, in her purple was surrounded by the muscle-bound henchmen. They seemed to be seething, flexing their muscles and prowling around her. You know, some of my boys had their cocks out already.”

 

She laughed. “But, of course, she pretty much beat their asses.”

 

With her super strength and blinding speed, the voluptuous purple blur darted in and out among the massive men. The only times at which I was able to really pin her down, to see the curves of her legs and ass, the sinew of her arms, and the tiny curve of her waist was when she used those two fighting sticks to break Ropemaster’s forearms and knocked Crush unconscious. I mean he was out cold.”

 

There was a clear shot of her taking out the two Rooks. She had these muscular, dancer-type legs. There were defined, and powerful. In that shot she was leaping straight up and shooting those perfect legs out in two powerful sidekicks.  She was doing the splits in mid air and delivering two perfect kicks to my two perfect henchmen. They both went down.

 

“I decided it was time for a woman’s touch.”

 

As the next scene unfolded for her, I was getting one of my vibrators out of its velvet-lined wooden box. I flicked it on, and it stated to hum as I looked back to her. On her knees, with the scene of Snare’s capture playing out on the screen, Dark Moon seemed oblivious of the machine in my hand. She was focused on the image of me slipping up behind Snare as she battled one of the men who was still standing. I placed the vibrator against her neck as the image of me chloroforming Snare filled the screen. Caught off-guard, her super speed and strength couldn’t aid her against fast-acting drug. Black-gloved hands feebly reached up to pull at my arm, but quickly fell limp as she sank to her knees.

 

“Do you like the feeling of that?” I was slowly moving the round head of the vibrator against her neck.

 

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

“And do you like what I did your friend Snare?’

 

She watched the scene of me laying Snare out on her back.

 

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

I moved the humming magic wand down to the Latina’s hard right nipple, then her left. They were like taut, little pebbles jutting forward in the skin-tight pantyhose material.

 

“What are these?”

 

“They are tits, ma’am.”

 

“And to whom to do they belong?”

 

“They belong to you, ma’am.”

 

I made circles on the hard, tight tits of my slave, my sub, with the big, round vibrator head. I could hear her breathing beating a new rhythm. Her shoulders, and the toned athletic definition in her back, rose and fell as she panted.  Short, sharp pants came out of my little pet, and the muscles in her arms tensed.

 

“Watch what happens to her on that screen while you tear out the crotch of your own costume.”

 

Dark Moon was meticulous as she pinched the material of her costume in her long fingers. The costume wasn’t really pantyhose material. That was obvious. It could protect her from knife blades and bullets. Just about the only thing that could rip it was a super heroine’s strength.

 

My captive kept her eyes on Snare’s little adventure as the sound of ripping material filled the room. She tore open the crotch, leaving it ragged and open. One thread held on for dear life, but she gave it an extra tug and the thing came loose. I looked at Dark Moon’s pussy while she watched the video of Snare’s capture.

 

We were at the point at which Snare jumped up, shaking off the effects of the chloro. It was strong and fast-acting, but so was she. Dark Moon could see clearly how Snare jumped up from where she’d been left on the floor, obviously conscious and full of energy. She was able to take two full steps towards me before I sensed her, expecting just this, and spun around. I’d grabbed a spray canister of something I called “fix.” It was my own concoction.

 

I brought the vibrator down between Dark Moon’s tits, down her tight, washboard abdomen and to the very edge of the gateway of her sex. Dark Moon had a big pussy, with large, dark thick lips.  It was wet.

 

The next scene on the screen was of me spraying the purple-clad woman in the face. The impact was instant. Her glossy, black-gloved hands came up and grabbed at her windpipe, and her mouth formed a silent scream. You could see the strength go out of he powerful legs, she sank, and she crumbled into a heap on the floor.

 

I slid the vibrator down to Dark Moon’s clit and resumed my circles. That was a gorgeous, round pink bud that she had, and it trembled at the approach of my magic wand. Her whole pussy seemed to tremble.

 

My favorite scene was playing out. One of the Rooks stood over the fallen form of Snare. She was face-down, one leg bent, dirty-blond hair in a mess. He bent down, roughly grabbing the two deadly fighting sticks from out of her reach and handing them to his brother. He reached down again, going for the round curve of her hips. His big hands worked with a certain precise delicate manner as he undid that rope that Snare carried.

 

“She had bound him with that rope once,” I chuckled. I ran my vibrator the length of her juicy slit. She flung her head back and moaned as the Rook pulled her arms together behind her back. He pinned her elbows together, drawing her shoulders back and pulling her body up from the floor. Slowly, enjoying each moment of rope against tight, purple costume, he wrapped the heroine’s own rope slowly, tightly around her athletic arms.

 

Snare’s head hung down, sagging and bobbing as the villain bound her arms behind her back.

 

Once one end was secured around her elbows, with three layers of her cord pulling her arms together, he ran the other end down to the woman’s shiny black boots. The muscles in her legs flexed as he pulled her ankles together, bent her knees, and pulled the high, spiked heels up to the firm, round curve of her ass. He secured her legs with the other end of the rope, binding her ankles.

 

I watched Dark Moon getting lost in the scene, and listened to her whining and panting as my sex machine rode her cunt. I could see, could feel, what was building up in her. I slid the shot glass down below her cunt.

 

There was a close shot of one of my beloved henchmen squeezing the unconscious face of Snare with a gloved hand. Her slack mouth was partially open, and the massive girth of an erection filled the screen as it filled her mouth. First, the big dick pressed her cheek out to the side in a bulge, then turned inwards, slipping over her tongue and filling the back of her throat. The drugged woman’s body struggled for air, gagging as he probed her throat with his meat.

 

There was a split screen shot now, of one of the supervillains stroking his cock over a handful Snare’s hair, as his buddy traded places with Scorpio. The Asian man now stuffed his balls in the unconscious heroine’s mouth.

 

“You like to watch don’t you? Watching and suffocation. Oh, look at how ….”

 

Dark Moon’s scream cut me off. She clenched her fists, and filled the room with a piercing scream. I would have sworn that the woman was pissing, but it was a joy spurt. Her cunt practically exploded with juices, spraying and spurting, filling the shot glass.

 

Cunt nectar soaked her pantyhose costume, and made a puddle at her knees. As she screamed, some of her stream, just enough to do the job, hit the void in that shot glass just right. I snatched it up as Dark Moon collapsed.

 

The dark woman lay sprawled face-down, her bare cunt gushing, her arms and legs bent, and her face hidden by her hair. She panted, her back heaving, as I toyed with the shot glass. The aroma of spent vagina permeated the air.

 

Her juices crept around the toe of my shoe in tiny wandering streams.

 

“Dark Moon,” I said “who do you have to thank for all of this?”

 

Her voice was soft and broken. It gently squeezed its way from below that tangle of raven hair.

 

“Humilitrix …  ma’am.”

 

 

They took turns in her mouth. They fucked her mouth. Even once she woke up.  One would hold Snare’s hair, tilting her head back, holding it in place, while another would slide his hard prick down her throat. Some pumped their hips and fucked her mouth like a cunt, others just thrust it down and enjoyed the wet furnace of her mouth.

 

She was wide awake and gagging when the first one came in her mouth.

I watched the screen, again on my knees. Humiliatrix stooped down behind me, playing with my hair, and toying with the shot glass of my cunt spurt.

 

“She’s a beauty isn’t she?”

 

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

The camera focused on her lush lower body. They had other straps, other ropes, that they used to lash her knees together. They secured her thighs in the same way, enjoying the leather tension of the belt against the woman’s curves.

 

“Look at how much cum splashes her right …hang on… here!”

 

A gummy white stream leapt out from off camera and laid itself across her face in a diagonal slash.

 

“We had such fun with her. Look at this part.”

 

This was the dunking. They dragged her. Lashing another rope around her ankles, the guys made a big deal out of grabbing the rope and giving it the old heave ho. With her hands twisting and struggling to free themselves from the rope, the drugged woman could only watch and wait as they dragged her like a trophy out to Humiliatrix’s marble pool. There was a slow motion shot of her body, stretched out and helpless on the floor, hair forming a trail, as they dragged her fit, little body to the water’s edge.

 

There was a see saw of sorts at the edge of the water.

 

There was a flurry of untying and tying, lifting and securing.

 

“Do you know what the plan was here?” I asked. On the screen I could see them lifting her hourglass body and laying her out on the end of that teeter-totter. They had pulled it back and were securing her body to the flat surface. Thick black straps pinned her to the end of the thing.

 

One pinned her ankles, and one went across her thickly muscular thighs. One held her across her tiny waist, and one wrapped her below her bust. A cuff held each wrist.

 

“You dunked her, ma’am.”

 

The group of angry men got to the end of the teeter, repositioned the thing so that Snare hung out over the water, and slowly lowered her end. She closed her eyes, and I watched as the chlorinated water swallowed her.

 

Toast

 

“I love water. Don’t you?” my domme asked. Humiliatrix’s voice seemed to massage me; it was casual and warm, as if I wasn’t a captive. She passed the shot glass below my nose. I reared back a little, catching a whiff of my juices. The musk was strong, stronger than I would have thought. My body only puts it out that way when I’m very excited or stressed.

 

We watched the monitor, silently, as they raised her out of the water. Her purple skin suit gleamed wet and slick in the sunlight. The robust, dirty-blond heroine spat water.

 

“And they did it again,” Humiliatrix smiled. We watched again as they lowered the woman, her hair matted, into the water again. The fingers of chilly coldness crept up around her big breasts, and the pool embraced her again.

 

“They held her under for a long time this time.”

 

When they raised her, Snare was spitting water, gasping, heaving and gulping air. Her big nipples were hard.

 

“I loved seeing her like this. She’s beautiful like this, isn’t she?”

 

“Yes, ma’am.” I said.

 

She turned to me. One hand gripped my right hand, the other gently put the shot glass in it.  This was a big deal for my owner, and she played it out as best she could.

 

“Drink to me. Drink to the beauty that I see in all of you heroines, and the beauty in me. Drink your own juice.”

 

She nodded at the glass in my hand. I felt the crushing weight of her power, her brilliance, and my helplessness in the tiny glass in my hand. I raised the shot to my lips, took a deep inhalation , and tossed it back. Pungent and briny, my cunt juice flooded across my tongue. I tilted my head back a bit, and closed my eyes and let it linger in the back of my thraot; my juice seemed almost as if it had been spiced. Just like with tasting wine, I took a short pull of air through my nose, letting the inhalation catch the flavor of the drink and fill my senses with it.

 

“Good girl,” she said.

 

I swallowed.

 

 

Marks

 

When they were done with the dunking, when she seemed half-dead and the purple body sheath was soaked and glistening, they Snare off of the dunking board. They laid her out on the concrete for a moment, face-down, in the widening puddle. They just stood there silently, watching her gasp for air.

 

“Those guy had such fun that day,” Humiliatrix said.

 

She pointed out to Dark Moon the details of each step. They now untied her, smiling when they watched the captured woman’s arms drop limply from her sides, hanging over the side of the plank. They laughed as her legs fell apart, dropping open.

 

One of them could easily have carried her, but each wanted a piece of the devastated heroine. One grabbed an ankle, another grabbed her hair. One wrapped a big arm around her slender waist while two took hold of her wrists and held them out wide.

 

“Look at how her head swayed and bobbed as they carried her. Gotta’ love that.”

 

Just inside the doorway, they bound her again. They took hold of her and pulled her elbows back again, wrapping them tightly together and lashing them with her own rope. Again they tied her ankles. Again they dragged her by them.

 

“See, honey? See how helpless she was? You’re helpless like that right now. Actually, pet, you’re more so. Look at how she still tried to struggle when she could. You’re broken, though, aren’t you?”

 

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

Humiliatrix’s hand was gripping the hair on the top of Dark Moon’s head. She was guiding the captive’s head down to look at the images of Snare being tortured. She knelt there, her hands on her lap, head forced down, watching the purple-clad heroine being clamped into a chair that held her legs apart. Like a gyno’s table set upright, like a dentist’s chair meant to hold you down and control you, the apparatus accepted Snare’s sleek body. With her arms clamped down to the armrests, and her legs pinned by thick metal bands, she could offer no defense as Humiliatrix walked into the scene, a glowing, humming wand in her hand.

 

“Open her up,” she said. Scorpio did the honors, grabbing the material in the crotch of the captive and ripping it open.

 

Watching the film along with the kneeling and captive Dark Moon, Humiliatrix had to comment.

 

“She had a gorgeous cunt like yours … gorgeous big, pink pussy. And don’t I have a great collection of toys.”

 

“Yes ma’am.”

 

When the tip of that glowing wand touched Snare’s clit she screamed like a woman who’d never been penetrated before. Her eyes squeezed shut and her pert mouth twisted in a howl.

 

“Look at how that juice just shot out of her! It actually overflowed the brim of that shot glass. See? You were juicy, but wow! She was a real spurter. I loved that. Look at how we had to shove that thing back in her. Do you how long it took, how much torture and conditioning I had to put her through until we got to…There! There’s the scene! Do you know how long it took for us to get broken down enough to toast me? We got it, though.”

 

“Yes ma’am.”

 

“Don’t feel bad, pet; everyone breaks for me. Everyone learns from Humiliatrix.”

 

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

“Your friend here has learned. See?”

 

She guided the Latina’s head up and turned it to the door so that she could watch the women enter. Dark Moon recognized two of the Black Cats that had captured her. They stood on either side of a lean, tall red head in purple lingerie.

 

Mystic wore the purple high-heeled pumps and stocking that her owner had given her. She wore a garter belt and tight, lyrca-shiny panties. The purple bra was a glossy, slick push-up sort that made her cleavage a creamy, ripe explosion.

 

Her lipstick was purple.

 

Her hair was pulled back in a long pony tail.

 

“Mystic,” said the domme, “do you have any desire to leave me?”

 

“No ma’am,” she replied.

 

Humiliatrix looked back down to the beaten woman in the pantyhose cat suit.

“So, here’s how it works. I will mark you and free you, as I do. You will wear my mark, so that you will know that you will always belong to me. She will stay with me. When you encounter Mystic … Kristin … again, she will be in my service, and she will destroy you.”

 

While she spoke, there was the sound of a machine being made ready. When Humiliatrix turned the broken heroine’s face back towards Mystic, the redhead was holding a buzzing contraption in her right hand.

 

When Dark Moon awoke on the floor of her apartment, she was naked. Her costume was neatly folded on her wicker chair, her boots placed together in front of it. As she stood up from the floor, she caught sight of herself in the stand-up mirror that had been left beside her just so.

 

She could see thick black lines standing out against her bare, brown skin.

 

A huge Gothic H was tattooed on her left thigh.

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