The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Lash started as a cat noisily overturned a nearby trash can. “Git!” he snapped, sending a tendril of force out after it to reinforce his meaning. The cat yowled and fled, leaving him alone with a clatter of metal on concrete.

His smile faded abruptly, and he looked at his wristwatch for the twentieth time in five minutes. He’s late. Damn it, everything else is ready! That stupid…

“Mr. Brown? I’m Mr. Black.”

The Lash whirled around to face a man standing behind him, dressed, predictably, in all black. The Lash stopped himself just in time from blasting the newcomer across the dank alley, a near-instinctual response borne from a lifetime of crime. “Fuck! Don’t do that!” he snarled.

Mr. Black spread his arms placatingly, showing he was unarmed. “My apologies, Mr. Brown. I should know to announce myself before appearing before a professional.”

“Damn right,” Lash snapped, glancing at the briefcase the stranger had set down next to him. Seeing it, he calmed himself. “Is that it?” he asked, regaining his composure.

“It is indeed, Mr. Brown. You have the agreed-upon amount?”

“Nearby. Lemme see the goods first.”

Mr. Black gave him a vulpine smile. “A cautious man. I understand.” He lifted the case carefully, unlocking it and opening it at Lash’s curt nod. Inside, nestled within thick grey insulative pads, lay a small device, looking more like an old-fashioned dictaphone than anything.

Lash’s eyes lit up appreciatively. “Beautiful,” he breathed. He stared at it for a few moments, until Mr. Black’s discreet cough brought him back to the present. Lash gestured impatiently, telekinetically floating a heavy gym bag stashed on a nearby fire escape. It settled at Mr. Black’s feet gently, and Lash smiled back.

“It’s all there, ‘Mr. Black’. Count it if you like,” he said gruffly, bringing the suitcase to his outstretched hand with a thought.

“I’m certain it is, ‘Mr. Brown’. If I didn’t believe I could trust you, I’d never have agreed to acquire the destabilizer for you.”

“Mmm. Say… how does it work, anyway?” Lash asked. Mentally, he plucked the device from its case and let it rotate in the air before him, examining it closely.

“As for the workings, I’ve no idea. As to its operation, I’m given to understand there’s an on/off switch, as well as a proximity starter. Either way, once it’s on, it’ll dampen psionically-generated telepathic transmission and reception in about a ten-meter radius. Lasts about two hours, depending on the strength of the field it’s destabilizing. Quite cutting-edge, I’m told.”

So call it an hour, maybe less. More than enough time to give that witch-bitch the comeuppance she so richly deserves. “Good, good,” he muttered absently. “How strong is it?”

“Very powerful, I assure you, hence the price. It should be able to jam nearly any known telepath for a least a short while. If one is in range, they’ll know something’s wrong, but not specifically. There will probably be some disorientation as well, much as if you or I would experience if someone suddenly removed our sense of touch. It should suffice for a telepath of, say, Psyche’s caliber?”

The Lash’s head snapped upward, glaring at his fence. “What make you think I’m gonna use it on her?” he asked suspiciously.

Mr. Black’s smile thinned. “Just a guess,” he replied blandly. “I assure you, I’ve no interest whatsoever in guessing the identity of your target. Psyche just naturally came to mind, as a heroine with such abilities. She’s rather well-known locally.”

The Lash thought for a moment, then nodded. “Well, she’s gonna be a lot more ‘well-known’ when I’m done with her,” he snorted. “Got a nice little trap all laid out for that hussy. And with this…” he pointed at the device.

“Ah, the psionic resonance destabilizing unit,” Black supplied helpfully.

“Yeah. With this, all I gotta do is lure her into my place and turn it on. Without her fancy-ass mind tricks, she’s just another uppity cock-tease in spandex. Payback time at last. I’ll –”

“I’m sure it will be a day to remember, Mr. Brown,” Black interrupted gently, holding up a hand. “But the less I know, the less I can tell, yes? Security, and all that.”

The Lash nodded reluctantly, feeling undeservedly cut off. What was the point of being a super villain if you couldn’t pontificate sometimes? Save it for the psionic slut. “Sure. Just keep an eye on the news, Black, and see what happens. Psyche,” he finished with relish, “Is going down.”

Psyche landed gracefully next to an abandoned hulk of a warehouse, anonymous and ubiquitous in this part of town. Everything was in shades of black, grey, and brown, filthy and defaced by time and petty criminals. Trash littered the alleyways sprawling in every direction, unaffected by the occasional rain that sought vainly to clean these streets. Her hands went to her sides out of habit, smoothing down the pleats of her skirt that had fluttered up during her descent. Gravely, she checked her reflection in the grime of a nearby window.

A dainty five-foot four, Psyche’s trim figure appeared more formidable in a pair of green four-inch peasant boots. Black fishnet stockings clung lovingly to a pair of long, toned legs, disappearing into a green-and-black pleated cheerleader’s skirt. Scrolling upwards, her eyes critically assessed the close-fitting green vest, the top button left undone to reveal the swell of her breasts, and just a hint of a demi-cup brassier. A red shock of hair was bound loosely in a ponytail that hung between her shoulder blades, and fierce blue eyes flashed behind the obligatory domino mask, the same forest green as the rest of her costume. Fingerless gloves adorned each hand, and a green silk-ribbon choker was tied about her ivory neck, her sole concession to accessorization.

Part of her chided herself for her vanity, but she knew pragmatically that appearance was important for a superheroine. Any time she was on duty, a random passer-by just might have time to take a shot, especially if an altercation was in progress. In that same vein, a moment’s distraction on the part of an opponent could mean the difference between life and death in her line of work, and if a little cleavage served, so be it. And besides, it didn’t hurt one’s reputation to look good when the media finally showed. Frowning a bit, she withdrew a tube of lipstick and applied a fresh coat, the red carefully selected to match her hair. The effect was particularly eye-catching, contrasting nicely with the green-and-black motif she’d adopted for her latest outfit. All set. Time to see what The Lash has in store for me this time…

Confidently she strode to a nearby weather-beaten door. From the alley, it had been indistinguishable from any other graffiti-covered door, but as she drew near she noted a newly-installed keypad lock, decidedly out of place here. Paydirt. Time for The Lash to get what’s coming to him!

Super-strength was not among Psyche’s abilities, but she had seldom wished for it. The Lash’s bank robbery earlier in the week hadn’t gone as smoothly as he might have wanted, and he’d been forced to abandon a goon in his escape. While the man hadn’t been cooperative to the authorities, it was the work of just a few moments for Psyche to break him, learning not only the mastermind behind the scheme, but the location of his newest hideout and the codes to get in.

Her nimble fingers tapped out a series of numbers, and the door slid aside after a moment’s pause. Patting her skirt one last time unconsciously, Psyche stepped inside. She had already begun stalking forward when the door hissed closed behind her, unaware of the hidden cameras that followed her progress through the dark hallway.

A red light caught Lash’s attention, and he smiled wickedly as he watched Psyche make her way towards his lair. The closed-circuit system in the outer hallway was performing flawlessly, a good omen. Finally! Come to Daddy, little girl… Excitedly, he double-checked the impressive array of monitoring equipment, slaved to a dedicated tracking computer. Perfect. ‘Psyche-cam’ is a go. Just a few minutes until she sees what I’ve got in store for her!

It had been a stroke of genius, arranging to ‘abandon’ a more-useless-than-usual hired thug at the scene of the crime. The man probably wouldn’t squeal to the cops – more out of self-interest than loyalty – but Lash had little doubt that Psyche would turn his brain inside-out in no time. Lash had carefully fed him the information he wanted Psyche to know, such as the code that would activate the cameras and alert him even as it admitted her to his ‘secret hideout’.

Lash brushed aside the lingering memories of his history of defeats at her hands, concentrating on what was to come. Smug little head filled with bogus intelligence on his lair, she strode like an Amazon, confident of her superiority and clueless to the real danger that lay before her. The resonance whatsit would negate her mental powers, leaving her with nothing but flight, enhanced stamina, and the curvy body of an athlete squeezed into an outfit designed by a dance-club fetishist. His telekinetic abilities would make short work of her resistance, and then… helpless, powerless, the mighty Psyche, bane of many a crime-lord’s schemes… she would be at his mercy, his to do with as he wished.

Initially, he’d planned to kill her outright, to let her death pay back the many setbacks he’d suffered thanks to her do-gooding posturing. Then he’d hit upon a better idea, a master Plan. With her powers stripped from her, why kill her when he could make her suffer? No, he would trap her, defeat her, violate her, and record it all. A video of her defeat at his hands would go to the news shortly thereafter, making public her humiliating subjugation. The idea was so sweet, he could almost taste it.

Nothing would dissuade The Lash from his revenge. Today was the culmination of a month’s worth of planning and tireless effort. Locating the neutralizing device had been a minor miracle in and of itself, but he’d spent almost as much money in converting the ramshackle warehouse into a high-tech recording studio, a setup to equal that of the best Hollywood studios. From the moment Psyche had entered her stolen code, cameras had tracked her every step down the hallway, every glance and footfall recorded for posterity. Even now he could see her simultaneously from above, the front, two side angles, and one moving track-mounted camera silently pacing her progress. Lash washed, fascinated, as Psyche’s fantastic rump sashayed back and forth, the mobile camera adjusting perfectly to film continuously up her abbreviated skirt. He could practically hear the rustle of fabric on fishnet as she walked directly into his trap.

Bemused, he watched her turn twice, suspiciously looking behind her for telltale signs of ambush before proceeding. Nothing suggested that she noticed the camouflaged rat’s-eye view camera at all. Halfway down the hall, she stopped short to adjust a wayward stocking. The blood sang in Lash’s ears as she bent over at the waist, straight-legged, her skirt riding up to reveal the garter belt holding up her stockings and a pair of black bikini panties above. Fantastic. That may go on the cover, he decided, licking his lips at the sight.

The Lash pulled himself away from the monitors with some difficulty. Plenty of time to watch later. Damn, what a hot slut! He made a few unnecessary adjustments, mostly to distract himself, shaking his head. Any woman who dresses like that isn’t just asking for it, she’s begging! After one last check, he threw the final switch, activating all video and audio pickups in what he’d dubbed the “Playroom”. Everything would run automatically, freeing him to play his part in the coming drama.

For the next few hours, no less than sixty cameras would record every square inch of the Playroom floor from every conceivable angle. No expression would be missed, no sound would go uncaptured. A few were fixed for continuity shots, but most were now slaved to the tracking computer, sensitive to the slightest motion in the room. Close-up, distance-shot, wide-angle, panning… no stone was left unturned. The computer would automatically adjust to follow the action wherever it went from all sides, keeping his soon-to-be porn star centered and larger than life. It was possibly overkill, he’d admitted to himself when he set it up, but better to have to much than too little, or miss a single moment. Once he was done with the hapless heroine, he could edit the footage at his leisure, keeping the best combination for the final glorious documentary on the humiliation of Psyche.

Showtime. Rubbing his hands gleefully, The Lash stepped into the Playroom, waiting for Psyche’s much-anticipated grand entrance.

Psyche skillfully navigated the maze of rusty-pipe-choked corridors, making her way towards the main room of the labyrinthine warehouse. The borrowed memories of the thug she’d ‘convinced’ earlier were proving invaluable now, as she negotiated past the fiendish death-traps waiting for the unwary interloper down innocuous-looking wrong turns. This place gives me the creeps, she thought, taking another turn down an ill-lit hallway. I’ll be glad to get out of here. Why do villains always choose some crappy rat-trap lair? Just once, I’d like to take down somebody in a penthouse suite! She darted a glance back, seeing nothing… again. I keep hearing something… could The Lash have an invisible partner? Paranoia mounted, and Psyche kept on the alert for an attack from behind, but none came.

Just my imagination, she decided as she reached the final door. Thank goodness. Cautiously, she turned the knob as gently as she could, easing the door open with one shapely hip. Here goes…

Inside was an odd-looking cavernous padded room. Everything was padded with some kind of baffling foam, reminding Psyche of an oversized recording studio. Walls, ceiling, even the supporting columns were wrapped in the stuff; the floor was the sole exception. The darkness was cut here and there by glaring spotlights, arranged apparently at random. At the far end, Psyche could just make The Lash out in the gloom, dressed in his usual costume, working intently on an oversized machine.

Well, sneaking up on him won’t be a problem. Too easy… Stealthily, she crept forward, ready for anything.

Lash had to stifle a snicker as he heard Psyche approach. The audible click-pop of heels on the concrete floor negated any advantage she had in stealth, even had he been unaware of her entrance. Amateur. I can’t believe this is the tart who foiled me so many times. Never mind, never mind, keep your head on the job. Thirty feet… twenty… ten…

Psyche came to a stop behind him, still busily tinkering with… well, whatever it was. I can’t believe he hasn’t heard me yet! What is he, deaf? And what’s he working on? Some invention to hold the city hostage?. Spreading her legs shoulder-width apart, she balled her fists onto her hips in the approved arms-akimbo stance and took a deep breath. “So, Lashy, thought you could hide forever, eh?”

The Lash spun around, fighting to keep a straight face. “Psyche!” he snarled, dropping a wrench in feigned surprise. “How did you find me?”

This is better than I ever imagined… She was just as hot as he’d remembered, all taut muscle and arrogance. Her ability to invade minds lent a smug look to her debutante features that her mask could never hide. High cheekbones were accentuated with a dust of rouge, and her bright blue eyes were drawn out by thick black eyeliner, heavy mascara, and forest-green eye shadow. The fishnet shirt and stockings were more arousing than bare arms and legs, calling attention to their inaccessibility by their very presence. Her ponytail was meant to look casual, but reminded him of nothing so much as a cheerleader about to start her routine, especially when her mid-thigh skirt was taken into account. She might have been described as waifish, had it not been for a regimen of physical training that had left her in peak physical condition. And those breasts! Almost disproportionately large, her firm globes seemed to strain against the confines of her vest. God, she’s like a wet dream!

“Nothing to it,” she told him haughtily. “The goon you abandoned couldn’t wait to give up the goods. No honor among thieves after all, I guess.”

“Curses! That idiot led you straight to my lair!” Lash shouted campily, waving a fist. Not yet…

Psyche nodded gravely. “And now you’re caught. Come along quietly, Lash. I’ve beaten you every time we’ve tussled, and this time’ll be no different.”

The Lash pretended to think on this. “I suppose you’re right,” he said finally, “unless… I do THIS!” And on ‘this’, he pressed the button on the destabilizer.

“Wha?” Psyche spluttered, off-guard. Suddenly she was disoriented, off-balance, as a buzzing seemed to surround her. She stumbled, holding up one arm in swift defensiveness. “What… what…”

“A psionic resonance destabilizing unit,” Lash said precisely, proud of having memorized the name. “An expensive toy, but one well worth the cost, as you’re about to find out.” He stepped forward, advancing on the reeling heroine. “Having some trouble, brain-bitch? Powers not working quite right?”

Psyche lurched to the side, abruptly unsteady on her towering heels. She shook her head desperately, and looked up to see Lash standing before her. Quickly she dropped back into a fighting crouch, ready to fend off an assault. “So my powers are gone,” she admitted. “I can still take you apart, no sweat!”

The Lash raised a sarcastic eyebrow. “Really?” he asked rhetorically. “Let’s find out, sweetmeat.”

Psyche raised a hand to block his punch, only to find it was a feint. Lash’s other hand whipped around, slapping her face with enough force to spin her around before she fell. She rolled and came up on her hands and knees, stunned by the blow.

“Oh, not all your powers, oh Maiden of the Mind. Where would the fun be in that? Your accelerated healing and stamina are quite intact.” Psyche sprang from her crouch as he approached, only to be swept aside easily, thudding heavily into a padded pillar. Lash walked calmly towards her, taking his time. “No, your vaunted telepathy is all I wanted out of the way. And as you can see, without that…” he landed a fierce punch, dropping her to the floor again, “You’re nothing.”

“Uhng…” Psyche groaned. Lash was using his telekinetic ability to reinforce his strikes, each blow landing with the force of an anvil. She pulled herself upright, groggily, and faced him. “Not… beaten… yet…” she said doggedly, stalling for time.

“Well, not yet, baby-doll,” he replied, smiling wickedly. “But by the time I’m though with you, you’ll wish I’d settled for merely beating you… hey!”

Psyche seemed to have shaken off the worst of the destabilizer’s vertigo, for she launched herself again, this time into a flying kick that struck its mark. Lash rose just in time, as the girl followed up quickly, forcing him back in a flurry of blocked kicks and punches. His telekinetically-enhanced strength allowed him to keep her at bay, but he was tiring, as she was a more formidable close-combat fighter than he’d recalled.

“Not so cocky now, eh, Lashy?” she taunted, seeking an opening. “What, didn’t the kindergarten have some girls you could beat up?”

Enough playing around with the brat! Let’s get to the good part! “For the last time,” he growled, “The name is… THE LASH!” He brought his hand around in an arc, a shimmering tentacle of pure force following behind it. Expecting a punch, the invisible whip caught Psyche off-guard, sending her reeling back.

Lash strode forward, cracking his weapon expertly. “The Lash,” he repeated. “Or Master, to you. Let me show you why you’ll call me that.”

“Erk!” Psyche squeaked as she was hoisted upright by invisible hands. Lash had clamped a tentacle about her wrists, pulling her up until her heels began to come away from the floor.

Psyche struggled in place, dangling helplessly. “Lash! Let me go at once! I’ll – Mmph!” Her complaint was cut off at a gesture from The Lash, who chuckled to himself.

“Quiet, now, or I’ll hold your nose shut as well as your mouth. Understand?”

“Mmf! Mmmmph!” Psyche struggled on in vain.

The Lash pretended to take her muffled protests as assent. “Very well then.” He gestured again, causing the struggling superheroine to begin rotating in space above the floor.

“My, my, my,” he murmured. Speaking for the benefit of the cameras, he continued. “The legendary Psyche. Defender of the city and scourge of scum.” Her skirt fluttered about her waist as though alive, undulating in a telekinetic wind. “Brave, beautiful, and resolute. And parenthetically, quite the fashion plate, too. But let’s take a closer look at that, shall we?”

“Note how ill-suited her costume actually is for her work,” he continued in a lecturer’s tone. “No armor, no tools of the trade, no hidden weapons or gadgets of any kind. She relies on nothing but her powers to see her through adversity. No, instead we have a Halloween costume of a uniform.”

The Lash had walked up to stand behind the helpless heroine, indicating examples with one hand. “The vest leaves her midriff and arms bare, showing plenty of cleavage while providing – barely – the much-needed support a busty superheroine on the go requires. A mid-thigh skirt, useless for most crime-fighters, becomes ludicrous for one who flies, and an open invitation for voyeurs. And note the high heels, making any rapid movement problematic at best. I suppose you have to use your power of flight all the time, just to keep your balance, right? And last, and certainly least with respect to actual coverage, come stockings and panties, more appropriate for a harlot’s boudoir than on the streets.”

“No, this is not the garb of a superhero. This is the uniform of a professional tease. She gives the illusion of being clothed, while actually setting herself on exhibitionistic display. True?” He gestured imperiously.

“No! No, it’s not true! I– Mmmph! Mmmph!”

“Naturally she denies it, her charade now exposed,” The Lash said in an oily tone. “And I should mention to you, my little dare-doll, that everything we do in this room is being filmed for later perusal. I trust that that won’t be an issue?”

Unable to speak, Psyche shook her head back and forth vigorously, no.

“Oh, good! We agree, then: you’re a tease. Not a common slut, mind you; quite uncommon, really. But a tart, by any other name, is still a tart. You have an angelic face, and as for your figure… well, let’s get a closer look at that, shall we?”

Psyche’s spinning slowed, then halted as she came to rest facing her tormentor, hanging in mid-air. Still on the tips of her toes, her eyes widened as, unbidden, her left leg began to rise to her side, perpendicular to her body. Mouth held shut by Lash’s power, she desperately tried to resist, the strain showing on her face as she grunted through her nose. “Unh. Ung. Unnngh…”

Lash ignored her, tracking her involuntary leg-lift as it inched upwards. Her ankle rose to her waist, then chest, then shoulder-high, until it finally came to rest just above her ear, placing Psyche in a near-perfect standing splits position. “Arrrgh… Nrrr…”

“Amazing,” The Lash murmured appreciatively. “Who knew you were flexible? But then, I should have expected a high degree of limberness from a super-slut.” Extending a finger, he ran it across the hapless girl’s camel-toe, now highlighted in sharp relief by her unnatural pose.

“Mmmph! Mrrrgfff!”

“Aww… what’s wrong, princess? Is this uncomfortable?” The Lash taunted. “Let’s try a pose you’re probably more familiar with…” He lowered Psyche’s leg, letting her settle to the floor on her heels. “Bend over, toots,” he commanded, crooking a finger at her. Nostrils flaring, Psyche began bending at the waist, arms still outstretched, until she was folded neatly in half.

“Such a magnificent ass…” The Lash told her, palming an ass-cheek fondly, squeezing it through the silk of her underwear. “A pity more don’t have the view I do, eh? Don’t worry, precious, soon the world will become quite acquainted with your luscious body.” Psyche straightened, turning, her arms coming up until she stood at involuntary attention. Her terrified eyes met his for a moment before staring down at her hands, now sliding up her torso to unbutton her vest. “Although not quite as intimately as I…”

“Ugh,” Psyche replied as her hands began to squeeze her now-bared breasts. “D-donnn… nuh, nuh, no…”

“Down, girl,” The Lash commanded. Psyche sank to her knees, thighs spreading outward until she sat on her heels, mouth hanging open. “Something to say, pretty puppet?”

It was obvious the moment Lash released his hold on Psyche’s head, for it jerked back against the unexpected lack of resistance. Psyche swallowed twice, noisily, before meeting his eyes. “You haven’t gone too far to stop yet, Lash. Let me go now, and...” She trailed off uncertainly.

Lash laughed uproariously, a solid villain’s laugh. “You would dictate terms to me, little girl? How generous! But no, I think I’ll decline. You’re not bargaining from a position of strength, you know. Quite the reverse.” Psyche’s head went rigid again as The Lash reasserted his control, cutting off any reply. “Why don’t we put those luscious lips of yours to better use.” Psyche’s face paled in surprise as her mouth widened under his will, lips forming a perfect “O”. Satisfied, he undid his pants, allowing his raging hard-on to spring free. “Here you are, my little fuck-toy,” he told her, setting a hand on her head. “You know how to suck a man off, don’t you? You just put your lips together and...” he eased himself into the girl’s captive mouth, “Blow.”

“Mmmph! MMMMPPHH!” Psyche protested as her mouth closed around his member, drawing it in. Her breath hissed through her nostrils as The Lash began a slow, measured rhythm, taking long, deep strokes without regard for her ability to accommodate his length.

“Up a little higher, baby, that’s it... ohh... oh, yeah, that’s it, right there... ah... that’s nice...” Lash moaned to himself, rocking on his feet. “So good...”

Psyche was just beginning to acclimate herself when his hands reached around her face, lacing his fingers behind her head and pulling it towards him in counter-tempo. “MMMPH! MMPH!”

“Don’t you just hate it when you’re going down on a super-villain, and he just grabs your head like that?” Lash asked facetiously. “It’s just so rude! It’s as if he doesn’t see you as a person any more, just a pretty face to fuck... hmm... oh, that’s good...” Psyche’s eyes were saucers, tears brimming to well in her eyes as she tried to keep from choking. His tool slid in and out, inexorably fucking her head while she rocked against him.

“I can keep this up… all day, my little... cock-sucker...” Lash lied. “So to be a gentleman... I’ll let you use your... tongue, now. Perhaps... ah, that’s good... if you can get me off quickly... I’ll stop... OH!” he shouted as Psyche’s tongue sprang alive against him in her hot mouth. Freed for the moment, her tongue lay still, then jumped into action as the implications of his offer sank in. Within a few moments she’d adapted to his pace, and her tongue curled around his cock, tracing spirals when he thrust and running along the bottom when he retreated.

“Oh, that’s sweet... oh, yeah, baby, yeah... mmmm... I knew you had... hidden talents...” Lash looked down, watching Psyche’s head bob mechanically up and down, meeting his every advance. “What a good girl,” he panted. “You… deserve a little… reward… for yourself…” Below him, Psyche’s hands dove under her skirt and between her splayed thighs, her fingers guided by his will to stroke herself through her damp panties. Soft groans rose to Lash’s ears as Psyche’s hands rubbed her slit, and he knew he couldn’t last much longer.

“Uhm… getting close, baby…” he muttered, quickening his pace. “Choose… where you want it… On your face, or… down that lovely throat…” With some effort, Lash pulled himself from between Psyche’s ruby lips with an audible pop.

“F-face,” Psyche stuttered, gasping for air.

“Good choice,” Lash agreed, stroking himself. He fixed the Mistress of the Mind in place, tilting her face upwards, mouth gaping open, and sped her hands between her thighs.

“Oh…” Psyche moaned, her traitorous hand continued its work at The Lash’s bidding. Her wide blue eyes stared out at him from behind her mask, shocked. “Ohhh…”

“Here it comes, baby… here… it… COMES!” The first salty jet of come splashed along the length of Psyche’s face, leaving a viscous trail from chin to forehead. She blinked just in time for the second shot, as it splashed across her nose and cheek. Lash adjusted his aim, directing the last few bursts at her mouth, coating her lips and tongue with hot semen.

“Ahh…” Lash sighed, taking in the sight of Psyche’s come-splattered features. “What a talented tongue you have, puppet. You give head like a pro.” He tucked himself away with a contented sigh. “Now clean yourself,” he instructed. “Don’t miss a single drop.”

The Lash took a step back cautiously before releasing Psyche’s hands and head to perform her task. Psyche moved to wipe the warmth away, only to be brought up short. “No, no, no,” he chided her. “Lick it up, honey. We don’t want that delicious come going to waste now, do we?”

Choking back a sob, Psyche did so hesitantly, scooping his come from her face and mask, then reluctantly swallowing it. Lash smiled broadly as he ogled her, gloating silently. Would’ve liked to feel her swallow it, but this is better for the cameras. That come shot was just perfect! He could see it in his mind’s eye: a long shot from over his shoulder, zooming in on Psyche’s face as she waited to receive the product of his shuddering climax, to a slow-motion side view up close as it struck, and ending with her humiliating face-cleaning.

The Lash let her finish before roughly hauling her upright again. “Quite acceptable, my sweet. You did quite well, once things got going. I imagine that skill will come in handy when your career as a heroine comes to an abrupt end.” He leaned close as the girl flushed, embarrassed. “But tell me… did you enjoy yourself as much as I did?”

“Oh! You… sick, insufferable, sadistic … DASTARD!” Psyche spluttered, barely able to speak. “The minute I get loose, I’m gonna MMMPHH!” Psyche’s rant was cut off as her thumb shot up, planting itself securely in her opened mouth.

“Suck on that for a while,” Lash suggested, seemingly offended at her outburst. “Honestly, some people have no gratitude. I came on your face, just like you asked! Unless…” He smacked his head with an open palm in mock realization. “Of course! You got me off, so now you want your own needs seen to. Am I right?”

Psyche’s head bobbed jerkily, obviously not of her own doing. “Silly me, I should have guessed. It’s a touch selfish of you, but I’m feeling generous right now. First, let’s get you in a more… accessible position.”

“Urhk?” Psyche’s heels lifted from the floor, rising up before her. Belatedly, she continued her fruitless struggling.

The Lash regarded his prey’s unwilling maneuver with satisfaction. Psyche now sat in mid-air at waist height, legs apart and stretched in front of her as her indignant protests struggled to make their way past her thumb.

“Ah, that’s better. Now, let’s see what the mighty Psychic Slut has been teasing us with…” The Lash let his arms encircle her tiny waist, lovingly drawing up her skirt with one hand while the other pushed aside her unbuttoned vest and snaked under her bra, squeezing a bared mound roughly. Psyche shuddered violently as his fingers began invading what little privacy she had left, stroking up and down her creamy thighs while kneading her supple breasts.

“Ehn! Uh, uh… eh! Ehh ahh!” Psyche grunted as her captor pinched a nipple fondly.

“A nice firm rack you got here, princess. Here, you give it a try.” Lash grinned over the young woman’s shoulder as one of her hands stole up under his, now molesting her own peaks. “Nice, aren’t they?” he stage-whispered into her ear. His grin widened as his other hand slid into her panties and searched for her nether reaches. “And let’s see what we have… here…”

Psyche moaned around her thumb as The Lash’s probing fingertips made contact, spreading her labia apart before gliding a questing digit into the damp folds of her pussy. “Uhhrrmmm…”

“Nice and wet for me already, baby?” he breathed. “How sweet of you.”

“Uhhhnnnggggghhh…” Psyche squirmed in place, unable to defend herself as Lash’s invading fingers began to explore inquisitively. A moment of resistance, and a finger slipped in, then two, while his thumb began tracing gentle circles around her clitoris.

“Like that, sweetness?” Psyche moaned again in response. “Yes, you do. Like getting caught. Like getting finger-fucked by your nemesis…”

“Uhrg… uh… uhmmm…. mmm…”

“Like being held captive, made to service a super-villain in his lair…”

“Uh, uh, uh… uh, uh, urrrhhhhmmm…”

The Lash’s hands were working in tandem now, one plunging a pair of fingers into her pussy while the other circuited her nub with his palm, occasionally grazing it without ever quite touching. Psyche’s other hand had crept up to mirror its twin, and her eyes rolled as she fondled herself while he masturbated her. He noted with delight that her hands were moving in synch with his own efforts, even though he was no longer controlling their movements beyond keeping them in place. The bitch is really getting into it! Gotta love a natural!

“Uh, uhn, uh, uh, uhnmmm, uh, uh, uhhhhhhnnnnmmmm…”

Lash stepped up his tempo, keeping time with Psyche’s labored breathing, and was rewarded with a spasm that shot through the young girl’s body. “Uhhh! Uhhhhnnnmmm…” she moaned at her thumb, louder now. “Uhhh, uh, uh, uhhh, uhh, uh, uh, uhm…”

“Gonna come soon, sweet,” he told her, cajoling her towards climax. “There’s no stopping you now.” His palm starting brushing her erect clit more and more frequently. “Gonna come on my hand…”

Psyche’s body was twisting now, hips rocking against his hand, trying to impale herself on his rigid fingers. “Mmmm… mmmm… Mmmnh!” Her voice rose in urgency, and her fingers pulled at her nipples, tweaking them faster and faster. “Mmmph! Mmm, mmnh, mmmnnph! Uh, uh, uhhnnn…”

“Time to come, baby. Yes… come for me… come for me… come…”

“mmmmmmMMMRRRRARRRUUUGGGHHH! Uh, urr, uhm uhmmmMMMM!” Psyche’s body stiffened as she came, her vagina clamping down on Lash’s finger like a velvet vice. The Lash continued his ministrations, gradually slowing until the moment had passed, then released the girl. Her legs drifted downwards gently until she stood on unsteady heels, wobbling in place. As an afterthought, he withdrew her thumb from her mouth, letting the heroine gasp for air for a minute or so.

Regaining her composure, Psyche looked up blearily at The Lash, face still flushed in inadvertent passion. Her mouth opened and closed a few times as she sought the words that would redeem herself. “I’m… I… I didn’t…”

“Oh, there’s no need to apologize, sweet-cakes. Having your powers stripped from you, forced to give a super-villain head, then expertly molested… well, what kind of slut wouldn’t be turned on by all that? I’m sure your audience will completely understand… not to mention cherish every ravishing detail.”

“OH!” Psyche gasped, horrified anew. “You! I… I’ll… you…”

The Lash let her vent for a few moments, working herself up before interrupting her. “Spunky little thing, aren’t you? I see you’ve got some spirit left in you yet. Let’s see if we can’t do something about that, princess.”

Psyche’s legs kicked as she was hoisted aloft by her wrists, this time otherwise unrestrained. She had just begun to wonder why when The Lash continued, eyes hardening. “We’ve moved past the introductions and pleasantries, so let’s get down to business. First, let’s take care of some of that excess clothing.” The Lash made a pushing gesture, open-palm. Psyche closed her eyes instinctively, bracing for a blast, but his psychic shove hadn’t been meant for her. Psyche’s leather vest strained, then tore away from her body, seams popping as the stitching gave way. Another wave, and her bra ripped away, spinning across the floor.

The Lash considered her for a second. “That’ll do for the top,” he decided aloud. “We’ll keep the choker unless it gets in my way. And as for the mask… well, anticipation improves the flavor of a meal, right? One other thing needs to go, though…” He laced his fingers together, then drew them apart carefully. A whisper of noise responded, quiet at first, quickly becoming a resounding RRRR-RRR-III-III-III-PPPPP! Psyche’s neck and chest flushed red anew as the damp shreds of her panties dropped from beneath her skirt.

“That’s better. Hmm… One last adjustment. I mean honestly, a cheerleader’s skirt?” With a flick of his wrist, Psyche’s skirt split itself, the separated pieces flitting away like bats. “Why not some pom-poms, too?”

Psyche shrieked, thrashing madly in place as the last remnants of her dignity were stripped away. Lash let her struggle, enjoying the view as her stocking-clad legs kicked uselessly above the floor. Extending a finger, he pushed a bared hip and stepped back, letting the girl spin gently until she faced away from him.

“I haven’t had the chance to repay you for your thoughtfulness in some of our previous encounters, whore.” He flicked his wrist downward, extending a translucent tentacle eight feet out, coiling sinuously on the floor. “Time to thank you properly.”

“No… don’t! Stop!” Psyche whimpered, recalling his weapon of choice. “DON’T!”

The Lash ignored her pleas. “A little discipline will teach you some manners, my little come-rag. I asked you to refer to me as ‘The Lash’. Time for you to learn why.”

The Lash drew back his arm, gauging the target carefully. Psyche’s delectable rump seemed to be framed by the black garters, a perfect target for his punishment. He let the first strike slap across both cheeks, leaving a red mark and the echo of a snap. He raised his voice over her wailing cry. “This is for the kidnapping last year.” CRACK! “The bank job downtown.” CRACK! “That jeweler’s fiasco.” CRACK!

Psyche went wild, all composure abandoned as she twisted away from his whip’s sting. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Welts appeared on her back, her ass, cutting through her stockings when he struck at her thighs and legs. He worked methodically, each expertly-placed blow adding another cherry-red stripe to Psyche’s ivory-pale skin. He stopped at twenty, his breathing labored from his exertions, listening to Psyche’s cries echo into the cavernous room.

An orange haze slowly lifted from Psyche’s eyes as her skin throbbed back into sensation. She could feel waves of heat emanating from her entire back, and her abused backside seemed to pulse in sharp jags of pain. “No more,” she croaked, voice hoarse from creaming. She tried again, blinking beads of perspiration from her eyes. “L– Master! Master, please!” Her body quivered in shame, and her voice dropped an octave as she slumped in resignation. “Please,” she repeated. “No more. I’ll do anything you want, just don’t… don’t…”

The Lash let the whip dissipate in his hand with an audible hiss. “Yes,” he exulted, “You will.” At a nod, Psyche’s ankles rose skywards before her, bending in half once again while rotating helplessly to face him. Even before she’d finished turning, he could see the marks from his attack fading as her accelerated healing took hold. She’d be good as new in under a minute, he knew; humiliation, not injury had not been his goal.

Her eyes looked into his fearfully, and he relished the sight of the heroine flushed, panting… excited. Yes, there was no doubt about what that look meant. “You’re loving this, aren’t you,” he asked, smirking.

“Nuh-no…”

“Your cunt is telling me a different story,” he told her, watching her eyes widen as he pushed two stubby fingers into her. As he’d suspected, her pussy was sopping wet. Psyche turned her head in shame, cheeks burning to match the blotchy redness spreading across her chest and breasts. The Lash smeared her lubrication on her lips, chortling as the girl licked it away instinctively. “See? Your body enjoys what your mind denies, my little stuck-up sweetheart.”

Psyche looked down, to the right, anywhere but at her captor. “I… I…”

“Admit it.” Lash brought her body to him with a thought, close enough to lick the sweat from her brow should he choose to. “I molested you, and you liked it. I made you suck me off, and it thrilled you. I fingered you, and you came. I whipped you… and you got wetter than ever.”

“No!”

“This gets you hot, doesn’t it? The pain, the pleasure. Your humiliation at my hands.”

“No… n-no… yes.”

“You love it. You love what I’m making you do, love how I’m making you feel.”

“Yes.” Psyche’s voice was almost inaudible

“And you want it. You want me to make you come, again and again, captured and violated and broken to my will.”

“Yes…”

Lash’s eyes blazed with lust and satisfaction. Success! The psychic superheroine had submitted to him at last, erasing the countless defeats at the young woman’s hands. She was his, to do with as he pleased. He’d done it! “Excellent. In that case, my prissy little princess… you should enjoy this…”

Psyche grunted as her body flew forward, mounting her to The Lash with an audible thump. Her mouth gaped open in shock as The Lash penetrated her to the hilt in one quick, unheralded thrust, and began pumping away between her spread thighs, clenching her buttocks with his calloused hands.

“Uhgh! Uhgh! Uhgh! Ahhhh…” Psyche’s ankles wrapped themselves around The Lash’s neck, not so much supporting her weight as cantilevering her body slightly out from his support, forming a shaking tree of two bodies. Her hands hung uselessly by her sides, fluttering impotently as her nemesis pounded himself into her still-sensitive snatch again and again. Psyche’s body shook from the repeated blows, unrestrained breasts bounding as he savagely used the young heroine to slake a lust born of disappointed ambition and unrequited sexual tension. On and on he fucked her, and Psyche found her pussy clenching in anticipation of each thrust, shaking off its orgasm-induced numbness and heating up again…

…when all at once, The Lash stopped, panting heavily. “Whoa! Getting a little close there, darling! Don’t wanna come in you just yet.”

Psyche whimpered as he pulled himself free, gasping in frustration at his sudden withdrawal. She’d had a small orgasm already, and had been building to another, much larger one. “Nnnnooooo… don’t stop…”

Gods, what a slut I’ve unleashed! The Lash grinned, wiping sweat from his brow. “Missing my cock already? Don’t worry, baby,” he told her, ever-mindful of the faithful cameras recording away. “You’ll get the fucking you need. I just don’t want you to enjoy yourself too much, princess. At least, not until I’m ready.”

He released Psyche, who sank to her knees, abruptly unsupported by The Lash’s power. Time for the finale! “On all fours,” he commanded. “Let’s see if the bitch can come like a bitch.”

Psyche scrambled to comply, and The Lash smiled in amusement. He hadn’t used his power at all this time, and yet the girl hastened to obey. In seconds she was in position, shoulders down, head flat on the floor and sideways, hips held invitingly high in the air. Her surrender is complete. She is mine!

The knowledge was every bit as erotic as the tableaux before him, and The Lash suppressed the urge to shout in triumph. Don’t know how much time I have left, but it can’t be long. Got to make this count… He took up a stance behind the submissive girl, practically dripping with sweat and her own lubrications. He bent his knees slightly, bringing himself to her level, and laid a hand on one smooth hip, gripping it roughly.

“Fuck you, bitch,” he growled, and plunged himself deep into her quim.

Had her shoulders not been supported by The Lash’s invisible tentacles, Psyche would have gone flying with the force of his assault. As it was, the powerless girl rocked forward with each powerful thrust, her face flattening against the cold floor, hands scrabbling to find some purchase. “Uhn! Uhn! Uhn!”

The Lash fucked the young woman from behind, pitching back and forth on his heels to maintain his alignment with Psyche’s lovely tunnel of ecstasy. The writhing, moaning girl before him was thrusting her hips back to meet his every stroke, her hands and knees finally giving her the leverage to impale herself on the man taking her from behind. “Uhn! Uhn! Uhn! Uhnnnnh!!”

“Like that, huh? You like it when I fuck you like a bitch?” Up until now, Lash had been cheating. Aside from holding her in place, he had been maintaining a micro-thin sheath of telekinetic force around himself – partly out of paranoid protection, but mostly to reduce the mind-melting sensation of her tight cunt gripping his cock. Without it, he had little doubt he would have come long ago, and been useless for this, the aptly-termed climax of the day’s events. Psyche’s fervor was overcoming him, and he felt his own orgasm building despite the lessened sensation. Time for the big finish, he decided.

With a massive effort of will, The Lash pulled his tool from Psyche’s tight cunt, repositioning himself quickly. He knew exactly what to say, had rehearsed this moment hundreds of times in his mind. “And now, my dear, sweet enemy,” he said, placing the head of his penis at her tight little rose-bud, “A little something to remember me by. Now I’m going to come… right up your ass.”

Predictably, Psyche went berserk. She thrashed, suddenly trying to escape her fate, but Lash had tightened his psionic grip on her, expecting her reaction. He began to laugh as he pressed himself into her, squeezing inch after throbbing inch of himself into her delectable ass. A chuckle, then a laugh, until the Lash was roaring, full-blown evil villain laughter that echoed from the walls.

“Aieeee! No, please, I… Ah, ah, arrrrrrrrrrgggghhh! Ahg, argh, ohhhhh!” Psyche’s shouts and groans only spurred The Lash to redouble his punishing strokes, and within a minute he was fucking her with a frenzy that made his earlier doggy-style pace look tame, slamming into her compact body. Psyche, overwhelmed, sank bonelessly down, held up only by The Lash’s bruising grip on her hips.

Lash had wanted a come-shot, but he had long abandoned any plans for that. No longer protected by his makeshift condom, his cock plowed full steam into Psyche’s tight rectum, stretching her anal walls to the limit without any regard for the crime-fighter before him. “Take it, take it, take it,” he chanted, pulling her ass back onto his marauding penis. “Gonna come… gonna come in your ass…”

Psyche had managed to work a hand between her legs, and was fingering herself madly, feeling her own orgasm approaching. “Do it! Do it! Fuck me, you bastard, fuck me!”

“Yeah…” The heroine’s conversion from haughty innocence to hard-core sluttiness was too much for The Lash to bear. Seeking one last distraction, one last reprise from that long-anticipated moment, he sent out a tentacle of power again, pushing past the redhead’s labia and deep into her womb, expanding her from the inside with an invisible member.

Psyche had been close, and this new invasion sent her over the edge. Frigging herself, reamed from behind, and now Lash’s power penetrating her defenseless vagina, Psyche came explosively, taking The Lash with her. The two jerked as one, Psyche’s body milking every last spurt of jism from The Lash until they collapsed next to each other, utterly exhausted.

Psyche recovered first. When The Lash regained his senses, he saw the heroine was already upright, casting about for something. As he struggled to pull himself upright, Psyche located her discarded skirt and retrieved it, calmly pulling it back on.

Healing factor, Lash surmised, cursing himself mentally. He’d expected the shock of that last, earth-moving orgasm to have incapacitated the young woman, not foreseeing her superhuman resilience. He glanced at the destabilizing whatzit, still humming quietly to itself in an unobtrusive corner. Not much time left, he guessed. Time to dump her someplace and disappear with the recordings. He stood, pulling on his pants, and arrested Psyche where she stood.

“Well, baby, it’s been great. But all good things must come to an end. And since I’ve now come in your end…” He snickered to himself. “I think I’ll leave you someplace public, so that the whole city will know of your defeat at my hands!” With a nod, he flicked the master power for the recording devices off. “You may keep the skirt and mask,” he continued, “Else how will they know who succumbed to my might? But as for–”

“Enough.” Her interruption brought him up short, her impudence startling.

“What? How dare y–” he began. But the words wouldn’t come out any more; it was as though his jaw had suddenly been wired shut. Stunned, The Lash watched as Psyche picked up her vest and rebuttoned it, taking all the time in the world.

“Really, Lashy. You do all right as villains go – at least, for my purposes – but I wish you knew when to shut the hell up and let a girl enjoy the afterglow. I don’t think that’s an unreasonable request from someone who’s just gotten you off twice.”

The Lash stood mute. Psyche finished the last button, making a face at the torn seams. “If I’d known you were gonna tear this off I would have worn my old one. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a green leather form-fitting vest? Oh, never mind,” she said, waving her hand petulantly. “You don’t, and I don’t want to get all bitchy. What I want is a good, long soak in a tub, a nice nap, and a bourbon… not necessarily in that order. Now what are you doing?”

The Lash had been trying to use his powers, to dash the girl away and make his escape, but nothing worked. It was like he’d been switched off, everything but the thoughts running riot in his mind. What the hell! Her powers are gone! I defeated her, and the device…

Psyche caught his glance, and walked over to the destabilizer. “This?” She switched it off, shaking her head as she returned with it. “Oh, god… not this again.” She stopped just in front of him and dropped the device. “Ok, what is it?” she asked, hands on her hips. “As if I don’t know already.”

The Lash’s tongue had returned from its unannounced hiatus. “You… how… I…”

Psyche held up her hand, and The Lash’s stuttering died out. “Why aren’t my powers gone. Why aren’t I crying in humiliation and misery. Why can’t you move. What’s going on, in short. All right, but this is the last time, understand?”

Lash nodded imperceptibly.

“Good. In brief, then. You are The Lash, a black-hat telekinetic. I’m Psyche, a superheroine one of the white hats. What are my powers, Lashy?”

Still that hated diminutive. “Flight,” he said, throat dry. “Accelerated healing and stamina. And telepathy.” He swallowed hard. Ok, so she was reading my mind while I… wait. Why didn’t she see my plans when she got here? Why didn’t she try to stun me before I turned on the machine?

She cupped his face, making a tsking sound. “Yes… and no. I’m not a telepath per se; my specialty is mind control.”

Mind control? But that’s not what… unless… The Lash blanched. Aw, shit. Oh, no…

Psyche smiled, watching the realization dawn over Lash’s face. “Now you get it,” she told him. “I control the horizontal and the vertical. The capture. The cameras.” She smiled wickedly. “The hard-core fucking. All of it.”

Oh shit oh shit oh shit… “B…bu…” he stammered, trembling.

“Yes,” Psyche said, sounding more bored than anything.

“The device I bought… it was s’posed to…”

“The psionic resonance destabilizing unit, right,” Psyche dismissed it. “Good plan. I was worried that you might try to inspect it when you bought it from me, or test it out. Luckily, your intelligence doesn’t stretch that far.”

“B-bought from you? But i…”

“Lashy, Lashy, Lashy. I control minds, remember?” she chided him. “I made the device out of junk parts. It’s worthless. You saw what I wanted you to see; pretty much have since the second time I busted one of your asinine get-rich-the-evil-way plans. I’d taken you out – again – and I thought, why do I put ‘em in jail only to have ‘em bust out and do the whole stupid thing over again? And I’d been kinda stressed lately, so…”

She shrugged. “The fight ended up in some out-of-the-way field somewhere, no witnesses. Should I kill you? No, that’d be bad. Mindwipe you and make you a good citizen? No again; as far as everyone knows, I’m a telepath. If I go around changing people’s heads around, I’ll get labeled a black hat in no time. And to top it all off, my cover identity’s boyfriend had dumped me earlier that month, leaving me more than a little unsatisfied. And there you were: unconscious, a helpless blight on humanity, with a bag full of money.”

Psyche sighed. “So I decided to take a chance. I made a few changes to your mind, and when you woke up you banged me like I was the last woman on earth. I kept the money, erased your memory and went home. I felt guilty about it for a month. Until the next time I ran across you, with some stupid ‘let’s just go rob a bank’ stunt. That’s when I realized, you’re a bad guy, it’s what you do. You can’t help it, can you? So after I broke that scheme up, I arranged for you to ‘escape’ and meet me someplace private.

Psyche reached under her tattered skirt and wiped away a gob of semen reflectively. “This’ll be… let’s see, the eighth time we’ve done this, Lashy. About once a month, you pull off some hare-brained crime – preferably stealing from your fellow criminals – and contact me. We meet, fuck the hell out of each other, and go our separate ways. I clean up your mess, if needed, and all you keep is another loss and a burning desire to do it all again.”

“Eight times! But… I defeated you! Took you against your will, made you scream…”

Psyche laughed and patted his shoulder. “A nice little show, huh? After the first few rounds, I admitted to myself what I really wanted. A superheroine gets herself into all kinds of scrapes with any number of creeps and psychos, each time wondering, is this it? Am I going to die this time? Thrilling, you know? Scary, but thrilling. And once you combine sex with that…” The heroine shivered to herself deliciously. “So, yeah, you get to defeat me. Beat me, whip me, abuse me… make me come. And come, and come, and come.”

Psyche’s hand trailed to The Lash’s crotch, fondling him through his pants. “My deep, dark sexy secret: I like it rough, Lashy, and you’re just the guy to give it to me hard. Unscrupulous, stupid, but with just enough supervillain smarts to come up with new and interesting ways to ‘trap’ me and satisfy my lust-itch.” She released him, her smirk a reflection of his earlier taunting one. “And that telekinesis of yours… well, it certainly gives you an edge, as mind-controlled fuck slaves go.”

The Lash was near to tears now; his plans dashed as though they never were. Which was true, in a way. “I… but I…”

“Enough, I said. I’d tell you to get used to it, but you’ll forget all about this, soon enough.”

“I’ll… remember…” he struggled.

“Really? Ah, but you always say that. It’s getting repetitive. Psyche always gets the last Lash.” She grinned at her own joke, then continued. “But in the meantime… let’s make a few changes. ‘If you don’t give me the deed’,” she quoted.

The Lash stiffened, felt his mind go slack and warm. “Ready for instructions…” he slurred.

“Good. Edit the recordings, make one master take and call me when you’re done. Then destroy all footage, images, whatever. No evidence other than the final DVD will remain. Clear?” Psyche began gathering the remnants of her stripped-away clothing, carrying them in her arms.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Second. This video stuff is pretty cool, much better than the camcorder you had last time. Keep it up, and improve it if you can without resorting to crime.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Third. That said, do a little decorating around here, for crying out loud. Some furniture or something. Make it look more futuristic. Lots of mirrors, that kind of thing.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Once you’ve delivered the DVD to me, you’ll forget everything about today, and go back to being your usual vile self. You were narrowly defeated this time, and thirst for revenge. Hmm… I kind of liked the clothes-tearing thing… OK, got it. You’ve heard tell of a drug that increases a woman’s libido in direct proportion to her adrenal levels. So if you can get that and provoke me into a fight, I’ll be begging you for sex in no time. I’ll be wearing the leotard version of my costume, so I want lots of clothes-tearing and hand-to-hand fighting. Slap me around, strip me if you want, make me struggle as much as you can. And make me come at least once without physically touching me; I want to come with those naughty tentacles of yours plugging every hole. Got all that?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Psyche had finished getting her belongings. “Great. See you next time then, Lashy!” She strolled out from The Lash’s secret lair, leaving the criminal mastermind to fume to himself while her powers inexorably edited his memories, changing the outcome and writing her instructions into his unconscious…