The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Jungle Babe — In the Clutches of Cernunnos

Chapter 1: Queen of the Wilds

Note from Soul: This is a direct continuation of the Miss Americana vs the Horned God story series; you don’t necessarily have to read them in order to enjoy the, um, juicier parts of this work, but the plot elements might seem a little confusing if you haven’t read the previous ones. So, since you clearly care a lot about plot, go ahead and read those before starting these. I’ll wait. Done already? Lord you’re quick. In case you actually didn’t go do that, here’s what you need to know: mountain mining activity woke up a long-slumbering monster in the hills outside Delta City. Being a horny bastard (I’m serious, he’s got these ginourmous horns), he went about kidnapping women and basically doing the monster thing. This caught the attention of Miss Americana, who, being the noble and valiant sort, decided monster-related kidnappings are very uncool. She went traipsing into the hills to put and end to things, and, well, it didn’t go so well for her. Our story picks up a few weeks thereafter, with a new heroine. Our last one, as you’ll soon discover, is a bit...preoccupied. Enjoy!

* * *

For Lexi.

* * *

The private jet touched down at a small airstrip just on the outskirts of Delta City. The sky overhead was perfectly clear, the sun reflecting brilliantly off of the plane’s sleek metal form. After briefly taxiing to the central hangar, it ground to a halt, and a moment later, the forward portal slid aside to allow a folding stairway to descend to ground.

Dana McQueen adjusted her traveling coat and stepped off the aircraft, waving a quick goodbye to the captain and crew. They’d see to it that her luggage and all of the research crates she had brought back were properly unloaded and sent on their way. The crates were bound for the Natural History Museum, artifacts from her most recent sojourn in the dense jungles of central Africa. She was slated to meet with the director tomorrow morning; the Museum wanted to stage a gala to launch the exhibit and thank her for her generosity, and the curator wanted to discuss the details as soon as possible.

The platinum-blonde glanced worryingly at the small black cell phone she gripped in her slender hand. Given the call she’d received while they were en route, she would have to cancel the appointment.

A silver Rolls Royce pulled up to the plane and the driver hopped out to open her door. She smiled a brief greeting to her driver, Seville, before sliding into the spacious back seat. The familiar smell of old leather greeted her as she settled in. Seville pulled away from the plane, driving purposefully back onto the highway and speeding off into the city. It was a familiar routine, one she had completed many times before. Her home was here in Delta City, but her life, and her career, often kept her away for weeks, or even months, at a time. As one of the nation’s premier public faces for environmental conservation, Dana McQueen spent far too much time in board rooms, visiting elected officials, and standing in front of podiums and cameras.

It was a frustrating, if necessary part of her job. Dana had learned long ago that, sometimes, a private word with the right audience could be more effective than anything she could accomplish as her alter ego, Jungle Babe...though the latter method was infinitely more satisfying.

This last trip had kept her away a little longer than she’d anticipated; violent uprisings in the central republics had complicated things very badly. Truth be told, she had been lucky to get out of things unscathed, and with most of her research material intact. It had taken all of her skill, and not a little luck, but she’d secured a plane back to the United States, and had been looking forward to some much needed rest and relaxation, when she’d gotten the call.

She looked anxiously at the phone again, hardly able to believe what she’d been told. Her source was impeccable though, and the worry in her voice had been totally genuine. As much as she wanted to, Dana had no reason to disbelieve her.

Miss Americana, Delta City’s foremost champion, was missing; had been for weeks.

Dana turned her head to look forlornly out the window at the skyline of Delta City looming over the horizon.

“Brenda,” she whispered, “Where the hell did you go?”

* * *

“Talk to me, Tessa.”

Dana was sitting in her spacious study, behind a broad bamboo desk. She was staring at a pretty, bespectacled face on her computer’s wide LCD monitor. It was Tessaract who had called her on the plane. Unwilling to discuss any details on an unsecured line, she had managed only to pass on the most critical bit about Miss Americana’s disappearance, before they’d arranged to talk again as soon as Dana got home.

She was still wearing her traveling coat.

The young info-hound adjusted her glasses nervously. “I’m glad I was able to reach you. Everyone else has been caught up in the crime surge since Miss Americana vanished. They’re all terribly worried, but with every scum bucket and slime ball coming out of the woodwork, they haven’t had a spare moment to mount any kind of a search.”

She rubbed her eyes, and Dana realized the poor girl was probably going on next to no sleep. Tessaract, for as young as she was, was as dedicated to protecting Delta city as any of its costumed heroes, and knowing one of them was out there, perhaps in desperate trouble, would have consumed her every waking thought. Dana would soon learn that it was even worse than that.

“Tell me what happened,” Dana said as soothingly as she could. Tessaract took a deep breath then started talking.

“A few weeks ago, Miss Americana contacted me for help with some strange disappearances around the forests surrounding Nells Barrow and Whitestone Point. Three women had gone missing, each kidnapping roughly two days apart.”

“Kidnapping?” Dana interrupted her, “You had a perp?”

At once, a fuzzy image appeared on her screen, stretching till it encompassed almost the entire frame. A dark shape, vaguely humanoid, crouched before a tall security gate. A pale form was slung across its shoulder. The resolution was bad, but Dana could tell the pale figure was human. Female.

The larger shape though...that was anything but.

“This was taken by a remote security camera at the estate of the third victim. We have video footage that I’ve uploaded to your desktop, but it’s not much better than this.”

Dana stared intently at the monstrous shape. Judging by his relation to the female on his shoulder, he was absolutely massive, eight feet tall or more. The slope of his gait, and the curved protrusions extending from his brow, suggested something more animal than man. She sat back in her chair, trying to make sense of it all. “Did you show all this to Miss Americana?”

Tessa nodded, “This was the last bit of information I’d uncovered before she...” The poor girl swallowed hard. A quiver had entered her voice. “...Before she vanished.”

She swiped angrily at a stray tear, “I told her to be careful, dammit, I did. It’s my fault. I should have convinced her not to go alone. Now she’s missing. Stupid, just stupid...”

Dana’s brow creased sympathetically. The poor girl was beating herself senseless over this.

“You mustn’t blame yourself,” she said, trying to calm her young friend, “We both know how headstrong she can be, and with so many victims in so little time, there was no way she was going to wait. You know that.”

Tessa didn’t answer. She just stared sullenly off-screen.

“Hey,” Dana continued, trying to impart as much optimism into her voice as she could, “You’ve done an amazing job, Tessa, you really have, but you’re working yourself to death. You need to get some sleep, try to clear your head. Send me everything you’ve got, I’ll go over it tonight, and if I have any questions, I’ll be in touch with you in the morning.”

Wishing she could reach through the monitor to squeeze her hand reassuringly, Dana added, “We’re going to find her, Tessa. You and me. We’ll get her back.”

Still uncertain, but clearly a little less rattled, Tessaract nodded quietly. “It’s already there. Everything from my initial investigation, and the last coordinates I received from the wrist tablet she was carrying at the time.”

“Good.” Dana leaned back in her chair, trying to make sense of it all. “Now go get some rest. I have a lot to catch up on.”

A moment later Tessa’s video feed went black, leaving Dana to stare silently at the shoddy still-frame, and the hulking beast it depicted. She focused on slowing her breathing, clearing her thoughts. Something about the thing on screen was igniting a vague memory, but try as she might, she found herself unable to place it. It hung in her mind, a nagging thorn that wouldn’t go away until she figured it out.

She began clicking through the notes in Tessa’s files, as thorough and detailed as always. She smiled wanly, feeling bad about the little white lie she’d told the poor girl.

“I’m sorry, Tessa,” she murmured, “I’m afraid this isn’t going to keep till morning.”

She skimmed over the incident reports and the general summary, digging through the files until she came upon a satellite map of the hilly ranges making up Whitestone Point. There, marked in clinical red dots, was the trail Miss Americana took heading into the area, the automatic pings from her GPS unit. The last known location sat right atop a rise in the terrain, against the rock outcroppings. That was where she’d start.

Rising from her chair, Dana cast off her traveling coat, revealing beneath it the taut animal print bikini and bone jewelry of her alter ego. She swept back her long, platinum hair, and strode out of her study onto the adjoining balcony. Beneath her, the canopy of dense treetops rustled in the gentle evening breeze. The setting sun cast everything in brilliant hues of orange and copper, but Dana was oblivious to the panorama. Her stomach was a knot of concern, and her heart was beating sharply.

Her gorgeous features hardened as she stepped to the edge of the platform. She stared down at the thirty foot drop, her brow furrowed.

“Don’t be dead, you stupid broad,” she muttered. “I’m coming for you.”

With that, she stepped over the edge, and vanished into the trees.

* * *

The forests of Delta City were so unlike the thick, humid jungles she was used to, but despite the urgency of the situation, Dana couldn’t help but feel a surge of sheer joy to be back beneath the trees, to feel the crush of vegetation beneath her feet. This was where she belonged; anywhere else and she was just Dana McQueen, but here, in the wilds...she was free.

With the agility of a panther, Dana charged through the dense forest, dashing through underbrush one moment and bounding across tree branches the next; she moved between the two extremes with practiced ease. The evening was chilly, but with the heat coursing through her perfect figure, she paid it absolutely no heed. Through the canopy, radiant beams of moonlight shafted towards the ground, islands of pale light in the otherwise impenetrable dim. The darkness would have been daunting for even a seasoned ranger, or any other superheroine, but to Jungle Babe, it might as well have been the middle of the day. Preternatural senses guided her rapid movement; her eyes caught even the slightest illumination and reflected it out. Her every breath brought in a wave of scents from the forest around her, instantly identifying rotting trees or stagnant pools of water in deep furrows, all of which she deftly avoided. A chorus of night insects heralded her passage.

But as she broke through the tree line into a small clearing, her wild-sense immediately alerted her to a new presence. Instantly she broke stride, curling into a silent roll, and stopping in a three-point crouch, as still as a shadow. Every one of her senses cranked to their maximum, and her keen eyes scanned the heavy woods for any sign of...there!

Beneath the heavy foliage, Dana saw the tell-tale sheen of twin, floating orbs; she was being watched, and if there was one, there were sure to be more.

She knew them by their scent, though they would not recognize her. Slowly, but confidently, Dana rose to her feet. She took a long breath, focusing her thoughts, her will. She gathered the essence of the message she wished to convey, and projected it forward into the dark, just as a swimmer might cast out a wave. The message was simple. “Greetings. I mean you no harm.”

At first there was nothing, just the sigh of the leaves as their branches danced in the wind, but soon, she heard furtive, curious movement. From beneath the shadow of a great hollow tree, a large, gray shape loped slowly into view. Glimmering gold eyes stared at her fearlessly, but without hostility.

Dana marveled at the regal old wolf standing before her. Once more, she gathered her thoughts, and projected them out as she offered the animal a simple, but genuine, bow. “Hail, Old One. I come in peace.”

Dana didn’t fully understand how her power worked. Maybe it was some kind of telepathy, or animal empathy, but she had discovered long ago that she could convey her thoughts and feelings, and most animals could respond. When they did, she was always left in silent wonder; every one had its own voice, every one different.

So like people, she thought ruefully. If only more humans could hear what she did.

When the old wolf answered, his thoughts seemed to sniff at her. “Human. Yet not. Why are you here?”

“A member of my pack is missing. I’m trying to find her,” she projected, shifting into parlance he would recognize.

The old wolf seemed to grasp her deeper meaning. “Good. A pack cares for its own. Especially these nights.”

Dana frowned. “’These nights’? What do you mean, Old One?”

The wolf’s ears fell back, and he pawed the ground in agitation. “Forest dangerous now. Different. Bad smells. Bad sounds. The deer are scared, they flee. We chase them...but hunting is difficult.” He glanced over his shoulder almost mournfully. Dana felt his pain. “We are leaving too. All of us.”

From behind him stepped a dozen smaller gray shapes, wolves of different sizes and age. His pack. They formed a loose semi-circle across from her, all of them eyeing her warily, but in deference to their leader not one took a single step towards her.

They looked hungry.

Dana looked back to the old wolf, her face saddened. “When did this happen?”

“When last the moon was full,” he answered, gesturing at the bright orb overhead. “We heard a great howl, deep in the mountains. The slayings came soon after. And the mist.”

As if they could hear their leader’s words, the pack began to shift anxiously, their white teeth gleaming. The old wolf snarled a low, short bark, stilling them. He turned back to Dana. “My pack wishes to leave. I can hold them back no more. Be safe, human. Find your pack. Then be gone from here.”

The old wolf rounded on his pack and began loping away into the thick forest. They melted into the darkness behind him, only one or two bothering to glance back at the strange creature left standing befuddled in the clearing. Dana watched them go, and in a moment, she was alone once again.

Her thoughts were racing, and the urgency in her chest now intertwined with a beat of growing anger. This monster, this Beast, was a menace not just to the people of the city, but to the very creatures that called this forest their home.

She would not stand for it, not after it hurt her friend, not after what it had done to these animals. No matter what it was, if it breathed, it could be killed.

She meant to do just that.

* * *

The gasping moan that woke Sandra was distant and muffled, obscured by the heavy stone blocks that made up the subterranean temple that the Beast called its home. The blonde vixen’s eyes fluttered sleepily before she arched her back in a taut, feline stretch. A casual toss of her luxuriant mane set it right, and though the room was almost pitch black, she found she could see perfectly well. Silently she hopped off the thick cushions that made up her bed and padded across the dark room. Raking her fingers across the smooth stone wall, she found the secret catch that opened her portal into the temple proper, noting, not for the first time, how simultaneously primitive and brilliant the strange mechanism was. She pressed the switch in with a click, and the wall suddenly shifted in front of her to the sound of distantly grinding stone. Sandra only waited for the briefest of cracks to fully open before she slipped out into the wide hallway, stepping faster now.

The moans grew louder and more distinct the further into the temple she went, but she already knew where they would lead her. She broke right suddenly, ascending a cleverly concealed stairway that led up to a narrower hallway, one side of which overlooked a wide, circular room below.

Her master’s bed chambers. Almost instinctively Sandra felt her arousal spike a notch, just from entering the room. She had been taught many lessons here, and her body was quick to remember them. From the sounds coming from below, it was clear her master was busy delivering his particular brand of ‘instruction’ at that very moment.

Silently, Sandra crept up to the banister, concealing herself behind a wide, stone column, and peered down. She had mentally prepared herself for what she was sure she’d discover, but the sight still made her draw in a sharp breath.

Below her, upon a great circular mattress, her master, the demonic Beast, reclined lazily on his back. Astride his hips, legs splayed wide to straddle his large frame, a woman with long, dark hair and flawless alabaster skin writhed in sexual torment. Her hands were braced on the broad expanse of his chest, fingers entwined in his thick fur mantle, while her hips rocked uncontrollably against him. His clawed hands had her by the supple curve of her hips, guiding her motions, moving her back and forth onto the regal column of his cock. Every cycle drew with it a new chorus of feminine moans from his beautiful captive, her eyes closed in penetrated bliss.

“Faster, my pet,” her Master rumbled, “Show me how badly you crave it, and I shall fill you to the brim!”

Sandra felt his voice wash over her, and she barely suppressed a shudder of desire. She’d been in that same position many times, and without fail, such a command would have sent her body into overdrive, would have set her hips into a furious rhythm of uncontrollable fucking that would have had her screaming in multiple orgasms long before he would reach his peak. Helpless in his grip, filled to the depths of her being by his monstrous, conquering organ, Sandra would have no more been able to deny him than she could fly.

And yet, to her wide, disbelieving eyes, the curvaceous ass of his newest concubine actually slowed its motions, her head shaking back and forth in wild, desperate denial.

“N-nooo....! I c-can’t...musn’t...I...ooh!” she gasped raggedly, massive breasts heaving, as she struggled to contain the lust rampaging inside her. Sandra stepped back quickly when the woman’s eyes suddenly opened, wide and imploring, staring up towards where she hid as if desperately searching for a way out. But her beautiful blues were glazed, distant; Sandra’s fears of being seen were unfounded. The Beast’s fucktoy was too far gone to perceive much more than the throbbing, rigid phallus mercilessly pounding her into submission.

Sandra couldn’t help but feel a twinge of awe. Brenda Wade, the fallen Miss Americana, was either a phenomenal actress, or she really was harboring some hidden reserves of resistance somewhere in that sex-addled mind of hers. It was almost unbelievable, but she actually seemed to deserve some of her reputation as Delta City’s greatest hero. This wasn’t the first time Sandra had seen some of her old spark reignite, and every time she was sure it would be the last, yet somehow she still persisted.

Like a lioness drawn to the scent of fresh blood, Sandra felt herself reacting to her sudden display of resistance. Such strength was to be admired, cherished...and savored as it was snuffed out. The wicked blonde gnawed her lip hungrily and leaned further out over the balustrade, eagerly anticipating the show that was sure to follow.

She didn’t have to wait long.

Brenda’s trembling resistance was soon met by the Beast’s low, menacing chuckle. His hands suddenly tightened their grip on her hips, pulling her fully against him until the entire length of his taming cock was deeply buried in her hot, wet folds. Brenda let out a hoarse gasp as the sensation of him so deep inside her drove the air from her lungs.

“Still resisting, are we?” he leered up at her, smoldering eyes drinking in the sight of her tits as they swayed in front of him. “Still trying to be the hero? Well, let’s see how resolute you truly are.”

Holding her firmly against him, the Beast opened his fanged maw and exhaled. A current of thick, green mist cascaded down his chest, lazily curling towards the beautiful heroine trapped against his hips. It splashed against her thighs, rolled over them where they lay astride his torso, and curled around her waist in an undulating, serpentine embrace. Brenda’s eyes widened in dull recognition of what was happening, and she grabbed at his hands, trying vainly to dislodge herself from his grip, but he held her fast. More of the cloying miasma issued from his fanged mouth, but instead of spilling over the mattress and to the ground like natural mist, the vapor moved as if alive.

It continued to wrap around her lower body, growing thicker by the second, as if drawn to the taste of her pale, smooth skin. Slivers and tendrils of it began to crawl up her back, to flow across her taut belly, rising inexorably higher with every heartbeat. Brenda gasped as the unnatural caresses made her skin erupt in tingling goose bumps. Her struggles grew wild.

“No, please no!” she begged, “Don’t make me want it...don’t make me like it...please...nnoooh...”

The coils of green mist had reached her heavy breasts, and had quickly wrapped around them in curling, languid spirals. Brenda’s mouth quivered, her protests dying in her throat, as a hellish, liquid warmth engulfed her tits. Her nipples rose to rigid attention as fingers of vapor circled and lapped against them. The motion of her trembling hands against his grip of her hips began to slow, growing clumsy, befuddled. Still the mist played over her breasts, until they drew a long, unbidden moan from Brenda’s slackening lips.

Sandra watched, eyes wide, her pussy dripping. She knew exactly what poor Brenda must be feeling right now. The mist, her master’s essence, was a powerful aphrodisiac. It clouded the mind, dulled the will, and awakened the most wickedly arousing need for submission, for penetration. Even the sensation of it against her skin would make her unbearably sensitive, needy, desperate to be touched. Under such concentrated attention, Brenda’s breasts would be practically throbbing, and just when Sandra began to wonder how long the poor girl would be able to stand it, she got her answer.

Brenda’s hands began to glide, haltingly, away from the Beast’s grip of her hips. They rose up her waist, over her ribs. Brenda was still shaking her head in useless denial, but her hands were not listening to her any more. They heard the desperate call of her heavy, humming tits...and moved to answer.

“OH! Oh...god...” Brenda could only shudder, as her warm hands sank into the heated flesh of her breasts and beginning to caress them with intimate familiarity. She whimpered as she molested her own tits, her taut nipples rubbing against the palms of her hands. They moved with a will of their own, pleasuring her just the way she liked it, the way only she knew how. Her secret desires were lewdly displayed before the monster’s smoldering gaze, and she felt his cock twitch appreciatively inside her.

Still he was not done with her. Even as the pleasure from her tits gnawed at her will, still the tendrils of mist continued to climb. They danced up the swells of her breasts, licked against her collarbone, and coiled around her neck. She seemed to sense the ethereal caress, for she suddenly tossed her head back, straining, like a diver struggling to break surface...but there was nowhere to escape. The mist seemed to gather in ebb, like the swell of a tide, before surging forward and engulfing her completely.

“Nooo...! Nn...ooh...” Brenda moaned, as her lungs were suddenly filled with the evil, enslaving vapor. Her wide, blue eyes instantly grew glassy, and her red lips parted in a slack moan. Her treacherous hands suddenly redoubled their efforts, crushing her breasts between her slender fingers. She groaned.

“Yes, my pet,” The Beast whispered, “You feel it, don’t you? Your lust fills you. Drowns you. You cannot resist.”

“I...can’t...resist...” Brenda slowly repeated. Her head swam. She lolled upon him, swaying blindly. She would have toppled over, but his unyielding rigidity held her upright. Her suddenly heavy, hooded eyes struggled to focus. “Can’t...oooh...”

Fully in the grip now of the sexual fog, Brenda’s breathing grew heavier, labored. A hot blush rushed across her chest and cheeks, as all her thoughts grew hazy and indistinct, except for the burning throb of her stuffed pussy and aching tits. It was impossible to focus on anything else. She felt him inside her, felt his heartbeat thud in the thick, heavy veins of his cock, filling her, touching her deeper than anyone ever had. She felt her juices flowing over him, felt herself growing wetter by the second. She ached for him. Brenda moaned helplessly, her hips rocking against her will. But his iron grip prevented all but the smallest of motion, and soon her lust began to overtake the small jolts of pleasure she was able to spark with her stilted movements.

“Ooh...oh please...I can’t take it...please...!” she pleaded, falling backwards, only catching herself by planting her hands against his chorded thighs.

“What do you need, woman?” he taunted her, reaching up to capture her right breast in his hand and making her moan, “Tell me.”

Sandra watched as the last of Brenda’s resistance seemed to melt out of her. Her eyes sank shut, her head falling backwards so that her long black hair waved against her arching back. Her hips rolled against him, trying desperately to move. When she spoke, her voice was thick with lust.

“Your cock,” she breathed, “I-I need to...fuck...your cock! Please...!”

Chortling, the beast let go of her straining hips, and with a groan of ecstatic release, Brenda began to saw her hips up and down the thick spike of his godhood. She shuddered, moving faster and faster, filling the chamber with the slick sounds of her pussy sluicing around his shaft. When he seized her other tit in his clawed hand, working them both, Brenda cried out as the first orgasm ripped through her. Despite the waves of pleasure, her hips did not slow; they continued to fuck over his cock, until a second orgasm fired right on the heels of the first.

Sandra almost felt a twinge of pity for her. She was his plaything now, her body merely a puppet of his will, and he wouldn’t let her stop until his own needs were sated. By then, her mind would be a bubbling pool of almost constant orgasm, her whole world his taming cock and the wicked pleasures it could give. Sandra clenched her thighs together, feeling the wetness soaking her. God, how she envied her.

Just then, Sandra heard a leathery flap behind her, and she turned just in time to see her sister, the redhead Angie, sidle up next to her by the balustrade. No matter how many times she saw her, Sandra was still taken by how dramatically she’d changed in just a few short weeks. They all had, of course; Sandra’s own transformation was no less dramatic, but there was something positively fae-ish in Angie that made hers all the more shocking.

Something had happened to them, Angie, Carmen and her, something that had been slowly building since the day the Master had chosen them as his brides. Maybe it was some property of the mist, or the almost daily exposure to his inhuman seed, but all of them had been changed. Transformed. They had become more than human, or perhaps less, for each of them now bore their own unique animal traits, lesser chimera than the monstrous apogee that was their sire.

Sandra had been the first to change. First had been her eyes, which had grown golden and feral. Her ears followed, lengthening to a point, and now able to hear in ways Sandra couldn’t have imagined just weeks ago. Her hands and feet had gained retractable claws, wickedly sharp, and short, silky fur covered her arms to her elbows, and her legs to just above her knees. The day she awoke with her tail was one she would never forget; the initial shock had worn away quickly, and strangely, her new body had felt remarkably comfortable. Familiar. On the occasions she had spent contemplating her new existence, she likened the change to a butterfly finally casting off the shell of the lowly caterpillar. This was her true self made manifest, her body shaping itself to better fit her soul.

She felt powerful. Feral. Alive.

But if her metamorphosis was dramatic, she couldn’t imagine what Angie had gone through. The lovely redhead was similarly covered in a glossy red coat, adorning her in patterns of rings and bands up and down her arms and legs. Like Sandra, her torso, at least her front, remained fastidiously free of any body hair at all. Angie had speculated aloud once that their forms were cast in their Master’s ideal vision for his concubines; feral, yet flawlessly feminine in all the right places. Most dramatic of all though were the pair of long, bat-like wings that extended from her shoulder blades and folded neatly against her almost like a cape. Her pronounced ears, beguiling red eyes, and just-visible fangs completed the picture. Her vampiric features were belied by the same guileless, innocent face Sandra had come to know, but beneath the veneer of playfulness, a new, malicious streak seemed to be gaining force. Sandra was often surprised by how cruel the new Angie could be.

“You wish it was you down there, don’t you?” Angie said with a sideways glance, smirking mischievously at her older sister. “How long has it been since the Master took you into his bed? Three days? Four?”

She wrapped a slender arm around Sandra’s waist, her hand falling to rest just below her hip. Her fingers traced suggestive circles against Sandra’s pale flesh, making her shiver. “Poor sister, I’ll bet you’ve got all sorts of pent up...frustrations...you need worked out.” She gazed alluringly into Sandra’s gold eyes, “I’d be happy to help...?”

Sandra wasn’t sure how she felt about Angie’s new, aggressive personality; her more dominant side chaffed at the youngling presuming such familiarity with her. It wasn’t that long ago that Sandra had, frequently, twisted the pretty redhead into so many sexual knots that she barely knew her own name. But at the same time, the sultry, predatory gleam in her crimson eyes was undeniably exciting. Angie had several other physical endowments that Sandra was eager to experiment with...but now wasn’t the time.

She felt restless, and horny to be sure, but there was only one thing that would scratch her itch, and right now it was busy turning a buxom former superheroine into a panting, cum-crazed slut.

She feigned indifference to her sister’s advances, straightening to her full, regal height. “The Master’s been preoccupied of late, but I’ve decided to save my...frustrations...until he can properly slake them.” To Angie’s disappointed pout, she said, “Don’t worry, dear sister. I’ll find a use for that clever tongue of yours before too long.”

She could see what might have been a small tantrum flare up behind Angie’s red eyes, but the bat was able to quell her disappointment, turning instead to watch the moaning copulation on the bed below. After a pause, she asked, “Why do you suppose he’s so taken with her?”

Sandra bristled. The little bitch, she knew the quip would annoy her. Sandra wouldn’t soon forget the indiscretion; the next time they shared a bed, she would make sure to remind Angie of just who was in charge of their little menagerie. But to betray her emotions now would just play into the winged harlot’s game. Sandra answered her truthfully.

“It’s her strength of will,” she said, watching the dark haired beauty writhe upon her Master’s loins. “He lives for the hunt. Nothing excites him more than feeling a woman succumb to him. And she, for all her other obvious assets, remains an elusive sort of prey. He takes her, again and again, and every time she musters the will to fight he crushes it. For a time, she is his helpless toy, his eager slave. But somehow or other, part of her always manages to fight free of his control.”

She licked her lips, remembering the times she herself had taken the recalcitrant former Miss Americana and fucked her back into wet, willing compliance. Feeling the woman’s will slowly bend, seducing away her convictions, until she was once again cumming like the tawdry whore she was...it was absolutely intoxicating. She couldn’t fault her Master for indulging in such a prime catch. But everything had its limits, and if what she just saw was any indication, Miss Americana did too.

“She’s growing weaker, you know,” she continued, eyeing Angie with a lioness’ certainty. “Every time she succumbs, he chips away at her hidden reserves. She can barely resist him any more, and her spikes of fortitude come further and further apart. It won’t be long, and her mind and heart will finally accept what her body already knows. She belongs to him. To us. And when the novelty wears off, it is our beds he will find satisfaction in.”

My bed, Sandra mentally corrected herself. I am his first.

Angie just shrugged, smiling inscrutably. “You hope.”

Before Sandra could find words for her suddenly twisted tongue, the pretty redhead turned and skipped back down the stone stairway, humming a nonsense chord as she left. Sandra hated being tongue tied, and anger swelled inside her. That haughty little tramp needed a harsh lesson in humility.

A sharp, urgent moan from the couple below drew her attention. The master had flipped Brenda onto her back, pinning her knees beside her luscious breasts so that she was maximally spread for him. Helpless and vulnerable, she could only moan and cry in submissive bliss as he plowed into her dripping pussy. What discernable words she could utter between her nonsense moaning urged him to fuck her faster, harder.

“Ooh yes, YES!” she cried, arching beneath him. “More, fuck me MORE! Don’t stop, oh please, don’t ever sstAAAAAHH!”

Sandra’s tail twitched restlessly behind her. She stared at the writhing brunette, at the angry red organ skewering her eager pussy, and slowly, despite all her bravado, Sandra felt the icy wriggle of doubt turn acidly in her belly.