He stacked the women at my feet like cordwood.
He made it a point to lay them out perfectly so that I could see them from my perch, from the platform on which he mounted me. It was important to him that I see that each heroine was nothing but an object to him. Just like me, they had been defeated and collected by Rakshasa. Just like me, they were just pieces of equipment in his latest plan.
One, he carried in. One, he levitated in using his powers. Another, he had dragged in by his little demonic minions. No matter how Rakshasa did it, he delivered the women to my pedestal and made a show of displaying them.
He made a little pyramid of them in the way you make a pile of firewood, then he smiled at me.
"I've brought your friends to visit you, Gold."
This was typical of him. He was a magic user with the powers of a god, but his love of playing games drove him to do things the hard way over and over again. When he decided that he wanted to possess me, he didn't simply take me by overpowering my magic with his and carrying me off; he made a game out of it. He took a handful of heroines hostage, then forced me to go up against one of his minions after the other. I survived, he took me, and turned them loose.
Rakshasa turned me into a golden statue with his magic, and placed me on a platform. Solid gold. I remembered the surge of power flowing through my body, and the pain as every sinew in my body stiffened and hardened and rebelled against me. I felt a gut-wrenching shriek of pain well up in me, but it was quickly stifled as every inch of me was turned into magical gold. I was not dead, but other than alive.
I could see and hear as if I was still a flesh-and-blood woman, but I was a statue. He put me on a pedestal that was labeled with my name. He even set up a mirror in front of me so that I could see my defeat. Light glinted off of my metal body, and my expressionless face stared back at me from the glass. There I was, Gold, now turned to tall, busty, golden idol.
This wasn't totally new; I'd been frozen before.
I'd been turned into a statue before, but never by magic this powerful. When
I was defeating Earth Mother, she decided to call down the wind and water
to finally put me out of the picture. We'd been trading magic blows back
and forth in the deep woods, so nobody was around to see a freak column of
rain pour down on me, matting my blond mane to my shoulders, face, and back,
soaking me, and drenching me
in a down spout that was so powerful that it held me in place. A swirling
tube of powerful arctic wind turned it into a tiny ice storm. Nobody was
there to hear one strangled scream as I was paralyzed and frozen in place
as an icy statue.
A thick crust of ice held me in place.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm off to destroy a corporate plant, and I can't have you interfering ."
I was helpless as she flew off, but soon regained enough of my innate powers to get free and overcome her.
Onyx turned me into a black glass statue on the second occasion that we battled. Again, it was isolated and done for what my captor said was the "greater good."
"The women will be things of beauty, and nothing more!" he exclaimed. He had removed his black gloves, exposing his weapons--two average-looking hands--and sprung a trap on me. As I moved to aid Mystic, who had already been turned into a gleaming black statue, he sprang up behind me. I was taken by surprise, and moaned as he grabbed my big breasts and squeezed. He squeezed hard, pushing them together, crushing me against him, and let his power surge through me.
He turned me into a black, glass statue.
Again, I was a frozen woman.
The Wizard made bookends out of Crimson Avenger and me. Stone bookends. It wasn't even a fight, really. He saw us come crashing into his lair, he smiled, greeted us, and tossed some dust in the air. There was a brief moment of the dust tingling against my skin, then we were both transformed into grey, stone statues. I could see her, and she could see me, but neither could render any aid.
I overcame all of those, but this was something altogether different. I those cases, my own powers saved me. With Rakshasa, I felt...I knew...how weak I was. Golden defeat.
I didn't know how much time had passed since he took me from Fetish, the villain who tortured me in so many creative ways that he'd learned form comic books, and brought me to his place. I remembered seeing him let the heroines he had held hostage go, transporting them, one by one, to the lairs of other villains as gifts. Each one, he would gift wrap, then teleport.
"This is such fun," he squealed. I watched helplessly as he put Mystic in a giant action figure box and sent her to Fetish. He boxed Neutron the same way, shipping her to The Preacher for "proper punishment." He gave Scorpio to The Warden for "safe keeping."
Once that was done, he could turn his attention to me.
He would stand there, admiring his work. Dressing in designer suits, or robes, or in his full tiger persona, he would place his hands on his hips and complement me on my big athletic thighs and my high, big tits. He said that my ass was a "perfect peach", and recounted what a joy it was to bend me over a fuck me in it one of the times that he captured me. He reveled in the memory of how big my nipples are how he was so lucky to possess them now. My big vulva was a "treat" a "priceless jewel" that he would treasure "forever."
"I own Gold now."
And he would pose me. Turned into a statue as I was, could still be put into different posses with just a snap of his fingers. At one point, he had me clutching my breasts and flinging my head back as if I was having an orgasm. Another time found me reaching between my thighs and holding my pussy with two hands. Another time, I was in a heroic pose, about to take flight, and on the day that he brought in the offerings I was standing posed with my hands on my hips, my eyes looking at some imagined horizon.
From time to time he would take me down and play with me. These were moments
at which I was a flesh-and-blood woman again , but I was still under his
control. He would slap me over and over again for the sheer joy of seeing
my pain. He would cock slap my face, from the left, then the right, just
to hear his meat contact my skin. This was all before having me suck his
tool.
And I did suck it over and over. These were rare moments of flesh-and-blood
freedom were moments when I really knew how helpless I was. With my free
will gone, broken, I gave him
head that was made-to-order. I would nurse the huge head at first, holding
that thick, broad mushroom tip between my lips, then take the whole shaft
to my back of my throat. I would gag on it, then start the slick, slow pumping
that would bring him to his climax.
Each time, he would gush his white spume over my face.
Ever since I first battled, and was defeated by him, Rakshasa would have me do this. He would have me suck his cock. Having me suck his cock was his way of affirming that I accepted my defeat. It was how I could show his dominance over me. There was no need for it; he always had total dominance over me when he won. The whole point was to get every ounce of joy out of having me.
I knew what he liked, and made an art out of blowing him. I knew how to run my tongue down what seemed like the endless shaft and suck hard on the huge head. Most of all, I knew how to swallow the torrents of jism that gushed out him, and how to not drown when the rush washed over my face. It would still spill over my lips, and down my chin, but most would end up in me.
At times, he would just strangle me for the fun of it; smiling as he watched the strain in my face. My air cut off, I would pass out only to be revived, and then strangled into blackness again.
After a sucking or a punishment session, he would turn me to gold again and put me back on my stand. It was after one session that he introduced me to the next chapter of his plan.
"I've been fighting your friends again," he laughed that day. I was a statue again. "I've been battling superheroines. I missed defeating them, and it's been a joy. You know, no matter how much I show them my power, they fight me with such confidence and vigor. It's cute. I decided to take advantage of that. I decided to put the next part of my plan into the works."
And he stacked the women at my feet.
I was his idol, and these were his offerings.
"A little company for you," smiled Rakshasa.
First, he brought in Dark Moon. He levitated her into the room, guiding her stiff body with a beam that came from his finger. Her eyes were closed, her legs tightly pinned together, her arms crossed across her ample breasts, her hands cupping the large, round cups. Her hair was a single thick, black line down her back.
"I have a plan, and this one fits perfectly into it," Rakshasa smiled. He looked like a mortal man at that moment. He was a tall, handsome Indian man dressed in these thick, flowing robes that were adorned with magical symbols. They mirrored the art and decorations that covered the walls of his lair. His magic seemed to flow from the very fabric of that robe, from the deep red-and-blue walls of the magical lair, and from his very being.
"She has a tremendous amount of moxy, the sweet young thing. No real challenge, though," he laughed. "I beat her easily."
Dark Moon was a lean, young Latina superheroine who had fought along side
me before. She was part Puerto Rican, and came from an aristocratic family
from Venezuela. She had mastered martial arts and magic to such and extent
that she had defeated some of the most potent villains around.
In fact, she was able to dominate a few that had me at their
mercy.
When I was gagged, strung up by my wrists, and my breasts were tied with heavy cord, spread, and lashed to two wooden pillars, she was the one who finally defeated The Bandit. The super-powered old west history buff had defeated both of us. He caught me with his lariat, which shut down my nervous system, and left me at his mercy as he dragged me, first, behind through a field to "soften me up", then through the air on his flying, robotic horse thingy. As for Dark Moon, his "little senorita", he electrocuted and beat her. He left her staked out in the desert earlier that day, but she was the one that ended his mayhem and saved my ass.
She defeated the multi-armed mutant call EX K31, after it had taken Graviton,
Lone Star, and me. We were all stretched out on the lab floor, coated in
slime, paralyzed and semi-conscious. It was beginning to feed on us, its
tentacles wrapping around our legs, necks, and waists. One slithered across
my face. One wrapped around Lone Star's high-heel. One seemed to massage
Graviton's breasts.
Speaking to us with its eloquent telepathic voice, it explained that it was
now ready to "utilize" us.
It was making ready to penetrate us.
Dark Moon was able to finish it .
We could offer no assistance as she ended the situation.
She was a beautiful sight to see, bounding from rooftop to rooftop in her second-skin black nylon body glove. It looked like black pantyhose material, but was as strong as the magic liquid that coated my body. She peered from a behind a black mask, and wore glossy, high-heeled black leather boots and gloves that seemed so fluid and hugged her so perfectly that they seemed spray-painted to her limbs.
Rakshasa beamed an image into my mind so that I could see her defeat. It
wasn't enough that she was defeated, I needed to see her defeat. I needed
to see how he savored it.
Like so many of my battles with him, they were fighting on a rooftop under
a cool autumn moon. She went
after him hard, soaring at him with a flying side kick only to be brushed
aside by Rakshasa. She bounded back immediately, coming back with a flurry
of magical fists all of which he fended off. I saw the young woman leaping
at Rakshasa, arms outstretched, muscles flexed, hair flung out behind her--and
being frozen in that position by a flash of his powers.
She hung in midair.
"Spin," he said.
Her body came to a position of attention in midair, and she began to spin like a top. First, it was just a slow rotation, then faster, and finally she was whipped around at a blinding speed. At one point you could see the lush, Latina curves of he captured woman in nylon, the next she was simply a black blur. A normal woman would have died at that point. When he released her, she crumpled to the rooftop.
"That was hardly a challenge, but still enjoyable. You know, after releasing the heroines that I held captive, I missed having the little pets around. I missed things like this. I missed fire like hers; she resisted hard."
She wasn't quite out yet, but was helpless as levitated her and sent her sailing through a wall. The captive woman grunted and gasped. As if she was attached to an elastic band, she was sling shot back towards him. He made a slight motion with his hand, she went horizontal, and the woman's stiff body began rotating like a helicopter blade.
Faster.
Faster.
Faster.
When he finally let her drop, she was an unconscious rag doll.
He gave the image of what he did right after he dropped the unconscious girl. He laughed something about teaching her her proper place and role. He rolled her on to her front, her face down, hair spread out, and spread her legs with his mind. He stood behind her and opened his robe, exhibiting his massive member.
"This was fun. Watch this," he laughed. "This was loads of fun."
He edged a bit closer, then his prick stretched and struck out like a snake. It arched down, then easily broke through her nylon costume's crotch. I could hear the moist report of his cock entering her pussy. Her eyes were open again and livid with shock as Rakshasa took her at long distance.
Her limbs trembled and her breath came in short, desperate gasps as the huge, muscular, snaking organ dug deep into her sex, and lifted her off the ground. Rakshasa had fucked me in different ways, but this was something new and different. It was crude and harsh and him all over. Soon, her thick, sculpted dancer's legs were in the air, spread and shaking. Her gloved hands were grasping at the big prick, which soon began twisting like a cork screw, seeking her uterus. The woman who was now defeated and paralyzed at my feet put up a hell of a fight, screaming as the giant member moved in her and lifted her clear off the ground.
"She battled me like you once did, Gold. Even when I was slinging her around, she wanted to resist me. She reminds me of you before you were broken."
Broken. After fighting his minions, being worn out, and having my plans of resistance turned around on me I ended up where I was on the day that he brought Dark Moon in and laid her at my feet; I was a golden statue on a pedestal in his lair.
"Let me show you more of what she enjoyed."
The image was even clearer in my head. She arched her back and screamed as the penis bucked and lifted her even higher. Effortlessly, it turned her around and tilted her forward. As she reached around behind her, looking over her shoulder through tangled black hair, he delivered the second cock. Rakshasa could produce as many male organs as he wanted. He had double skewered me with great abandon once, and now was entering both Dark Moon's ass and pussy. I'm a woman whose asshole opens easily for penetration, but Dark Moon clenches up. Rakshasa enjoyed the challenge of working her anus open with his second, twisting, rooting prick.
Her eyes squeezed shut and her mouth, bright red and wet, formed a curve of anguish. Her hands gave up the struggle and formed helpless, angry, claws. Her body gave up the struggle as he dropped her to the concrete.
She was sprawled on her face. Steam came from her sex and her ass.
"Have some," he smiled.
Tidal waves of Rakshasa's jism, something that I knew well, shot like a power hose from two big dicks. He laughed out loud , and she screamed as the gunk was scalding her through her pantyhose costume. She rolled on to her side, covered her eyes, and spit as thick, white spunk crept into her mouth.
It crept.
The cum crept.
It crept into her mouth and over her eyes. It twisted itself into her jet-black hair. It moved with a will of its own. Rakshasa's cum was a living thing that engulfed the curvy raven-haired woman. Her big breasts were a favorite place for it. It flowed like water between them and drew circles around them. It made itself smaller, flowing in tightly on all sides of her bust, squeezing her tits up into peaks.
It packed itself into her ass and pussy.
She gagged and struggled to breathe as the stuff filled her nose and mouth. It crowded itself into her airway and formed a thick, unmovable clot. Dark Moon tried to reach for her clogged nose and mouth, but the weight of the jism held her arms down. The woman ended up wriggling like a worm in the living puddle of semen.
"I love how she struggled," he laughed. "She tried to fight on without air. It was quite valiant."
Soon the struggling died down. The woman in nylon gave a last muffled protestation.
"MMMMMPPHHHHHƒ.."
Her eyes rolled up into her head as she passed out. Dark Moon slept in the puddle of cum.
Now, clean of any drop of it, her costume back in perfect order, she was stretched on his floor in front of me.
"Then there was this one," he smiled.
He snapped his fingers, and now it was Night Star who was stretched out next to Dark Moon. Her eyes were wide open and staring at the ceiling. Her full, red-glossed lips were parted and pursed as if caught in a moment of shock. They were moist and glinted with flecks of the candlelight.
It was almost as if he had captured Night Star because she made a nice bookend when placed next to Dark Moon. She also wore a black, nylon second skin. Hers was a footed cat suit that looked as if it had been lightly dusted with sparkles. Like Dark Moon, she was an hourglass with a big, round, high bust that stretched her costume, and a trim waist. Her hips were also wide and her muscles strong and developed. Night Star was more like a gymnast, though. She had those thick, feminine-powerful muscles, and perfect proportions. She was shorter than Dark Moon and had a thick, thick long mane of red hair.
Night Star drew her powers from the star light. It was the stars, glowing out in the night's darkness that fed her magic. She could fly, turn darkness into a solid form, creating shields, bonds, or whatever the situation demanded. She could store up enough power to operate during the daylight, but it was always a stretch of her abilities. Direct light could do her in and always weakened her.
I didn't know her whole story, but I heard she was a NASA astronaut at one point. Her powers had something to do with a strange encounter she had while in orbit. A few times she tried to describe it to me, but it was futile.
She was a captive now.
Rakshasa gloated over her fallen curves.
"I decided to take this one. I liked her . I wanted her. She's a tough little cookie, and when I found her she was beating up some old friends of yours. I believe you know the Rooks."
The Rooks. Rook Number One, and Rook number Two, I guess you could call them.
They were two massive, muscle-bound twins who'd matched brains and brawns
with me on several occasions. I'd beaten them. They'd beaten me. They'd captured
me, fucked me, bound me in every sort of
way. They'd plastic bagged me,
and drowned me. Once, they held Mystic, unconscious, and wrapped in chains,
up over a vat of acid. They put it to me in the simplest terms, after they'd
gassed me.
"You're going to have to suck both of our cocks, simultaneously, or she
drops."
Drugged to the point that my powers would not work, I went to my knees, and put two cocks in my mouth. Two huge members stretched my mouth wide, and gagged me. I couldn't really suck them, so I held them there, until the brothers were ready to pull out, and string me up over the acid bath. Then it was Mystic's turn.
For guys that big, they were incredibly flexible and nibble. At one point, in one of our battles, they had ambushed me with a massive double attack, beaten me unconscious, and strapped me to a chair in front of a series of video screens. Bound to a chair, I had to watch as they videoed their defeat of Golden Bat. The young, golden-body-gloved Britney Spears look-alike came prowling into their lair, and they had their way with her.
I was amazed by how fast they were, zipping around her, going from one technique to the other. As one swept her legs out, the other round-housed her in the face. Before she could hit the ground, one kicked her in the back, and the other upper cut her in the gut.
They moved like liquid, and she was in a world of blackness before she hit the ground.
The Rooks. Two massive, powerful men in black-and-white costumes emblazoned with chess knight symbols, the Rooks had battled and beaten me in the past. They weren't magical, but had almost superhuman physical abilities. Plus, they were a crafty as human could be. They'd find your weakness, and a thousand ways to exploit it.
Again, Rakshasa beamed an image into my head. I saw him casually approaching Night Star. She was crouching over the beaten forms of both of the Rooks. They were unconscious, their costumes torn, and there was wreckage all around, and looked as though they'd been fighting in a closed shopping mall. Victorious over the twins, she was taken off-guard by Rakshasa as he levitated over her.
"Hello, Night Star. Or shall I say Connie? That is your name isn't it? Connie Gnau? Dr. Connie Gnau? I'm Rakshasa, I've come to collect you."
The beautiful red head's face registered shock behind her black mask. Little could phase the logic-minded scientist from America's heartland, but Rakshasa was nothing if not awe-inspiring. She must have known right then and there that she had a new master. Impulses to fight flowed through her, but each was choked by confusion and a current of resignation to helplessness.
"You're a beautiful woman," he said. "But you're so pale. You need some sun."
He waved his hands and the light of three natural suns was present in that wrecked strip mall. If you were to pass by outside, you would not have seen the light or heard the screaming as Night Star covered her face and collapsed to her knees. She doubled over, and I could feel her pain and panic as she felt her powers, her strength, draining out of her. Sunlight drained her.
His laugher echoed in her head as she slipped away into a drowsy, powerless haze. The former astronaut, her body going limp, was curled in the fetal position.
"I used an old favorite with her," he said. "Remember the doll?" he asked.
How could I forget? He'd defeated me with a voodoo doll in the past, using a Gold figure that could control every move I made. Once Night Star was down, he pulled out one of her and got to work.
He licked the black-costumed doll, and suddenly her screams subsided. The full, red mouth now gave utterance to a moan of something that was close to pleasure. Her hands fell to her breasts, and she began to pinch her own nipples as he passed his hands over the doll's bust.
"Yes..."
He passed his hand over the doll's crotch, and a spurt of pussy juice leapt out from between her thighs. It shuddered through her body and soaked the crotch of her black costume. I felt the shame and exhilaration that churned in her as she came there at his feet.
Now she screamed again. The draining of her powers and the orgasm that was wrung from her body was enough to defeat her; she shuddered on the floor. She was conscious, but helpless.
"You know, I had to do more, right? I mean I HAD to do a little something more to her."
Of course he did.
He passed his hand over the doll again, then knelt beside the fallen red head and touched it to her breasts, first this one, then that.
"There," he smiled.
She looked up at him with blue eyes flared with confusion and rage.
"Wh .. what did you... . What did you do? My breasts...my.....uhhhh."
Night Star has perfect, large breasts, but I watched as the second-skin body glove stretched and rounded out even more. Her breasts began to swell and rise, and the woman cringed in pain.
"Gentlemen," Rakshasa smiled. That was how he greeted the Rooks, who were slowly rising.
This was Night Star's first battle with them, and it looked as though she had bested them for the time being. Now that Rakshasa had taken control, though, the evening's outcome would not be in her favor. Grinning, flexing, and pondering the situation, the two brothers approached the prone woman and her captor.
"You're Rakshasa," they said in unison. There was admiration in their voices.
"I am," he smiled.
"You own Gold now, we hear."
"I do. I am taking this one as well."
They all looked down and smiled at the lush, curvy redhead in her black skin sheath costume. Her body was pinned by her new master's power, and her swollen breasts were now crested by big, hard nipples. Her cunt still spurted juice, soaking a wet patch between her thighs. She panted and flashed her eyes from the big men to the powerful magic user and back again.
"You've been battling her, yes?" Rakshasa asked.
"Yes, we have."
"You must be thirsty." He nodded at the woman, and the twins wasted no time in kneeling on either side of her. Just as they had done to me after one of our battles, they took hold of her beasts, one to each brother. Because my costume is a magical gloss that covers my body like golden paint, they only had to fix their mouths to the outlines of my big nipples to give me a deep, hard sucking. For Night Star, they eagerly curled their fingers into the high, tight collar of her costume and stretched it down, over her shoulders and off of her newly ripened breasts.
She groaned and closed her eyes as cold air poured over her huge, bright red nipples. The corners of her lips turned down as two cruel male mouths attached themselves to her breasts. At first, there was just their silent sucking and the shuddering of her breath. Then, her eyes widened, and their tempo picked up as they fought to claim every drop of what was spilling out of her.
Rakshasa had filled her with milk, and now she was feeding her foes.
Her face was frozen with shock and pain.
Milk spilled from the corners of their mouths, and their huge hands kneaded the squeezed to get as much out of her as possible.
The Rooks milked Night Star.
She came again, and again, and again as her hypersensitive breasts poured out milk and sent waves through her body. The right side Rook removed his mouth from her breast, and exulted, breast milk pouring from his lips, as he continued to squeeze. A fountain of white leapt from her big tit and coursed back down to her neck and face.
Night Star passed out, her face splattered with a web of her own milk.
Now, he stretched the second big-breasted woman out beside the first in front of me. Night Star beside Dark Moon. Now there was a brunette and a red head. Now there were two sets of long legs, big tits, round hips and defined muscle in black nylon, side-by-side. Now there were two women broken and at his mercy. Now, there was Night Star and Dark Moon held hostage.
"I ran into your friend Cutlass. Thought you like to see her," he chuckled.
And there she was. Tina. Cutlass. This was the girl from Las Vegas who found
an enchanted Renaissance sword. It gave her amazing powers and burdened her
with the challenged of acting as a heroine for the rest of her
days.
It had been some time since I had seen her, but she was as I recalled. Tall
and lean, ash-blond, and red-lipped, she was same perfect beauty I recalled.
She wore the same purple Victorian, mid-calf boots, purple fishnet stockings,
and shiny, sheer, wet-look purple bodysuit. Her cleavage was lush and milky
white.
Just like the last time I saw her, she was a captive, and I was watching her brutalization. Before this, it was Boa and Shibari who had us in captivity. They didn't use magic or mind control like Rakshasa, they used pain and ancient skills. Shibari, dressed in his leather gear and mask had me bound to a wooden beam in his dojo. I was lashed to the unyielding wood with layers of rope that outlined and squeezed tightly around my big breasts, forcing them out into painful peaks. The crotch rope was pulled tightly up into my cunt, with the lips of my labia spread and dripping around the coarse rope. My legs were tightly wrapped in his skillfully-done Japanese-style bondo, and he topped off the whole thing by adorning me with a red, rubber ball gag.
I groaned as he tighten metal clamps on my swollen nipples, and I watched as Cutlass lost to Boa. Boa was a tall, blond, soccer mom-type who discovered her superhuman ability to strangle and crush when most women are more worried about college funds for the kids. I absorbed the pain of the nipple torture as I watched busty Boa in her snakeskin costume, settling her crotch on Cutlass's face.
As the muffled protests of the purple-clad heroine faded, the biting of my nipples grew more and more powerful.
Soon, we were both lashed to pillars, ball gagged, and writhing in pain.
"Want to see how I did it?" Rakshasa asked as he levitated her limp body into place beside the other women. Of course, I would see one way or the other.
He stood naked in front of her in on a deserted hilltop on the outskirts of town. He smiled, and she moved toward him. There was a strange hiss that surrounded him, and Rakshasa dissolved into a thick, black fog. His physical present simply melted away into a black gas.
The sooty, black mist flowed toward Cutlass, and surrounded her. As she looked around her in a frantic blur, the cloud gathered around her nose and mouth. It took on the form of handcuffs and leg irons, inviting her to struggle fruitlessly as he took control of her body. It formed a collar, and started strangling her. Her eyes were wide and her lean, fit body in tremors as she was attacked by the gaseous form of one of the most powerful villains in the world.
When she was just about out, the black cloud released her and flowed into her vagina.
"It's a succulent thing. It's much like yours, Gold, only she keeps hers shaven."
I knew Cutlass' pussy. Boa and Shibari bound us up spread eagle on the floor with my arms lashed to her legs and vice versa. Our faces were in each other's sex, and we both had plugs up our asses. The plugs would explode if the hormones that came from arousal faded out. We had to keep each other at high state of erotic excitement. Even after one of us came, the other had to keep eating her out. I remember her pussy as having a strong, pungent, sweet woman flavor.
I could feel what Rakshasa recalled; he also loved the taste of her. He loved the heat of the furnace between her thighs. She passed out with him in her, and the black gas lifted her away. It formed a huge, black hand that lifted the limp woman up and away, and brought her to his lair.
"And finally...!" he said to me.
Excalibur. She was another the blond for the evening. Her costume was a second skin of magical white silk and it bore the crest of her ancestor, King Arthur, over her large left breast. As he brought her in, I thought of how she had only recently recovered from months of captivity in the hands of Piston Thorn. He'd used her as a toy, a guinea pig, and an instrument of his will for month after month. She's been the center feature of his heroine porn. She didn't even remember how long he had held her, or what he had done.
I remembered.
He caught both of us one night. With just the right amount of trickery and brutality he captured us, wrapped us up like mummies, and carried us off to his mansion. He hung us up by our hair and enjoyed fucking us for hours. He eventually let me go, but put months of work into breaking Excalibur.
When she was at her full powers, she is truly powerful, but the British woman was broken again.
Now she was just a limp, beaten trophy in Rakshasa's claws.
Little gibbering demon men, with forked tails, and horns, and a stink of sulpher carried her into the room. There must have been sixty of them, and they held her aloft like a trophy. They stacked Excalibur on her back on top of Dark Moon and Night Star. Her blond hair blanketed their faces and their athletic bodies formed a platform for the lush woman.
Hers had been a brutal capture. Sometimes Rakshasa puts his magic aside to demonstrate the power of his tiger body. He prowled around her first, smelling her fear and sizing her up. She was like me, tall and lean, big breasted, and athletic. She had brilliant blond hair that tumbled over the white silk of her body suit.
"Look at how I captured her," he laughed. I saw the image of his fighting her in an alley. I saw him backhand her, sending her up against a wall, then grab hold of her hair. He used both hands to clutch the blond mane, and he lifted her off the ground. Her eyes were still drowsy and half-closed from the hit, and she had nothing to offer.
"Now, Excalibur, I heard you were so tough. Is this the best you can do?"
He shook her like a rag doll, enjoying the bounce and sway of her big breasts. He loved the fact that he could see her nipples outlined in the body suit. He swatted at her big tits, smiling as she swayed and shook.
"Mmmmm. I do love a big pair of tits! You, Gold, Dark Moon, that Duster.... I love heroine women with these..."
She was feigning. She was dizzy, but not so much that she couldn't lash out a front kick, hitting him in the pit of the stomach. Rakshasa dropped her, doubled up in pain, then looked at the blond with a smile.
"That wasn't very sporting," he growled.
There was a flash, and there were two Rakshasas. An exact copy of the well-dressed Indian man who had just been thrashing her now stood beside the original. They smiled as she registered shock.
"Confused, love?"
She began to move, to attack both of them, when two big hands came from behind. They grabbed her breasts, squeezing as if his hands were vises, and she knew that a third one was behind her. Energy shot through the palms, and her screams echoed out into the city night. Again, Rakshasa lifted her into the air.
One of the first two caught a long, lashing, silk-covered leg and held it tightly against his chest. The other did the same to her other free leg, and the English woman's legs were spread wide. She was off the ground, her legs in the arms of two Rakshasas, her back against the chest of the third as he held her up off the ground by her breasts. She squirmed and fought, but their bodies were like steel.
She yanked against the hands that had captured her big, firm tits, but she could not move them. Blond hair lashed back and forth, and a howl of anger came from the woman as yet another copy of the evil magic man appeared between her thighs.
She concentrated to access her magic, but something was shutting it down.
His cock was out, stiff, and aiming at the space between her legs. There was a pause, a smile, and then a deep-throated scream as he tore Excalibur's costume open with his cock, and entered her sex. Their bodies were joined. She came almost instantly.
I knew that his cock was more of a weapon than a body part. I understood what she felt as she screamed bloody murder, her black boots picking up glints of the moonlight as her athletic legs kicked and lashed.
He was only a few thrusts into her when her eyes rolled and she passed out in the arms of the Rakshasa copies that had captured her.
"I gave her the treatment, and look at her now," Rakshasa smiled as he added Excalibur to the pile at my feet. The blond in white silk was laid out with the other women.
"Now, let's talk," he smiled. His voice seemed almost warm and loving.
I could only listen.
I was still a statue.
"I used your body as a platform before. I used your magic. Remember that?"
That was when he first had me in his hands. That was when he levitated me and used my rigid body as an altar as he performed magical rites. I was a helpless instrument that he used to pass into another dimension, then returned to recapture me and a small army of heroines.
It was all to increase his power, step by step.
"It's time for me to increase my power again, and it's time to start the game again. I love keeping you as a sort of pet...a sort of ornament...but I want to hunt you and defeat you over and over again. I want to.... Well, here."
He snapped his fingers and I was real again. I sank to my knees, my muscles sore and weak. I looked down at the slumbering women.
"Come down from there," he told me. "Take Excalibur and walk to the middle of the room."
I was a defeated woman, and I had to follow orders. I'm not sure how much was mind control, and how much was me assuming my status as his sub.
Slowly, I did as told. I walked, hips swaying, long limbs putting on a show for him. It wasn't like I meant to; my body was just responding to captivity.
I slipped an arm under her shoulders, and another under her legs. I stood, cradling the unconscious heroine in my arms. Her head sagged back, and I did my master's bidding, carrying her sleek, fragrant body to the center of the room.
I laid the shapely woman out on the altar, then positioned myself beneath her, the liquid metal of my costume sliding smoothly against her silk body stocking.. Her torrents of thick, blond hair poured down over my face, and I breathed through her messy tresses as I moved myself below her. I opened my big legs and nestled the busty woman between my thighs. Her curls spilled out across my flat belly, and her arms sagged off to the sides.
"Spread her thighs," he ordered.
I used my legs to separate hers, exposing the wet, open crotch of her costume. I felt my pussy throb.
"Let me explain, Gold," he smiled as he waved his hand. I became stiff as a board, and I began to levitate. I carried her into the air with my body. He continued to explain. "I'm going to increase my power by leaving my seed in these magical human wombs. I will mate with them. My magic will grow in them, and then enter the world as super magical beings. Each, in turn will defeat you, until I decide to either finally kill you, or take you and use you again and again and again."
I had to ask.
"Why them? Why these women? You've put your seed in my body before, why not now? You could impregnate me easily." I was surprised to feel some sense of my own will; I felt a trace of fear and disgust as I said it, but I was still resisting him on some tiny level. It was a struggle.
He had taken out his cock and was stroking it with big, powerful pumps of his right hand. Shameless eyes focused on the big, thick crease of her costumed pussy. Under mind control, I'd eaten her out twice before, and I knew her body well. Our captor would be overjoyed that he'd found another woman with a big, tight pussy.
"Because I want to seed many, and all it takes is a magical female womb and a magical female platform. Your magic will act the conduit and their wombs the incubators. I want them for one-shot cast offs, while you are a resource to be used over and over."
My mind flashed back to another captivity and impregnation. There was the time that Vixen tried to plant the seed of Game Master, one of her creations in Alley Kat and me. Full of useless semen, we were not rendered pregnant.
Then there was Cold Front's captivity. I never knew the man's name, or understood how he got his powers...but he was powerful. He said that he wanted only one heroine to "carry his spawn." Only one. He picked Cold Front. She is a heroine who can control icy gale-force winds and can freeze things with the power of the Eastern European weather witches from which she is descended. Her mother, Bora, has the same powers.
He captured me to lure Bora. He captured Bora, and used her to lure her daughter.
He captured the young raven-haired Cold Front and sat her up in a chair, braced and locked with metal bands. She was conscious, and struggled as the man entered her. Excalibur could give no such struggle with Rakshasa.
Her costume was already torn open at the crotch.
"Open," he said, and her cunt lips parted with a wet kissing noise.
There was a strange blur of action as he practically dove in between her big thighs. That massive prick plunged in, and I screamed as his magical forces surged through the beaten woman and into me. The power rushed through my cunt, in my ass, up my spine, through my tits, and in and out of every pore. Each time he gave her a thrust, putting his big cock head up into her womb, I felt my body catch fire. I felt my own powers come alive, rushing out of my body and into hers, through to his, and back again.
Slow deep erotic moans seeped out of her, but were drowned out by my deafening screams. He was looking at me, but I only caught glimpses as my eyes were squeezed shut with agony.
His big hands gripped her thighs and pressed down hard as he delivered his sperm to her body. Her eyes flared open, then went out.
"Perfect!" he grunted. He grabbed the woman and rolled her off of me, the floating altar. She landed with a thud and lay face down.
"Get Dark Moon!"
My body felt as though I'd been beaten over and over. From the way my flesh, and my bones felt, I would have sworn that there wasn't an ounce of super power in me. It reminded me of a time, before I had powers, that I'd run a marathon, then had a long session of fucking with a woman I was seeing. The whole day left my body pretty broken down, but feeling good. Once I gained my powers, I seldom felt physically broken. Now, I was that beaten woman again, only without the sweet, sexual glow.
He let me down and allowed me to walk to the pile of defeated women.
Painfully, I slung the lithe Latina over my shoulder and carried her to the same spot. I could tell he enjoyed the over-the-shoulder view of us as I brought her over. He levitated us, and I situated us in a similar way, tearing her costume's crotch open and holding her pink snatch open for him. My long fingers found the thick lips of her sex, and spread her open. Her wet pussy showed up as a shocking, pink flash against the black of her costume. I looked at her sleeping face, then up at him again.
"She's ready."
He knew that. Obviously, he knew that. My master knew everything.
The spunk was still dribbling from his cock as he approached her, as he approached us.
When the power went through me this time, it was twice as bad. My clit felt as though it was on fire, and now the shocks came in waves up and down my body. I tried to hold back the screams, but now let them out louder than before. He reveled in my desperate howling and he clutched her big breasts in two vicious claws.
Her mind swimming, shrouded in darkness, Dark Moon released a tortured whine.
This time, the cum actually poured out of her before he dumped her on the floor. She lay heaped next to the beaten British heroine.
Next, he levitated Night Star over to where I hovered. She floated through the air as if a dozen hands were holding her aloft, and stopped just above where I hung, suspended in midair.
He turned Night Star face down. Our dead, empty eyes met one another's. He lowered her on to me, our big, firm breasts mashing together and spreading out to the sides. The red haired woman had perfect, high, big breasts that seemed a perfect match for mine.
"Keep your tongue in her mouth as I do this," he ordered.
I was able to move my mouth, and I was driven to press my mouth to hers. I captured her red, pouting lips with mine, and began to suck. I kneaded and sucked and finally slipped my tongue into her mouth. She tilted her head, and we fit our mouths together like two lovers. Her kisses were slippery and sweet.
Rakshasa was between our legs.
He gripped her round buttocks and spread them a bit. This opened her cunt just that beautiful, little bit. He paused, then jammed himself into her sex as I kept the red head in a deep and passionate mouth lock. I sucked her tongue as he drove home in her like an animal.
The power was back, now pouring through her body and channeling through her mouth and into me. Again , I was on fire and unable to pull my mouth from hers. Convulsions came through, and shook us both until he was done. He tossed the woman in black aside.
"And...finally...our stylish Miss Cutlass."
Cutlass, tall and curvaceous in her vivid purple costume suddenly stood and walked towards me. The heels of her short Victorian boots clicked as she moved robotically across the marble floor, her body and mind under complete control.
"Go on, climb up on Gold's body."
Blond hair swaying, face blank, she put her palms on my breasts, then pulled herself up on to my stiff body. She lay her body on me, with my breasts pressing into her back. This was the last woman he would use that evening; he had proven his dominance and our helplessness. He was able to use any heroine as breeding stock whenever he felt like it.
As if her costume was made of tissue, again, his cock tore through the fabric. He had made his cock enormous, and her cock stretched ridiculously to accept him. The wave broke over me.
"Can you feel it, Gold?" he laughed.
This time, I blacked out with my own screams echoing in my ears.
Rakshasa left us in a pile. He chose a muddy secluded area of the city dump as the best place to deposit his used heroines. It was the screams and cackles of seagulls that awoke me, and I was immediately aware of the overwhelming stench, the muck, the filth. I was half submerged in a mud puddle, the sludge coming up to my tits. One leg was out of the muck, while the other almost totally sunk. Cutlass was sprawled over me face-down. Excalibur was beside me, on her side, and Dark Moon was spooning her. Night Star was draped over both of them.
We moved like women in a slow motion film as we pulled ourselves and each other out of the muck. I could see the pain in the faces of the other heroines, but, what's more, I could sense their feelings and read their thoughts. All of my powers were back under my control.
He had freed me.
He had freed all of us so that he could start the game again.
"God...my cunt...my..." The pain stunted my sentence.
"Yeah, me too," said Excaliber.
Each woman could feel, clearly, that something had formed in them, then come
out through their tortured cunts. Each costumed woman had given birth
to... something.
He had freed us to start the game again, now, with new minions.