Night Star:
Humiliatrix
by Mr. K
“Walk,” said the second woman. She didn’t touch the first woman, point, or even demand. She simply told the first woman to walk, and the woman did. Without pausing or faltering, she began striding between rows of brightly lit show cases. She wore a slick, skin-tight, footed cat suit, and her stocking feet made just the faintest sound. It looked as thought it as sparsely dusted with sequins. The material rode her neck up from the material of the body stocking and masked her face, cloaking her face from her forehead to the arch of her cheek bones and nose. Her eyes were a vivid arctic blue, and they peered sleepily through the spaces in the mask.
The first woman was the captive of the second. She was no longer chained or bound, but walked when told and stopped when told. She obeyed. The first woman was a captive.
“Look around you. What do you notice?”
The tall, fit red head scanned the room, her eyes falling on what looked like papyrus, and stone carvings. She picked out Renaissance art, and African fetishes, each of which portrayed the same thing.
“What is it?”
The first woman did not move or react as the second woman snaked out her hands and touched her captive’s hair.
“It’s been known by several names, many names, but all of them translate as The Device. Isn’t that a great thing? All of these languages come back to the same term. They call it ‘The Device.’”
She cupped the firm little shelf of the first woman’s ass. After a pause there, she reached and under and through, fingers pressing between the thighs of the woman in black. There was a little shudder as the red head felt her captor’s pressure against her vulva. She rose up slightly on her toes.
“It … it looks like some sort … It’s a sex toy? A torture device? What …?” the red head gasped as her captor started a rhythm on her pussy.
“It’s more than a sex toy, sweets. It’s The Device. It might have originated in space, maybe Atlantis. It simply shows up from time to time in different cultures, and … well… as you can see from the renderings, it’s not your momma’s sex toy.”
The enslaver laughed.
“It harnesses the pure essence of sex, you know? I wanted you to see this collection of mine because you need you to see what I am doing. I am collecting, seeking out the best and most meaningful experiences for the heroines that I collect. I just want you to know that I will keep you for a spell, and release you. You know, that is what I always do. Once I find The Device … and it should be appearing soon … I will recapture you and subject you to it.”
The enslaver took a breath.
“Look at the scroll to your right, Sweety. Look at it.”
The redhead did. Her eyes fell on a medieval scroll’s faded color and tattered boarders. It was the sort of thing she’d seen before in a dozen museums around the world. It was a medieval tapestry portraying what appeared to be a castle and its inhabitants.
“Look for The Device in the highest tower window. Then look again.”
She saw The Device, and she saw something more. The woman engaged with The Device was a robust, large-breasted, tall redhead. She was shrouded in black.
“Do you see her? Do you see yourself? Do you?”
“ I see a woman.”
A chill ran through her.
“You see yourself. You are destined to be with The Device. ”
“This artwork it’s …”
“
The captive woman was the superheroine called Night Star, and the captor was Humiliatrix. The captor wore thigh-high leather boots and a sheer, lace teddy. The heroine’s ultra-tight, black cat suit has a sparse gleam of astral sparkles. She was large-breasted, and small in the waist. She had arms and legs that were muscular and sinewy like an athlete’s, and her abs were tight and carved into a six-pack washboard. The captor’s hair was up in a curly tower that rained twisted locks down across her forehead. She had a broad, wet, red mouth that curled up at the corners when she smiled.
“So, here’s our agenda. I complete your round of humiliation for your captivity with me today, and when I finally get my hands on The Device, I’ll simply find and recapture you. I’ll subject you to it. Now, it’s time to get on with it.”
She patted Night Star on the ass.
“Get on all fours and crawl like a dog to the door at the other end of this room. Keep your head down, let your hair hang down and let your big tits sway as you crawl. There’s a doggie door in that door, it’s the perfect size for your curvy body, just crawl on through.”
Night Star’s ability to fly, to morph darkness into something solid, to harness superhuman strength, to project psychic power were all on indefinite hold. Her weakness, UV light, had been used to full effect; an small orb that project UV glowed deeply snuggled in her vagina.
She still carried the chill of the strange medieval print.
She did as told, crawling silently across the cool marble floor until her forehead came up to meet the little door. She nudged it with her head, it slowly moved open, and the hour-glass woman in black slithered her way through the door.
The other room was a classroom, a classroom that she knew. There was calculus and physics everywhere. There were computers, celestial models and there was Dr. Bruckman. She was just as Night Star remembered her, tall and blondish grey. She wore the short-skirted, blue suit and white stockings that Night Star loved so many years ago in school. She was kind faced and had the sturdy, well-exercised legs that distracted the crawling woman in black so many years before.
This was her favorite grad school instructor, so many years before her first trip to space, or her becoming Night Star.
Humiliatrix’s voice filled the room as Night Star looked around at the rows and rows of young, student faces. This was her grad school.
“This isn’t real!” she blurted.
“Hey, Night Star, this is Dr. Bruckman, right? The astronomer who you wanted to fuck when you were in grad school … this is her? Right? And your classroom?”
It was. Without a doubt, Humiliatrix had done it again; she had fished up details of a heroine’s life and used them to dominate her.
“Yes,” said Night Star. “But this is not really happening.”
The Dr. Bruckman that seemed to tower over Night Star right then and there seemed real enough. She used superhuman strength to grab the heroine’s hair, and pull her to her feet. Night Star made a tentative grab at the professor’s wrist, but she was too shocked and overwhelmed to be anything more than an object.
The powerful, sexy scientist stood her former student up in front of the class using a thick handful of fire-engine-red hair to yank the woman in black into place. She used the hair to turn Night Star this way and that, displaying her.
“None of this is real,” muttered Night Star. She had been the subject of Humiliatrix’s scenarios before.
“Well, class, look at what we have here!” Her voice was mocking and sour. The words seemed to twist with the same methodic vigor as Dr. Bruckman’s hand in the long red hair. “We have Dr. Connie Gnau, one of my former students. Isn’t that grand? She was a spectacular student, became a NASA astronaut, and even encountered a strange force in space that turned her into the super-powered monstrosity that you here today. Night Star is it?”
She used the other hand to strip the mask from Night Star’s face. Her grasp was harsh, and urgent as she took hold of the mask and pulled it up and over the woman’s hair. The students were cheering now, and the professor now had the woman by the throat.
“She’s accomplished a lot, but she never did the thing that she always wanted. Did you?”
Dr. Bruckman let go of her, walked a few long-legged strides to her desk, and sat down on its edge. She brought one leg up, bringing her high heel to rest on the smooth wood. Her knee was in the air. She stretched the other leg out, spreading her legs, driving the too-short skirt up around her hips. She showed them that she was wearing thigh-high stockings and not pantyhose. She showed her bare, naked, shaven pussy.
She snapped her fingers. Night Star carried out unspoken commands; she was too weak to refuse.
The students in the class, whose existence Night Star refused to accept, clapped and cheered as the woman in black went to her knees, then to all fours. She crawled, again, her head up, eyes fixed on the dark-pink, glistening folds between the blond woman’s legs.
Humiliatrix’s voice filled the room again.
“You know that I only give heroines what they truly desire when I capture them. I humiliate you and your type by exposing your true , weak whorishness. Now, do what you always wanted, and eat her out.”
Red hair tumbled back, and Night Star pressed her face up into the other woman’s dewy crotch. She didn’t lick, but opened wide and covered the woman’s swollen vulva. She sucked, her lips working, her whole mouth pulling and working a deep, drooling suction on the older woman’s sex.
The professor flung back her head and opened her mouth in a deep groan.
“Eat my pussy, Night Star.”
The heroine did so as the students laughed and jeered. Juices were starting to flow over her face, but the heroine’s mind was elsewhere; all she could see was herself on that tapestry.
Night Star: Circle of
Eros
I.
“Every battle with us will end this way,” he said. It was matter-of-fact, and not meant to threaten or mock. He just wanted her to understand. As he knelt beside the stunned woman, he spoke in the most level voice a nonhuman could collect.
“You will come after us again, but you will fail.”
He brought his fingers to his nose, taking a whiff of Night Star’s cunt. He smiled as the scent wafted up his nostrils, then he lowered the two fingers so that the woman could smell her own juices.
“We will seduce you with powers beyond your comprehension, and you will end up like this again. Why don’t you go ahead and tell us about The Device?”
Night Star was on her side, on the cold marble floor of the museum. The night-black of her footed cat suit and the shocking red of her hair stood out sharply against the white marble on which she lay.
With the crowds gone, and the night watchman sleeping soundly, there was no one there to witness her handling by a circle of villains. She inhaled, and she smelled the outcome of her short-lived attempt to stop a strange circle of villains from stealing art treasures and artifacts.
She could see his fingers, and could see that they practically dripped with a glaze that he’d pulled from between her thighs. Just as she expected, he lowered his fingers an inch, and pressed them against her lips. The lush-bodied woman in skin-tight black didn’t hesitate for a moment. Her full, strawberry lips wrapped themselves around two, manicured, cunt-wet fingers, and she sucked. Her pussy was still throbbing, her nipples hard, and her will was quavering.
A drowsy droop came over her hooded eyes, and she seemed to drift away in a sumptuous revelry. It was as if her own juices were doped and she was taking them back into her.
“Don’t feel bad,” he soothed. “You were already outmatched. We didn’t even give you much of a chance to fight. But who really wants to fight when you can make love, right?”
The woman felt her sex throb, pulse with a sudden urgency. She let the fingers slip from her mouth, and she laid her head back down on the marble floor. She never passed out, but lay still and stunned as the man stood and walked away, leaving her sprawled, on her side, on the floor.
She could smell semen and sweat.
II.
The woman took hold of Night Star’s hair, threading her fingers through the deep-red curls and clutching the heroine’s head. She guided her mouth to her captive’s, eyes closed, and slanted her mouth against the cherry-red of Night Star’s lips. The superheroine in black devoured the kiss, sucking lips and accepting the demands of the other woman’s tongue.
They have me again, just like they
said they would.
She moaned from deep in the pit of her stomach as nimble fingers found the thick, relief of her camel-toe cleft. Night Star’s lover had never touched her before, but somehow knew where to go on her body. She somehow knew the exact rhythm that would make Night Star stand on tip toe in the stocking feet of her black second-skin, body stocking costume.
Their bodies were similar, both of them standing 5’7”, both of them redheaded. Foxglove had whispered the Night Star’s measurements as she took control of her.
“You’re so sexy. 34 double D … 27 … 36. 34 double D….” She repeated it over a few more times.
Now, her fingers stroked a rhythm into the captive woman’s peach, and she forced a kiss down her throat. Night Star’s costume was a perfect second skin. It was a gloved and footed cat suit that looked like a cross between a dance leotard, and a wet suit that was covered with a splash of what appeared to be faint, subtle sequins.
It could deflect bullets and meld her into the night, but it didn’t protect her swollen sex from the wandering fingers of Foxglove as the villain groped between her muscular thighs.
Night Star could hear the others moving around behind her, but she was helpless to stop them.
They’re stealing art again, art
and books from this guy’s private collection. They’re looking for
leads to The Device. All I can do it stand here with my pussy gushing while
this bitch takes me.
The muscles in her thighs shuddered, and her whole pussy vibrated in Foxglove’s hand. It felt so good, so ridiculously good, that she almost reveled in the sounds of these people taking books from the shelves and art from the platforms and alcoves. She almost reveled in her helplessness.
These people, Foxglove, Satyr, Lethario,
Dominatrix, Succubus, Stone …all of them, their powers are sexual. They
are seeking….
Her rational thoughts died a sudden death as the crest of her orgasm broke over them. The captor moved her lips away, slick with spit, so that her prey could open her mouth wide. She had wondered whether Night Star was a screamer or a moaner, and got her answer as the arms stiffened, the leg muscles tensed, the back arched, and Dr. Connie Gnau, former NASA scientist and astronaut, the superheroine called Night Star, tilted her head to one side, then back, and screamed.
It was a long, wild howl that seemed to unpeel itself as the woman shook and squeezed her eyes shut. Her nipples were hard, sprouting like taut little candies in her black unitard. Something like shame, or perhaps exhilaration, swept over her as her cunt shot juice through the sheer black fabric, and coated Foxglove’s fingers.
Night Star rose up on her toes and shook until the wave broke again and she found herself on her knees. Her head drooped forward against Foxglove’s thigh. She panted. Her arms were limp and sagging.
“I like you on your knees.”
“Thank you , ma’am.” The words just came out.
“ I hope you’re enjoying this as much as I am. Ladies! Night Star, look at me.”
Sleepy-eyed, the large-breasted heroine slowly rocked back, settling back on her heels. She looked up.
“Night Star, we’re almost done here, but before we go we want to spend some time with you. The boys are busy getting business finished, so we get to say ‘goodnight’ to you. We need to ask you some things.”
Suddenly, she was surrounded by legs, female legs. Stockings. High heels. Boots. Black seams down the backs of thick, strong calves. Thick, strong thighs. The scent of perfume and clean skin in leather. Slowly, she rolled her head from side to side to see them. They were tall and aristocratic, these women. They were sleek and busty.
She loved them for what they were about to do her.
III.
Dr. Connie Gnau lifted her legs and crossed her ankles. She knew that anyone entering her office would at least be able to catch a glimpse up her skirt. They might see her smoke-black stockings and seams that ran up the backs of her muscular legs. She didn’t care.
The woman research scientist was exhausted, defeated, and all she could do was throw herself into her work until it was time for her next nocturnal meeting with this circle of sex villains. Even as she worked in her office, trying to organize her day, she replayed the scenes and scents and feelings from the night before.
It wasn’t a fight; one minute,
I was swinging through the window to stop them, and the next I was on my
knees surrounded by those women.
She remembered the urgency that she felt as she went from one pussy to the other. On her knees, she shuffled from side to side, from woman to woman. Rough hands gripped her hair and delicate manicured hands slapped her masked face.
God, my pussy was wet.
The recollections consumed her as the steam wafted up from her tea cup. She started with Succubus that night, fixing her mouth to a ripe, red cunt that was already leaking juice down the right leg of its owner.
She was so fucking wet, and she had
my hair gripped so fucking hard. I think … I’m sure I came
again.
As if she was trying to eat a mango that had been split open, or a peach that was over- spilling its cut skin, Night Star worked her mouth against the puffy wet lips. She did her best to collect the nectar in her mouth as she pushed it up to suck the shaven pussy. Her tongue snaked out, pressing up into the woman’s vagina, and she scooped. She sucked and she licked.
She spurted like me. Juice just shot
out of her, and glazed my face. It got me in the eye, it dribbled down my
chin. As I moved from her to eat out Dominatrix, Succubus gave me a slap
in the face. I adored her for that. I was a useless whore, and they were
so good to treat me like one.
My tongue went right to her clit, and
soon she was spurting her cunt juice also. It went right to her
clit.
She remembered how musty and sticky her whole head felt. It was almost as if their point had been to douse her from head to shoulders in their cunt juices. Each one had a powerful orgasm, shaking and exploding in her face. Each one seemed to love the attention of her mouth, but it seemed like each one gloried most in shooting her woman load in the red headed heroine’s face.
Connie tried to shake her head clear of the defeat and the throbbing between her legs.
I can’t remember how … I
can’t remember if I passed out or what.
She did remember being carried. The women had hold of her legs, her arms, her narrow waist. They laughed and rejoiced in the wild evening that they’d enjoyed as they carried her through the apartment and out on the balcony.
My head was hanging back, sagging,
and I could see the city lights. They were taking me out on to the balcony
of the apartment. I was forty floors up. If I had my wits about me, I could
have flown, but all I was able to do was hang there in their grip as they
swung me like a pendulum and counted a loud girlish “One … Two
…Three!”
One of them yelled something about aiming for the pool. There was a long, pause of cool evening air whistling past her ears as Night Star, Connie Gnau, plummeted, spread-eagle through the air. She never flew. She never maneuvered her agile body. She simply plummeted.
The chlorine folds of the pool accepted her with a loud, slapping splash. Red hair floated in a lazy cloud around her head as Night Star sank to the bottom on the pool.
Sitting in her office the next morning, she remembered how tranquil and quiet it was in her watery grave.
“How did I even get out of there?”
IV.
Night Star took a long, slow suck this time. When she first took Lethario’s cock into her mouth her motions were urgent and frantic. She wrapped black-gloved hands around the thick shaft, and found herself gulping and gasping as she tried to take the whole length to the back of her throat.
She would close her lips around the meat and drag her lips down to the head with a sudden ferocious pull. Almost as a second thought, she would swirl the lashing pinkness of her tongue around the mushroom tip, then she would gag herself, jamming it, again, to the back of her throat.
“Make it nice, Night Star,” he whispered. “Make it nice,”
And she slowed her pace.
She took a moment, digging into a nearly-forgotten well of knowledge on how to please a man, and slowly, she began again. With her eyes closed, she read the texture and the details of his skin and his veins. With her eyes closed, she removed the mind and lost herself in each moment of her mouth on his villain cock.
“Veeeery nice, Night Star. Oh, I wanted to thank you for bringing friends this time. I think that all of us are quite pleased to entertain them as well. I like the fact that all of you wear black.”
From the corner, just behind her, she could hear the wet, heaving sounds of sex and surrender. From the high-pitched gasps and whining shudders, she could tell that it was two women.
“You can’t see, but Foxglove and Alley Kat are on the sofa behind you. Alley Kat is on her back looking quite beautiful. She’s like a broken-backed nymph with her long, long hair just pouring down off of the sofa and her arms sort of dangling in space. She got those big, long legs up in the air, and Foxglove is riding her. She’s tribbing her, ‘bumping doughnuts’ as it were.”
He groaned under his breath.
“It’s very erotic having you suck my cock while I watch your friend gets cunt-fucked back there. Very nice.”
He groaned again, taking a fist-full of her hair.
“I like the fact that all of you are in black. I … all us in fact … love our heroines in black. You, Alley Kat, Dark Moon, Total Eclipse … We’re so glad that you came as a group to enjoy this. I bet you didn’t even invite these other bitches. They just came along to help, and maybe keep you from getting nailed again tonight. Tough luck for them.”
Night Star pictured Alley Kat, the powerful heroine who was now being dommed by Foxglove. Her costume was a second-skin, as slick and as body-loving as Night Star’s. It was made of something more like PVC, though, and gleamed with a rubbery luster. Her gloves were white, as were her stocking boots. An oval was open across her ample bust, exposing the tanned flesh and sharp cleft of her cleavage.
Night Star didn’t know whether Foxglove had torn the crotch out of Alley Kat’s costume, but she could hear the throat-deep surrender of the blond heroine as the other woman’s pussy mashed and rubbed against hers.
Something told her that it would please Lethario if she changed tactics, and soon she was patrolling the inside of her mouth with his tool, tracing it across her gums, rolling it under her tongue and lightly biting the shaft. He moaned and gripped her hair harder, twisting harder.
“Later, I’ll compare you to Dark Moon. She seems to be giving good service to Satyr. After that, I’ll compare you to Total Eclipse. I love to have a sampler.”
That was the way it was once these villains had taken control of the women.
In her black, panty-hose style cat suit, and liquid leather gloves and boots,
Dark Moon was on her knees beside Night Star taking Satyr into her mouth.
The curvy
“Let’s even out the odds,” Total Eclipse said as all of the heroines crouched on a rooftop in the high wind. She smiled her rakish grin, and pulled back the glow of her platinum-blond hair. She was a slave now, also. On her knees and sleepy-eyed, she was in her whole world, cock joined with her mouth.
Total Eclipse took her place beside them and ministered to the big man called Stone.
Total Eclipse also wore a black body glove over an Olympian body. Masked and blond, she had the power to capture light and it into a solid form. That power went along with flight, super strength and super speed. A crescent moon of white cut a swath between her breasts.
She was powerless now, her face full of concentration as she deep-throated her villain.
There were wet smacking noises, and there were gulping sounds, but the three women said nothing as they sucked the men’s cocks, side-by-side. The red-headed heroine, dark-haired heroine and the blonde, all in black, all mesmerized, were on their knees and pleasuring the captors. Dark Moon was swirling her tongue in circles and licking the underside of the man’s shaft as Night Star did her frantic devouring. Total Eclipse was gagging herself, touching the back of her throat with the head of the cock each time.
Alley Kat was eating pussy.
“You lost again tonight, Night Star. But, again, don’t feel bad. You were, more or less, in the way. We’ve been stealing this or that erotic art, I’m sure you figured that out. But our main point was to find something in particular. We found it. Well, we found a piece of it, at least. We thought you might be more helpful in finding the rest. Now, we will finish with all of you and be off. You see….”
His next thought became simply a long, guttural groan as he rushed a load of semen into her mouth. There was enough thick, hot stream coming out of him that he could pull away and gush the cum all over his captive. He rained on her face, and the thick mass of her bust, salty streams laying in zig zags and gobs on the black material.
As if she had rehearsed this with him, she stroked his thick, meaty shaft with her black-gloved hands. Unabated, the semi-human man shot more cum on her mask, her nose, and across her mouth. It burned her eyes and dripped from her thick, red lips.
She could hear Total Eclipse giving and exalt and gag, and Dark Moon gagging as their men also gave forth.
“Like I said, don’t be ashamed of losing tonight. We were glad to be of service.”
Night Star: Mr.
Clearwater
Strung up on the
The cuffs were thick and wide. They had the grey, cold indifference of regular, terrestrial steel, but Night Star could feel the strange alien energy that vibrated through them. She had been held for hours with her back against the rack, large breasts thrust forward. He had chosen to torture her that way for what boiled down to half a day.
Now, she had her tits mashed against the rack, her body spun around and held at the wrists and ankles with the heavy metal cuffs. She could hear him walking behind her, and she braced her muscular body for the next round.
“Does the Circle of Eros have the device?” he asked again. “Did they collect all of the pieces for the device?”
He listened to the woman breathing for a moment, her head slumped against the frame of the rack. He had been through these questions for hours already, and he had passionlessly tortured the redhead. She had been turned the other way on the rack for all of that time, and he was able to watch the expressions of pain and exhaustion on her face. Now she was turned away, and he was left to read the tension in her muscles, and the collapse of her body.
“Did they collect the pieces of The Device? Does the Circle of Eros have the device?”
Still, she simply did not speak.
He repeated the same pattern. Mr. Clearwater took two crystals from the box and touched them together. Night Star would never see the affirming nod of her captor as the rocks glowed a deep, penetrating green. She would only feel the hands of his decidedly average-looking man as he pressed the two crystals against each other and against the mound of her vulva.
“It’s a new level of pain, yes? It’s something deep inside. It’s something that seems to come from everywhere at once, but explode in your sex. Yes, I can tell. Your screaming is more childlike. Weaker. I’m breaking you down. Does the Circle of Eros have The Device?”
He waited, and then withdrew the crystals from Night Star’s crotch. Careful to put them back in their places in the box, he took out a red one and touched it to the small of her back. Slowly, he worked it up her spine, touching it to each vertebrate.
“This is something new, as well. All of this can stop if you just let me know. Does the Circle of Eros have The Device?”
He watched her muscles bulge, tense, and strain. Now, her head was flung back, and a thick curtain of red hid his hand as it worked its way up her neck. Her body reminded him of an Olympic swimmer he’d seen in photographs years before. It was powerful, and solid, but still bespeaking of a rare feminine beauty. She was a woman in full.
“You know, Night Star, this is very noble of you, but much more of this may leave you a vegetable. It may even kill you. What good would you be to anyone then? Think about it, Night Star, heroine.”
He removed the crystal, placed it back in the box, and pulled out a black one. He considered it for a moment, then reached out with his left hand. He gathered up a handful of red curls and lifted them. Again, he paused, looking at the base of the woman’s head – the costumed place where her spine met her skull.
“This is your last chance. There’s no telling how your body will respond to this.”
There was a silent pause.
He touched the crystal to her.
“It is so painful that you can’t even scream, right?”
He took the crystal away from the base of her skull, and smiled as she released a pathetic little sigh.
“Night Star, do you have something to tell me? Night Star?”
Night Star: The
Congregation
“She knows nothing.”
The woman repeated it to her brother. She held her palm in front of Night Star’s forehead, her hand glowing. She watched information fly by in the paralyzed woman’s mind, but she found nothing useful. This was more of the same.
“I’m scanning everything in her mind. She’s seen some renderings of The Device. She’s seen that tapestry that we saw, but she really doesn’t give us any new information.”
The villain’s powers were holding her in place, a living statue, as the woman’s powers searched the redhead’s mind. Night Star’s eyes were wide, her back arching as if her body was attempting to fight off the overwhelming power that was engulfing her. There was no use in that; these were members of The Congregation, and they would not be denied.
Night Star couldn’t help but feel a certain fascination with The Congregation. They were from space. They had an intellect, and capability far beyond what humans had developed on Earth, yet they returned to Earth time and again because they fed off of the sensuality and the sexual energy of humans. They were massive creature of writhing tentacles and slick, slimy skin, but they could appear as beautiful, aristocratic humans.
These two had her in this ruined castle.
“If there’s nothing more to learn, let’s feed on her, and move on,” said the male.
The woman’s hands scanned down over the jet-black body stocking of the captive. She used her index fingers to trace the wide outline of Night Star’s bust and the tapering lines of her torso. She outlined the contours of her abdominal muscles, whispering the word “six pack” as she did.
Behind Night Star, there was a rasping heavy breathing and a strange pulsing sound. It was moist, and sounded like fold of wet flesh unfolding from itself. The woman was running her fingers down the thick muscle of Night Star’s thighs, and the heroine felt was she could only call wet leather slipping across her shoulder, her neck. It was a thick strip, dripping with a viscous something that ran down her neck and between her breasts.
She felt it curl around her neck. It wasn’t trying to choke her, it was simply wrapping around, holding her in place. It seemed to be exploring and enjoying the texture of her skin and the soft, red waves of her hair. Another came from the other side, feeling its way across the relief of her collar bone and down between her big breasts.
It seemed to notice that her nipples had gone hard.
This tentacle slithered across the wide expanse of her bust, coming to let its tip rest on the hard, rough peak of the excited left nipple. The red head could not move.
Night Star watched as the woman started to transform. Another tentacle crept up the muscular inner-thigh of the captive, nudging itself towards the mound with a slimy tip that was shaped more like a cock head than the others. It traced the damp mound through the black costume and pressed itself in when it found a hard little bud.
The woman’s skin started to turned a sickly blue-green, and she opened her mouth wide, wide, wider until it her eyes folded away into slits and her nose became two pulsing holes, and then nothing. The widening hole of teeth and pulsing pinkness seemed to swell and expand. The tongue thickened and stretched, reaching forward and taking on the same emerald green as the woman’s skin.
Swelling pink tissue seemed to swallow her teeth, and then join the rest of her as it slowly became green and began sprouting long, reaching tendrils.
The woman jammed two fingers into Night Star’s mouth.
The man’s snaking tentacles had completely encircled her breast now, and she could feel the texture of two, long female fingers in her mouth become slick and wrinkled. There was a sudden heat on her tongue as they trembled and merged, slowly, into one squirming feeler. A slick green something began seeping from them, joining her overflowing saliva, and beginning to run down the paralyzed woman’s chin.
Now, a tentacle grew thick and impatient in her mouth. It pressed back and back into her throat with an insistence that she could not deny. Paralyzed or not, she could not help but gag and spasm as her air passage was jammed with a long, snaking arm. Now, the woman sought her clit and wrapped another arm around the thick, muscular calf.
Night Star’s thighs were solid and thick, and the reaching, slimy, tendrils squeezed tightly around them. They pulled them apart, and another cock-like tentacle nudged at her anus. Through the skin-tight costume, twisting tentacle penises pressed towards her clit, pussy, and ass.
She could hear their minds conversing.
“She has nothing to tell us about The Device that we do not know.”
The other only released a psychic sigh. It seemed excited to be up her ass and twisting in her sex. It seemed almost childlike, wriggling and jumping about as if it had no plan, but simply wanted to devour whatever it could. It seemed to have found its candy store.
The woman was some sort of evolved Congregation member. She was growing and pulsing, becoming a thick, gooey network of tissue and tendrils. She slowly, loudly, spit down the middle, folding out into long, thick, green lips. A silent gushing of slime came from the upper end of the widening gap as a thick bud emerged from the folds.
The male tentacles slowly relinquished as the long, thin feminine ones wrapped around her waist in one coil after another. They made a high-pitched squealing noise as they reached for her, making a thick, green belt for her narrow waist. One branched off a bit from its mates, slithering up and stroking the firm checkerboard of her abs.
Her thicker, flatter arms were wrapping in two wide strips around her thighs and her lower legs. The other long, thick tentacle snaked forward through the air, but did not encircle her. They stroked her hair, and squeezed her breasts. They ran across her back, but they left the upper half of the paralyzed woman free of entrapment.
Night Star could see and feel everything, but not move at all as the multi-armed alien lifted her and pulled her closer to the pulsing green mouth. It seemed to hesitate for a moment, then turned her sideways and pulled her, head-first, into the oozing mouth.
Hot, soaked, green tissue sucked in tightly around her body. It trembled and surrounded her as the tentacles pulled her in, pushed her back slightly, then pulled her in again. Slime filled her nose, and the walls of the living thing seem to leap and tighten around her body as she was pulled and pushed back and forth, in and out of the alien.
Somewhere, in the back of her head, she could hear a woman moan.
Night Star: Sjambok
The whip lashed across her buttocks again, and the pain radiated through her entire body, again. It was more than the sting of a powerful whip in the hands of a master. There was a dark energy that flowed through her, sapped her strength, and filled her body with the utmost pain.
For a moment, she was a frozen in place, her body absorbing the shock, then she collapsed to the floor of the vacant warehouse. All on fours, she presented the perfect target as the big man snapped his whip again, and laid a line of pain across her back. Her muscles flexed and her fingers curled as her body flattened out against the floor.
He liked the way she screamed. Some heroines has these shrill, girly screams. He liked what he called “woman screams.” These were feminine-husky and throaty. These could have just as easily been cumming.
He was hauling back to sting her again, when he realized he had done his job. She was out. Sjambok coiled his whip, and secured it on his belt. He took his time walking to the fallen heroine, enjoying the stillness in her body as he moved against the floor.
Night Star slept soundly as he came to one knee beside her.
“I need all of your secrets, sexy lady.”
She awoke upside down. One ankle, her right ankle, was in a noose, or a knotted loop of some sort. It must have been joined to the rafters in the ceiling. She couldn’t see, but she knew that it held her right leg out straight and dangled her by it. Her left leg was curved back, bent at the hip and knee, her ankle tied to her right wrist. Her left arm hung slack, her hand pointing at the floor, lazily waving. It danced tentatively with the cascade of her hair.
“Hello, lady.” The words came from the darkness. She knew what was next, and realized she could do little about it. There was little superheroine in her; she was a woman about to be tortured.
“I don’t know about this Device thing. I don’t understand it.”
She heard his uncoiling his whip
Night Star: Imp
The younger, smaller woman climbed the stairs nimbly behind Dr. Connie Gnau. She bounced on her toes, high-heeled pumps barely touching the marble of the stairs. She smiled to look at the curve of her date’s backside in the skin-tight black skirt.
“You’re beautiful,” she quipped. It came out smooth and wispy. It made her date stop on her assent and look down over her shoulder. This was so odd for her.
“You look so good in those black, high heels,” she said.
“Thank you,” red-haired woman smiled. She bit her lower lip. This was all so odd. She met this tiny, busty woman, this girl barely out of college, browsing the physics section of a local bookstore. She never responded to flirtation. She never took phone numbers from women in peasant skirts that looked like her former students.
Here she was, though, climbing the stairs to her apartment with this woman behind her, after drinks. A trickle of embarrassment dropped in the pit of her stomach, and she looked back over her shoulder at the small woman. Green eyes gleamed out against olive skin, and she pushed back a veil of her jet-black hair. Her body was firm and fit below the peasant skirt.
“You should know that I work nights, mostly. I’m not home much, and my place ….”
“It’s fine,” said Naomi. She reached up and took Connie’s hand. She kissed it.
There was the familiar click click of Connie Gnau’s old fashioned key undoing her heavy wooden door. They crossed the threshold, stepping into the semi-darkness of the apartment. There was a single quiet moment, then a frantic moment, as small hands found her womanly hips and her mouth sought the slick, red lips of the lush, older woman.
The question ran through her again. Why am I doing this? She surrendered, though, letting the nymph nestle the pinkness of her tongue in the taller woman’s mouth. She rose up on her toes, this mysterious, brilliant girl, and let her mouth pulse against the redhead’s.
She cupped the firm ass of the mature woman, enjoying the muscular definition and the skin-tight slickness of her miniskirt. She moaned into the other woman’s mouth.
When the smaller woman released Connie’s mouth, and settled back on her feet, she smiled and waited. The sex-drowsy eyes of Dr. Connie Gnau met those her petite, voluptuous captor.
“Wow,” gushed the girl. “I just kissed Night Star. Superheroine … wow!”
She touched her pert lips with nibble fingertips.
“I own Night Star.”
There was no time for the defeated woman to react to her shock. She had been trapped; this girl-woman knew her secret identity, and she had won.
Dr, Gnau felt her muscular legs in their black stocking weaken. The fibers of her calf muscles, her thighs, seemed to relax and turn to jelly. They betrayed her, folding and delivering the woman in her skin-tight skirt and black heels to the floor. Her arms came out instinctively to support her, and the red headed former astronaut’s upper body slumped across her end table.
Her arms ended up folded under her head, her legs ended up curled below her, and she stared off into the distance of her apartment. She could hear the diminutive woman moving around her home now, but she could not raise her body or look to see her.
“ I drugged you. I guess you figured that now, huh? It’s a toxin that my body generates. I can secrete it through my tongue, my pussy, my skin … just about anywhere.
I gave it to you through that kiss. I did the same thing to Gold just a few days ago. I love the idea of catching a superheroine in her secret identity, taking her out and … well, just taking her out. Now, Gold … Tracey … Did you know that she’s six-feet tall? Tall beautiful woman … I slipped her the tongue, also. You see …”
She padded around the room like a cat, sat briefly in one of Connie’s easy chairs, then
Connie Gnau lifted a finger. She let out a sigh. That was all she could do.
“So, let me explain. I’m … well, I’m not human. I’m very old, and I’m very powerful, and over the past few days I’ve taken control of Gold, Scorpio, Mystic, and Celtic Woman for the sake of trapping you. Did you feel how drawn you were to me? That was them sending you psychic prodding, driving you towards me. See, I had to have you.”
She touched this and that. She helped herself to a handful of peanuts.
“I need you to help me with a project.”
She was touching the art and going though the drawers with a delicate sort of respect and care.
“I had Gold on her back on her bed. She looked so sexy in her high heels and her tight dress. Anyway, I kissed her also. Scorpio, I ate out. That was how I got the toxin to her.”
Helpless and curled up against her end table, drugged and betrayed, Connie uttered not a sound as the other woman took hold of the hair on top of her head, and pulled her up against her body.
“I need you in your superheroine persona.”
She slipped her fingers under the stretchy fabric of Connie’s dress. She’s undressing me, the helpless woman thought. The cool air of her apartment crept over her skin, inch as the dress came away. With her head slumped back and her eyes looking up at the innocent-faced flower child, she could sit there letting her body be manipulated.
She was down to her stockings, panties, and heels.
“I like you like this, with your tits out and your big, red nipples hard.”
Her mouth was on one of those nipples suddenly, and something powerful shot through the redhead’s body. Not a muscle could twitch, but Connie could feel womb pulse and the muscles in her abs tremble. Imp pulled her mouth away, but the vibrations continued to wander through the captive’s body.
“I want you as the superheroine so that I can get on with things. I have control of your mind, and I’m giving you the order to transform.”
It was as if a door opened in her mind, and Connie Gnau used her power to become Night Star. There was a flash, and the helpless woman was now a helpless superwoman. Her body was now sheathed in its black skin glove, the footed unitard that made her Night Star. Now, she was masked.
Imp knelt behind her and cupped the big breasts in her tiny hands. Night Star’s tits were larger that anything that could ever fit into the tiny superhuman’s palms, but she gripped into them with a vise-like power.
“They’re so big, but they feel like apples, hard. Gold was like that also. The two of you have the bodies of college coeds.”
She dumped the woman in the black body stocking down on the floor.
“Ok, I need something from you.”
The vibrations had grown more and more powerful, and her soaked vulva seemed to be rebelling against the fabric of the skin suit. Her lips were actually trembling on their own. Imp seemed to know this, but was distracted by a campaign of her own.
With her peasant skirt hitched up and her bare, moist thighs straddling Night Star’s left leg, she bit her lower lip and slowly started to ride. Her clitoris was hard and pushed forward, catching itself on the slick fabric of Night Star’s costume and dragging down the woman’s thigh. Now, she could truly feel the fitness in the beaten woman’s body, the thick, defined muscle in her legs.
Night Star would have raked the carpet with her gloved fingers and absorbed the shaking her thighs if her body was still under her control. All she could do was stare up and breathe, even as Imp reached between her thighs. Those lithe, nimble fingers pinched at the mound.
Now, Night Star would be screaming.
The lips were swollen, and when the villainess pinched at plucked at them, they gave back, soaking the black costume. Night Star’s big clit pushed at the material.
“Ok … have to get what I need.”
She dismounted the prone woman’s leg, and nestled between the open thighs. There no effort at all in the quick movement of the long, strong legs to the smaller woman’s shoulders. She simply flung them there and fixed her mouth the wet cunt bulge between her victim’s legs.
She closed her eyes and sucked.
Night Star would have screamed now, also. She would have run her fingers through her own hair and that of the Imp. This was when the spurting started, and when that came over her, there was little else she could do.
Her juices shot through her costume, and Imp drank them. Another spout leapt out of her, and Imp pulled her head back a bit and opened her mouth, catching it like the spray from a water fountain. She swallowed some of the last jetting spray, then let the remnant douse her face.
Imp sat back, breathing hard, feeling the afterglow.
“ I needed to have your juices in me. I needed your fluid to make my magic work with the piece of The Device that I found. Long story….”
With one sweep of her arm, she pulled her skirt off and let it fly. She reached down, pinning Night Star’s legs together. She climbed on top of the woman with whom she had gone out for drinks. With her heart pounding, and her bare skin rubbing the fabric of the body glove, she whispered “Let me show you another power of mine.”
It felt like tickling, at first. All of the hairs on her body were on end now, and her skin had this tickling, burning sensation. Something was crawling on her skin and feeding itself through her costume. Something was wrapping itself around her whole body.
Imp stood, looked at her work for a moment, then began to dress herself with a slow and savory deliberateness. She had what she needed. At the door, she turned and looked at the paralyzed and bound shape of Night Star.
It looked as though someone with a fetish for pantyhose encasement had come along and done her work on Night Star. From redhead to stocking foot, she was tightly covered in what looked like flesh-colored pantyhose nylon. It was one-thousand-times as strong and had poured out of Imp’s skin. It would hold Night Star for hours.
“I left Dark Moon like this. Use it as an opportunity to rest. By the way, it was a lovely evening.”
She quietly shut the door on the way out.
Night Star: Iron
Sights
The second round hit her in the neck. She didn’t feel anything, at first. The dart stung, and its impact made her shudder, but she felt nothing new or strange coursing through her veins. It was coming, she knew, and she pulled the dart out as she waited for it.
“It’s like puffer fish poison, Night Star. It wouldn’t have penetrated your costume and your skin if I hadn’t shot you with the UV round first. See, I know your weaknesses and how to get through to you.”
Iron Sights’ voice echoed in the void of the empty warehouse. This place was perfect for him, and his unusual powers. Iron Sights was a hunter who had a supernatural deftness for accuracy and targeting. He armed himself with a variety of guns, and fired them as none other on the planet could. When a firearm wasn’t what he needed, he could throw or fling whatever was at-hand.
The perfect stalker, he could meld with shadows and make himself invisible. That was what he did as he taunted the large-breasted woman from the recesses of the abandoned WWII airplane hanger in which he had ambushed her.
“Night Star, I need The Device.”
He watched her thick legs start to weaken and buckle, dropping her to the ground. Her big breasts swayed and shook just a bit as the woman started her surrender.
He shot her again, and her hand jerked back to clutch her firm right buttock. He heard her gasp. He watched her fling her head back, and he delighted in the red grimace of her full, lush mouth.
“I’m going to play with you, and torment you until I get what I need. That was a flechette. Here, have another.”
Her body was reacting now, as a dart struck her in lower back. She was expecting to go numb, but felt a certain degree of shock overcoming her. The tiny intruider unleashed a universe of pain in her body. It was light years beyond the size of the dart.
“Your body is reacting now, right? You thought that you would go numb, right? But you’re becoming more sensitive, aren’t you? Oh, you’re having a harder time moving, but even the movement of air over your skin is becoming uncomfortable.”
He shot her again.
“Every time you touch yourself, every time you breathe, there is pain.”
Night Star had the thick muscles of a gymnast in her thighs, and they did nothing to protect her as a dart buried itself in her left leg. A sluggish, black-gloved hand reached for the epicenter of the pain.
“The Device, bitch….”
This time, the voluptuous woman doubled over and crumbled to one side when another dart found her other leg. She felt her muscles become stiff and sluggish, even as her body became more sensitive. Shock waves of pain were rolling through her.
From her place on the floor, she could see her tormentor break his cover and stride towards her. He was a big, tanned man in khaki pants and a classic, bush hunting jacket, one patch on the right shoulder. His boots seemed to punish the floor as he took big strides towards the fallen woman.
When he placed his foot on the side of her head, then on her left breast, she released a slight gasp. He kicked her over, rolling her on to her back. Her arms fell wide open, one knee was propped up. Now, her eyes were wide with pain, her wet, red mouth open.
Night Star screamed in agony.
“The Device.”
He pressed as he stepped down on her left breast and rolled it around under the rubber treads of his boot.
“Blink twice if you will tell me about The Device once I’ve given you the antidote.”
She only stared at the ceiling.
“I have something else for you to feel, Night Star.”
He leaned over, gripping one ankle and one wrist. He picked her up like luggage, dragged her a few paces, then tossed her on to an old work table that sat in the middle of the huge, empty building. It was rusted and dirty, a throwback to the time that this building was something in a full, functional state.
Her body hit it with a thud.
Iron Sights arranged her body: knees up, legs spread, arms above her head. She heard him opening his khaki pants, and then she felt the grabbing and rough hands at her crotch. She felt him pinch material, pulling some of her dense, red thick muff as he did, and she felt the sawing pressure of his knife against the material of her costume. Her costume should have resisted the demands of a normal knife, but it somehow gave way.
He did a good job of precisely cutting a diamond-shaped patch out of the crotch of her unitard.
“ You will feel everything with a massive intensity. Your pain receptors are working over time, so everything will hurt.”
She winced as the huge, thick head of his cock dragged along her inner-thigh. She was sure that she was on fire. Part of him wanted to play it out, touching every inch of her with his hard tool until he finally drove it home in her pussy, but he couldn’t wait.
“The Device!”
He held her hips and took a breath. Night Star’s eyes widened as she felt rough fingers pinch the fleshy, pink drapes of her vagina. It was like tiny electric shocks, like tiny, spiky teeth were suddenly having their way with her most sensitive place. She could tell that he was opening her pussy.
There was a pause, and then her vision blurred, blanked out, went double as the short, thickness of his prick slipped its way into her wet sex. Fire erupted and she could hear him talking through the shower of pain and rage.
“I will get what I’m looking for.”
He moved his hips faster and leaned down to bite her neck. With his lips, he could feel even the smallest tendon spasm and jerk as he plunged, drove, and rotated his hips against her.
“The Device!”
Night Star:
Berzerkergang
Cutlass was on her back. She was unconscious. The chunks of the uprooted toilet that had been smashed over her now covered her body. Debris and dust, angles and chunks of tank and bowel rested in her hair. They covered her cleavage and decorated her tight, black body suit. Her fishnet stockings were torn and wet, coated with a splattering of porcelain dust, and plaster.
The wiry little man had torn the toilet out of the wall and flung it across the room at Cutlass with such blinding speed, and so little effort, that Cutlass could barely comprehend what was happening. One moment she was moving to help the man who she thought was a captive, the next she was being battered, crushed, in a wave of force and pain.
Gold was on her back. Her body sheath was still pristine, her long, straight, blond hair barely out-of-place. She was unconscious, eyes closed, her large breasts rising and falling with her smooth breath.
She would remember, hours later, when she was finally awake again, joining the fight just as Cutlass was going down. She would remember feeling the power of her magical golden sheath simply turning off and leaving her vulnerable when the skinny unimpressive man released a piercing shriek. She covered her ears, flung her head back, and screamed in pain as the sonic wail of Berzerkergang ripped through her nervous system.
Her powers were disrupted.
Her golden sheath was gone.
He beat her down to unconsciousness.
She would remember, once she was awake so many hours later, how he leapt across the room and clubbed her with double-fisted blows. He beat her, and beat her, and beat her with hard little fists that felt like sacks of stone. First, she was on her knees, then all fours, then finally face-down on the floor. Six feet tall and sculpted like a fitness model, her body shuddered with each concussion.
She was helpless, face-down, and could not resist as he rolled her over and strangled the already fading woman. There was no surprise that his hands were like hydraulic vises that shut off her air and closed darkness around her mind.
Now, the man was biting Night Star’s right breast. Red-haired Night Star was bent backwards over the sinks, her head draped over the side and flung back, her hair touching the floor, and she was screaming. There was no doubt that his teeth were somehow sinking through her costume, and she could feel the wounds rising on her flesh.
Cutlass slept on the floor as Night Star howled in pain.
Gold slept beside her.
Just when she thought he would bite a chunk out of her breasts, the wild man was off of her and moving again. He jumped to the ground, planted his feet and grabbed two handfuls of thick, red hair. He pivoted his weight, and yanked Night Star from the sinks.
Her stocking feet never touched the floor.
The woman in the black unitard took flight, being whipped around in a circle. Flying for her was normal, it was being thrown that was different. Like a discarded rag doll, she soared across the room and met the wall, head-first. The one-hundred-year-old stone of the old hospital gave way and seemed to swallow the lush-bodied heroine.
Now it was Night Star’s turn to be unconscious. Half-sitting, half-laying, half-buried in the wall, her head slumped as she slept. The crazed villain never paused as his victory became evident, he just leapt and howled with a new excitement.
He landed on Cutlass, mounting her instantly, entering her mouth instantly. The unconscious woman’s body was jerk and moved with his thrusts until he took hold of her head and anchored her for his pelvic attack. When the pressure was built up and ready, when he was about to burst, he leapt from her body and landed straddling Gold’s face. He aimed is swollen cock at her closed eyes.
She would never feel the scalding heat of his unnatural cum, or feel the power of the spray as it hosed her face and plastered her eyes. She coughed involuntarily, spitting splatters of semen from her full lips, but she continued to sleep as he dumped his load on her.
Berzerkergang strangled her one more time just for good measure.
Night Star was as yielding and helpless as her friends as two bony, powerful hands reached out and took her. The words of his mistress came back to him as he pulled her out of the wall by her breasts.
“Don’t break her. We need to be able to merge her with The Device. Have your fun, and kill her friends if you have to, but bring Night Star to me in good working order.”
This played through his mind as he let the big-breasted ex-astronaut drop to the floor. With peacefully shut eyes, and arms flung out at her side, Night Star could do nothing to stop him from simply smashing her to a pulp. He played with the image, feeling himself grown hard. Instead, he took hold of her right leg.
The thickness of her calf muscle seemed to challenge him to squeeze with all his might. Her quad seemed to offer the same thing as her yanked her up from the floor, upside down, and pulled that long right leg over his right shoulder.
He bent the leg in the most natural way possible, the knee bent over his shoulder, her foot hanging in front of him. Now, Night Star hung backwards over his back, her arms hanging down and swaying along with the onslaught of her red tangled.
Her breasts swayed with a firm bounce as the man walked away with her.
Humiliatrix: Night
Star
It was hard to tell where the thing started and where she stopped. She could feel that she was on her back, and she knew that she was clamped into The Device. What that meant, she wasn’t really sure.
She was blinded by some sort of leather and metal strap.
Something long and smooth was deep in her sex. Another unseen something held her labia open harshly, and another piece was affixed to her clit. It felt as though it was a tiny cone that ever so gently applied suction to her little bud.
There was something deeper still inside her.
Something that felt moist and organic encased her hands, and held them down by her sides. That same feeling lent itself to the force that held her thighs apart, and the roaming probe that had ensconced itself up her ass. It was as though something living was searching in her.
Whatever was in her mouth was elaborate; it held her mouth open in a gape, it ran a tube of some sort down her throat, and it held her tongue in place with some sort of clamp. A strange vibration ran through the tongue holder.
She had been captured, delivered to Humiliatrix, and was now in The Device. Again, Humiliatrix’s voice came from everywhere at once.
“I’ve put everything in place. You get it now, right? I have the pieces, I have The Device. I have you. You get it, right? You feel it?”
Night Star did.
“That alien force that gives you your powers is what powers the The Device. You are the vessel for the power, so you are a living part of The Device. It will draw its power from you.
Now, I have your friend Red Arrow here. I’m going to introduce her to The Device. So, you see, You are powering the tool, she will be its victim. She is a friend of yours, yes?”
Just like now, the last time I saw
Red Arrow both of us were captives. I was tied to the chair, thick, white
hardware store rope holding my wrists to the armrests of the wooden chair.
My ankles were crossed, and pulled up against the leg of the chair, also
lashed in place with the strong, heavy rope. It was done up in a noose around
my neck, and a crisscross X between my tits, all of which held me in place.
I could have broken the ropes like
tissue, if I’d been at my full power. They had held me in a UV chamber
for long enough that fighting was out of the question. They had strangled
me on what looked like an oversized and overpowered tanning bed until I blacked
out. Now, I watched helplessly as they walked Red Arrow around on a dog
leash.
Japanese, fit, and sinewy, dressed
in a red, PVC body glove and red high-heeled boots, Red Arrow was a Ninja
archer of supernatural skill. They has gassed her and drugged her. They had
fit her with a studded dog collar, and now she was staggering around like
a sluggish puppet.
I wondered why they hadn’t gagged
me, and now I got my answer as I watched them fit her with a belt. It sported
a huge, red rubber strap-on that matched her costume. Another one was squeezing
my face, prying my mouth open.
“It’s superheroine
showtime.”
Humiliatrix’s voice was like syrup. “You were captured with her once before. Well, let’s get on with it.”
I couldn’t see what she was doing. I couldn’t see anything. I only heard the humming change.
As I felt my powers surge to their fullest, and my will break, Red Arrow’s screaming resonated through my world. Everything that held me in place seemed to suck and pull on me. The words simply emerged in my head.
I am Night Star. I am The Device.
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