The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Jungle Babe and Anna had been making decent progress; they had left the clearing with ample motivation to move as quickly as possible, and the forest had finally, mercifully begun to thin. They were approaching the outer edge of the hilly terrain making up the central spine of the Beast’s realm, and here the grotesque trees were giving way to rocky outcroppings and a gravelly soil. Without the oppressive omnipresence of those pale, twisted shapes laden with their web of flaccid vines, Jungle Babe had actually started feeling her spirits starting to rise. It would be far too easy to let the respite of finally escaping the hellish nightmare-scape of the corrupted woods lull them into a sense of false security though; they had to remain alert, ever-vigilant. They were entering the heart of the monster’s realm now, and there was no telling what horrors awaited them.

But just as she felt the spring re-enter her step and the fire of determination stoke itself brighter in her chest, there was a sudden rumbling in the skies above. Dark clouds had gathered overhead, and lightning flashed in the creases of the tumultuous roil. Dana felt the first few droplets splash in warning against her bare skin, surprisingly cold.

A moment later, and it really began to rain.

Jungle Babe sighed, closing her eyes and raising her face to greet the falling shower. She shivered a little as the breeze picked up, but welcomed the sensation of the cool water against her pale skin. Maybe it was just the exertion from pushing through the forest, or some lingering effect from her encounter with that bitch of a Bat, but she’d been feeling increasingly winded, her body almost feverish. The rain was almost soothing.

She was reminded of the countless times she’d experienced the same thing deep in her beloved jungles, where the heat and humidity could get so overwhelming that even breathing seemed an obstacle. But then the rains would come, and for a few precious moments she could enjoy feeling the world cleansing itself.

I could use that right about now, she thought ruefully to herself; a good downpour, a really solid soaking...if only to get the oily cling of the forest mist off her skin.

A little behind her, she heard Anna yelp in alarm, and looked back to see her trying to shield the ancient, leather-bound book she carried with her own hunched body. She frowned, feeling a twinge of regret. As much as she might enjoy it, there was no way they could stay exposed for long. For one, that book was about their only shot at victory. And secondly...

Dana looked at her young companion, and found herself almost...admiring how the last few hours had changed her so drastically. Without the large-ish sweater and leggings to mask it, Anna’s lithe form looked positively stunning. The girl certainly had a figure! But more than that though, Dana found herself feeling more and more outright respect for her tenacity. The things they had endured, and the awfulness she had seen firsthand, would have sent almost anyone else into a cowering ball, and yet this girl, as young and inexperienced as she was, seemed to thrive under duress.

Even now, with her rain-soaked hair falling into her eyes and plastering what little remained of her clothing to her body, she wasn’t preparing to bolt for cover. She was watching Dana, waiting for her to make a decision. Jungle Babe felt sure that if she insisted they press on, the young woman would agree without a single complaint.

Young, strong, and brave to a fault, Dana observed quietly; what more could she ask for?

“We need to find shelter,” Jungle Babe remarked, “Wait out the storm. With all these outcroppings, there ought to be someplace nearby.”

Anna nodded, and the two quickly made for the hilly rocks. At first, Dana feared that she was mistaken, that they were still too far from the larger range to find anything suitable and that they would be forced to retreat back into the trees, but after a few harried, wet moments, she heard Anna shout for her attention.

“Up there!” she said, gesturing up a hill close by. Jungle Babe followed her motions and saw the dark opening in the crags. They switched course, striding up the embankment towards the gap. The rain was coming down even harder now, making the steep slope trecherously slick, but they managed it with only a few brief slips. By the time they reached the summit and plunged into the opening, they were both soaked to the bone, and breathing hard.

The gap opened up into a small cave, maybe eight feet high and just a little over half that again at its widest point, but it was dry, and that was the most important thing. Anna stumbled inside, dropping the heavy book as she collapsed to her hands and knees, totally out of breath.

Jungle Babe fell to a knee beside her, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. “You ok?”

“Um, yeah,” Anna gasped, smiling wanly, “I’m—I’m just not in shape like you are. God, that climb was a bitch.”

Dana found the girl’s spirit contagious. She chuckled, helping her to her knees. “You did great, and you were carrying that gigantic book. Lose the handicap and you might have beat me up here.” She nodded at the fallen volume, “Is that thing ok? Did the rain get to it?”

Anna crawled over, and gingerly examined the ancient leather text. After running her hands cautiously along the covers, spine, and unclasping the lock to flip through a few pages, she exhaled, clearly relieved. “It seems ok. A little damp, but it’s been preserved ridiculously well, and the clasp held it together tight enough that the water doesn’t seem to have done much to the pages.” She nodded, setting it back on the ground, “I’d like to review it a bit before we start off again. I need to make sure I understand the incantation Grandfather told us about.”

“And you think you can do it?” Dana asked, hoping her measured tone didn’t betray the uncertainty she felt. Anna didn’t answer right away; the girl’s face had become a silent mask.

“I...think so,” she said finally, her shoulders slumping. “I’ve been taught this stuff all my life. I’ve even managed a few of the simpler incantations. Nothing major, of course, but a few small spells; for good luck, to help a sick child, that sort of thing. I...um, I’ve never had to seal a demon away before...”

Seeing the self-doubt starting to worm its way into the poor girl’s resolve, Dana gently pulled her up by her shoulders, and looked her square in the eyes.

“You’re a hell of a lot stronger than you realize,” she said softly, “If there’s a way to do it, I am certain you’ll figure it out. I believe in you, Anna.”

The naked praise left the young woman speechless. She blinked, blushing furiously, and had to look away. “T-thanks. I’ll do my b-best.”

The wind was picking up outside, and even though the cave was partially protected from the gusts, the temperature was still dropping precipitously. Anna was starting to shiver, and Jungle Babe herself felt the cold starting to creep into her bones. She glanced around the cave; there was some underbrush that had been blown in over the years, but nothing substantial enough to build a fire with. Besides, it would be too risky; a flame could be seen for miles, and the last thing she wanted to do was to telegraph their position to anyone, or anything, roaming the area. They’d just have to make do without one.

“Come on, let’s get away from the entrance,” she said, ushering Anna further into the cave, “That wind is biting.”

They sat with their backs against the cool stones, listening to the wind howl, hearing the rain splatter against the rocks outside. Anna’s shivering was only getting worse, and Dana herself was starting to tremble. She rubbed her arm, but it didn’t help much. Her costume was like a heat sink, leeching the warmth from her, and Anna was wearing significantly more by comparison.

She cleared her throat, “Um...we ought to get out of these wet clothes. They’re doing us more harm than good at this point.”

Anna’s head snapped up, her eyes going wide. “W-what? I mean, um, are you s-s-sure?”

“’Fraid so,” she sighed, standing up. Trying to maintain her dignity, she turned around, and unfastened her sodden bra before slipping out of the rest of her costume. She wrung them out before laying them flat against the rocks. All the while, she was mindful of Anna’s gaze following her every movement, and felt again that spark of warmth she’d felt for the girl after their ordeal in the clearing. Knowing that Anna was watching her, that she was looking at her every curve, made her feel...excited, almost nervous.

God, get a hold of yourself, Dana, she frowned. Stay focused. You have a mission to worry about.

when she noticed Anna still hadn’t moved, Jungle Babe motioned for her to get up. “Come on, I’m not kidding. The last thing you want is for hypothermia to set in. If it makes you feel any better, I’ll turn around.” She did. “See?”

“I-I’m sorry,” Anna murmured sheepishly, slowly getting to her feet. “I know it’s s-s-silly, I’m just not u-used to being n-naked around other people. Even—even after...you know...all that...”

Dana felt for her embarrassment, but could only nod quietly in acknowledgement. She kept herself facing the stone wall while Anna disrobed, listening as the woman removed her makeshift top, and the remaining tatters of her leggings, before wringing them out just as Dana had done. She heard a brief shuffle of activity before Anna called out, “Ok, you can turn around now.”

Dana did, and saw her huddled back against the wall, knees to her chest, hugged close in a tight embrace. Her auburn hair was a mess, and spilled around her face wildly. She was blushing even more furiously than she had been a moment ago, if that was even possible. She seemed to be trying to focus on something—anything—other than the statuesque, blonde Amazon standing naked before her, but her eyes kept furtively darting back.

And if she was totally honest with herself, Dana felt a twinge of pride at how the girl was reacting. And for her part, Dana found herself appreciating Anna, too; the girl really was pretty cute.

Jungle Babe returned to her seat, sitting across the cave from Anna. They tried to pass the time with small talk, but given recent events, they soon both fell silent; wrestling with their own feelings seemed to be distracting enough, and the silence was actually kind of nice. Dana focused on her breathing, and concentrated on getting the blood flowing through her extremities. She’d learned a long time ago how she could best deal with a chill, and went about it in an absent-minded, almost mechanical way.

Anna, however, had no such experience to draw on. Despite losing her wet clothing, the poor girl still couldn’t seem to shake the shivers. Even curled into a ball, she was trembling quite terribly. She made an effort to keep her discomfort to herself, but pretty soon Dana couldn’t help but take notice. She looked at Anna with concern.

“Still can’t get warm?”

“It’s n-nothing,” she replied, trying to still the chatter in her teeth. “I just—I just can’t stop s-sh-shaking...”

Poor thing, the blonde heroine thought, she’s really trying to be stoic, but this is too hard for her. Well...maybe she could help.

“Come here a sec,” she said, rising to her feet and pulling a confused Anna over to her. “Ssh, hey, just relax. You just need to warm up some, and you’ll be ok.”

She stretched them out on the ground, positioning Anna so that she was between Dana and the cave wall, and pressing up lengthwise against the young woman’s back. She wrapped her arms around Anna’s torso, holding her arms to her chest, and felt the girl stiffen.

“Um...is this...are you sure this is ok...?”

“Just relax. I won’t bite,” she said, trying to reassure her. “Body heat is about the best I can do right now, since it isn’t safe to build a fire. Does...does this make you uncomfortable?”

“N-no!” Anna answered, just a little too hastily, “I-I mean, it’s fine, it’s...it’s kind of nice.”

That made Dana shiver, but not from the cold. She pulled Anna just a little closer. She closed her eyes a minute, just trying to breath, feeling the girl laying against her, smelling the light scent of her hair. She swallowed hard. God, why couldn’t they be someplace else? Anywhere but this wretched place?

They lay in silence like that for a while, just spooning in the dark. Presently Anna’s trembling began to subside, and she did start to relax, easing against Jungle Babe’s body and drawing from its heat. After a while, during which Dana actually started to doze, Anna’s voice brought her back to attention.

“Does...does the cold not bother you?”

Dana had to smile. She patted Anna’s arm sympathetically. “Don’t feel so bad. It’s something you learn to deal with, especially when you’re stuck in the jungle by yourself a lot.”

“I can’t imagine it gets very cold there,” Anna murmured thoughtfully. Behind her, she felt Jungle Babe suddenly shift, and sensed something was amiss. “Dana? Did...did I say something wrong...?”

“No, nothing like that,” Dana sighed, hugging her reassuringly. “I just...you reminded me of something that happened a long time ago. Actually, it was the first time I met Bren—I mean, Miss Americana...”

“Oh...?” Anna asked, the quiet curiosity clearly evident in her tone. Jungle Babe sighed, weighing the issue in her mind...the story wasn’t particularly pleasant, and she didn’t want to scare the girl needlessly. But they didn’t have much else to do, and the telling would help her stay awake.

“Well, it kind of happened like this,” she began, the memories coming easier than she thought they would, “A long time ago, maybe for the first time ever...winter came to the jungle.”

I guess it’s important for you to know that this happened early in my career; I hadn’t been ‘Jungle Babe’ for very long, and I had a lot to learn about the business of being a ‘super hero’. Even now, the terms just kind of sound odd to me; I am who I am, and I do what I do, not because I’m out to be a ‘hero’, but because I can’t imagine not doing it. It’s a compulsion, almost; a state of existence. I once listened to a psychologist lecture about how all so-called super heroes actually suffer from serious personality disorders; I don’t know about that, but looking back at some of the risks I took, I have to admit that, at the very least, I was unrealistically optimistic about things. But I was young, naive, and had more spunk than skill. That’s part of what got me in such trouble in the first place.

Much of my early years was spent exclusively in the South American jungles. It’s where I got my name; the local papers needed something catchy to describe the wild woman who was breaking up narcotics rings and shutting down whole companies for illegal environmental practices, and one of their more colorful columnists coined the name. Jungle Babe. You can imagine, at first I was utterly aghast; it’s not exactly the kind of thing that inspires fear in criminals, or that can rally the oppressed. I learned quickly though that, in the old, fearful, misogynistic circles of the world, it was often better to be completely underestimated than it was to be feared. Men who thought of me as little more than a sex object were seldom prepared for the absolute beating I delivered them, and I can’t say I didn’t take some satisfaction from their stupefied looks as this ‘babe’ decimated whole groups of armed, well-trained mercenaries.

I was on a roll. I had just finished linking a local politician with a massive underground trafficking ring, and I had enough evidence that even his connections in the media were unable to shove it under the rug. He was deposed, thrown in prison, and his entire operation shut down. I couldn’t conceive at the time that my victory would be so short lived; the area is a cesspool of corruption, and as soon as I decapitated one warlord, it was like two more sprang up in his place. Rivals would swoop in and carve up old territory, and pretty soon, the whole thing would start up again. It would take me years to realize that some fights are best won off the battlefield, but at the time I was driven to hound these men to extinction.

I had contacts, friends who I could trust, who fed me information about the goings-on in the criminal underworld. It was through one of these people that I first heard about the Senator’s wife.

Senator McGuiness was something of a local hero around the Empire City area at the time; a local police captain who made his name fighting the mob well before costumed crusaders became the norm, he was well-liked, respected, and more than anything, actually committed to making things better. He was particularly focused on the sudden rash of human trafficking that was cropping up around Empire City, and leveraged his position to secure money and support to bolster the local law enforcement. It was effective enough that he made some very powerful enemies, not the least of which was a particularly dangerous criminal that went by the moniker Sable Myst.

What?

You’ve heard of her?

Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. She has a spiteful streak a mile wide, and seems to have some kind of weird personal grudge against costumed heroes in general. If I had known any of that at the time, I probably would’ve been a lot more cautious, but being as focused as I was on my immediate surroundings, I confess that I really had no idea who I was dealing with.

That was going to change, very, very quickly.

Sable had suffered particularly costly losses at the hands of the Senator’s efforts, and several of her highest-ranking thugs had been caught and locked up. Right or wrong, she seemed to take the Senator’s intrusion as a personal affront, despite being only one of several prominent criminals to feel the pinch from his targeted task forces.

What can I say, the woman is vindictive.

She wanted to hit the man in as painful and personal a way as she could, and to that end, she staged a daring—some might say brazen—intrusion into the Senator’s well-guarded estate, and escaped with his young wife. The operation might have been utterly insane given how high-profile it was, but if Sable Myst is anything, she’s an absolutely meticulous planner. She had an escape plan worked out to the smallest detail, and before anyone could coordinate anything resembling an effective response, she and the senator’s wife were long gone. They fled Empire City, burying their trail, making for more friendly territory from which to issue her demands.

It just so happened that the bolt hole she chose was an old hacienda nestled in a hotspot of criminal activity I’d been watching for months.

My informants tipped me off that something big was happening when the local port saw the freight ship arrive almost unannounced. This wasn’t that unusual; many of the narcotics rings used the ships to ferry their goods along the river, but this one stood out for the high number of foreigners aboard. They were clearly out of their element, electing to ignore the local town as much as possible and making their way immediately to the remote estate. I got word that someone had seen them with a young white woman, seemingly detained against her will. I wasn’t sure what was going on exactly, but my gut was telling me something was seriously amiss. With barely any other information, I trekked through the jungle to the rumored safe house.

I had no way of knowing it, but I was about to walk right into a whole lot of trouble.

The outskirts of the hacienda were bordered by a small wooden fence, more to discourage stray wildlife than to act as any kind of real barrier. As surrounded as it was by the thick forest, a tall fence wouldn’t have made much of a difference; all an intruder would have to do would be to locate a tree high enough to bound over it.

It was in just one such tree that Jungle Babe was perched. Sitting in the shadows of the dense folliage, the tree gave her a perfect vantage point to survey the property. A remnant of old colonial money, the house was sizeable, with a detached garage and a smaller series of outbuildings to house the servants and to store farming equipment. A large section of the land was set aside, ostensibly to support some kind of a personal garden, but it had gone to fallow over years of disuse. Whoever the new owner was, he was clearly disinterested in reviving the property’s plantation roots.

A winding dirt path led from the narrow road, up a light embankment to the house proper. A ramshackle structure resembling a pillbox more than anything else had been erected by the road, with a plank of wood set up as a hinged gate. The sun was setting swiftly, casting the entirety of the grounds in brilliant reds and oranges, while shadows chased longer and longer paths along the neglected grass.

In fifteen minutes dusk would pass, and in another fifteen it would be night proper; the sun set so rapidly in this part of the world that the transition was sometimes startlingly fast. It had taken her longer to get here than she’d expected, and she only had so much daylight left to surmise who exactly it was she was dealing with.

She’d spotted six men so far; two of them manned the front gate, and two were slowly walking at opposite points around the square perimeter. Three jeeps, splattered with dried dirt from the journey out of town, were parked in a neat row beside the service garage. Evidently the doors either no longer worked, or were simply too much trouble to deal with. The last two guards stood by the front door of the main building, a beautiful adobe structure with protruding rafters and covered in brilliant crimson roof tiles. It too had fallen into disrepair, and in many places the plaster was cracking badly. It clearly had been a jewel in its day, and perhaps might be again, but for now, the grime-flecked windows lent a gauzy, drugged appearance to the light flickering from within.

So at least six sentries outside, and who knows how many more within. Jungle Babe smirked. This should be a cake walk.

The men were almost uniformly overdressed for the humidity; they wore heavy duty, tactical pants lined with pockets, and while a few still wore dark vests of similar make, the majority had stripped away the heavy jacket to wallow miserably in their plain shirts, soaked in sweat. They clutched listlessly at the assault rifles dangling from their shoulders, shuffling impatiently as they stood watch. Occasionally one would slap loudly at his arm or neck in a pathetic attempt to ward off the massive mosquitoes that were eating them alive, a sharp curse carrying to her ears over the heavy, still air.

They lacked the accents of the locals; in fact, although they were suitably crude, their English was surprisingly smooth. They could have been plucked from any major city in the United States.

So the reports were right; these were clearly foreigners, but who were they, and why were they here? The local drug cartel was notoriously ruthless, and would not tolerate any intrusion by a rival gang. They would have come in screaming in cars and jeeps and on motorcycles, shooting first and asking questions never. So clearly this wasn’t drugs, but you didn’t arm yourself like this if you were just interested in poaching. Dana thought back to the photo Escalban had showed her, of the pretty woman being muscled into a waiting car. Was it a kidnapping? This seemed incredibly elaborate for just that, but who could tell how the mind of a sociopath worked?

In a few minutes, it would all be over anyway.

The sun had dipped to a ragged, gleaming scar just over the horizon, and already the night insects were starting up their chorus. Moving as silently as a cat, Jungle Babe dropped from her perch and began circling around the compound, keeping mental track of where the two perimeter sentries were by anticipating their walking speed. She cut back to the fence after covering a quarter or so of the property edge and dropped into a crouch, huffing quietly. She glanced to her right, searching in the gloom, hoping that her instincts were right.

Sure enough, as soon as the darkness had gathered sufficiently, she saw the shaft of a flashlight blink into illumination fifty yards or so away. The sentry had switched on his torch, letting it sweep back and forth in front of him. He was walking away from her, which meant his twin would be just on the other side of the house. She had a few minutes before he would be in view of the rear of the building. Taking a breath, she glanced once more to make sure the path was clear, then charged across the open ground, heading straight for the house.

It took her barely three counts to cover the distance. She dropped to the ground beneath a darkened window, pressing her back against the wall. Gingerly, she raised herself up until she could peer over the sill into the room beyond. It was completely empty, and totally dark. Checking once more to make sure the guards were out of sight, she reached up and found the window catch, giving it an exploratory pull.

To her relief, she felt it give way. The house was old enough that locks on the windows were probably absent, and clearly the new owner cared next to nothing for upkeep. Once again, she quietly congratulated herself on her accurate deduction, swinging the pane open and slipping inside. The window barely squeaked, even when she reached to pull it back into place.

She dropped to the hardwood floor, falling totally still. She listened.

The door to the hallway was shut, and from beneath it a bar of light illuminated the dusty floor. In the rooms beyond, she could hear movement, people walking about, and distant, muffled male voices. It was also there, crouched in the darkness, that Jungle Babe got her first hint that not everything was as it seemed.

The house was surprisingly...cold. Outside the temperature was thick and stifling, but here, it was pleasant, almost chilly. The property was far too old to have a working A/C system, and the house itself could not account for the difference. She frowned, puzzled. Maybe the boss person had a thing for personal comfort? Seemed odd, but ultimately not that important. She moved across the room to the door, pausing for a moment to be sure she didn’t hear anyone on the other side.

When she felt certain enough to open the door, she very quietly turned the handle, and peeked through the gap.

The room beyond was a large common living space, sparsely furnished and laden with dust. The worn floorboards were crisscrossed in footprints left in the layers of fine white particles, and several industrial-looking lamps were hung from hooks around the chamber. In the corner she could see a small generator unit humming quietly, ostensibly providing the electricity for the lighting units, and maybe for whatever air conditioning system was maintaining the temperature. These were all just incidental details though; Jungle Babe’s attention drawn immediately to the small card table set up in the center of the room, and the three men seated around it.

Dressed similarly to their compatriots outside, their utilitarian vests and dark clothing, along with the heavy rifles leaning next to their chairs, immediately gave them away as hired mercenary types. Dana had dealt with their kind countless times before, and felt her confidence swell; no matter how fast they were with their weapons, she was faster still. All three men were embroiled in a heated card game, their conversation punctuated by muffled swears of protest and crude jibes as hands were played out and bluffs were called. None of them were paying the least amount of attention; she had the element of surprise on her side.

She crouched low, coiling the muscles in her legs and preparing to burst into the room, when she heard another door open and shut, followed by the sharp rap of booted steps on the wood floor. She stopped, and listened.

“Did the boss get bored with you already, Matt?” one of the men quipped, sneering at the new arrival. Jungle Babe cracked the door ever so slightly, trying to get a better look. The man he addressed as Matt strode easily up to the table, his uniform distinct from the others in its almost flawless arrangement. Closely cropped dark hair crowned his head, his face an exercise in quiet stoicism. If one looked past the slightly flattened nose, clearly broken at some point in the past, the man was not at all unattractive; in fact, the steely eyes and firm jaw, and the lips set in an almost preternaturally serene smirk, made him oddly compelling. Dana found herself watching him just a little closer than the others.

When Matt didn’t respond immediately, the muscle at the table grinned, “Maybe you ought to give someone else a turn? Let a real man help her work out some of that stress?” He gestured rudely at his crotch. The other two chuckled coarsely.

Dana blinked. Their boss was...a woman?

Matt, though, seemed utterly indifferent. He rounded the table, ambling towards the merc sneering at him through rows of crooked, broken teeth. “You know, Brock, that might not be a terrible idea,” he replied, his voice easy and clear. “The boss usually can’t stand being around men, and we both know you don’t have any fucking balls.”

It took a second for the smooth delivery of the insult to register through Brock’s thick brow, but all at once, his small, dark eyes glowered in fury, his face contorting into an ugly mask as he made to leap to his feet. In a flurry of movement so quick she barely was able to follow, Matt’s hand lashed out, catching Brock’s throat in a vicious pincer as he rose and twisting cruelly. The larger man barely managed to choke out a cry of alarm before he was spun and slammed back into the table, his hands flying up to claw uselessly at the gloved hand crushing his windpipe. The other two leapt away from the sudden flare of violence, looking at each other uneasily.

“H-hey Matt, he was just kidding,” one of them offered, his voice thin. The other nodded quickly.

“Yeah, Brock’s an idiot, and the boredom is getting to him,” his black companion grunted, holding out an upturned palm. “He didn’t mean anything by it.”

On the table, Brock was sputtering, spittle flecking a face that was rapidly changing from red to a deep, ugly purple.

“I’m usually a patient man,” Matt sighed, coal-cold eyes peering down at the blubbering thug like he might regard a particularly fat, interesting bug, “But your rudeness is grating, and your usefulness questionable.” He tightened his fingers, and Brock began to spasm and gurgle, “I ought to just kill you to spare us all the annoyance, but we’re short-handed, and I’m not sure the boss would appreciate the mess...”

He released the man’s throat, spinning him off the table and dropping him to the floor. Brock coughed and spat, clutching at his bruised neck as he rocked on his knees. Matt flexed his gloved hand, and peered at the other two.

“We’re leaving in three hours for the drop off. Make sure everything is ready to go.” He stepped around the table, stopping briefly next to the goon on the floor. “Change your pants. You smell like piss.”

Without another word, the lead mercenary vanished back through one of the doors, leaving the men to exhale loudly at his departure. Brock was still hacking sickly on the floor, but the other two had no sympathy. The black man muttered something under his breath and began gathering up the cards that had scattered across the floor, while the one with the thin voice growled at Brock.

“What the fuck did you think was going to happen? Christ, maybe you really are as dumb as you look. Just be glad it was Rian and not the boss; I don’t think she would have let you live.”

He stormed off, shaking his head, vanishing down an adjacent hallway. Dana retreated into the dark of the room, ducking back as he passed by her door. She ran through the scenarios in her head, thinking quickly. The drop-off they were talking about, it had to have something to do with that woman. So it was a kidnapping. She felt her blood starting to boil. She had to move quickly, and strike while she still had some element of surprise.

There was no way to do this stealthily; the house was too small, and she was about to make a lot of noise. If she was lucky, she’d have all of them disabled before their leader came running.

She glanced back through the crack in the door; Brock was still kneeling, massaging his throat. The other man was now busy packing up several large duffel bags against the wall, his back to her. The third one still hadn’t returned from wherever it was he’d disappeared to.

Well, now was as good a time as any.

She took a breath, and let it out slowly, visualizing what she was about to do. Then, in an explosion of movement, she threw open the door and hurtled into the room beyond.

Brock snapped his head up in shock when the door swung wide, revealing a vision of blonde fury charging towards him at full speed. Beady eyes widened in utter bewilderment before Dana smashed her knee into the middle of his face. He gurgled something unintelligible as he was snapped backwards with a sickening crunch, the force of her blow strong enough to raise his considerable bulk several feet off the floor. His partner whirled, eyes flashing wide, and reached instinctively for a weapon that simply was not there; his rifle lay on the floor, knocked aside in the earlier scuffle. He barely managed to utter a curse when Dana swung her leg, catching his temple with her heel and sending him spinning.

Two down, she thought to herself, just as a series of rapid steps began to approach from the hall.

“Brock, Lucas, what the fuck is—” the third one started, jogging back into the room. His mouth fell open when he spotted Dana, a look of total incredulity on his face. Still, despite his shock, his training kicked in and he instinctively reached for his weapon. Unlike Lucas, this one had grabbed his rifle as he’d left, and now swung it up to aim at the vision of ferocity standing before him. She didn’t give him time to fire. In a blur of motion she made a huge lunge to the side, rebounding as soon as she landed to leap right towards the unprotected opening of his off-gun arm. She leveraged her forward momentum, driving her elbow hard into his ribcage. He doubled over, his face going stark white as the pain and force of drove all the wind out of his lungs. Still Jungle Babe was not done; she followed through with the motion, turning like a top, and brought her heel straight down in a wicked axe kick right onto the back of his head.

He collapsed to the ground in a heap, not moving. The whole thing had taken maybe fifteen seconds, and all three mercenaries were out cold.

“Not bad. That was easier than I—” she started to mutter, right before she heard the click of a hammer being pulled into place.

“Not another move, sweetheart,” came the steely order from behind, “So much as twitch and I’ll put a bullet in the back of your head.”

She recognized the voice; the one called Matt, clearly drawn to the sounds of the commotion, had returned, and was now brandishing a weapon at her back. She grit her teeth, cursing her oversight. The bastard was faster than she’d expected.

“Hands up, if you please,” he said. Slowly, she moved to comply, holding her arms out and straightening up. She felt his eyes on her back, on her scandalously bare legs. She felt herself flush in frustration. “Turn around. Slowly.”

She did as he asked, clenching her jaw. He held the dark sidearm steady as she turned to face him. It was only when she was fully revolved that the stony mask of his face broke into a sardonic smirk.

“Well. I was told that the jungle was full of dangerous animals, but no one told me to expect anything like you.” He looked her up and down, appraising the statuesque blonde in the leopard-print bikini with an eyebrow raised appreciatively. “Though I don’t think I would have believed them even if they’d told me.”

He gestured with the barrel.

“You got a name, gorgeous?”

Her brow creased, red-painted lips curling in a frown, “How does ‘fuck off’ grab you?”

He smiled, almost disarmingly, “Given what you’re wearing, I’ll happily call you whatever you want. But you’ve made a huge mess, and my boss is going to want a word with you, so why don’t you do us both a favor, and—”

He never got to finish his sentence, because at that moment, the window nearest to him exploded inward in a spray of glass, wood, and furiously flapping feathers.

Matt spun in alarm, training his gun on the sudden burst of movement, his mind struggling to make sense of the mass of whirling crows that just battered through the windowpane. He fired reflexively into the cawing horde, but was instantly enveloped, raising his arms defensively around his head as claws and beaks tore and jabbed at his face.

Jungle Babe sent a mental word of thanks to the birds she’d summoned, using the distraction to close the distance between her and the besieged mercenary. He saw her movement, cursing loudly as he moved to bring his gun back to bear, but in a heartbeat she was crouched beneath him. She grabbed his wrist, twisting with precise skill, forcing the gun out of his hands. He reached for a long combat knife strapped to his belt, but the buffet of wings in his face and the relentless screeching in his ear made it impossible to react. He never even saw the open-palmed strike that smashed into his jaw, making his teeth crack together and sending his ears ringing. She riddled his torso with a series of blows, hitting nerve clusters and areas unprotected by his flak vest. He staggered back, gasping in pain, but still would not go down.

A lot tougher than his friends, Jungle Babe observed, panting, but that just meant she needed to hit harder.

He surprised her with a savage swing of his fist, but her blows had left him disoriented and it went wide. She ducked under the punch, letting it sail over her head, before she caught his wrist and wrenched it behind his back. He snarled in pain, but a second later her leg swept his own out from under him, and he fell face-first onto the hard wood floor. She landed lithely on top of him, a knee in the small of his back, another pinning his free arm. She twisted his arm hard, pulling it between his shoulder blades until he winced. The crows fluttered about the room, cawing madly.

“Talk fast, pretty boy, I’m not in the mood for small talk,” she snapped, “Your men were seen detaining a woman; where is she? And where is your boss?”

Matt struggled to regain control of his agonized breathing, flying through any means he could think of to dislodge her and coming up totally short. The bitch was insanely fast, and surprisingly strong, and she had him completely at a disadvantage. When he didn’t answer her right away, she yanked on his arm hard enough to send pain shooting through his shoulder. He winced, and made to answer, but just then, he felt something shift in the room. Instantly, the temperature started to plunge; he could feel the heat smoking off his body, his harried breathing escaping in plumes of thick, heavy white. Sitting astride him, Jungle Babe looked about in surprise, feeling the cold suddenly envelop every inch of her body. She glared down at Matt in confusion, the crows cawing in alarm.

He smirked, “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

Just then, there was a spray of crackling, glittering white that lanced over her head. Jungle Babe ducked reflexively, feeling a surge of cold so biting it stung the skin on the back of her neck. Instantly, the incessant cawing fell silent, followed a second later by a rain of heavy thumps as the flock of crows dropped to the ground, frozen solid.

Dana spun to find the source of the attack, and saw a shapely, silver form standing in the open doorway. The woman wore a silver and blue bodysuit that rendered her every curve in skintight relief. A slender hand was held up in a dismissive gesture, a flurry of miniscule diamonds still swirling around her fingers from the blast that had frozen the birds. Shoulder length silver hair framed a face that was simultaneously beautiful and startlingly cruel. Dark eyes regarded Dana with a mix of amusement, annoyance, and surprise.

“I’m disappointed, Mr. Rian,” the woman sighed in a voice chiming like crystal, “Getting beaten by a girl in leopard-skin lingerie doesn’t exactly bolster my confidence in your abilities.”

“Apologies, ma’am,” he rasped in reply, “I got distracted.”

She eyed Jungle Babe’s starkly revealing outfit with a bemused smirk. “I can certainly see why.”

The casualness of their exchange was grating on Dana’s nerves; she pushed past the blaze of questions raging in her mind, and turned to fully face the strange woman standing in the doorway. “Who the hell are you? Where’s the woman?”

At this, the newcomer’s eyebrows peaked, “Woman? You mean Mrs. McGuiness?” She laughed, shaking her head. “She’s...occupied, at the moment, but I’d be more than happy to entertain you; though I must ask that you treat my toys with a little more respect.”

She surveyed the damage, the four downed mercenaries and the absolute wreck of a room with unnerving calm, almost amusement. It made Dana’s skin crawl. This wasn’t the look of a person caught off-guard or unprepared; in fact, the way she was looking at her made Jungle Babe feel almost like a prized mare at auction. The woman flexed her hands expectantly, arrogantly striding into the room.

Sensing the blonde heroine’s confusion, the silver-haired woman said, “I seem to have you at a disadvantage; you have no idea who I am, do you, ‘Jungle Babe’?”

The way she sneered the name made Dana’s hackles rise, but inside, it felt like she’d been struck a blow. How did this woman know who she was? What had she gotten herself into?

When Dana didn’t answer immediately, the woman continued, “You can’t expect that I’d waltz right into unknown territory without doing some homework first? Oh, I’m well aware of your recent exploits; some of my favorite clients are incredibly upset with you. I have no doubt that I could get several of them into a fantastic bidding war over your lovely self.”

Jungle Babe growled, “I took out four of your guards without breaking a sweat. What makes you think you’ll be any more of a challenge?”

At this the woman paused, pursing her lips in amusement. “Why, because I’m Sable Myst, and I eat little tramps like you for breakfast.”

The woman lashed out her arm, an arc of blistering white following behind, and Dana’s eyes went wide as shards of razor sharp ice exploded towards her. She leapt out of the way, rolling to avoid a second volley that tracked dangerously close behind, but Sable Myst gave her no quarter. No sooner would she land than another cascade of glittering shards would be hurled her way, forcing her again to move. Sable laughed.

“You’re fast! Faster than the reports, anyway! But you can’t dodge forever!”

Jungle Babe dove into a slide, gauging the distance to the wall, to the table, to the woman peppering the air with deadly, frozen glass. She counted, waiting for the next volley. She heard the hiss as the crystals materialized in the air, and leapt to the wall, hard.

“I don’t intend to!” she shouted back, rebounding off the wood to land deftly on the table, before kicking off straight at her silver-haired attacker. The sudden shift in momentum caught Sable off guard, and she backpedaled to avoid the lash of a kick that nearly took her head off. Jungle Babe spun with the movement, using it to drive an open palmed strike aimed square at Sable Myst’s chest, but the villainess was ready.

She gestured upwards with her open hand, and a column of ice erupted from the ground in front of her, absorbing Dana’s strike. The blonde winced as pain lanced up her arm, the blow sending a spider web of cracks splintering through the ice block. Breathing through the pain, she smashed her knee into the block in the same spot, and it exploded back in chunks of ice and snow.

Sable cursed, throwing her arms up to deflect the debris, but her quarry was already moving, dashing into the swirling cloud. Jungle Babe sidestepped a blast of ice so cold it singed. She grimaced at the pain, but she couldn’t back away now; if she let Sable control the distance and tempo of the fight, she was as good as beaten. She had to keep the fight in close quarters.

Her rapid movements seemed to be working; she was forcing the silver-clad villainess back, slowly closing the distance. One good blow was all she needed to land, and the fight would be over. Relentlessly she feigned and bobbed, anticipating each new flurry and moving away at the last possible second. She could tell her opponent was growing frantic, even panicky, by the way each shot seemed to become more and more haphazard, reactionary.

Time to put an end to this, Dana thought, and braced herself for the final push.

When Sable launched her next attack, Dana exploded into motion, ducking under the barrage and closing the distance between them with frightening speed. She heard Sable utter a curse, and saw her hands move to fire again, but she was faster. Her leg shot out like a spear, catching her adversary’s hip and sending her spinning against the wall. Sable had twisted at the last second though, and the blow was more glancing than it should have been, but Dana smelled blood in the water. She dashed in pursuit.

Sable crashed against the wall, her back to Dana, leaving her dangerously exposed, swaying from the force of her impact. If she turned to face her, Dana would have any number of possible avenues of attack, and if she didn’t, she left herself totally vulnerable to a strike from the rear.

The blonde heroine pulled back a fist. She’d won.

As she expected, Sable turned to face her incoming assailant, but right before Dana could deliver the final blow, she saw a flash of something silver in Sable’s hand. She didn’t recognize the small, polished cylinder until she heard the hiss as a jet of swirling pink smoke blasted her square in the face.

It caught her totally off-guard, and she reacted purely on instinct, throwing up her hands in a useless attempt to deflect the gas, and gasping in shock—inhaling a lungful of the sweetly fragrant emission before she knew what was happening.

She fell to a knee, coughing furiously. Sable Myst’s crystalline laughter pierced through her confusion, and at once she could see the look of distress and panic she’d seen on the villainess’ face had been a ruse. She smirked down at Jungle Babe, idly twirling the pen-sized cylinder in her slender fingers.

“Well I’ve got to hand it to you, you’re not quite the novice I expected you’d be. In a fair fight you might have even managed to beat me; you’re stronger, faster, and a lot more agile than I am.” Her smile broadened into a wicked smile. “Of course, I don’t play fair.”

“You...bitch...” Dana coughed, struggling to her feet. “This fight isn’t over!”

She lunged at Sable, launching her fist, but something was wrong. Her movements were slowing, growing clumsy, and her punch was so telegraphed that Sable actually caught her wrist well before the swing could connect. Dana stared in shock at the blue glove gripping her arm, confusion twisting her features, even as a strange, creeping heat began to spread through her body. The warmth felt like it was radiating from her chest, running down her arms and legs in a cascade that felt like she was being immersed in rich, warm oil. Despite the still-frigid temperature of the room, and the clouds of panting vapor that escaped her red lips, she began feeling flushed, almost feverish. Her bright blue eyes widened in alarm, meeting Sable’s penetrating stare and sensing only the cold, predatory certainty lurking therein. She tried to pull her arm away, but Sable held her fast.

“T-that gas...” Jungle Babe gasped, suddenly feeling horribly woozy, almost drunk, “What—what was...that gas...?”

Sable Myst released her arm and shoved her backwards. She staggered, the motion too much for her overwhelmed sense of equilibrium, and she would have lost her footing entirely had she not collided with something hard and unyielding. Fingers like iron clamped onto her upper arms, pinning them in place, as she was pulled hard against the uniformed torso of the man who had snuck up behind her.

“Easy there, gorgeous,” Matt’s voice rasped in her ear, “Don’t want to fall now.”

“L-let me go!” Dana snapped, struggling in his grip, but it was like she was two steps removed from what her body was doing; her movements felt uncoordinated, sluggish, and she couldn’t summon the strength to break his grip. Something was wrong; something was terribly, terribly wrong.

Sable Myst slinked forward, assessing her new catch with a slow, roving stare. “Mr. Rian, be a gentleman and help our guest keep her footing. She’s looking a little lightheaded.”

“Yes Ma’am,” came the curt reply. Sable’s dark eyes bored into Dana’s own.

“As to your question,” the woman breathed, stepping closer, “it’s called Climax, a product of my own invention with several possible vectors; ingestion, injection...or inhalation.” She held up the slender silver cylinder before Dana’s frightened eyes. “I find it incredibly useful in dealing with overconfident, costumed fools such as you.”

“You’re a...c-coward...” Dana growled, still struggling uselessly, but as much as she hated to admit it, Sable was right; her head was swimming, and her body felt so limp that without Matt’s grip supporting her weight she was sure she’d be flat on her back. She needed to think, to find a way out of this...but it was getting so hard to focus, to concentrate. The heat incubating in her body was only getting worse, and it seemed to be coalescing in her chest...her breasts...between her thighs.

Oh god, what was happening to her?

“I prefer to think of it as being calculatingly cautious,” Sable corrected her, “When you deal in my trade, you learn that there often aren’t any second chances; if you slip up, you wind up dead...or worse...”

Without warning, she slid the metallic cylinder between Jungle Babe’s exposed cleavage, nestling the device between her panting tits. Dana looked at her in shock. “H-hey! What do you think you’re—”

“Normally, Climax is least effective in gas form,” Sable went on, ignoring her cry of protest. Her tone was casual, almost matter-of-fact, like she could have been delivering a lecture, “And it tends to have a diminished initial effect on superhuman physiologies, such as yours. One dosage is usually enough just to immobilize. It takes supplementary exposure for the drug to really...sink in...”

Before Dana could say another word, Sable deftly twisted the control valve of the apparatus, and once more Dana’s ears were filled with a low, sinister hiss. Rather than the full on blast from earlier, the pink gas was leaking out of the silver cylinder in a slow, steady plume. Like smoke from a freshly extinguished candle, the heady ribbon licked along Jungle Babe’s neck, splashing against her chin and breaking into countless strands of sinuous vapor. The distraught heroine struggled uselessly in her captor’s grip, and did the only thing she could think of.

She held her breath.

This only seemed to amuse Sable Myst, whose eyes sparkled evilly. “Such a valiant effort, but ultimately futile. Just one more breath is all it’s going to take. Climax does such wonderful things to the female body. It heightens sensitivity, while at the same time inhibiting your conscious control over your own actions. Let me demonstrate...”

While she spoke, Sable had quietly maneuvered her hand beneath the flap of Dana’s loincloth, and swiftly moved to cup her sex through the narrow strip of her thong. Dana jolted in shock, mewling in protest, and struggled to control the air that threatened to burst from her lungs. She glared at Sable, but the villainess only smirked back. Dana’s face reddened in mortification, utterly horrified at the personal violation, yet powerless to do anything about it. A moment later though, an awful realization began to dawn on her; the creeping, irrepressible warmth that was moving through her body had left her pussy strangely tingling, and now, the insistent pressure of Sable’s hand made it doubly worse. She could feel the blood rushing to her sex to swell in her nether lips, to throb in her dangerously sensitive clit. To her utter disbelief, she could feel her wetness beginning to flow...and all the bitch had done was press her hand against her pussy!

Sable tittered cruelly, eyeing Dana’s distress with confident glee. “Already your body is responding; this sweet little cunt of yours is starting to melt, and I’ve barely even touched you. What do you think is going to happen when I do...this?”

Dana groaned angrily as Sable’s fingers suddenly began to shift into motion. Slender digits rhythmically pushed against the swollen lips of her sex, rolling them apart so that the strap of her thong slipped between and pressed against her rigid clit. The smooth texture of Sable’s gloved hand as it traced and fondled the length of her pussy was positively wicked, and Dana had to clench her teeth to stifle the choked gasps that wanted to escape her throat.

Holding her breath was making things infinitely worse; though Sable had only been touching her for a few moments, each second seemed to stretch into painful minutes as her lungs began to burn, and her head began to throb. Every sensation seemed to be magnified twice over; she could feel every brush of Sable’s patient petting, every rolling caress that sent her thong sawing between her sodden lips. It wasn’t long before her angry glare faded into a look of growing desperation. She was starting to see spots flicker across her eyes, and the periphery of her vision was growing hazy. Her throat ached, and her heart hammered as she tried to think of something, anything, to get out of this. But she couldn’t think, and her body felt so heavy, so limp...

Then Sable’s thumb found her clit, and slowly began to flick back and forth across it.

Pleasure sparked up her spine, and the cry was forced out of her lungs before she realized what had happened. She felt the chill air race into her chest as she took a long, wrenching gasp—and only then did her eyes widen in horrid realization.

Sable’s sultry smirk only widened. “I win.”

She couldn’t stop the shuddering, hungry pants her body demanded she take after denying herself so much oxygen, and the sweet, fragrant musk assaulted her senses. At once, a wave of wilting heat exploded inside her, driving the strength fully from her legs and making every inch of her skin tingle in awful delight. Instantly she was acutely aware of every sensation; of the rough scratch of Matt’s uniform against her bare legs and back; of the now painful confinement of feeling her aching nipples press into the cups of her bra; and worst of all, of the all-too knowing manipulation of her suddenly gushing sex.

“AH!” Dana cried, her face blushing crimson at the unmistakably hot, lusty tone in her own voice, “S-stop, please, I can’t...I...I...” Then, Sable pulled the soaked strip of her thong to the side, fully exposing her weeping sex, before easily sliding a long finger deep inside. Dana’s eyes rolled back, “NNn...ooooooohhhh...!”

That one finger was soon joined by a second, then a third, before Sable began rocking her hand against Jungle Babe’s openly dripping pussy. Dana thrashed her head in wild denial, but soon all that was left of her angry protests were moans, and airy sighs, growing louder and louder as Sable’s fingers plunged relentlessly into her tightening cunt. In spite of her resistance, Jungle Babe’s thighs began to spread, and her hips began to rock in time against the vile villainess’ dominating strokes, driving her higher and higher towards a precipice of subjugating pleasure.

All the while, with every gasping breath, she took in more of the deadly aphrodisiac rising from the capsule tucked snugly between her breasts, falling deeper and deeper into its sweet, intoxicating grip.

“Sstop it...s-stop...oh stop...oohhh...” Dana begged. Her mind was almost on auto-pilot, dazedly repeating the same hollow paeans of resistance even as her body responded more and more readily to the seductive manipulation occurring between her spread thighs.

Despite her own inoculation against the effect of the drug, Sable Myst could feel the constant exposure starting to affect her a little as well. The contact high left her with a lingering, entirely not-unpleasant buzzing in her head. She had to cut to the chase.

She moved in closer, so that her nose brushed against Dana’s own, and her lips hung mere centimeters away from the panting blonde’s open mouth. Her hand continued to fuck a toe-curling rhythm in and out of Jungle Babe’s all-too eager pussy, moving faster and faster. Dana’s breathing grew ragged, her head swimming with the heady mixture of both the insidious aphrodisiac and mind-melting pleasure.

But just before the orgasm building inside her broke, Sable’s hand abruptly stopped moving.

“W-what...?” Jungle Babe gasped, blinking in confusion, forced to stare into the sultry dark eyes hovering just inches away from her own.

“I stopped,” Sable explained in a whisper, “Just like you wanted me to, remember?”

Jungle Babe struggled to form a cohesive thought; her release stymied, she writhed ineffectually in the mercenary’s steady grip. Sable’s fingers were still deep inside her, holding still against the clutching walls of her overheated sex. Normally, the impending orgasm would have begun to recede; her body should have had a chance to cool down...but that wasn’t happening. Something was wrong. The pressure, the unforgiving need, continued to simmer.

It was the drug, Dana realized dimly; it was preventing her from coming down off the intense arousal she’d been forced to endure. The need for pleasure was somehow infinitely worse than the pleasure itself; it was like when she was holding her breath, except now it seemed like her entire body was caught in some awful asphyxiation of bliss. Even as her thoughts raced, Sable’s words echoed heavily. She’d stopped. Dana had wanted her to stop...

...hadn’t she?

She felt the evil slaver’s lips brush tantalizingly against her own, and caught her breath. “You don’t have to stop though,” the silver-haired temptress whispered, “You’re squeezing my fingers so tightly, you have to be close. So very, very close. It would feel so good to cum. To explode. You want it, don’t you?”

Jungle Babe tried to find the words to deny her, but her head was so foggy, and she was...she was so hot...

All she could manage was a halting, “N-no...I don’t...I don’t know, I shouldn’t—”

She moaned when she felt Sable’s slick thumb shift to press insistently against her erect clit, only to once more freeze stock still. She was so wet, she could feel herself just dripping down the woman’s gloved fingers. It felt good to have them inside her. It felt good to feel the pressure against her clit. If only she’d move, it would just take a second, a heartbeat, and she’d be cumming. But...no...that’s not right...she didn’t want it...she was being forced...but oh god, she was so turned on...!

Just then, she felt those fingers stir inside her again, felt her cit mash against the pad of Sable’s thumb, and gasped, almost in relief—till she realized that Sable was still not moving, and that the motion was caused by her hips, her own hips, rocking into the woman’s waiting hand.

“That’s the way,” the smirking villainess goaded, “Your body knows what it wants. You can’t stop yourself, can you?” Her tone changed, becoming firm, commanding. “Faster slut. Fuck yourself faster on my fingers. You know you want to.”

Jungle Babe’s mind reeled as her very thoughts began to betray her. Sable’s words were so calm, so confident, it was so hard to ignore her commands. Her hips were moving on their own, rocking harder and harder against the intruding digits giving her so much pleasure. Whatever tenuous influence she still had over them was fading rapidly as the orgasm that had so recently eluded her began to rush towards her once again.

Sable was right; she did want this. She wanted to cum so bad. She wanted it...needed it...

“Yes...yess...!” Dana began to whine, rolling her hips so that her clit crushed against the unyielding force of Sable’s thumb. She worked her hand like it was a cock, buried deep inside her, plunging in and out...in and out...she was getting so close, so amazingly close...!

“Kiss me,” Sable whispered to the drugged heroine, “Kiss me, and I’ll let you cum.”

Jungle Babe was helpless before the vile imperative, her will sapped into utter impotence. With thoughts of only the pleasure, of the wonderful release, rioting in her mind, her consciousness finally gave way. With an obedient moan, she leaned forward, seeking out the villainess’ waiting mouth and offering her own in a submissive kiss.

It was only when she felt the soothing cool of Sable’s lips did she realize how feverish she really was, but it was merely a passing thought, because a second later she felt the orgasm she’d been desperately chasing burst into full, delicious bloom. A final turn of her hips, and she exploded onto Sable’s hand, crying her pleasure into the woman’s open mouth. She shook, held on her feet only by the unfailing grip on her upper arms, as the orgasm gushed through her, as it drowned her.

When at last it ended, Jungle Babe lost the strength to keep her head up. She broke the kiss, her head lolling forward. She was panting, barely conscious. The events that followed were a blur; she heard Sable say something to her second-in-command as she retrieved the cylinder from between Jungle Babe’s tits, something about taking her to the ‘play room’, and to get someone to clean up the mess they’d made. The last thing she remembered was being foisted into the mercenary’s waiting arms, and carried off into the depths of the hacienda.

Sable’s voice chased after her, though her addled mind barely recognized the gravity of the threat, “I have a few calls to make. I want her properly prepared and fully conditioned before we deliver her to the winning bidder. Have the boys show her how sluts are supposed to behave.”

Then, there was only sweet, merciful darkness.

At that, Jungle Babe paused her retelling, and the cave fell into almost total silence. She swallowed hard, her mind racing as it sought to recall the events, even as she struggled with new uncertainties. She hadn’t meant to go into such lurid detail when she began her story, but for some reason, she found it impossible to stop once she’d started.

She felt Anna lying next to her, as still as a statue, and worried that she’d gone too far. It would have been sufficient to just gloss over the humiliation of her capture, and cut right to the events that happened in the hours that followed, and yet she had been unable, perhaps unwilling, to do so.

‘No, it’s important you leave it in, leave all the details bare; she needs to understand what you went through so that the depth of your debt can be seen in context,’ her mind seemed to rationalize, ‘She’s no naive waif anymore; she’s seen, and experienced, horrors of her own; better for her to see that there’s hope even in the midst of such wickedness.’

It made sense, and maybe Dana could have even taken solace in the soundness of her reasoning...and yet...

She shifted her legs together, and reddened slightly in the dark of the cave as she felt her suddenly sodden pussy mewl in response. The naked arousal retelling the events had sparked inside her made her feel dirty, ashamed; she should be feeling anger, revulsion, and righteous indignation at being made to suffer at the hands of that witch Sable Myst, yet she could not deny that she felt almost none of those things.

It just made her hot.

She couldn’t help but wonder...was Anna turned on too?

“Stop it,” she chided herself angrily, suddenly aghast at the thoughts swirling in her head, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Yet try as she might, Dana couldn’t ignore the feeling of having the young woman’s back nestled against her, of how soft and smooth her bare skin felt. The scent of her hair filled her senses. The feelings of attraction she felt towards her were strong and getting stronger still, surprising Dana with their intensity.

No. Not here. The feelings were too raw, too confusing. She would be taking advantage of a woman in terrible distress...she would only get hurt...

God, she was so wet.

Before she could hope to resolve her conflicting emotions, Anna’s voice cut through the silence, jarring her back to reality.

“Dana...?” she said, shifting slightly in her embrace. Dana’s heart skipped a beat, dread gnawing at her. The openness of her retelling had left her feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable, and she was afraid the words that followed would be an admonishment, a rejection...

“What happened next?”

There was an unmistakably expectant tone in those words, a breathlessness that betrayed a kind of helpless excitement. Dana felt Anna shift again, and realized that the girl had quietly slipped her hand down, sneaking it between her own slender thighs. Every so often she felt the subtle, self-conscious sway of Anna’s hips against her own; it didn’t take much to imagine what was going on, what the young woman was trying to quietly disguise.

It made part of her absolutely thrill.

‘She’s enjoying it. You’re turning her on. You’re telling her about how you were drugged, reduced to a mindless sex toy for a slaver and her vile underlings, and she’s touching herself,’ it exclaimed. A weird sense of power, of control, accompanied those thoughts, even as her own excitement began to soar. ‘Go on. Give her what she wants. Tell her more.’

Yet part of her still gave pause. It was all happening so fast. This wasn’t just some naughty slumber party, they were close to the heart of the monster’s domain. The danger they were in could not be understated. Had Dana thought to get up, to look outside the cave through the steady beat of the rain, her concerns would have been justified.

Normally, their elevation would have provided a natural barrier against free-forming fog. It would have cascaded into the crooks and valleys, finding the low ground and churning there, but there was nothing natural about the twisted nightmare the landscape had been turned into.

The rain had awakened the corrupted earth, which exhaled up the thick, vile miasma that had permeated the forest. As if sensing the presence of the two warm, living bodies, it had wound and crept its way up the slope of the hill, crawling with almost sentient intent towards the mouth of the cave. Sinuous, whisper-thin tendrils had swept across the ground, and were now lapping with clear, unnatural hunger against Dana’s exposed flesh.

All the while she’d been telling her story, it had tasted her, caressing her even now. It crept along her back; it glanced across the firm globes of her ass; it dipped into the space between her pressed thighs. The lightest of touches, the merest of ghostly attentions, yet already the unsuspecting heroine was falling prey to their influence.

She squirmed as phantom tongues slipped and sawed between her unguarded pussy lips, wholly unconscious of the peril she was in, aware only of her growing arousal, and Anna’s sweet, heady scent filling every breath she took.

‘Tell her...everything...’ once more came the insidious whisper, and Jungle Babe, falling increasingly under its sway, couldn’t conceive of a reason to resist.