The Breaking of Mother Night
3
by
Mr. K.
Click on images to enlarge.
“You and Hexx paid me a visit,” he says.
“I honestly think back to that evening quite often,” he laughs, shaking his head. The links of the chain bite at your skin and your lungs burn. You feel the impulse to reach for the chains, to break them with your super strength, but it is nullified and you are helpless.
“I loved watching you fly that night,” he coos into your ear.
You remember flying, landing on the roof of a building not unlike this one. Caroline, your daughter, landed just behind you. Her flying style had become much like yours: She soared with her arms at her sides, her head up, toes pointed. She rolled her shoulders back a bit more than you did, but it was still like a homage to you.
When you landed, she did as you did, spreading her arms out to her sides, letting herself slowly drift down. Just like you, she touched down with her right toe first. She bent her legs slightly.
“You both looked so good that night,” he laughed. You stand there in chains, his captive, choking and listening to how he had watched you from the very beginning. You remember looking at her in the half-light that night. Her costume was ultra-skin-tight black like yours. She also wore high-heeled black boots, and she also let her mane of hair blow freely. Hers was blonde as yours was red. She had come into her own as heroine, and moved with a power, a confidence.
You remember her saying “Let’s do this thing, Mom.”
You remember her giving that hair flip that she always gave before she focused her power.
“I watched you that night. You didn't know it at the time, but I sat in my office watching the two lush superheroines, mother and daughter, gracefully land on the roof of my complex. I watched the two of you use your magic to walk through the walls to infiltrate my space. I love that you can walk right through walls. I watched you devastate my guards. I watched you do all of this to rescue the magic-user friend of yours that I had kidnapped,” he says with a slow, deep voice. “She was a member of your coven, yes?”
She was. You remember that the woman that he had captured was a member of the coven that spawned your powers. You remember it all so well. You stand there in his chains, now, strangling at his hand and recalling how Hexx - your heroine daughter- and you phased through the wall of a cell on the third floor of his makeshift, high-tech hideout.
You phased through the wall of her cell and into a trap. True, the captive was there. The woman from your coven looked up and smiled.
“Well, hello, Connie,” you remember her saying. She had all of the calm joy and cherubic bliss of any other portly grandmother.
You remember saying “Marcy! We're here to get you out.”
She only smiled and said “Oh, you are a bit late, sweety. Your friend downstairs who captured me did a great job of getting into my head. Well … my goodness … I think I'm here to help him now. Oh! Hi, Caroline! I didn’t know I had mother and daughter coming together to get me. I didn't mean to be rude.”
Right now, you are Mother Night in chains, recalling that night. You remember how she quickly pulled on a gas mask as a loud hissing filled the room. The loud, mechanical hissing filled your ears as your eyes suddenly burned, suddenly seared with pain. You brought your hands up your face, instinctively, and screamed. Your scream of pain and shock was as throaty as your voice always was, but it was swept away by a blast if gas directly into your face.
You could hear Hexx, your superpowered daughter, howl in pain as well. You could not see her, but you could hear her coughing and gagging. You could hear the sound of her athletic body hitting the metal floor. The sticky-sweet scent of the gas filled your senses and your whole body grew numb. Your legs gave out from under you that night, and you sank to the floor beside her. Now, a prisoner again, you remember passing out beside your daughter on the cell floor.
“You broke in to rescue her. I captured you,” he laughs.
He continues to talk about capturing you all of that time ago.
“You woke up in my lab,” he laughed.
“We did,” you reply. You remember being stiff and helpless on his cold, metal examination tables.
“You helped me experiment with my pleasure technology then,” he said.
“’Pleasure.’ You said you were going to ‘take care of us’ now that we were your ‘toys,’” you say.
“You are going to help me do that again,” he says.
He pours a cup of tea. You had noticed the kettle and the easy chair in the desolate chaos of this building, but only now see how they come together in your captivity. He releases a sigh as he settles into the chair. He crosses his ankles.
He sips his tea.
You stand, watching him. You are Mother Night, in chains.
“I did a lot to scramble your memory. Do you recall what I did with you, once you and your daughter were my guests?” he asks gently.
He sips and asks again “Do you?”
Even with these chains wrapped around your depowered body, you can feel the hard, cold captivity of that day.
“Yes. I remember,” you say.
“Were you helpless?” he smiles.
You recall as clearly as though it were yesterday. It was true.
You recall how the two of you lay paralyzed on the tables. You could see your daughter, Hexx, in the corner of your eye. Like you, her lean and curvy body was locked and motionless. Like you, she was helpless and paralyzed.
“Yes, we were helpless,” you say, standing there in chains. Helpless, again, your body wrapped in, chains, you recount for him how he mastered you and Hexx back then. You recall what happened then as you stand there now. Your voice is even and calm, your body wrapped in chains.
“I like that,” he says. “Say that again.”
You swallow, remembering being stock-still on that examination table.
“Hexx and I were … We were helpless. We were at your mercy,” you say.
Something sinks in you. The chains seem even heavier on your body. The pain and weakness seem deeper in the fiber of your muscles.
“I had you then,” he says. “I had you then and I have you now. Let me hear you say that.”
You feel the weigh and the pain and the flaccid weakness of your body.
“You had us then, and you have me now,” you say.
He sips his tea and crosses his ankles.
“Do you remember what I did with you next?” he asks.
“You came into the lab while we were stretched out on the tables. It was you, your wife, and a whole bunch of people in lab coats,” you tell him. You remember the wife. She was tall and glamorous, as elegantly dressed as he was. Her mouth was broad and sensuous; she kissed him deeply before she turned to you and your daughter stretched out on the examination tables.
“They are beautiful,” she said with a sort of slow awe in her voice. You remember, now, in your chains, how you felt almost naked as she looked you up and down. You remember how she almost whispered the words as her eyes fell on your wide, high breasts. “Beautiful bodies.”
Her eyes went from your curves to your daughter’s and back again.
“I want to start with the mother. I want to start with Mother Night,” she said. “She would be perfect for the tests I still have to run. She is perfect for the agonizer tests.” You look at your captor and say “Your wife had a real girl crush on me, if I recall correctly.”
“She still does,” he smiles. “She’s here. She’ll have some things we want to try on you later.”
You recall the wife. She was tall and lust, with thick dark-blond hair. It was glamorously swirled and quaffed, matching the contrived beauty of her skin and lips. She was a natural beauty, but had reveled, it seemed, in doing herself up in everything that would enhance her natural gifts. You recall, now, as you stand there in chains, her request that night. “Let me test the agony booths. Let me give her The Pain, and break her down. I want to test all of the agonizer technology on her. Once I’m done with that, and her mind is in the right place, I want to put on a puppet show for you.”
You remember how they kissed. All the while the lab techs were swarming around you, they gave each other that sweet little peck that married couples give when one had found the other adorable.
“Your wish is my command,” he laughed.
The lab techs took blood samples and skin scrapings. They took measurements and noted everything about the two of you, you and your daughter.
He smiles, now, happy that you remember it so well. “And what did I decide?” he chuckles, setting down his tea cup. “You gave me to her as a gift,” you said. “You said I was a gift.” You remember how she handled you.
She threaded one arm below your legs and one across your back. You remember how helpless you felt as she cradled you like a baby, as she lifted you effortlessly.
“Theeere we go, precious,” she cooed back then. You were still paralyzed, dazed.
You remember how your head sagged back as she carried you. You remember how she whispered that she loved the way you were built. She cooed to you, and squeezed you tightly. She swayed as she walked, rocking you.
“I love women like you! I think women should have wide hips and large breasts like yours,” she said with a broad smile. She leaned in and kissed your neck, kissed the pink curve of your mouth. “I like curvy girls. I love your bust size. Gorgeous 37-inch bust,” she laughed. “I know all about you,” she added that night as she carried you like a baby into the next room. Suddenly surrounded by consoles, computers, wires, and lights you realized she had brought you into the middle of an experiment.
“I’m
going to give
you some pain,” she whispered. She kissed you again and
gently sat you down in
a chair, in a booth, in the middle of the floor. It was what looked and
felt
like a dentist’s chair in the middle of large glass box. Your
muscular limbs
fell heavily when she placed you down. Your head sank back, and you
simply sat
there, accepting her machinations as she fit you with a pair of goggles
and a
sort of headset. Your vision went dark and bluish through the lenses.
You
waited as she stepped out of your view.
“Here,” she said casually. Suddenly, you imagined charts you had seen of the human nervous system. You envisioned the paths that the forest of nerves took throughout the human body. Your body. You feel each and every branch and stem now. You feel each one light up. The image turns to feeling and the feeling turned to fire as your body is filled with what she lovingly calls The Agony.
It may have been seconds later, it may have been hours compounded upon hours, but, at some point, the fire became ice, and then back again.
You remember, now, how you screamed.
When she finally stopped the force of nature that burned through you, the waves of pain continued in a low ebb-and-flow tide. Your whole body shook as she took the headphones and goggles from you. She moved slowly. She knelt down so that her eyes bored into yours.
“That must have been so horrid.”
She gently kissed your full lips with her full lips. You couldn’t form words.
“I have another one for you, Mother Night.”