The Breaking of Mother Night

by Mr. K. 

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"You came out of retirement just for me? I'm flattered."

He talks as he secures the chains around your ankles. He is thorough, pulling them tighter and tighter until it feels as though he is securing them against the naked flesh of your ankles and not the boots that are actually there.

You wince inwardly. You are Mother Night, in chains.

He finishes with skillful deftness, padlocking the links in their tight secure circle around your ankles. The snap-clanking on the ankle chains matches the sound of the chains that he secured at the small of your back and at your waist once he had pulled the length tightly up against the cleft of your vulva. The chains are tight and they wrap you thoroughly.

"Mother Night, it really is good to see you. You look incredible, by the way."

The drug has done its job; your powers are neutralized. You can only accept the chains and your fate. The Frequency has done its job. The chains have done their job. He talks on, finalizing your captivity. You are Mother Night, in chains.

"Did you miss me? Honestly. I missed you. I did. I mean, I missed you and your daughter fighting together. I met a few other heroines with powers like yours, but nothing compares to you, Mother Night. You were ... are ... one of a kind.”

You can still feel the places where the darts pierced you and the rippling of the energy weapon that he used on you. Your muscles still tremble from the electrical shock weapon that paralyzed you. You can feel the beating.

"I'm sure you can feel that these are more than just regular chains," he says.

He is explaining them to you, and you recall how he scooped you up in a bear hug, at one point. He is explaining that the chains are fused with The Frequency, and meant to shut down your powers. They are doing just that. You remember, though, how he crushed you. At one point, this evening, he crushed you. He lifted you from the ground in this deserted warehouse, his arms wrapped around your upper body. With your arms pinned to your sides, he squeezed and squeezed with a new level of superhuman force. Your lungs instantly begged for relief. Your eyes squeezed shut as though it would shut down the agony. Soon, though, you felt the heaviness and the weariness of muscles that no longer had the fuel of oxygenated blood. Your vision became hazy and finally went black. As you went senseless, you felt him slam you to the floor.

He continues telling you about the physics of the chains, and how The Frequency latches on to whatever physiological difference superpowers make in the body of a superheroine. Whether it is magical or scientific, The Frequency will find the Achilles Factor and temporarily neutralize it, he explains.

Your brain and body are busy reviewing how it felt, not the science of it - the burning and the numbness in every inch of you. You are remembering how, as you came around, you tried to fly, but were suddenly heavy and weak. You were able to slowly rise, only because he allowed it.

He talks on, and you recall a blizzard of darts hitting you from out of the darkness. They pierced your buttocks, your breasts, neck and the tight muscles of your abdomen. You heard yourself give sudden gasps and pain as you were pierced like St. Sebastian. Again, you found yourself on the floor.

He wraps up his speech, and recounts how he kicked you, slapped you, and finally scooped you up in that bear hug.

"I'm glad I gave you a moment to try fighting," he laughs.

He goes back to tightening and padlocking more chains around your neck and waist, but your mind goes back to him standing over you and telling you to "Get up. Get up and fight so that I can beat you."

You could still feel the darts in your breasts, your buttocks, your thighs, and your neck. You felt weak and the world was spinning.

"I'm going to beat you for all of those employees of mine that you beat the last times we met. Do you remember how you beat them?"

You remember struggling to your feet, weak and disoriented as he lashed out and struck you.

"You beat and humiliated some good men with your powers. You don't have them right now. I get to humiliate you," he told you then.

Standing here in chains, you can still feel the beating. You think about how he grabbed you by the hair over and over, slinging you about. You remember how weak and helpless you felt as he slung you into a wall and listened to you groan as you crashed through it. You remember how powerless you were as he pulled you up by your thick, red hair and yanked you over backwards. You remember hearing your own groans and chirps of pain as he punched your face again and again.

He left you on the floor, you recall, and walked away to get his "new toy." You heard yourself groan in pain, but still worked to push yourself up off of the floor.

Now, standing there wrapped in chains, you remember looking up as the sound of chains whipping their way through the air filled your head. There was stinging pain as multiple lengths of chain came whipping out of the shadows. They encircled your body and pinned your arms together. They wrapped around your throat and cinched tightly around your thighs. As if they were the tentacles of a giant cephalopod, they dragged you from the floor and snatched you into the air. Again, you were being tossed and slammed this way and that.

"Isn't this great? Oh! We are going to have such fun together!" he laughed.

You heard the air leave your lungs as you were whipped right and smashed through a pillar, then left and into a concrete wall. The chains, which still seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere, tightened even more around your throat and arms.

"Crack the whip!" he laughed as the chains snapped you up against the ceiling. You let out a groan and squeezed your eyes closed as wood, rusted metal, and stone fell in a shower around you.

The animated chains paused like an athlete gathering strength, then slammed you to the concrete floor.

Your hardened body remained. Your powers were gone, but you were still able to absorb punishment. Your bones did not break. You did not bleed. As the air rushed out of your lungs, and your head spun, you realized that he was using your body’s toughness as a tool against you. You hit the floor and you heard the concrete crack. You felt the stone struggle for a moment when you first crashed down. It was the sound of stone being bashed open after a moment of resistance. You could tell; it was as if the body of a woman as muscular as you are could not break it. As if a 37-25-35 redhead wasn’t enough to crush concrete. It was though. It was. The chains snapped and slammed you so hard that stone broke below you. Your powers were neutralized, but the resilience of your body was used to torture you.

The chains zipped away, leaving you sprawled on the ground. You tried to pull your thoughts together, your body together. Everything was pain and you flowed with helplessness.

“You don't have your powers, but your body still has that super resistance, that superhuman resilience. I designed this whole thing that way,” he explained. You could hear his footsteps, hear his voice laying out each word as though he were the IT guy explaining why your display went out.

You are standing here, remembering all of this. You are Mother Night, in chains.

He is making sure each length is secure, and you are remembering how he summoned the chains again. “Chains!” he called into the shadows. You remember how you heard the sound of chains whipping their way from the darkness. As if they were tentacles, they sped to your body and embraced your legs. Your legs. The chains seemed to seek your legs and know them very specifically. They grabbed the narrow curves of your ankles, and the thickest, most muscular parts of your upper thighs. The chains on your upper thighs tightened as if to say “we see how strong and thick your thighs are, but we are mastering them.”

When the room was suddenly upside down- your arms stretched down and your long hair pouring down to reach the floor – you felt the chains tighten even more.

“Crack the whip!” he yelled and, suddenly, the room was a blur. You heard yourself gasp and shudder as wind whipped past your ears and rushed from your lungs. When you came crashing down on a pile of boxes was when you felt an actual guttural groan exit you. It was loud and it matches the pain that ripped through you. You felt wood splinter and you felt your body convulse, then surrender. You lay there, your eyes closed.

The chains pulled you up again. They dangled you upside-down. You were Mother Night, helpless.

“Drop,” he said.

The chains did as told, letting you fall through the stale air of the warehouse. You hit the concrete again. You absorbed pain.

You pressed one palm against the floor and you braced one leg, trying to force yourself up. You were powerless; you could not confront him the way you did back you first fought, but you could still confront him on your two feet

“I honestly missed you when you retired from all of this. I missed your skintight black costume. I missed that silhouette of yours when you appeared out of nowhere. You have such a strong, curvy body …” he said.

He paused for a moment and watched you. He couldn't see how you were pushing down and away the burning embers of helpless fear. He didn’t know - he could never really know - how heavy your muscular body felt - how your own curves and muscles seemed to fight you.

You were able to come up on all fours. Your muscles flexed uselessly. Even the large mass of your breasts felt like weights that had been strapped to your body.

You fought down the panic of helplessness.

When he kicked you, the pain rocketed through your body. Your limbs gave up and you collapsed, again, the curves of your body, the masked skin of your face, the long wave of your red hair, striking the concrete hard.

Your eyes squeezed shut and you groaned. You wanted to retain the exhalation of pain, but your lungs betrayed you. You groaned a loud uhhhhh that came up hard and throaty.

“And I missed hearing you in pain,” he said. You were sprawled on your belly, face to the side, and you could only see his boots. They were as shiny and perfectly polished as always.

“Do you remember how I beat you after drugging you, oh so long ago? In fact, it was you and Hexx, your daughter.” he said. “Do you remember?” he added. You heard him gathering chains, testing them in his fists. He moved close to you again, knelt, and whispered into your year

"Here," you heard him say. "Let me help you up."

There is, again, there was the cold tightness of a chain around your throat. This time, it was a short set of links, and in the hands of your captor.

He twisted and tightened the chain, smiling as your red lips parted and curled in strangled pain, as your tongue jutted forward. You winced in pain as he hauled you to your feet.

“Do you remember when I had both of you,” he asked.

You did remember. As he choked you with the chain, you remembered.

As you stand here in chains, you recall all of this. He is guiding all of this.

You are at his mercy. You are Mother Night, in chains.