The Hanover Family


By Mr. K


She let the men cum all over her.


She wasn’t bound, but she was done. Beaten. On her back, legs spread, one arm draped across her midsection and one partially hanging over the table’s edge, she surrendered to the pain and the weakness, and she let the men cum all over her. She could still feel the energy weapon that had burned through her nerves and the UV light that had weakened her flowing through her lean, curvy body. Every fiber of her was surrendered to the men, and her body spoke volumes, over and over, about what they had done to her. She was done and now she was being basted in semen.


They beat her with skill, her  body remembered. Before they threw her down and splattered her with jism, they beat her.  They were all trained fighters, at least as well trained as she, and they showed her that once the UV light that flooded the room had drained her. One held her from behind, holding her sculptured arms, while his brother, a classic, brooding male model-type in a tailored suit did a spin-hook kick that connected with the side of her face. She released a pain-filled, throaty grunt as her face whipped to one side.


He set up and kicked her again. Again she grunted and stumbled.


Next came a classic boxer. He taunted her with a grin and a flirtatious wink and he set himself up and shot a jab into her face. Her head snapped back. He did a combo – jab, cross, upper-cut – and laughed as she rocked and reeled. There was a huge mirror in the room in which they were beating her, and she momentarily caught sight of the scene. She saw a woman in a night-black body stocking, its fabric lightly dusted with a constellation of sparkles, surrounded by a family of well-dressed, ruggedly handsome men. She saw the woman being battered about like a rag doll.


She felt it.


An upper-cut to the belly dug up under her rib cage and dropped her to her knees. She was there for a split second, then powerful hands grabbed her breasts and pulled her to her feet.


Now a woman, equally beautiful and vicious stepped in. She grabbed the big athletic thighs, thrusting them apart and driving her knee into the heroine’s sex. Strong arms held Night Star back as she started to buckle forward. The woman who had kneed her, blond and gorgeous, forced those legs even further apart and pressed her face between the red-haired heroine’s legs. She bit the thick, labia majora of her captive; perfect straight teeth clamping down on Night Star’s most sensitive place through the skin-tight costume.


Night Star flung back her head and screamed.


The woman pulled herself upright, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She smiled, looking the blue-eyed, red head in the eye, then leaned down to bite her big right breast. Again, those perfect straight teeth dug into her through the slick, second skin of her costume.


Night Star flung back her head and screamed.


Again, the cruel mouth ceased. 


They let her fall, then another took hold of her. He didn’t scoop her up to batter her some more. He flung his well-muscled body down on top of her and started to snake his limbs around her. This one was a grappler, and he seemed to meld with her body, taking hold of her limbs, pinning them. He twisted her, pressed her, took control of her curves in the black, second-skin costume. He strangled her.


Muscular arms wrapped across her windpipe and the arteries in her neck. He squeezed.


Weak and overwhelmed, the red-headed former astronaut felt the blood pounding in her head. She could feel her body demanding air. She could feel herself dying.


Just as the curtains started to fall around her mind, the big man moved off of her, and another took control.


This one took her by the hair, and yanked her up off the floor. Night Star had thick, waist-length red hair that swept down over her ultra-skin-tight black body stocking. He happily, and as precisely and carefully as he could, twisted the long, long lengths of red around big hands. Once he had a strong grip, he yanked her up off the floor and stood her up on her feet, then up to her stocking toes as he lifted his head higher and higher. The dizzy heroine could only gasp and groan as he lifted her into the air and let her dangle.


Through blurry eyes, she saw another come up close to her. He shoved a hand between her thighs, grabbing the thick outline her big pussy through the sheer black costume and squeezing the woman’s labia. She heard herself scream.


And they defeated Night Star and they carried her away.


She let the men cum on her.


It was mostly the youngsters, the muscle-bound sons and nephews in their designer suits, who crowded around her to spill their seed on the woman. From the looks of them – from what she could see – they were they type who liked to settle matters with their fists or their cocks. They had that strange, intense permanent anger that some men carry in their faces all of the time, and they took to the washing down ritual with an ease that bespoke of the numerous times that they had carried out this ritual. They been the ones to beat her into submission as the patriarchs and matriarchs of the family looked on. They were the ones to christen her.


Marcus was at her face, beating a rhythm with his meat on her mouth. Night Star had a perfectly curved set of lips. They were pouty, full, and naturally a vivid pink. She glossed them in a powerful red that matched her hair and stood out against the heroine’s snowy skin. They were succulent kissing lips, and he was slapping them with his tool so hard that you could hear the plapplapplapplap sound across the room. He had already shot his load across her masked eyes and the perfect turned-up nose. He even made it a point to get a stream in her thick, curly, red hair. Now he was cock slapping his captive.


His model’s face was twisted into a mask of anger every time his meat made contact with her partially open captive mouth.


“Like that, bitch? You break into my fucking house, huh? You come on to our fucking island? You think you could break in here and hurt this family?”


It was true. She had come to that dark and drizzling island because Dark Moon had done the same, and vanished.  Dark Moon, following one of the mysterious sisters up from the city on her motorcycle, was determined to discover the origin of  the strange aura that surrounded the woman. She was determined to find out the origin of the apparent mind control powers of this woman. She didn’t know that this was a sister of the Hanover family.


He reached down, his fingers dabbling in his own semen, and took hold of the mask that obscured part of the woman’s face. Her eyes drowsy, her limbs limp, she could offer nothing as this criminal pealed away her secret identity.


Just a few inches away, tending to her breasts, were Adam and Roth, the twins. While Marcus was stroking his cock like a piston over her face, these two had been almost mesmerized by the captive’s breasts. Both had their erect cocks out, but they were taking their time exploring each large, round tit with the length of his manhood. Slowly, feeling their cock skin against the silk-like fabric of her black body sheath, they drew circles around her hard nipples. One would trace around the areola, as its hard circle was clearly evident through the second-skin fabric. The other would drag the under side of his shaft over the hard pebble of her right nipple back and forth, back and forth.


They drew big circles, tracing the outlines of her two, large, firm breasts.


“They’re real, but they’re like …”


“I know man! They’re perfectly firm and big and awesome. God!”


Soon, both twins found the perfect rhythm on her nipples. First one, then the other, caught a steady beat on those big nipples. They pumped, and moaned. She couldn’t see who was doing what, but soon hot streams of spunk were christening her breasts. Salty pearls clung to her black costume.


“This bitch has a tight-assed six pack!” said whichever brother was tending to her firm, conditioned belly.  He grunted after that and shot his own hot, sticky white load across her midsection. Another one was rubbing his prick on the thick muscles of her right thigh, while another did the same to her left. They squeezed the shapely muscles of the former astronaut’s legs and pumped their cocks on the fabric of her costume until they, too, shot their loads. Almost immediately their greedy hands scrambled for the goo. The outline of her big labia could be clearly seen in the skin-tight black body sheath. They massaged their cum on her mound.


‘”Get her good an’ juicy.”


Her lips were so large and thick that her tormentors were able to reach down and pinch them through the material. She moaned and winced, thrashed her head from side to side, but still did not resist.


At one point there was only one man manipulating the woman’s big pussy, at some moments two, at one point she was sure that she was being finger frigged by three. Her legs pumped and squirmed.


The mother spoke.


“Take a moment, baby. Just take a moment, Night Star, and think about how about this. Can you smell the salty spume of my boys?”


The woman in the black body stocking let her head rock to one side. She let out a sigh.


“Can you? My boys are beautiful and they gave you a gift tonight. They gave you Hanover seed. Do you understand? Do you how few women have tasted it? Felt it? You should be honored. Thomas! Put some in her! Has anyone cum in her twat?”


There was a collective “no,” and Night Star suddenly felt a male body mounting her. It was a sudden weight and an anger that pinned her down and started grinding on her. His big hands took control of her wrists, pulling them up above her head, above the cum-stained perfect features of her face and the wild nest of red. Her eyes were so gobbed with semen that she could barely see the features of her new lover.


She moaned as he used his knee to force her strong curvaceous legs apart. They were already weak and spread; she was so easy.


“You came to our island. Our home on this island  this island has been the home and refuge for this family since we came on that God -awful  fetid ship back in 1760. That ship …”


The mother’s eyes drifted off as her mind went back to some place dark. Night Star listened through the grunting and her own screaming as a massive cock slipped easily into her.  His angry eyes met Night Star’s as she felt her big, lower lips opening wide for him. The ridges and thick veins ran over the texture of her pussy sending shockwaves through the black-clad heroine.


With a smooth, vicious action, he slipped his arms under her legs and pushed them up, bringing her knees to her big tits. Now his tool was striking deep into her. Her screams were piercing and pained.


The big man with his big penis punished her pinkness and the mother went on and on about the history of the family.  Her voice quaked and rippled with anger as she recounted this strange, long story.


The Hanover family came from Liverpool, she said. They were on a ship headed to the New World, a whole large family prepared to start a new life in the wilderness of America. The mother’s voice started to crack when she began talking about the storm the opened it maul and swallowed their endevour. She had to pause, all of these years later, all of these centuries later, when she described the lights that rose out of the water and encircled the ship.


“And then came the voice,” she said, her voice rippling with a sort of reverence and glee. Night Star’s body was convulsing with a powerful orgasm,  her legs in their second-skin sheath pumping in the air.


Now the mother was almost panting as she described the voice, God as far as she as concerned, striking a bargain with the doomed family all of those years ago.


“We would plunge into the sea, and we would live forever in this place. And our Jenny, our littlest daughter would be his closest minion. We would live on the land, but always be linked to the salt and the darkness of the sea by her. And no one ….” She began to rage. “NO ONE would come here to disturb us!”


She leaned over her son he fucked the captive heroine. “We knew that you were coming, because the other costumed women came, and we captured her, and we tortured her, and she told us exactly what we needed to know about you,, woman from the starts. Night Star, we may be very old, but we have gained much information about the modern world. Do you hear our speech? Do see she the technology that we used to subdue you? We understand your world. We are more than a match for costumed whores like you.”


A second later, her voice was drowned out by the grunting of a big man shooting a hot jet of semen into Night Star.


“Dunk her,” she heard the mother say she slipped into unconsciousness.





It was basically a see-saw. It was a long simple plank of wood poised on a fulcrum. One end jutted out over a still pool of dark water. That was the end with the straps. Again, the men showed great teamwork


They chained her to it. 


On her back, Night Star’s ankles were pinned together, tightly, and chained. Another length of chain was wrapped tightly across the thick, muscular thighs, and another across her narrow, wasp waist. Each wrist got its own cuff that pinned it to the plank. Chains formed an X between the big, round breasts, looping below her arms and over her shoulders, holding her to the long wooden plank.


Her head rested against the board and the end jutted out over the water.


The whole family was there, and each had a glass of wine. Each waited.


“With your powers on full you don’t need to breathe air, Night Star,. As weak as you are,  you can drown like any other woman. Dunk her.”


As the mother’s order, the young men let up the pressure on the end of the dunking board and slowly let the heroine’s head slip below the surface of the pool.


Dr. Connie Gnau looked up at the sky. She watched clouds pass overhead, thinking that this would be ideal weather for her to exercise her powers. Dark and overcast, the weather would allow her body to retain enough of her powers to battle this family of freaks.  The UV dildo slipped deftly into her ass, would not allow any resistance.  After the fucking they had inserted it, and prepared her for the next stage of her ordeal.


They lowered her head and upper body into the cold water. Night Star closed her eyes. Dark, frigid water closed over her head, filling her nose and embracing her. 


Ms. V had tried to drown her only a few months before this. Back then the water was warm and soapy, and the captor was a stunning blond in a designer bathrobe.  Ms. V. had seemed only mildly irritated as the presence of the superpowered woman in skin-tight black.


“You disturbed my bath,” she said to Night Star. The red haired heroine in the second-skin body stocking stood like a statue in Ms. V bathroom. She was under mind control.


“Since you broke into my place and disturbed my bath, why don’t you just jump on it and enjoy it?”


She reached into a bathroom cabinet and produced a plastic bag.


“Here, put this over your head. And here,” she took the bathrobe belt from around her waist and gave it to Dark Moon. “Tie it off with this around your throat.”


The mind-controlled, voluptuous woman did as told, using willing hands to secure a plastic bag over her head. As Ms V’s robe fell open, revealing a perfect, womanly form , Dark Moon used the belt to seal the bag open end around her neck. She pulled it tight, yanking and knotting until she had sealed off her own throat.


“Now climb in the bath and drown.”


She did as told, sloshing hot, soapy water on to the floor and letting it fold over her head. Her mistress’ voice was muffled as she said “Drown.”


A helpless robot, she was unable to function and would have died in that bath if not for the heroine called Crimson Avenger.  Captured by the Hanovers and strapped to a dunking board, there was no escape this time.


They brought her up. Dark Moon panted and gasped once her head broke the surface. She wanted to pretend that she was unfazed by the time spent underwater, but, with her powers gone there was no masking it. She spat water and gulped air.


“I want you to see what the rest of your life will feel like,” smiled the mother.


They dunked her again.


And seconds dragged by.


The water was over the sleek, glossy domes of her breasts, and the family gave a collective smile. With her costume wet and slick they could see the athletic muscle cuts and sleek lines of her body. They could see the deep wedge of her sex and perfect hour glass of her figure.


“She’s perfect,” said the mother. “She’s perfect like Dark Moon.”


All eyes turned to her.


“Take her to see Jenny.”


Slowly, they let her up from the water.


“Take her to Jenny.  She is the last one that Jenny needs. Take her back to the house and get her ready.”



They strapped Night Star up like a bagged animal. One brought in a long pole while others gathered the beaten heroine up from the cold stone floor. Her second-skin black costume was slick and glistening, her hair a sodden, matted mess, and her body listless as one of the men pinned her ankles together against either side of the pole. They used some sort of heavy cord or rope to crisscross and wrap and bind the woman’s ankles to the pole.  Numbness began to set it.


Another was doing the same to her wrists, lashing them to the pole with a vicious urgency. Soon she was bound, wrists and ankles, to the long carrying pole. One man got on each end and they lifted the pole and the woman that dangled from it up on to their shoulders. With her long muscular legs and sinewy arms lashed to the wooden pole, the woman’s body hung down and swung like a pendulum. The tangled, soaked red hair hung down and swayed below her. Her head was sagged back and bobbed as they portaged her down to the waterside.


They walked with her suspended like this. They carried her like a trophy.


“Take her to your sister. Take her to see Jenny.”


The large-breasted heroine had been in this position before. She had been carried on a giant silver platter to Ms. V. Bound hand-and-foot, mummified in lengths of steel-like wrapping she was lifted on the shoulders of six curvy women and carried down the hallway to the dominatrix who would torture her for hours.


Now she was carried outside, down from the house towards yet another still pool of dark, cold water. The sky was grey and wind that was just cold enough to tell you that winter was coming blew across her wet skin and wet costume. This was the way Hanover Island was all of the time. The curse, the blessing, left the island in a constant autumn. The sky would always mist and swell with a heavy wet grey. The wind would always blow. The cold would always penetrate the bones.


As the men walked over the broken terrain, Night Star’s body swayed and rocked. Dr. Connie Gnau, the woman who became Night Star when she pulled on a skin-tight body sheath and took flight, hung like a trophy by her arms and legs as two eternal villains carried to her fate.


“This is your new home, whore. This is how you will pay for coming here.”


“Now, you meet Jenny.”


There was a stone ring around the dark waters of the pool. It was grey and smooth. They lowered her, and unlashed her from the pole. They took time to position her just right at the edge of the pool, her legs together, her arms by her side. There was a narrow grove in the stone which worked perfectly as a place to situate Night Star’s head. She found herself staring up the grey sky with its angry shifting clouds.


“Last bit,” said one of the brothers. He took a handful of red hair and pressed it to his face. He took a good ,long drag of Connie Gnau’s hair, taking in the natural fragrance of the woman. Blank-faced, she looked at the sky and recalled how Ms. V buried her face in that thick ocean of red and inhaled.


“I love your tits and your ass and your hair …. MMMMM.”


This captor breathed her in then took the red tresses and pressed them into the water. He ran his hand over her head, also as if shampooing her, smoothing and pressing her red down and into the water. Again , she found herself simply lying there as one of the Hanover men manipulated her body. Her hair hung down in the water.


He stood.


“Be good to our sister.”


The two men turned abruptly and walked back towards the hours. There was a moment, a heartbeat, before she heard movement in the water behind her. She felt ripples and cold waves churning up behind her. A rhythm soon emerged, and Night Star knew that something was alive in that water.


She gasped as something clamped hold of her hair, yanking on it like a silky red rope. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened, taking a final gasp before the strength of the thing the water pulled and yanked.


Night Star felt the cold stone of the pool’s rim against her body as, again, she was delivered to the Hanover’s icy water. Dragged by her hair, helpless, the captive heroine felt the frigid water envelop her. With her head tilted back, even in the darkness of the pool, she could see her new owner.


What slivers of light seeped down into the murky water glinted off of the scales of a wide, long scaly green fish tail. It twisted and flicked, driving the powerful being deeper and deeper down into the pool. Her eyes blurred and drowsy, Night Star was just able to make out the pale skin and blond hair of a young woman.


“College girl,” she said to herself. For some reason the idea that this could be beautiful young sophomore striding across her college campus snapped into her head. She had a cute little turned-up nose and freckles. She had luminous blue eyes. Night Star lost sight of the beauty as the big fish tail flashed across her vision again.




Jenny Hanover.


The words flashed through her mind.


The creature dove and twisted and corkscrewed down, pulling the superheroine by her long hair.  Night Star remembered how Ms. V had subdued her in a similar way not long before. That was the second time she tried to drown the heroine, Dressed in a wet suit that showed off her curves, with Night Star in chains, she dove down and down and down, keeping the black-clad woman submerged. M V took her deep.  Night Star knew that Ms. V was only using the drowning to knock her out, but this Jenny Hanover couldn’t care less. She was taking Night Star on a one-way trip.


 She felt the fish woman ease her grip and change her position, shifting around and turning the captive right-side-up. Powerful, claw-like hands grabbed thick thighs and maneuvered the woman until she drifted just above the mucky debris-strewn floor of the pool. Her legs were together, her arms out at her sides as though she was on a cross.  The hair drifted around her like a bright red halo.


Jenny Hanover worked fast, diving down and grabbing a length of thick chain. Somehow, Night Star immediately knew that these were chains from the ship that the Hanover’s took over from England so many centuries ago. It was rusty, but just as preserved as the family itself. On end was fastened down among the stones and muck of the pool’s bottom. Jenny wrapped in around the heroine’s ankles, securing her to the bottom of the pool.


Anchored to the pool’s floor, she could look around to see what was going on here. Just to her left, there was another woman in chains. Another costumed woman.  Long-legged and large breasted, her raven hair drifting around her face, this was Dark Moon. The Latina had been captured as well, held as guest of the family, and was now anchored at the bottom on Jenny’s pool. Her booted ankles were chained, and her nylon pantyhose costume faded in and out of the shifting darkness.


Her eyes were open. She was in some sort of stasis.



Night Star had a moment to look around, her flashing blue eyes catching glimpses of the women, some in heroine costumes, some not, who were chained to the bottom of that pool. She saw hair and clothing styles that seemed to date back to the 18th century.


Then Jenny kissed her.


Her mouth ferociously joined itself to Night Star’s. The kiss, deep below the cold water, was still soft and succulent. The mermaid seemed skilled at taking a woman’s mouth with her own, and she sucked Night Star’s full lips with a wild electric passion. A powerful lesbian passion rushed through the captive.


The world grew cold and dark around Night Star.  There was a strange energy that flowed in her, but it was not empowering. It was not a  power surge, It made her think of standing beside the bed of her uncle Mike as he lingered on a life support system. Something was taking over her body.


She was neither drowning nor breathing. She was neither conscious nor unconscious. Without intending to she stretched her arms out to her sides, so now she was in that same human T configuration as Dark Moon’s. Her eyes closed.




The mother was making a mixed drink as if it was a meditation. Slowly, the lime went into the bitter mix of alcohols. Slowly, the ice cubes, one after the other into the drink. Slowly, she breathed in.


She didn’t turn,  at first, when she heard the wet bare footsteps behind her. She didn’t turn when she smelled the musty scent of a girl’s wet hair. She just savored it. She just breathed it in.


“Mother,” came the voice from behind her. Still clinging to her English accent, still little girl innocent. The mother turned to see the willowy figure of her daughter, naked, standing on two legs in the hallway.


“Mother. Thank you. These last two were so powerful. I may walk the Earth a very, very long time this time, Mother.”


She put down the drink and embraced her daughter.