The Breaking of Mother Night 6

by Mr. K. 

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You have been held captive before.

You have been captured, chained, and caged before.

You have been a hostage.

You have been a prisoner.

You have been a slave.

Your mind goes back to the battle that you lost against the Berserker Gang. It doesn’t go back to the battle itself – how you, Hexx, Emerald Shrike, Snare, and Backdraft confronted the giants that were wildly destroying the city. You don’t spend time really thinking about the battle itself: How Backdraft used fire bursts, Emerald Shrike used her energy spike and speed, Snare used her ability to entangle and her agility, and you and your daughter, Hexx, used your magic to fight the wild giants to a stand-still. You don’t really even think about how you got the upper hand, with some giants hogged tied in telephone wires by Snare, and spiked to the ground, dead to dying, by Emerald Shrike.

No. You remember how they overcame all of you. Each of you. There was a surge of collective energy that ran through all of them, each of them. How suddenly, their blows sent you sailing. You became objects that crashed into buildings, bringing them down and leaving holes in concrete. They shrugged off your magic, your powers, your weapons. When each of you seemed properly beaten, you recall, the Berserker Gang turned to their ultimate weapons. Each one had a massive cock, and each cock was massively erect.

Now, each giant gleefully took hold of the massive tool and stroked it. Their motions were frantic and powerful, lasting only a moment or so. Then, each cock shot out white spume with the power of a fire hose. They coated buildings and cars, rubble and debris. They coated you. Semiconscious on the ground, you remember the power and weight, the musty smell and overwhelming salt, of the shower that covered you. Before it filled your eyes, covered your face your saw it coat you daughter’s features and mat down Snare’s hair. Hexx’s muscular body trembled for a moment, her open palms reaching up for a moment as if to stall the sudden torrent of monster semen that gushed down on her head. It rushed over her body, which went rigid and tense as her face was obscured by white.

Before you passed out, you saw the salting frosting cling to Snare’s hair and coat her ample bust. Before you passed out, you saw Emerald Shrike cough and spew as it filled her mouth. You tried to rise as you saw it cover Emerald Shrike’s face and overflow her throat, but then grew dizzy as you collapsed as you realized it was doing more than humiliating you. It was drugging you. You are Mother Night, in chains, in captivity, remembering The Berserker Gang’s semen smothering you. Drugging you.

You remember Backdraft sprawled out in a widening puddle. She was already passed out. You joined her soon. You were Mother Night, consumed by cum. You are Mother Night in chains. Now.

You remember waking once, as one of them was carrying you. He had you in a cradle carry, like a child. Massive hands held you scooped up like a toddler being carried back to bed by a massive father. Sitting here now, Mother Night in chains, in her cell, you remember being Mother Night doused in monster semen, beaten, helpless, and being carried off my one of the Berserkers. You daughter, Hexx, and your sister heroines were also being plucked off of the cum-covered city street behind you. You knew this because you could hear the other misshapen giants conversing as they picked them up with their gnarled stone-like hands.

“That’s her daughter, Hexx. Can’t even see the whore’s face.”

“Hang her upside down. Hold her by the right leg. Yeah, like that. Upside down. There you go.”

“She and Backdraft are coming with us.”

“The Emerald Shrike bitch stays here. We give the city to Pure Finder with her along with it. She wants Emerald Shrike as the cherry on the top of this shit sundae. Hang her from that tower. Right there.”

You looked around, seeing destruction, seeing the wreckage coated with gobs and clinging spikes of white. Your head was full of the skunky smell of cum.

He stopped in an intersection, looked around, and started to levitate away from the scene. You passed out as he started to fly, only really coming to when you were at your destination. You had been cleaned of cum, and you were a gift. Now, sitting in your cell, Mother Night in chains, you recall, being in a blacksmith shop. You saw a furnace. You felt its intense heat. You saw tools and heard the clanking of a hammer as two gruff voices spoke to one another. You had been laid out on an anvil.

“What is it you bring me?”

“Mother Night. A human for you to use in your furnace.”

“Super powers?”

“Strong ones. Magic ones. I know what burns best for you.”

“I will use its juices to cool these chains, then I will burn it in my furnace.”

You laid on the anvil until he was ready. He lumbered to you, lifted a chain from the floor, and bent to his work.

He wrapped the chain around your waist. He pulled it tight. The links were hard and yanked against your curves, against the place where your wide hips sweep into the narrow middle of your hourglass body. He wrapped another length. He pulled it tight. He wrapped another length around your waist. He pulled it tight. He looked up at you.

You were sitting patiently - lean woman in black, Mother Night being bound - and waited helplessly.

“Look at you, Mother Night. My brother’s cum raped your powers from you. These chains, they finish the job. They are made to drain women like you. You feel how heavy they are on you? Do you?”

When you went to speak, you realized you were almost breathless. You are Mother Night, in chains, and captive, remembering being Mother Night, in chains and captive. You remember that it was a chore to even speak.

“Yes. I … feel … help … less,” you managed.

Done with your waist, he wrapped the chain in tight, loving lengths around your tender neck. Almost like a lover, he moved piles and lengths of thick red hair to drape your neck throat in a thick chain, loop it, thread it, and pull it tight.

“There we go. Now, it behaves until it is time for you to burn,” he grumbled, grabbing your hair and tilting your head up so that he could look you in the eye.

You are Mother Night, in chains, remembering how he grinned with crooked teeth and repeated his plan.

“I will burn it in the furnace. That will make my fire stronger, bigger.”

“By … burning … me …. Burning … me … in the … furnace,” you rasped. You can still taste cum.

He left you in your chains.

Later.

He laid you out on the conveyor belt.

He pulled a leaver.

You felt the belt start to drag you to the heat of the furnace.

You are Mother Night, in her cell, remembering being Mother Night being dragged into a blazing furnace.

You escaped that day, but you were also a captive that day.

Theta 7 captured you. They put you in a cell. It wasn’t like this cell, but it was a cell none-the-less. It was captivity, none the less.

The group of women called Theta 7 wanted to establish their “Proper World Order” under the leadership of “The World’s Smartest Women,” and you destroyed their plans. You destroyed their base and you destroyed their replicas. Replicas of you. But, along the way, they held you captive.

You are Mother Night sitting in your cell, now, in heavy chains, your whole body weak, remembering how you snuck into their building dressed as your alter ego, Dr. Constance Britain. “Sneak” isn’t the proper word. You invited yourself to their headquarters, thinking that something seemed “fishy.” Women that you knew professionally kept going in there and coming out … different. They had missing chunks of memory – missing chunks of time. You had some hunches, didn’t you? You thought that you were so smart, making an appointment with them and walking through the front door the way you did. Your note pad, your pen, and briefcase.

“Good morning, Dr. Britain!”

“Such a pleasure to meet you!”

The brilliant young women flocked around you.

Dressed in your black suit, you were warmly greeted by a bevy of beautiful young women. All of them were young enough to be your daughter. All were doctors of this or that field. They seemed to simply fawn over you. You were, it seemed, a role-model to all of them. They wanted to show you the labs and classrooms of their building.

“Such an honor to have you here.!”

“Why, thank you. Don’t let me get in the way; I just wanted to see what goes on here.”

“Of course. Surely. Just come right this way,” one smiled leading you into a what looked like a standard metal detector. You stepped in, it hummed, and you became a prisoner. There was a humming sound, a fuzzy sensation across your body … and your mind was no longer your own. You felt your brain and body relax and relax and relax. You felt yourself go empty and empty and empty. Your body stiffened. Your eyes widened. You were a robot that followed their instructions.

“Come this way, Dr. Britain. We have some technology we would love for you to see. You will help us in our quest for a better world.”

Now, Mother Night, helpless in a cell and bound in chains, you remember how they brought you along as a prisoner into their lab. You walked for them and had seat in the middle of all of the glowing apparatus where they told you to. In your business suit, you were Dr. Britain at their disposal.

“Have a seat. Relax. This technology helps the individual access more of the brain’s potential. It also helps us take what we need from your brain’s inner reaches.”

The well-dressed women moved around the room getting everything in place. As some put you in the seat, other got technology that you had never seen before going.

“We are going to probe your mind.”

“It will be painless, and you will have a false memory to replace all of this. Maybe, you will have some missing time. We are still working on that side effect.”

The woman at the controls said “Ok, let’s get started. Let’s see what she’s got … Oh, wow!”

“What?”

“She has some great anthropological theories. I see equations. Right! She has multiple PhDs and I am seeing all of it. She’s a historian and a scientist. Oh wow!”

“What?”

“Did you know that she has ideas about perpetual motion? Oh wow!”

“What is it?”

“She’s … She’s Mother Night!”

“What!?!”

“The superheroine called Mother Night! This is she! Dr. Constance Britain is Mother Night!”

You will never know how they saw on that screen, but they gathered every possible piece of information that was available about you.

“This takes us in a wholly different direction. This is tremendous!”

Right now, you are Mother Night chained in her cell, remembering what they did with your body.

“Mother Night, can you change into your costume? Can you be Mother Night for us right now?”

You heard her ask and you heard yourself answer.

“Yes.”

You allowed your power to surge forth. You took on The Darkness glow – the power that transforms you - and, suddenly, you were in your black catsuit. Now, you are Mother Night, in chains, in a cell. Then, you were Mother Night, under mind control and at the mercy of the genius women.

“Stand up. Come walk with us,” said the leader. You remember that you were going to do as told, when you realized your mind was free. You realized that when you used The Darkness to transform, it shook your brain free of their technology.

“No thanks, I’m good,” you said casually as you grabbed the closest one and tossed her at a bank of computers. One grabbed at your throat as another wrapped her arms around your waist. One grabbed your hair and yanked your head back.

“Her mind is free! Quick…!”

You lashed out. You sent out a wave of The Darkness – your power to harness and project solidified void - that sent all of them flying. You grabbed a tall and muscular one, flipping her to the ground and knocking her out with a blow. One was fast, kicking you in the face, and knocking you on to your back. She moved in and dropped her weight onto your hips. She straddled you as one grabbed your ankles, pulling your legs and one quickly sat on your face. For a moment, you were a curvaceous woman in black, pinned to the floor of the lab. You were smothering and held in place.

For a moment, there was the suffocating heat of the woman’s thick labia in her black stockings. You showed them your super strength. You pulled your legs in, bending your knees, and dragging the ankle-grabber’s body effortlessly. You kicked your legs up, and sent her sailing up with a scream.

You kipped your hips and drove the one on your lower body into the one on your face. Both women crashed as an avalanche of tailored and well-dressed arms and legs into the wall. You were on your feet and kicking two women at the same time with a split front kick.

Now, you are Mother Night in chains, in captivity, remembering when you were Mother Night, free and fighting.

“In fact, I think I’m going to rain on this parade,” you said. You said it just as one of the women blurted out the word “fusion!”

“Fusion!” said another. Two others said “fusion,” their voices overlapping each other. Something invisible. Something powerful. Something that made the air suddenly heavy with ozone and a metallic hum. The sudden vibration reached out to you. Your clit was suddenly stirred, awake, standing at attention.

Sitting in chains now, your legs spread in the cramped space of the cell, you remember a power seizing your sex and making it thunder.

Sitting in chains now, you remember how your spine seemed to vibrate in your body. Your bones shook. Your hand shot up and covered you face in pain as your teeth shook. Your nipples were hard and you were rooted in the place as the women surrounded you. They made a circle. Each reached out to grab some portion of you. Your arms. Your legs. Your breasts. Your hair.

Each woman opened her mouth, releasing a pitch that gave sound to the vibration that was already rocking you.

They sang.

You screamed.

You screamed in agony.

Even below the screaming, you heard the leader say “You see, we are working on developing super powers. We have to collectivize what we have, so far. While you have your powers collected in your singular body, we are still at the phase of working as single organism.”

Pain the rode your spine flooded over your brain. You felt hands capturing you as you collapsed.

Sitting in your cell now, you remember waking on the floor with the women standing all around you. You felt relaxed: There was no pain and you were safe. These women had taken control of your mind and you were eager to do as told.

You did as told.

You were a tall, redheaded heroine walking in a crowd of her new owners. They took you into the next lab and had you stand up some sort of platform.

“Right there, Mother Night. Good girl. Stand nice and still.”

You remember an energy that ran through and around you. It was a pleasure, a sensuous joy. Your body locked in place, and all you could do was wait for them to be ready to use you. You stood in a tube of power, waiting. Defeated. Captive.

“We will strip her brain of every single piece of information that we can. We will use her genetic material to make the servants that we have been discussing. Her powers, her body, they are what we need for our mission.”

They scanned you and they probed you.

They did their project: It ended with you waking on an examination table. You looked up at a redheaded woman in black. She had large breasts and vivid blue eyes. You would destroy their project, eventually, but, right there, you were a captive.

Slowly, painfully, shifting your body in your new captivity, you remember flying through space to help put down a prison riot. You ended up a captive. You ended up a sex toy.

Sitting in your cell now, chained and controlled by this man, you remember how, not long ago, it was an ocean of men. It was 1,000 men. You can’t help but laugh inwardly; then it was 1,000 men, now it was one.

You are Mother Night in her cell, remembering flying through space with Hexx, and Emerald Shrike. There was a satellite prison in which were imprisoned the 1,000 worst supervillains that you had captured over your career so far. They were the most powerful, dangerous, demented villains that were captured by you over your crimefighting time. They were your criminals. Not every superheroine had her own prison satellite, but every villain in this one was captured by you, Mother Night.

Some may have beaten you, bound you, captured you, or used your body. No matter. You always won in the end. They ended up here. Now, they had taken over the prison satellite and you were landing on the outside of it to help rescue the guards and crew.

More superheroines would come to put down the riot. The crew, though, had sequestered themselves in a saferoom. They had been cut off from the escape pod, though. You would get them on the shuttle and off to Earth. Then it would be a matter of putting down the riot. With your powers at full-tilt, and theirs suppressed by The Frequency on the satellite, that shouldn’t have been a problem.

You are Mother Night, helpless in her cell, here and now, remembering how you entered the airlock. You are Mother Night, helpless in her cell, here and now, remembering how you entered the top tier of the prison, expecting to see chaos and destruction.

It was a quiet as tomb.

You remember how you took a first step, and one of the containment barriers dropped down in front of you. It was one of the walls that would drop to contain prisoners during altercations. Another dropped, separating you from Hexx. Another dropped, separating you from Emerald Shrike.

Before you could summon your powers, one dropped behind you. Now, you are Mother Night, helpless in her new cell, remembering the hum of The Frequency locking your body in place, vibrating you, shaking the power out of you. You screamed in agony, you remember now, as you fell To your knees. Gas flooded your makeshift cell, and you felt consciousness leaving you. It had acrid burning smell that stung your nostrils and made you squeeze your eyes closed.

You were Mother Night, unconscious on the metal floor. You are Mother Night, helpless in your cell, remembering drowning in the gas.

You awoke to being carried like a trophy. You will never know how many men had you. You felt massive, strong hands squeezing and clutching and crushing your muscular buttocks. Your firm ass. Hands pushed up against your back, and the curled their fingers as if trying dig their way into you. Hands gripped and kneaded your thighs.

You heard them.

“Welcome, Mother Night!”

“So good to see you, Mother Cunt! Miss us?”

“You see we got the guards with us, right? You know you got set up, right?”

“Our turn, bitch!”

“This is round number one!”

As the voices resounded, the storm of male hands spread your legs and yanked your head back by your red hair. As the voices resounded, the hands slammed you to the floor, then pulled you up to a kneeling position. Now, sitting in chains, you remember how fist after slap after fist rained down on you. The kicks were powerful, but the fists were plentiful.

The cocks were plentiful. Sitting in your cell now, you remember how they took their time unzipping and pulling out an ocean of hard cocks. They could have raped you, fucked you. Not a one did. You are Mother Night in chains, remembering how methodic they were. All of it was planned out, even when and how they were to violate you.

They made an orderly line. Each man had his erect cock out, and each waited his turn. Each stepped up, looking you in the eye. They smiled. They grinned. They were silent. Each just wanted you to see who they were. Each cock slapped you three times. Each cock slapped your masked face.

Sjambok. His cock was inhumanly long and thick. Three slaps resounded through the crowded room.

Rook #1. A normal-sized one. Still big. Three slaps against her cheeks that your cheeks barely felt.

Scorpio. Massive. Back and forth in your eyes, three times.

Shock. It was a club. Three times against your full, red lips.

Father. A huge head. Three times against the side of your face.

And more. And more. And on until they were done. Once each had cock slapped you, they carried you off.

You ended up in a clear container. A cube. You knew immediately that this was a special isolation cell for the supervillains with superpowers that would defeat anything conventional. Now, it was the cell for a superheroine. You. With your powers neutralized, it was the cell for a red-haired woman in a skintight black costume, who was at the mercy of 1,000 criminals.

Now, sitting in chains, you recall standing in a clear cube, a cell, their leader paid you a visit.

“Mother Night. There are 1,000 men on this space station that want to rape you. We decided on something better. Over the years, each man has contributed something as gift for you.”

You realized now that what you thought was an air vent was … something else. When you heard the churning sound and smelled the brine, you knew what they had planned for you. You start to step away from the grill, when the first rush caught you.

You could feel the sudden heat, the sudden weight, of a viscus liquid pouring down on to your head. You could feel its mass, and throbbing heat that seemed to scald your scalp. The skin of out face stung as it ran down. The semen that was pouring down on you was boiling hot.

“That’s all of our cum, Mother Night! Year’s and year’s worth! It’s boiling. You will either drown to cook.”

They had spent years gathering their semen in one place in one. They nurtured it. Kept it warm and fresh. Added more and more over time.

There was a gushing and a surge, and your thighs were suddenly surrounded by thick, white goo. It came pouring down the sluice with such force that you had to scramble and brace yourself. It is cum. You were Mother Night, captured, powerless, and in a cell that was surging with a torrent of semen.

Now, Mother Night in chains, you remember being Mother Night in a cell filing with hot cum. It was scalding hot, and you screamed.

Bonus Images