Humiliatrix

Written by Mr. K

2.

Ropes. Through my costume, against my body, I could feel the fiber of ropes. They were thick, and heavy. Ropes were pulled tightly in an X between my breasts. They were twisted tightly under my bust, lashing me hard against the post to which I was bound. The same rope was coiled around my throat, not tight enough to choke me, but taut enough to keep my head back up against the wood of the pole.

I had a ball gag was strapped into my mouth, holding my lips in a perfect O.

A thick knot of coils held my wrists bound together behind the pole to which Snakehead, or the woman, had bound me. My wrists were crossed, and pinned by an intricate weaving of coarse cords.

The same rope had been expertly wrapped around both my waist, and the pole. I have a narrow waist, and it seemed almost as though they had tried to create a sort of corset, wrapping that rope around tighter and tighter, until my waist was even smaller.

Ropes held my big thighs in place. Ropes held my ankles in place.

They had given me the gift of a crotch rope. It had been done up separately from the lengths that held me captive against the post, and had been done by someone who knew what crotch roping was all about. It was also tight around my waist, and also tight, up deep into my labia. It had been pulled, squeezed, jerked up tight between my pussy lips. The second-skin of my body stocking hadn't been breached, but the rough texture of that rope was nestled up in my sex, pressing through the costume's black fabric, and making a home for itself between my cunt lips. My body stocking is so sheer, such a second skin, that they were able to jack that rope up in my pussy without any problem of the costume getting in the way. My big outer lips hung down around the rope, and I was dripping.

I was soaking.

I had to wonder why I was so aroused. The rope was a bit stimulating, but I was really panting against that gag, and my vagina was drooling. My nipples were hard, and my legs were trembling.

That was when I realized there was something else. There was something alien, and deep in my body. I could feel a mass of some sort deep up in my pussy, so deep that it seemed to be up as far as my uterus. They must have stripped me, jammed something up in me, and put my costume back in place. Whoever had captured me, had mastered my body.

My eyes scanned back and forth, taking in the place around me. It was like someone had merged a top-end apartment with a medieval dungeon. The pole to which I was lashed stood in the middle of a black marble floor that seemed to gleam with a clean, pristine gloss. Looking at it, I imagined a thousand little men with buffers going over it and over it until it gleamed.

There was an X rack, a St Andrew's cross, in the corner, its empty cuffs and chains hanging limp.

There was a bondage horse.

There was a stockade.

There was some sort of chair.

The walls were lined with paddles, crops, and whips.

There was a large-screen t.v..

I had been captured by Snakehead, and given to a bondage balliwick.

Then she entered the room.

I felt a little lump of fear rise in my throat as the cold, blue eyes of the woman met mine. She looked so cheerful, so nonchalant, that it grew ice crystals in my heart.

"Hello, Night Star," she smiled. She was wearing an elegant, simple black dress. It was cut low over her big, round tanned breasts, rode her curves, and was slit up the side, revealing long, strong dancer's legs. Of course, she wore high, spike heels.

"Glad you're awake, Night Star," she said with a radiant smile. She was sipping a martini.

"We have some great games we're going to play tonight, all night. Oh! I'm Humiliatrix, by the way. Heard of me?"

 My eyes met hers. I had heard of her, without a doubt. I remember how I found the heroine known as Cutlass after she was captured by this woman . Wearing only her purple Victorian boots, the heroine was strung upside, a dildo up her ass, and another wedged in her pussy. She was strapped and roped and her purple-shaded eyes were closed.

When I got her down, I learned about the woman who captured her.

I remember Gold explaining, after days of captivity, a woman who looked just like this.

"I guess you've heard of me, huh? Then you know that I won't kill you, I'll just make you wish you were dead."

That was what Cutlass said her captor had told her. This was the same woman.

"First off," she said coming close to my face, "let me explain your weakness, and your sexual arousal. Let me explain that feeling that you're feeling now.  Since you can't stand sunlight, or anything resembling it, we put a vibrator in you that gives off UV light. There's a little sun in your pussy. You're weak and aroused. You're helpless, and you're always on the verge of coming. Second, I want you to see how in control I am."

She clapped her hand, fingers straight and stiff, palms clashing crisply in the room's cool air.

"Cum!" She had the sharp, clear voice of a primary school teacher.

"Cum!"

Deep in my body, deep up in my sex, the little device that she had inserted in me began to respond to her. Deep in my body, the contraption that kept me weak and massaged my sex, now caused an explosion that showed me just how weak I'd become.

When I cum, when I really have a full-blown orgasm, I sound like a squealing little girl. My usually throaty voice turns in to a high-pitched siren, as my face turns beet red as the wave wracks my body. That was how I responded to this woman. I came, screaming against my gag. My muscles twitched and trembled in my bonds, and I vibrated in my ropes. My big legs shook. I spurted.

"My voice goes straight to that little toy that's in you, Night Star. It responds to my voice. Cum!"

Before one orgasm was done, the next cranked up. I actually felt my pussy jump, tremor, and rub itself against the ropes. My strained to fight free, my fingers flexing, but all I could do was cum for the bitch.

She waited, and I had a powerful set of orgasms that left me drowsy, and drained. As the trembling died down, I realized that my muscles were weak and yielding. Drowsiness was coming over me.

"That was a powerful orgasm, huh?" she laughed. My eyelids started to droop, but she grabbed my hair and shook my head, bringing me around.

"It's not the most powerful orgasm you ever had, though. I would say...."  She let her voice taper off as if she was pondering a long list of facts. "I'd say that when you got beaten and fucked by Chimera a week ago...that was your most powerful orgasm."

Her eyes met mine. She fed on my surprise, and spoke back with a confidence and joy. She knew me, and was going to use that knowledge against me.

"It was your second battle with Chimera, I think. She...he...whatever it is, beat Dark Moon to the ground in front of you. Chimera had also beaten Total Eclipse that night, and fucked her, and left her sprawled face-down in a puddle of cum. Chimera beat your friends, and then she made beautiful work of you."

Somehow, she knew. She knew every detail of how we battled Chimera in that old warehouse, and were beaten again. She knew how Chimera took control of my mind, and kept me frozen like a statue as she beat Dark Moon in a deft flurry of vicious martial arts. She had morphed into a beautiful long-legged woman in vinyl hip boots and was showering kicks and punches on the sleek Latina. She held the defeated woman up by her hair, then delivered a final blow that knocked her out cold. I remembered trying to force my body to move, I remember being helpless.

Chimera took a deep breath.

She turned, and walked to me, a massive cock growing between her thighs. It made a low crackling noise as she got closer, her body morphing into a he-she from. She moaned and smiled, reaching down and starting to stroke the member as she closed on me.

"I'm going to fuck you like I fucked Total Eclipse, only, I'm going to fuck you to death."

She pointed at the floor, and I simply collapsed there, Humiliatrix was able to recount just how Chimera handled me. She knew how the womanman licked me through my costume from head to toe. She told me exactly how I had my breasts bitten that night. She knew how, with my thick, gymnast's legs flung out wide, and Chimera gripping my ankles, she fucked me that night.

This woman talked as if she was there.

"You couldn't remember having an orgasm like that before, huh? Oh, you wonder how I know so much. To truly humiliate, you must know, truly, know the mind and the history of the heroine. This is what I do."

And she smiled that smile that let me know that I would get no more information from her.

"That image was powerfully erotic for you wasn't it? A woman with a cock? It thrills you. When you get together with that other scientist in your lab, Dr. Connie Gnau, you have her wear a strap-on, right?"

She couldn't help but laugh when she saw the shock and humiliation in my eyes. She knew my life inside and out. Chimera had probed my mind, but this dominatrix had probed my life.

"Cum!"

With this one, I finally blacked out.

                                                            *****

She snapped her fingers and the girls came to her. They stalked on high heels, sinewy muscle moving in black cat suits .  They wore masks, and approached the tall dom with a smooth, feline grace.

"This is the one who wants women with cocks. This is the one who needs to be fucked over and over. Take her to room three, the same room that we used for Gold."

The women worked fast, undoing this rope and that, taking the ball gag, and letting her fall from her place against the pole. The woman in black, the ex-astronaut with the vivid red hair, slumped to the floor and lay sprawled among a forest of black boots and long legs.

They all took a long moment to look at her prone body.

"This is one of the best I've collected. There's a specific sort that I like, and here's a great...well, she's perfect."

The tall dom knelt beside her guest, Night Star was on her side, one leg straight , and the other bent, one hand lost in her fire-engine-red hair, one down by the smooth, narrow curve of her waist. Her gleaming red wet lips hung open. Her eyes were closed, her whole face placid.

Slowly, almost lovingly, Humiliatrix touched the curvaceous thigh of her captive. She slid her palm along the slick material of the heroine's body stocking, her hand riding the athletic cuts and lines of that beaten woman.

"Night Star," she whispered to the beaten woman "I'm Humiliatrix."

She touched and touched.

"She's perfect, and mine."

The tall blond never looked at the women to whom she was speaking. It was like she was in some secret revelry  as she looked at the fallen heroine. They smiled at each other; they loved it when their Mistress was like this.

She ran her hand across the landscape of Connie Gnau's, Night Star's, body fondling the big breasts, touching the wet lips, and searching through the red tangles.

She rolled Night Star on to her back, letting the sculptured arms fling out to her sides. Her legs fell open, and she could not respond to the woman's touch as one long elegant hand made its way up her thigh, and over the smooth curve or her crotch. Even through the costume, she could feel that the redhead was shaven smooth.

"Perfect."

She made her way up to the tight, six-pack abs, and up to the huge, round breasts.

"Perfect. Take her down stairs and get her set up."

The henchwomen were members of the League of the Black Cat. No  one could really trace the origin of The League. There was no doubt that it was a real organization; it was a network of crafty and vicious female operatives who stole for both the sheer joy of stealing, and the money that came with selling their services. They had sold themselves to Humiliatrix, and now they gathered up Night Star on her command.

One of them, a tall redhead, took hold of the unconscious woman's left arm, her fingers digging in against solid muscle and feminine sinew. Her blond League sister did the same on the right side, and they pulled Night Star up to her feet.

The defeated woman's head sagged back, and her legs did not support her as the evil supermodels began to drag her out of the room. They had done this so many times before.

"Wait a minute," said their boss. Clad in skin-tight vinyl, standing tall on high heels, the women stopped in their tracks, and let the beaten woman rock between them. Humiliatrix moved in front of the prisoner, and closed her eyes.

They knew this ritual also.

The lush blond called Humiliatrix moved her hands along Night Star's thighs, again, and up, up to revisit the breasts in their glossy, black sheen. Her fingers started to move in a rhythm.

She bit her lower lip.

                                                            ****

The second time I awoke, I found that my captor had become ever more creative, and knew more about me than I would have liked. The first time, I was just tied to a post, but the second time, that was different deal.

The second time that she bound me, the soles of my feet were pressed together so that they were flat against each other, and my knees were opened out to the sides. A butterfly pose.  An intricate lashing of cords held my feet in place, and both knees had been tied and secured to the sides. I couldn't see, but would learn later that they were lashed to posts.

My arms were out to the sides, straight out , tied and tightly held out wide. Coils of cord were wrapped around my wrists.

She had stuffed a dildo in my mouth, and a leather gag strap held it in place.

My hair was pulled and tightly wrapped or tied around something that I couldn't see .  I was on my back, and could only feel what Humiliatrix had done to me; all I could see was the ceiling.

I could feel what she had done to my cunt.

Something harsh, cold, and metallic held my big outer lips open. They were spread wide and pinned that way. The clamps were not tight enough to really hurt my labia, but were firm enough to hold my sex wide open.

Something was connected to my clit.

They had obviously sheared the crotch of my costume open. They had also set me up (or strapped me down was more like it) in a room that was flooded with UV light. I had to squint against it.

They had removed my mask.

A door opened to my right, and through my periferal vision, I could see Humiliatrix striding in casually. Just as I'd expected, she was wearing a massive, black strap-on. Her dress was parted in the front, and the huge phallus sprouted out from her lean lines, its monstrous, curved girth leading the way as she approached me. She smiled, and didn't say a word.

I was suddenly aware of how open and vulnerable my cunt was. I was wide, wide open, wet and inviting her with my bright pink gash.

She didn't move to fuck me right away.

"Look at you. Look at your pretty pink pussy."

Her words came in a low hiss, and her fingertips glided over my big wet sex.

"Just think about how helpless you are. Just think about how helpless. Mmmmm. You hate that, and love it at the same time. You hate being at my mercy, but you know what a joy it will be when I put this in you."

She stroked the dildo.

I tried not to let her see what was going on in my head. I had become a cocktail of arousal, fear, anger, and panic.  Who the fuck was this bitch?  I looked her over again. She had shown no sign of superpowers at all. She was tall, strong, and had a sort of robust beauty, but there was nothing that said to me that this was a supervillain. Had she read my mind? Probably, but I could usually detect psychics.

I had felt nothing.

That wandering hand made its way down to the dildo that was shoved in my mouth, and kept me silent. She pulled it out, and I took a gulp of air.

"I want you talk to me about feeling helpless,"  she said. "I'm going to record your voice, and you are going to talk about the most helpless moment of Night Star."

"What are you talking about?"

"I want you to tell me about the riot on Tasmania III. I want you to tell me about being taking prisoner, and used by that mob of villains."

Again, my eyes told her that she had me. I said nothing. Images flashed through my mind, but I said nothing.

"That was probably your greatest defeat. It's amazing that you made it out alive. So, tell me all about what happened to you, Gold, Cutlass, Bora , Cold Front , Thunder Storm and Graviton in that satellite."

I swallowed my fear, and said nothing. She knew.

"You will feel pain, and then you will say 'yes'. After that, you'll tell me the story I want to hear."

A second later, I understood what she had connected to my clit. It wasn't electricity, actually. I don't know what the power surge was, but it flooded me with a type of pain that I will never be able to describe. It was sudden, so complete, that I swear  I was outside of my body, looking at a bound, red-haired, big-breasted woman in skin-tight black shuddering with pain.  

Then it stopped. I never had the chance to black out.

"Yes."

The word that she wanted to hear just spilled out of me. I was panting and my body was doing whatever it could to keep me from having to feel that again.

She smiled.

"So, tell me, Night Star."

"How do you know about...?"

"Tell me."

She was right. It was probably my greatest, most humiliating defeat, but I started to tell her the story. For some reason, I just had to tell her.

Tasmania III was a special prison. It was an off-planet, orbiting space station on which super villains were kept. Since these were usually being with powers that would allow them to easily escape from any conventional prison, they were kept in this orbiting Siberia, each in his or her own specialized holding cell.

I had put villains there. Gold had contributed her share, and so had Bora, Cold Front, Mystic, Thunder Storm, Cutlass, and Graviton. That was why all of us found ourselves flying through space, towards the station. I explained all of this to my captor that night.

"We flew out into space. We can all fly. We went to the station after each of us got an alert signal."

Humiliatrix dragged a long fingernail over my right breast. The nipple was hard, and easily outlined in my black skinsuit. That nail stopped just on the crest of my big, hard nipple, and began to press into it like a dagger. I winced.

"It must be a joy to be able to fly. It must be a joy to be able to soar out of Earth's atmosphere and into space. Tell me more, or I'll surge that power through your cunt again."

There was no hesitation.  I simply told her.

"We reached the station and entered through an airlock, just as they had hoped we would. They captured us as soon as we got to the satellite."

"What did they do? Explain."

I remembered how well planned out the whole thing was. I told her about steel internal walls dropping around us, forming a cube that boxed us in. I told about how they flooded it with UV light, shutting down my powers, and a high-pitched sound that disrupted Gold's. I told her about how the temperature quickly rose, jamming Bora and Cold Front's ability to generate cold. I told her about they flooded it with a green, smelly, noxious gas. It stung my skin, and my lungs burned as I struggled for air. It was a security system that was supposed to be used to control the prisoners if they attempted an escape. It was now being used to control us.

My eyes were suddenly burning and watery. My lungs were searing, and my throat tightened up. For a moment, I attempted to summon my powers, but the ultraviolet light had seen to that. I heard myself make a patheticsqueek.

"You were helpless."

"I was."

I told her about how, as I fell to my knees, my hands to my throat, I looked up to see Gold in her shimmering, golden second skin, sinking below the same green, stinging waves. A jet of gas sprayed directly into her face, and she was stumbling, her hands over her eyes. She finally slumped against a wall, and slid to the metal floor. Her head sagged and sank to one side, her arms falling limp. There was a moment at which it looked as though she would try to take breath, a moment when her body tried to rebel against the on set of sleep, and then she faded away.

Mystic fell across her body, her face in the golden woman's breasts.  Even in the blizzard of green dust, I could see the contrast of her shocking red hair against Gold's body suit. She slept.

I told Humiliatrix about how Bora and Cold Front raised their hands to create a shield of ice, but became weak in the knees, and crumbled against one another. Bora's hands came to her face, and she convulsed as her lungs struggled to sustain her. Her daughter arrived on the floor before her, providing a place to sleep as Bora tumbled and lay in a heap across her body.

I explained how I watched Graviton clutch her throat and fall. There was a moment at which she was on her knees, then she tumbled forward, and lay spread-eagle, face-down on the floor. The green dust had settled on her blue-and-yellow costume, and her blond hair. Cutlass was on all fours, sinking down to sleep like a corpse next to Graviton, who sucame  quickly to the gas. Cutlass' ash-blond hair fell in wild waves, and shook, and coiled around her face as she finally came to rest, to sleep, beside Grav.

The last one I remembered was Thunder Storm. Tall and lean in her purple and yellow body suit, coffee colored skin, she made a feeble stumbled forward and crashed down on top of Cutlass.

I must have been the last one to go totally out. Propped up on one elbow, I got a last glance at the heap of heroine women that covered the floor. I could make out curvy hips, and big breasts. I saw sinewy arms and muscular thighs. I could see costumes, and landscape of defeat.

I explained every detail to my captor, my mind constantly drifting back to that massive dildo that she wore. I kept imagining how powerful it would be in my tight, pink sex. She was going to fuck me, and I was going to scream for her.

"And when you awoke?"

Again, I spilled the beans. I talked about waking up a captive, held high by an ocean of hands. They were carrying me like a trophy.

"They were...like...crowd surfing me, and cheering. I felt hands gripping my ass, hands pulling my hair. I felt someone, some villain who we'd captured and was now free, grab me in the crotch. There were hands all over me as they passed me down the hallway held up over their heads."

She smiled. She snapped her fingers. A projector, hidden somewhere in this room sprang to life. On the ceiling, situated perfectly so that I could see it from where I was bound, was a still photo of that day on the prison satellite.

"I looked over and saw they were doing the same to Cutlass, only she was face-down in the crowd. They gave me to the first villain who wanted me. They passed me to the first one that was lined up for me. It seemed as though various villains had various scores to settle. They passed me to mine."

"Her name was Geisha, right?"

Confusion and fear.

"Geisha...Yes."

I could picture it again. I remembered the storm of rough hands laying me down on an altar, surrounded by candles and heavy with incense smoke. I found myself swooning as the fumes filled my head. Not tied, but weak and helpless, I simply lay there as the woman who called herself Geisha leaned over me.

She was just as I remembered her on the day that I captured her in Tokyo. She still wore the ancient robes of her family, and her face was still obscured by the beautiful white porcelain mask.

She spoke softly. "I have missed you, Night Star."

I told all of this to Humiliatrix.

"And she did what to you?"

My mind went back to the ropes, the contortion. My mind went back to the expressionless white mask that hovered over me as I lay there on the platform.

"She is versed in shibari bondage. She...had me on my back on an altar she had prepared for me. My knees were up to my breasts. She made sure that my knees were pressing into my breasts, mashing them. Then she tied them that way. Ropes all crisscrossed around me. She tied my ankles to my wrists. She arranged the ropes around my pussy, down across my mound..."

A tremble of recollection, humiliation, but there was hardly a pause. I explained the tight, skillfully tied layers of rope that the silent Japanese woman called Geisha used to bind me, I drew word pictures for Humiliatrix; I told her about me on my back, my knees up to my breasts, and my wrists lashed to my ankles. I explained the detailed weaving of unbreakable cord that held my wrists in place, crisscrossed my tits, held my legs apart and up in the air. I explained the ropes that squeezed between my big pussy lips. My costume was untorn , but she knew just how to wedge that cord right up in my labia. She had taken the time to pull all of my hair up into a tight, twisted cord, and bound it tightly.

"I love that. Tell me more,"  she said.

"She...did something... She had the ropes so tight around me, all over me, and she did some sort of ..."

"Tell me."

I recalled how Geisha tightened the ropes just a bit, and how the coarse fibers rubbed me just so. Fibers rubbed my skin through the body suit, and alerted my trembling cunt that something powerful was about to happen. Geisha had studied my body, somehow, and knew every pin-point erogenous zone was under assault. I could tell that it wasn't that she had studied women in general; she had studied me. My body.

"She made every inch of cord tighten," I said to Humiliatrix.  My new captor's mouth turned up at the corners.

"Yes..." She whispered. Every word of my ordeal was rippling through her.

"She did something to me. She used that expertise of hers."

"And?"

Humiliation.

"I came."

The words conjured recollection in my body. The muscles in the backs of my bent legs trembled.  My clit throbbed.

Again, I looked at the big dildo that jutted out from Humiliatrix's feminine body, and my pussy seemed to edge towards it. I forced images of this woman, this domina who hired Snakehead to capture me, this woman who bound me in this intense frog tie, and who opened me up for invasion, using that thing to fuck me. It was like I could already feel the bigness inside my tight, red muffed pussy. I tried my best to force it all from my head.

She's a villain, I told myself. She's captured you.

Still, I had to tell her what she wanted to hear.

"I spurted. My juices...I spurted. My juices shot up like a fountain. I...I never knew that a woman could... I  mean..."

I lay there for a moment remembering the sight of a plume of my pussy sauce shooting through the fabric of my costume and the feeling of it splashing on my face. I remembered the warmth of the moisture on me, and the salty-sweet taste of my own tang. I remembered how my tongue instinctively snaked out to clean it from the corner of my mouth.

"I never knew my body...a woman's body could do that. So much..."

Humiliatrix stroked the rubber cock as I talked about my captivity.        She traced the big veins and circled the wide head with red-nailed fingertips.

"It splashed on my face," I said, my voice husky. "My own juices..."

"And you'll spurt again tonight," she said. "I have you, and I have your cunt, and I will make you spurt like a fountain."

Something rippled through me, and I moaned. It was like my body was anticipating the big dildo, and starting me down the path to cumming. It was like her words were penetrating me.

"What about the other captured women?" she asked.

An image shot into my mind.

 I remembered Thunder Storm up above me. There was a glass ceiling; it must have been some sort of unbreakable see-through polymer. She was spread-eagle, face down, above me so that when I looked up I could see her long, long spread legs, her arms flung out at her sides, her thick, long, black hair in a messy halo that surrounded that exotic Asian/ Mediterrainian face of hers. I could see her purple, wet-look, second-skin body glove, cut in a dramatic V from her shoulders down to her crotch, showing a wedge of mocha skin.

She wasn't bound. She was just beaten.

"Who had her?"

"Surge."

Surge was one of Vixen's creations. He was a genetic freak, born in a lab, who had the ability to direct surges of electricity. He was a muscle-bound, steroid-ridden animal, but he was most proud of his ability to shock. That was why he spiked his blond hair up and dyed it like a electric wave. That was why he used it as a his first means of attack.

Thunder Storm, Lonestar and I had battled him once before. He defeated me. He electrocuted me until I was unconscious on the floor. He did the same to Lonestar. When he went to do the same to Thunder Storm, she absorbed his power and threw it back at  him. He became her prisoner. Now, she was his.

On my back, squealing and screaming, my juices spurting up, I watched as Thunder Storm lifted her head, her eyes squeezed closed, and quaked as if a powerful machine was deep in her body. Her mouth was open in a scream, silent behind that glass barrier. Her legs were spread and the big, toned, athletic muscles seemed as if they were trying to run. Her fingers clawed at the see-through floor. Her big, brown, melon breasts had been pulled out of the body glove and were mashed and spread against the glass. I could see the black circles of her big nipples.

"Surge was fucking her."

"More than that. He was draining her. She was on her belly, he was on her back, and he was in her, draining her."

 He had developed his power to be able to draw energy in as easily as send it out. He was on her back, his hands gripping her hair, his cock up her ass. They both glowed with electric fire. Blue shocks and pulses erupted from her body, her vulva glowed and her fingertips spurted power.

"He was emptying her of her powers. He wanted her as weak as possible. He was saying something to her, in her ear, but I couldn't hear... She was screaming."

I paused, then explained that Bora and Cold Front were there as well.

"The Spinnerette. The Spinnerette had them. They had captured her years ago, and she wanted revenge. I heard her say 'you encased me in ice when we last met. My turn.'"

I remembered hearing the tiny, slender woman in her prison outfit chanting and seeing her moving her hands in the air. She was such an unassuming, pretty woman, but the power that she wielded was awesome. There was a pile of something that looked like pantyhose material in the corner. Flesh-colored pantyhose material. It must have been something else, these piles and coils of fabric, but I remember lying there, bound up in my shibari ropes and thinking "pantyhose."

I can't imagine what  Bora was thinking. She and her daughter Cold Front stood side-by-side. They had been fixed in place by The Bender, a powerful psychic who prided himself on being able to "bend" the wills of his victims. He told the duo that they were fixed in one place, and there they stood. It was as though they were on display.

Cold Front was curves and sinew. She had the body of a gymnast, with thick, sculpted muscle and big ,big  round breasts. They were snowy white, and seemed to well up and try to spill out of the skin-tight cobolt blue body suit. She had thickly muscled, woman-shapely legs that were clad in light blue tights and knee-high, black Victorian boots. Coal-black hair poured down to the middle of her back.

She was rooted in place, unable to move.

Bora was her mother, also sinewy, and lean. Her body was more like a swimmer's, but was still all curves and strength. Her breasts were high and round, her ass a perfect peach shelf. Her costume was a stark white body glove, low cut and skin-tight. She wore ice-blue, spike-heeled hip boots. She had the same black hair, only in a short, wavy close cut.

"Spinnerette chanted...chanted...and these coils of nylon...they started coming up and coiling around in the air. They reached out, and started to wrap around Cold Front and her mother. They couldn't move."

Humiliatrix laughed again.

"Looked something like this?"

She snapped her fingers and there, on the wall screen in front of me was  an image  of the mother and the daughter standing like statues as coils of nylon spun around their booted ankles, twining tightly until they became a perfect sheath of flesh-colored pantyhose. The nylon continued coiling and spinning, up the powerful, shapely legs, covering wide, curved hips. The women were helpless as they were encased in flesh colored pantyhose from head to toe.

Their perfect bodies and blue-and-white costumes rapidly disappeared in cocoons of pantyhose material.

They were mummified.

Humiliatrix laughed and clapped her hands.

"Oh, look at them! Mother and daughter all wrapped up!"

The Bender releaser their minds, and the two women toppled over, their bodies squirming in the pantyhose sheaths. They squirmed on the floor of the space station, muffled sounds coming from the pair.

"Now, tell me," cooed Humiliatrix. "Tell me who they brought into the room next."

"They brought Cutlass..."

"Use her real name. Her mask was gone, yes?"

"Yes."

"Then use her real name."

"They brought in Tina. They brought her in to see how I was tied."

I remembered how a she shuffled in, listless, and sleepy-eyed. The purple boots and fishnets were that was left of her costume. I would never know whether she was drugged, or beaten, or under mind control or what, but she came in on end of a dog leash. One end was joined to a collar around her slender neck, while one of the Rooks.

The massive, broad-chested man in black was smiling ear-to-ear. He jerked on Tina's chain and chuckled as she stumbled forward. Her hands reached helplessly at the chain. There would have been no problem with her tearing that chain to bits, had she been her normal self.

"Her nipples were so big and swollen and hard," I told Humiliatrix. "I could see bite marks all over her."

"They had been fucking her."

"Yes."

"And now?"

"They told her to clean me up."

A puddle of my juice was under my ass. It dribbled off the platform. It stained my face and costume. My own juices were everywhere. I looked up at Cutlass, who stood there like a piece of furniture that had been absent-mindedly moved into a random place and left there. There wasn't  a hint of free will in her as she walked forward, and crawled like a cat up on to the platform, between my legs. Her red succulent mouth hung open, and her dull, empty eyes met mine. I remembered saying...whispering...her name.  I don't know whether I was trying to stop her, or tell her that what she was being forced to do was ok. I'm not sure if I thought that my voice would snap her out of it. Whichever it was, it meant nothing as she pursed those thick, wet, sensuous lips of hers and pressed them to my big, swollen cunt lips.

"I was still wearing my costume, like I said. It was untorn. She was able to see my wet camletoe mound, I guess, and she..."

I pictured the leggy beauty's lush mouth joining my pussy and beginning to suck through the soaking fabric of my costume. She sucked, and sucked hard. Her thick lips seemed to play to the outline of my cunt. Electric chills went through my body, and I trembled. There were deep slurping sounds that came from my sex, and I had to bite my lips as every nerve in my deep, red honey pot seemed like it was being sucked in to Cutlass's mouth.

When I cum, my legs tend to stiffen straight out and tense up. My arms do also, raking across the back of my lover. With my wrists bound to my ankles in that perfect shibari bondage, it was like my body was fighting itself.

"I screamed," I told Humiliatrix.

"Your screams echoed in that cell ?"

"Yes. I screamed like..."

Suddenly, the room which Humiliatrix held me was filled with a high-pitched, whining, piercing scream. It was desperate and out of control. Fear boiled up from the base of my spine.

"Is...is that me?"

"It is."

"How did you...How?"

She had a recording of me cumming. Somehow, she had my cumming from that night on the satellite. My screams were pouring through  her audio system.

"How...?"

"Don't worry about that, Night Star. Tell me about your juices."

My eyes were wide and stared straight into hers. Who was this woman?

"And your juices, Night Star? Explain more about the juices when Cutlass was having you."

I recalled how they ran down Cutlass's chin, and coated her face. She drooled my juices. I was still cumming , a sex storm in my body,  as Cutlass leaned down again, this time lapping at the puddle of juice below my backside.  I felt her tongue probe at my ass. I heard her swallow.

"She licked my juices up from my body, the floor, every where. She É sucked my pussy again..."

I told her about how Geisha was silent, just soaking it in, while the Rooks applauded and clapped.

"Lap it up, Cutlass."

"Not so tough now! Use your hair, bitch."

Cutlass, in only fishnet stockings and high-heeled boots, her nipples hard, a leash around her neck, went to the floor and crawled on hands and knees. She pulled all of her hair into a thick clump, a sloppy handful of ponytail. She leaned all the way down, and used her hair to wipe up the last big puddle of my pussy nectar. She had a blank look on her face, as she pressed the gorgeous reddish hair in my vagina sauce. She had a blank look as she stuffed the hair into her mouth. I could hear her sucking the moisture from her hair.

"The Rooks...one of them put her in an over the shoulder carry, and they took her off to another room. I heard Geisha say 'bukake for her too.'"

Humiliatrix beamed again, and edged the dildo closer to my face. The huge head grazed my lips, and my pussy again betrayed me with a throb.

"So tell me about the bukake. You didn't get it did you, Night Star?"

"N...No. Geisha untied me. She undid the ropes and let me slump on to the platform. My limbs trembled.  I was so weak... She just pulled me up and yanked me to my feet. She held me by my arms, looked into my eyes."

I could still hear the calm, angry daggers in her voice. She talked about how I captured her, and how the shoe was on the other foot now. She laughed at how my pussy was still dripping, and how my costume was saturated with my own arousal juices. My head nodded and bobbed as she shook me like a child, red hair falling across my face.

"Little bitch."

She pushed me from behind, and I stumbled forward down the hallway, which was crowded with supervillains. My vision was blurry, my senses muddled, but I knew what was happening when I saw the big frame of one of the Rooks step out in front of me. I remember his massive chest filling up the space in front of me. He had taken off his blue prison fatigues and put his costume back on--a skin-tight black body glove with a white chess knight on the front.

"Hey, Red, how are you?" he laughed.

This part of the story sparked something in Humiliatrix.

"There are two Rooks, yes? Twin brothers?"

"Yes. Gold and I have defeated them in the past. We helped to put them on that space station."

"And now they had you."

I was able to kind find words to express the humiliation that I felt as his big hands reached out to take hold of my breasts. My tits large, but his hands were big enough to wrap around them like a big, cruel bra. He grinned, and his breathing quickened as he began to massage me.

I wasn't bound. I was weak. I was beaten. I was overwhelmed. I stood there, my head sinking to one side, my full lips parted and pouting, as the big man rhythmically squeezed my swollen glands.  

He reminisced about the first time he defeated me. He chuckled about how he dragged me around by my hair, and mounted my face as a bound Gold looked on. He sighed and laughed when he recounted how he fucked my mouth. I talked about how he held on to the thick hair on top of my head with one hand, and used the other to jam his enormous cock into my mouth.

Then the corner of his mouth turned down. He recalled how we captured him that same night. Those big hands became more intense, crushing into my big, soft tits. Ripples of pain and excitement were coming fast and hard now.

Then there was another.

From behind, slipping up between my legs, pressing into that place where my thighs, ass cheeks, and pussy form a sensitive, moist crease. It was a female hand, I could tell.

"Who was it who was behind you?" Humiliatrix asked. "Who was the woman who started stroking your ass and pussy while Rook was handling those gorgeous tits of yours?"

"It was Vixen."

Vixen was the stunning mad scientist bitch who had created steroid freaks like Rage and Thrust. "The Megamen", she called them. She was the sister of the heroine Alley Kat, and she had taken the whole sibling rivalry to a new level. Her one main goal in life was to possess, and eventually kill her superpowered sister. For now, she was happy to simply enjoy my mound.

She nudged my legs apart and got a good hold on my mound.

"She's already soaking wet!" the blond woman in red vinyl laughed. The current coming up from between my thighs met the ripples that The Rook was pouring through my sensitive breasts. My whole body shuddered, and I started to leak again.

Geisha giggled as Vixen swept her finger across my swollen pussy. I moaned loudly, and she sucked the juices from her hand. She grabbed my pussy again, and started squeezing.

I heard another voice.

"Lemme get in there."

And there was Boa. She was a tall blond, like Gold, but with thicker, bigger muscles and a short stylish, soccer mom hair cut. She was still in the blue prison fatigues, but you could see the powerful muscles and huge breasts just as well as when she still wore her skin-tight body suit.

Rook gladly moved his left hand, and the big woman took his place, not with one of her long-fingered hands, but with her mouth. She wore whoreish, lurid lipstick. Her mouth was lush and thick-lipped. She joined it cruelly to my hard right nipple, and bit down hard.

I screamed.

Again, I screamed.

I felt Vixen weave her fingers into my hair, She made a fist, taking a handful of my hair, and began to pull my head back. At first it was slow, but then I gasped as I felt my head yanked back roughly. She squeezed my labia even harder.

Now the Rook joined his mouth to the tit he had been squeezing. Now he bit with as much gusto as Boa.

As I recounted this to Humiliatrix, she nodded her head. She snapped her fingers, the sound activated a projector, and my blood, again, ran cold. Splayed across the wall in front of me was...me. On my back, on the metal floor of that space station, my legs in the air, Rook and Boa biting my big breasts, there I was. My head flung back, eyes closed, corners of my mouth turned down, Vixen licking my pussy through my costume, there I was.

Snap.

In the next frame, Geisha had joined the crowd. There I was still on my back, knees up, arm flung wide. The Rook and Boa still bit my tits through my costume. Vixen still licked my mound. Only now, I was propped up on my elbows, my mouth opened wide. Geisha knelt beside me, her robes pulled open, her massive, stylized, jade strap-on phallus jutting out to meet my lips. It was fastened to her crotch with an elaborate girdle of leather straps, and it was a thick, and beautifully formed as the most genetically perfect cock anywhere. It was curved, and thick.

"They took you down to the floor, didn't they? They covered every inch of you, and devoured your sex, didn't they?"

I said nothing, but she could see it in my eyes. She knew

"Look," said Humiliatrix. "Look at your body, your mouth. Your toes are pointed like a dancer's, and your muscles are tensed out. You're excited. You're opening your mouth, accepting the dildo. You're sucking her cock."

I swallowed as if I could down the shame.

"You see, that's your little fetish. That's a fantasy thing for you. You love the idea of a woman with a cock."

With one sweeping motion she brought up a new image.

This image wasn't a still shot, it was a film of me moving my head back and forth, red, thick lips pushed forward and stretched wide around the big toy. A black-gloved fist gripped my hair, twisted it, and guided me as I sucked off her fake cock.

"That went on for a while, huh?"

"So long..."

"You were nothing but a whore."

And then, they moved me along. It was a station-to-station affair. They simply stood me up, and let Geisha pull me along.

"Come see your friends, Night Star," Geisha said. "Come see the washing down."

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