Night Star and The Man

Photomanips by Piston Thorn. Caption by Mr. K.

She felt him grip her right wrist with his powerful left hand. He stooped down in front of her, wrapping an arm around both of her legs. There was short exhalation, and there was the feeling of his shoulder pressing up into her midsection. The man stood fully upright, draping Night Star over his right shoulder.

“Guess this means you win this round, huh?” She spoke, her words muffled as they poured out into the black leather expanse of his back. She was upside down now, her long red hair dumping down in a wave that reaches his glutes. She spoke as he carried her off, her muscular arms swaying limply, her thick, muscular legs doing the same.

“Pretty much. Let’s be honest; if it had been a fair fight, you would have beaten me with those powers of yours. But, you know, we had the whole house ringed with …”

“The Frequency. I know. You guys have really been into that lately. You used it to sap my powers and paralyze me.”

He was walking now, with the casual grace of a power athlete. The house had a sparse, modern design, and there was much open space. He was able to easily stride past sculptures and simplistically beautiful furniture as he made his way to the stairwell.

“Yup. Paralyzed you. I could have killed you, but what fun would that be?”

“Seems I can’t go a week without one of you guys slinging me over his shoulder and carrying me around like luggage.”

“Oh, riiight. You were captured by The Men just last week, weren’t you? And the week before that Nikko got you. Sister, you’ve been getting that fine ass kicked and captured a lot lately. The Men, they knew just what to do – flood the room with powerful UV radiation, then flood the room with gas.”

She felt a tinge of fear as he spoke. He knew the whole story.

“That’s right. That’s what they did. Those guys are from the same experimental group as you, if I recall correctly. You are some of Vixen’s creations. They knew that the UV would knock out my powers. The gas was just ….”

“To really knock you out – like out out. Make you easier to manage. And they did carry you. Yes. Like, didn’t four of them … a bunch of them picked you up like a trophy. Carried you up to the garage?”

She felt him secure his hand on her ass a bit more firmly as they came to a landing. The stairs curved now and became a bit narrower. Still, he held on to the heroine as he carried her and recounted her story.

“The Men, they carried you into that old garage and you got a serious Bukkake, right?”

“You know your stuff. Yeah. I woke up in that greasy garage. Your bros really know how to treat a girl. Nice dates.”

She remembered waking up as she was being slammed down on a work table by the hands of the men that carried her. The Men. She remembered their designer suits and cologne. She remembered how one of them gripped her face, prying her red mouth open. He looked her in the eye and he spat. She recalled how she felt the wet, slimy impact in the back of her throat. He reared his hand back, and there was a loud, crisp crack. She remembered, as this man carried her up the stairs, how that man slapped her and snapped her head to the left.

“They really gave you a coating, didn’t they?” said the man who was carrying her up the stairs. It had been months – months between when she was captured by his brethren and sexual tortured, and now. With this powerful man carrying her like a ragdoll, she recalled being the captive of a whole hoard of The Men. She recalled how the one who spat in her mouth took on the role of binding her. He moved to go get chains as The Men lined up. The first one already had his cock hovering over her face.

“Those guys showed me some pics of you later. Man! They drenched you,” said this man as he carried her.

Hanging upside down over his shoulder, she remembered how her eyes burned and her skin tingled. She remembered how they didn’t have to chain her, but how they enjoyed doing it anyway. “Boys will be boys,” she said as this man carried her. She remembered how, when The Men had her, she was finally conscious of the genetic engineering that went into those men, and, ultimately, this man who held her captive now. They came in torrents, over and over and over. No normal man could produce that much semen.

“I saw the photos,” said the man who now carried her up the stairs. “You were coated. They really got you. So, now I have you. Did you know that Lone Star, Mystic, and Gold came here just like you did? Did you know that I captured them?”

“I did know that. I figured I would join the party. I was always the one to crash the popular girls’ parties.”

“You were looking for them and looking for me. Ha! I guess you were one of the nerdy girls out where you grew up in Wisconsin. That’s how you ended up as an astronaut, Dr. Gnau.”

“I was. You know about my powers, my history, my defeats. You do your homework.”

“I do. You found me, and now you’re a prisoner. Why don’t you probe my memory and see what I did to them.”

She swayed and bobbed slightly as he climbed the stairs. Night Star had torrents of lush, waist-length red hair. It hung down in layers, now, shrouding her face. She could feel the mass of her large breasts mashed against his muscular back. One of his hands was clasped and clamped down her buttocks, and she could feel the power in his grip pinning her to his shoulder.

“Oh, I did my homework on all of you. I knew about Gold’s liquid magic. I knew about Lone Star’s vulnerabilities. Yup.”

The only power she had working was her ability to probe thoughts. He allowed her that. She reached out with her mind, probing deep into his. She could see Gold, her body stiffening, her muscles locking. She must have been stalking in the mansion’s library when he cornered her. There was a moment of recognition, then he hit a button on his wrist device. As she probed his memory, she could see his memory of when The Frequency hit Gold and defeated her.

“Statue,” she heard him say. She could see his memory of when Gold became his prisoner.

She could see a montage of images in his memory. Gold’s breasts were large, but his hands were huge and he was able to take the masses of them in his palms. He couldn’t completely envelop them, but he could gather handfuls of them. He kneaded and crushed them.

In the next image, she saw him running his fingers between the thick muscularity of her thighs. Gold’s costume was a golden gauze, a sheath. When her powers were up and working, it was a super-powered shield that protected from literally everything. When depowered, she was just a tall, lush blond woman painted gold. It was like she was naked. In his clutches, she was depowered by The Frequency, and his thick fingers easily slipped up into her sex.

She could see, in his mind, how her long blond hair whipped the air as he spun her around and doubled her over. She could see his memory of his whole hand buried in her from behind. Her sex was tight, hot, and gushing around his straight, stiff hand. With her head down towards the floor, Gold poured out juice and shuddered until he was done. She gave out deep-throated groans and whimpers.

“You really wrecked her,” Night Star said, her mind still probing his memories. “You raped her with your hand. You really liked that.”

“I liked her body like I like yours. Muscular. Lean. I like that. See, you have some solid thickness, but it’s not masculine. Still nice and curvy.”

“You like that, huh? You did your homework. You know my measurements.” She had latched on to a piece of information that she found in his mind.

“34-27-36,” he laughed. “Yes. I like your measurements.”

She couldn’t see where they were when he finally reached the next floor. His movements were no less smooth, though, as he walked along what must have been a long hallway.

“So, when Lone Star showed up, I let her get as far as my lab. It was neat watching her snoop around as if she was going to find something or … whatever. Anyway, I let her see me, and snapped my fingers, and on came The Frequency. She was frozen. She was stock-still frozen. You know, she’s built a lot like you, when I think about it.”

He said nothing more, but she imagined he must have spent time kneading her body.

“Here. Wanna see your friends?”

She realized they had stopped at mouth of a room. He gave a brief exhalation, stooped, and let her slide from his shoulder. Red hair tumbled, limp limbs flopped, and he ended up standing with her pulled up against him. Her stocking feet were on the floor and the slick material of her catsuit was against his leather. He held her as though they were a couple, his arm around her waist.

“See?” He moved her a bit, as though they were dancing, and let her see the other captured heroines – the two bound blonds.

Gold, the six-foot tall blonde, was in bound and slung in an elaborate shi-bari sling. Her muscular thighs were wrapped in layers of rope. Her arms were wrapped around a wooden pole and lashed to her ankles. Gold was busty like Night Star, and her breasts were squeezed tightly by the same coils of the same coarse rope. Her throat was crisscrossed by it, and she was suspended, face up, just above the marble floor.

She still wore her liquid gold skin covering. She was in some sort of trance, her mouth sagging open, her eyes half-closed.

Lone Star was configured identically. She hung next to Gold, another defeated blonde heroine awaiting her fate.

“Like what I did with them? Here. I have something for you. Stand still. Spread your legs. Wider.”

He watched her sturdy legs widen. She planted her stocking feet on the stone floor.

“There we go,” he said. He took a moment to look at the camel toe of her vulva. It was outlined in black skintight material of her costume. “Nice. I like your pussy lips.”

“I appreciate the complement.”

“Cum.”

The Frequency had control of her nervous system, and the word triggered her. With her eyes wide, and her full, red lips parted, she screamed. Her back arched, thrusting her large breasts forward. Juice spurted from between her thighs. It sprayed through the second skin of her costume making a puddle around her stocking feet. It soaked the black second skin, making it glisten.

“I heard that you were a spurter, but wow.”

She was still gasping and screaming, and her cunt was still gushing, as he leaned down and pressed both of his palms into the puddle.

“How do you feel about vabbing?”

She tried to form words, but they just came out as desperate pants and grunts. Her big breasts, their nipples hard, thrust forward and jolted with each convulsion. She tried to give him some sort of retort as he rubbed is palms together, and took a moment to inhale the scent that lingered between his fingers.

“Me, personally, I like vabbing.”

The cumming was reaching another crescendo, her body was still shaking, and her voice echoing out in an orgasmic scream as he pressed his hands to her face. The world was drowned in the muck of her own cunt. His palms were slick against her skin as they slithered over her face, down her neck and on to her costumed breasts.

“Collapse,” he said.

The thick muscles of her legs gave out.

He let her sag to the floor, taking a handful of red hair as he did. She winced, feeling the tiny pinprick shocks in her scalp, but she could do nothing to free herself. There was a moment that she simply lay there, spread-eagle on the floor, her hair in his grip, her head held up in an awkward, tight angle. Then, as his foot falls echoed out against the floor, she felt the strident pulling of her hair. Again, her scalp screamed out.

Her costume made a gentle shushing sound as he dragged her across the floor by her hair.

“I’ve got something simpler for you. Goes better with what I have planned for you.”

He dragged her.

“I’ve got something nice for you.”

He held her by her hair and he dragged her curvy, solid body across the marble floor.

“You’ll like it.”

He dragged her and he laid her out in front of a rack.

“Sit up.”

She did, bringing herself up to her knees. She had a full view of the suspended heroines. He had full control of her. Each word went right to her nervous system and her body responded whether she wanted it to.

“Hands behind your back,” he said. She moved her hands as told.

She felt the strength in his hands as he bound her wrists.

“Ok,” he laughed. “Let’s get started.”