The Return of the Confectioner – Part 8 (Forlorn Hope)
There was something about breaking these heroines, something that went far beyond the thrill of subjugating his other victims. Even the most inexperienced could prove a challenge and, whereas the likes of WPC Griffiths would never be a threat to him, these costumed cuties were dangerous right up to the moment their minds finally collapsed under the strain of inexorable pleasure.
That was why he wasn’t going to take his eye off Geist for a moment. The girl could literally walk through walls and, even with all his resources ranged against her, the Confectioner didn’t intend to relax until the girl’s mind was leashed as tightly as her friend’s.
Oh the things he would do with these two. The depths of depravity to which he would sink. He could feel himself growing hard at the thought and the memory of slave’s tongue was enough to send a ripple of delight shivering through his body. Slave, in turn, seemed to sense his thoughts, whimpering softly from her position at his feet and the villain couldn’t help but tense in response.
Slave gazed up into her master’s face, feeding off the barely contained lust he radiated. Somewhere in the background, Geist’s urgent moans added their own erotic counterpoint and slave wondered if life ever got any better than this.
Master was here, as was her dearest friend. Both of them revelling in the thrill of absolute control. Dimly she could remember the touch of the Confectioner’s sweets, and the blissful certainty they had given her. The touch of his sugared skin, the feel of him coating her, playing across every fold. Crystals shivered in the darkness, stirring her tender nub with agonisingly sharp caresses.
She wanted to scream. But it felt too good. The raw heat of her desire was all consuming and before it, everything else simply melted.
Warm sap trickled through the deep valley between slave’s breasts, stirring the skin into sticky goosebumps. The syrup clung to the young woman, stretching and flowing as the villain reached for his possession. Thick tendrils wrapped around the sweet softness, pinching so tightly that the swollen globes began to darken almost immediately.
The villain claimed his prize, trapping her writhing flesh and forcing her to jerk and spasm. One hand caught and held her, while the other slithered against Geist’s paralysed muscles, linking the two heroines in a delightfully lurid chain of sensation.
Beneath his hands, both girls’ captive bodies seemed to buzz with sensual energy. He could almost feel the willpower leaking from the gagged heroine’s pores. Every passing moment meant another little piece of her mind faded away.
Very slowly the Confectioner eased himself closer to slave, while his fingers continued their obscene massage. His disgustingly fluid manhood pumped rhythmically against her cleavage, ploughing the tight furrow between her sloshing, slime-coated tits. Extending himself still further, the villain pressed into both victims, viscous caresses that plumbed and probed.
Slave lips brushed the very tip of his engorged penis, just a touch, a hot, wet kiss that coiled arousal around his core and threatened to overwhelm what little self-control remained.
In the cloying darkness, Ampere had given up trying to break free. The Confectioner’s hold on her was just too complete, too total and, even though she could hardly admit it, even to herself, it simply felt too good.
The villain tantalised with his compulsive taste, teasing every sluttish impulse with the promise of that darkly rich control. Even the knowledge of the fate awaiting both heroines became almost irrelevant in the face of that raw crystallised lust.
But she had always been a fighter and, even when things were at there most bleak, Ampere refused to give up hope. Perhaps if the Confectioner hadn’t threatened her friend, but with Geist’s freedom on the line as well, the heroine simply couldn’t afford to accept the mindless bliss he offered, no matter how much she might yearn to do so.
She knew there was something out there and her last fleeting touch had finally given Ampere the clue she needed in order to recognise the diffuse pinpoints of energy orbiting her usurped body.
Amorphous layers of control pressed into her mind, while the Confectioners cruel fingers slid over and into her pallid skin. Ampere let her power range outward, searching for those elusive signals. Her own cries echoed in the rapidly shrinking prison, adding more tethers to the increasingly tight harness in which her thoughts were secured.
For an instant, slave could feel something stir deep inside. But Master’s presence still held her in its thrall. His limbs oozed over her exposed skin, while he crushed his hardness into her cleavage, thrusting into the moist valley of her pert and perfect tits.
She knew what it was, she recognised the feel of her other self. Hating the taste of independence and loathing every non-goodgirlish thought. Slave tried to warn him, but all she could manage was to whimper piteously as master grimaced and the sweet reward grew ever closer.
Ampere’s gift sought out the floating, molecular cloud, isolating each microscopic entity and instilling it with a glittering fragment. One by one she programmed the errant nanites, building and binding them together into a frighteningly complex neural network.
Connections formed and sprouted, trading information across the growing web.
The heroine could feel her slaveself react, but there was no time for subtly. She could only press on and hope that the relentless press of sensation would be enough of a distraction. More and more of the sugary lies were drooling between her thoughts and no matter how hard she tried to deny it, their siren call was growing steadily more difficult to ignore.
The captive heroine was making small, weak noises as she gave herself to the chemicals ranged against her. Unable to do more than twitch, she was still fighting to rock her hips against the cruelly tight crotchrope and the Confectioners equally inescapable fingers.
Those sounds tore at him, forcing the villain towards released far faster than he had expected. But those eager cries of helpless surrender were impossible to resist. She had fought and lost and, now, Geist could do nothing but enjoy the fruits of her submission.
Slave clasped her hands behind her and pressed into his throbbing erection. Her posture perfectly mimicked that of a bound slavegirl and the villain wished he had taken the time to lash her wrists in place.
She stared into his eyes, unflinchingly. Every fibre of her being urged him to take her, to use her slaveflesh for his pleasure and to treat her as nothing more than a mindless sexual toy.
Those thoughts flashed through his mind and the inexorable tide of sensations followed in their wake.
Time seemed to stretch, as slave searched for the traitorous thoughts. They were there somewhere, hidden amidst the layers of master’s control, growing ever weaker. But she couldn’t ignore master’s attentions, even if she had wanted to. The wet slap of flesh on flesh rang through her mind, while every thrust drove into her pliable slutbrain, sending showers of obedient arousal through her.
Her eyes found master’s and saw just how close he was. The thought thrilled her, and slave new her own reaction would be fuelled by master’s desire for her and the pleasures she could give. Then, as his body became taut, trembling with the need to hold on, she caught of glimpse of her other self.
She lashed out, desperate to drive away the last remnants of her old thoughts and, at that moment, master gave a long groaning sigh and simply exploded. In the split second before her answering orgasm, slave felt the other fade into nothingness, finally absorbed into master’s jelly.
Slave screamed out her delight, bathed in master’s essence, wrapped even more tightly beneath his blanket of pleasurable control. The last trace of her former self gone, and nothing or no one to save Geist from the same glorious fate.