The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

DARK CANARY

Colleen Whyte

Blacq Cannary sat crouched in the shadows of the rooftop, her loose-fitting blue and black jumpsuit providing her with adequate protection against the chill of the night. Across the street was the apartment block she had under observation, several days of hunting and investigation had narrowed it down to one suspect and she intended to break into his apartment and search for incriminating evidence as soon as he went out.

It was a relatively minor crime, someone had been stealing designer clothing from a nearby mall and normally she wouldn’t have bothered with it. For one thing no lives were threatened, just a few livelihoods. For another she really wasn’t in to fashion clothing at the moment, a series of unhappy relationships had soured her somewhat and as she usually did, she had fallen back into her feminist motif. No silly high heels and fishnets, no cleavage and definitely no makeup and leather. She would have done away with her long blonde wig but she still needed her secret identity and she didn’t like wearing a mask.

But back to the crime, she wouldn’t have bothered with it, except that it was a favour to Zatannna. She was another heroine who had gone with the fishnet and heels look in the early, male dominated world of heroes and now favoured a look somewhat similar to Blacq Cannary’s. She still wore a bit too much makeup for Cannary’s liking but the sisters had to stick together and if Zatannna couldn’t resolve this case due to more pressing business then Blacq Cannary would.

A light clicked out and Blacq Cannary became fully alert, counting the time she knew it would take for him to reach the street. On cue he stepped out and flagged a passing taxi. Figuring she had at least an hour before he returned, Cannary stealthily made her way onto the roof of his building and using her considerable skill in intrusion, gained access to his apartment, bypassing the adequate but not exceptional alarm system. Inside was well lit enough by the streetlights that she could make her way around without having to use a torch.

The lounge was well furnished if somewhat sterile, no photographs or other personal mementos and the attached kitchen was well stocked but held no surprises. The bathroom next, checking the toilet cistern and all the usual places for drugs or other illicits turned up nothing. The cabinet held mainly male toiletries but also a small selection of women’s makeup, not enough to indicate any female living in but perhaps visiting regularly. The single bedroom was her best hope now for evidence of wrongdoing.

The bedroom initially startled her by being so different from the rest of the apartment. It was larger than she had expected and dominated by a huge double bed. The heavy drapes on the outside window convinced her that she could risk turning on the lights to get a better look. Fully lit she could see that the bed had satin sheets but she was quickly distracted by the iron hoops in the ceiling. A quick test confirmed they were strong enough to bear her weight but were too small and close together to be used for exercising. The bedside table had a camcorder and a number of high quality normal cameras. There was also an egg-sized ruby-like gem on a stand of delicately intertwined silver wires that almost seemed to glow with its own light. She carefully picked it up and checked to see if it was real. It appeared to be but as she wasn’t aware of anything this size being stolen recently she put it back on the table.

The chest of drawers contained fairly normal, if expensive, male clothing, except the bottom drawer which was full of woman’s lingerie, exotically impractical things like garter belts, half-cup bras and teddies. Blacq Cannary reassessed her thoughts on a girlfriend, the woman was obviously part of an illicit affair if she felt she had to wear this sort of stuff. The walk in closet was something else again. Beyond the slacks and business suits was a large collection of woman’s dresses, ranging from some quite plain summer frocks right through to elegant evening gowns. Thinking she had hit paydirt Cannary quickly compared them to her list of those stolen and was disappointed to find that while a few could have been matches, there wasn’t enough to be conclusive.

Pushing further into the closet she was shocked at what she found next. Neatly arrayed on shelves and hangers was a collection of leather, latex and rubber fetish clothing. She had rarely seen such a wide range even in the sleazier sections of town and she was thoroughly disgusted. What sort of pervert would have this sort of stuff, a lot of it seemed to be aimed at bondage with chains and buckled straps, and she was suitably offended by the fact that all the degrading clothing seemed to be intended for a woman to wear. Cannary was tempted to destroy it, or at least call in a police raid, but rationally she knew that would be illegal and would pointlessly warn the pervert that he was under suspicion. Making her way carefully out of the closet she searched the rest of the room, hoping to find something that would justify having the guy arrested.

Under the bed she found several boxes that were full of magazines, hard core porn with one theme—dominatrix’s clad in bizarre fetishwear subjugating and dominating men. Cannary was even more disgusted, such portrayals degraded women in her mind, reduced them to merely tools of sex for men. But the magazines were all legal, no matter how much they offended her and she still had nothing that she could have him arrested for. That just left the gem.

Going back to it she was still impressed by its size and perfection. Holding it up to the light she couldn’t see a single flaw and each facet seemed to glint with a light of its own. In fact, deep within its crimson interior she almost thought she could see a reflection of herself and was momentarily overcome by how beautiful she was. Continuing to turn it over she felt strangely at peace as the light refracted through the gem and cast delicate beams of light into her eyes. She found herself concentrating harder and harder on it, as though she was looking for something but didn’t know what. It was almost as if it was showing her something that she couldn’t quite understand.

The sound of a car door closing broke her out of her reverie and with a start she realised she had been staring at the gem for almost two hours. How could that much time have passed without her noticing she wondered as she turned out the light and hurried over to the window. Sure enough, her target had returned and was paying off the cab driver. With utmost care she cleaned her fingerprints from the gem and replaced it exactly where it had been. Then, almost as a afterthought, she grabbed a couple of the magazines figuring that he wouldn’t notice a few missing from the huge collection. And she was away into the night, leaving behind no evidence of her entry.

Arriving back at own apartment, Blacq Cannary quickly stripped and stashed her Cannary costume, wig and paraphernalia before having a long shower to wash away the sweat and grim of a night on the rooftops. Back in civilian mode she dressed simply in slacks and loose blouse before turning to her neglected civilian life, sorting through mail, checking her phone messages and having a quick meal before going to bed to get the five hours sleep she would manage before going to work at the management consultancy. She almost missed the days of the flower shop where she could set her own hours to a certain extent, but her new job was much more ‘relevant’ and fulfilling, or at least she wished it was.

Changing into her cotton pajama’s she slipped between the sheets of her cold bed, wistfully remembering the times she had shared it with Ollie or others. But that was then and she was a much better woman now, in control of her hormones and her life. She picked up the magazines she had taken from her target’s apartment and idly leafed through them, using her intellect to overcome her revulsion. They could give her a better insight into the workings of his mind and therefore give her an advantage.

* * *

Preparing for the Cannary to go out the next night, Dinah was leafing through the magazines again when an idea struck her. She needed some way to influence this guy and get him to spill the beans. Bruce would just go in and scare the crap out of him, but from past experience Blacq Cannary knew this didn’t work for her—the problem with being an attractive blonde. But if this guy was in to being ordered around by stern looking women? Much as she hated it, she knew this was a job for her old costume, looking at it now she could see that it was almost as fetishistic as the stuff he had in his closet. Out came the old fishnet tights, the high heeled boots, the one-piece leather bodice, the choker and the leather half-jacket. Looking herself over in the mirror she looked hot, then corrected herself, she presented a stereotype that had to be endured to solve this case. She wondered if Bruce ever went to these lengths?

She found it surprisingly easy to adjust to her old outfit, even with the ridiculous heels she found her balance was good and it did provide her with as much freedom of movement as her new costume. But it was still wrong, she reminded herself. Female heroes needed to provide an example for other women, to break out of the mould. She would have to talk to Diana and convince her to stop wearing that tight costume, especially with her ample breasts. How many women despaired because they didn’t have breasts that large or firm?

Arriving at his apartment building she was pleased to see that he was home and a quick eavesdrop at his window confirmed that he was alone. Breaking in the same way as last night she was in his lounge to confront him as he came out of the bathroom. He was astounded, more so when he realised that this was the real Blacq Cannary. But even as his face showed first surprise, then lust inspired pleasure, she could detect almost no trace of guilt or fear. Was he really that confident that he had covered his tracks well enough not to be spooked by the appearance of a super hero?

She needed to take this further. “You’re a disgusting piece of humanity, aren’t you?” she barked, “As corrupt and as worthless an individual as can exist.” She had gotten that dialogue from one of his magazines and seemed to go some way to cowing him. Head bowed, he muttered, “No, not really ...”

“Don’t backtalk me, you worm!” Blacq Cannary shouted, her anger real but with a tint of something else. “And address me properly.”

He shuffled his feet and still staring at the carpet said in a quiet voice, “No, I don’t think I’m the worst, ... Mistress.”

A strange flush of pleasure raced through Blacq Cannary at being called Mistress, she put it down to a sense of satisfaction at getting him to acknowledge her superiority. “You are wrong, worm! You are the lowest of the low. What do I find in your closet but dresses. Stolen dresses!”

“But I bought them, ... Mistress. Really, I did.”

Damn! thought Cannary, either he’s telling the truth and she had got the wrong person, or he was still able to lie. “Did you now?” She carried on, hoping to get more proof one way or the other, “Or are you just a disgusting little thief as well as a pervert?”

“I’m not a thief, Mistress. I worship women. I would never steal from one. I buy the dresses as a sign of my respect for Karyn.”

“Prove it!” Cannary demanded, “Prove that you worship women!” And to her surprise he got down on his hands and knees and crawled over to her where he debased himself and kissed her high heeled boots. Blacq Cannary was almost overwhelmed by the strange sensations that this act brought about, she could almost swear that she was becoming aroused. Fighting it off and losing, she ordered him to remain in his servile posture as she left, rushing back to her own apartment were she had to masturbate to relieve the intense emotions welling through her body. How could it have affected her like this? But having brought herself off, she felt back in control. Then it struck her. How did he know who the stolen dresses belonged to, unless he had been involved? Cursing herself for not picking up on this earlier, she knew she was going to have to keep at him until he broke.

* * *

But first she had work, Dinah had to earn enough to keep her apartment if Blacq Cannary was to keep up her crime fighting. A shower, a catnap and a very different woman was getting ready for the day. Not bound by the restrictions of her super-identity and wig, Dinah had cropped her black hair short, almost mannish in its appearance. Today she almost regretted it as she set about getting ready. Upset by her failure to resolve her Blacq Cannary case last night she had decided that she would at least resolve something in her civilian life. For too long now the company she worked for had held her back, held her down. She deserved a promotion and she was going to get one, no matter who she had to step over. That brought an unbidden image to her mind from one of the magazines, of a leather clad dominatrix pushing her spiked heel into the man cringing on the ground in front of her. Dinah had to quickly shake off the wave of pleasure that thought gave her, but it would be nice to put certain men in their place ...

Dinah was surprised when she got wolf-whistled as she went in to the office, it had never happened before and strangely her immediate reaction felt closer to pleasure than anger. She whirled round but the perpetrator had realised the mistake he had made and was long gone. Still, somehow, it felt good to be considered sexy. She had gone for a different look, part of her new, more assertive image to project herself into the hierarchy. The sensible loose-fit slacks, flats and jacket were gone, instead she had chosen a knee length skirt, her old pair of heels and a doublebreasted top that did draw a little attention to her well-rounded bosom. But she had justified it all to herself—the skirt to remind them they were dealing with a woman, the heels gave her height and height was power, and the jacket was the only thing she had with shoulder pads.

The review meeting was set for first thing and she was just in time, nearly everyone else was already seated. Every man she corrected herself, the only other woman at this level was away on maternity leave. The men didn’t recognise her at first, their reaction was that she was a new secretary and one was about to order coffee when a fellow elbowed him in the ribs. Dinah sat down in an almost imperious fashion, she liked being the centre of attention and knew she had chosen the right clothes. The few that might stand up to her were too distracted by her cleavage to give her much trouble. She ran the meeting from that point on, playing up her charms, leaning over the table occasionally to show of her breasts to those it would affect. Being stern and angry with those it wouldn’t. She even found herself slipping into some of the dialogue from last night, but it worked! Nobody argued with her, in fact they seemed keener and keener to go along with her and she found herself growing more and more aroused by their subservience. She liked this, she decided.

Later in her office she masturbated to relieve the built up tension. She tried to justify it to herself, that she was a modern woman, that she wasn’t afraid of her sexuality, but most of all it was better than fucking the first guy she came across which she had been very close to doing. It was this clothing-theft, she didn’t like unfinished cases. It was time to step up the pressure on the suspect, go to whatever lengths were necessary—and she knew his weakness now.

* * *

Blacq Cannary was waiting for him when he came home that night, in addition to her old costume she had brought a whip with her. To him she appeared as a stern goddess, spike heels, fishnet tights over shapely legs, the skintight leather bodice-girdle, the short jacket, the choker and the long blond hair. He fell to his knees in sublication immediately and a thrill of pleasure washed through Blacq Cannary. Try as she might, she couldn’t refute the fact that she was incredibly aroused at the power she wielded, her erect nipples threatening to push over the top of her bodice as she stalked over to him. A flick of the whip and he was grovelling, promising to do anything to please her and she knew she had him.

“Kiss my boot, worm!” she commanded as she held out her foot to his face. He eagerly cupped it in his hands and lavished the leather bootlet with kisses. Aware of a moistness in her crotch, Cannary raised her foot even higher and poked his face with the stiletto heel, “Suck!” He took the heel in his mouth and sucked it, almost as if it was her cock and she started to feel faint with the pounding of her heart. She needed to sit down before she lost her balance, but didn’t want to lose her position of power. Finally she had to fall back into one of his overstuffed leather armchairs and he immediately rushed forward on his hands and knees to bury his face in her leather clad crotch. It was too much for her, the whip was dropped and forgotten as her hands went up to her breasts, peeling down the cups of her costume so that she could play with her achingly hard nipples.

She came with a mindshattering orgasm, far beyond anything she had ever experienced before and delighted in his tongue as he licked clean the juices that escaped. Pushing him away she pulled off the main part of her costume, leaving on the jacket and tights, her firm breasts standing out defiantly, her crotch stained by her juices. Bending over the arm of the chair she pulled her tights down just enough to expose her ass and ordered him to kiss her ass. The feeling of his tongue probing her asshole sent her through another orgasm and she knew what she needed now.

“Down on the floor!” she instructed him, and then crouching over his face, pressing her wet cunt against his lips, she undid his trousers and freed his erect cock. To her excited state it was the largest and most desirable she had ever seen and she knew she needed it in her as soon as possible. Athletically spinning around over his body, she positioned herself over his cock and impaled herself on it, riding it to orgasm after orgasm until he finally couldn’t take it any longer and came in spurts within her. She let him carry her in to the bedroom, strip her tights and boots off and then fuck her again.

* * *

Dinah oozed sexuality as she arrived for work the next day in the outfit that James (as she now knew him) had lent her. Her trim body was squeezed into a knee length red satin dress, her full breasts bulging over the low cut neckline, her waist compressed by a corset that held up her black seamed stockings. Her short black hair was slicked down, her lips were a bold cherry red, her eyes heavily made up, she was the chanteuse of her namesake. Sharing an elevator she could see the hardening cocks of the men in the car with her and she liked it. The board meeting was hers and hers alone, no-one dared speak against her and she elected herself to the president’s position without a dissenting voice.

In her new office she laid down the law, first sending her personal assistants off to buy new clothes more pleasing to her, then summoning a handsome office junior that she found quite hunky. Any thoughts he had of getting it on with her were soon dashed, it was going to be on her terms as she had him prostrate himself on the floor as she circled him. When she felt he was suitably broken she pulled up the hem of her skirt and let him service her naked cunt, treating him like a dog throughout until he brought her to a climax.

She dismissed him by having him crawl out of her office, knowing he would beg to come back to her, but now she had to get down to business. First she had to eliminate her rivals, dismissing the lesser ones, reassigning those who still held a vestige of power. Through it all her thoughts kept turning back to James, her devoted slave, she needed to do more to him, to tantalise him even more, to make his begging all the sweeter. Larger breasts perhaps? She knew that she was already buxom but from his magazines she knew he liked them even bigger still. But she didn’t want implants, too risky and it would take too long. Then it struck her, Zatannna owed her a favour, and with magic it could be just a temporary boost. Using her secret communicator she got in touch with the sorceress and arranged to meet her after work.

* * *

Zatannna was surprisingly amenable to Blacq Cannary’s request, agreeing to increase her bust size to a formidable 40DD without question. Had Dinah been in a clearer frame of mind she would have noted this strange behaviour from a friend who should have been more curious and sensible. As it was she was just delighted at the way her magically enhanced breasts stood out from her chest without any sign of sag or any discomfort from their weight. She especially loved how her nipples protruded at least an inch and were incredibly sensitive. In fact she could bring her self off by just rubbing them. Then Zatannna intruded upon her pleasure, asking her how the case was going. That annoyed Cannary, that the silly witch could ever have suspected her wonderfully pliant slave. She needed to be taught a lesson.

Cannary insisted that her friend also change into her old costume, the really sexy one to her mind with its fishnet tights, heels and tight waisted vest. The similarities with her own costume struck her, and she liked how Zatannna’s old magicienne’s costume made her breasts seem much larger, almost as big as her own now were. They teleported straight down to James’ apartment where he was waiting clad only in his silk bathrobe. The arrival of two beautiful superheroines, clad so sexily and Blacq Cannary with her tits spilling out over her top, caused his erection to burst out into the open. Just the sight of it made Cannary tingle all over and she could feel the familiar heat in her cunt.

“Down on your knees slave! Worship me!” Cannary commanded and he dutifully complied, his erect cock still at attention. Cannary didn’t notice that Zatannna’s surprise at this scene was feigned. Instead she grabbed a handful of her friends long black hair and twisted it painfully. Zatannna squealed in pain as she was forced to her knees. “And you, Bitch! You’ve gotten a bit high and mighty lately, telling me who to investigate. I think you need to learn your place!”

“My place, Dinah? What do you ..” Zatannna was stopped by a stinging slap to her face.

“You will address me as mistress! Is that clear?” Blacq Cannary demanded, not at all flustered that Zatannna had used her real name in front of a stranger.

“Yes mistress,” Zatannna complied. The suddenness and completeness of her friend’s subservience was so arousing that Blacq Cannary knew she was going to lose control. To forestall it she ordered the sorceress to humiliate herself by sucking on James’ cock. Zatannna responded eagerly, a more focussed Dinah would have realised something was amiss but now she was just overcome by her own lust. She was incapable of rational thinking as she undressed just enough of her costume to fully expose her cunt and tits. Moments later she had taken over from Zatannna, sucking on James’ cock herself. And when she felt Zatannna’s tongue probing her cunt from behind she was in heaven. Soon it was an orgy of sweating bodies, with Cannary delighting in the sensation of being fucked by both her slaves.

* * *

James and Zatannna gently laid the sleeping Blacq Cannary out on the bed and tucked her in. Both kissed her on the lips and wished their ‘mistress’ pleasant dreams. Then James turned to the near naked Zatannna with her sweat soaked body and heaving breasts.

“You did a good job, my devoted little spell caster.”

Zatannna felt a rush of pleasure go through her with the compliment. His approval meant more to her than anything in the world, ever since she had stared into his red gem. “Thank you master,” she replied, her head bowed subserviently.

James smiled, the buxom magicienne at his side had so many enemies with vast magical powers, yet it had taken only one with a perverse streak and a willingness to listen to James’ plan to achieve her downfall. Now James had the best of both worlds, a demanding bitch-mistress who thought she was in charge and a pliant slave-girl. Maybe he would go after a super villainess to round out his set. But first he would turn Blacq Cannary into his own little trainer, having her capture and break more beautiful women into his harem. And he knew she would get off on every minute of it.