The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Crisp air. A beautiful, blue autumn sky. The mayor kicked at the peddle covered tarmac of the city hall roof. Hands on the edge of the waist-high concrete railing, his eyes scanned down at the park lawn beyond the light grey city hall steps below. The aging fountain in the center of the lawn sprayed cold mist into the air. His mirrored sunglasses reflected it all back without feeling, his strong, grim bearded face a mask of anger and helplessness.

At 47, he was sure he didn’t need this kind of crap. Two days ago his daughter, Tara, had been kidnapped by the super villainess Seducta. “God damn, that bitch,” snarled Mayor Ted Lester. His muscles bulged from beneath his black blazer, his back tightening as he clenched at the concrete futilely. While the years were taking their toll, the mayor was still a powerful contender, in addition to his sharp intellect.

A shadow passed over him and he spun around. He was still alone on the expansive roof. Well, not quite alone. He looked up.

Red Justice watched herself in the mirrored glasses of the mayor as she sailed vertically downward to land gracefully before him. Her white cape and long dark hair whipped to her right side in the brisk wind. Crossing her arms under her breasts, unconsciously emphasizing their tremendous size, she walked casually forward.

The mayor cautiously watched the masked super heroine in her red and white ensemble. Did all these super people have to wear form fitting spandex? he wondered. Especially women as genetically perfect as her. Crossing his own powerful arms, he stared back with an equally serious expression to match hers.

“Red Justice,” he began slowly, “this is an unexpected surprise. I certainly thought Seducta had gotten the best of you.”

RJ flinched almost imperceptibly. Then she smirked ever so slightly, replying with, “Don’t worry, Mayor Lester, it’ll take more than the likes of her to defeat me.”

“Indeed.”

RJ lowered her arms, resting her white kid-gloved hands at the sides of her slim waist and wide hips. “How can I be of assistance, Mr. Mayor?” she asked proudly.

Slowly he unfolded his arms and reached inside his breast coat pocket, pulled out a folded napkin and passed it over to her.

RJ opened it and read it quickly before handing it back and locking gazes again with the mayor. “Do the police know about the ransom drop yet?”

“No, not yet anyway,” said the mayor as he tucked the makeshift note away again. “This came with my morning tea.”

“This doesn’t seem like her style. There has to be more to this than kidnapping. She’s up to something. Something bigger.”

The mayor nodded gravely, but said nothing. He too knew Seducta was far from a petty criminal, and this almost mundane act of ransoming his daughter didn’t sit right with anyone.

RJ cocked a thin eyebrow, a wry smile forming on her naturally red youthful lips. “But I think I have an idea...”

At 8 p.m. that night RJ strode in the Belinda Jones Fitness Center and Spa. Or rather, her civilian alter ego of Kym Frances did. She was dressed in her baggy grey zippered jogging suit, with her hair tied back into a single stream that ran down her back.

With the top zipped right up to her neck, Kym was hardly aware of how drastically different she looked compared to her sensual super heroine persona. She paced casually across the spotless white tiled floor of the lavish fitness center. Her soft hazel eyes scanned around with hidden intent.

Multiple doors and passages lead off in all directions as she approached the modern welcome center, a high counter of curved white stone. Behind it, the receptionist sat with her computer to one side and paperwork before her on the recessed desk area. She was dressed in a thick white cotton shirt, embroidered with the center’s golden logo over the left breast.

She looked up at Kym with the warm smile of a greeter, her sweet heart-shaped face radiant with youthfulness. She was an athletic redhead with long, wavy hair and a slim build. She was also the ideal image to those patrons who came there expecting to be transformed into someone beautiful.

“Welcome to Belinda Jones,” she said with practiced warmth. “My name’s Tiffany. How can I help you?”

“Oh, uhm,” Kym began, “I’m interested in a membership and was wondering if I could get a tour?”

“Well, it’s a little late, but it shouldn’t be a problem. Just let me get someone for you.” She picked up a nearby office phone and a placed a quick call.

A moment later a short oriental woman came from the passage directly off to their left. Short black hair of equal length surrounded the glow of yet another youthful image of perfection and athleticism. About 5′4″, she had a very compact gymnast form with firm mounds under her white company shirt, a minuscule waistline and white shorts that hardly covered her flawless, toned legs.

As she approached, she reached out to shake Kym’s hand, saying, “Hi, I’m Kim and I’ll be your guide today.”

“Hey, my name’s Kym too.”

“Well, Kym, if you’d like to follow me.” Her guide walked past her and motioned for her to follow as she launched into her spiel about the facility’s features and benefits.

As they disappeared down the corridor, another familiar figure walked in past the sliding glass doors of the entrance way.

The picturesque blonde bombshell approached the welcome desk with the presence of a hunter. Her long hair styled and free, it cascaded past her shoulders. It was none other than the buxom police officer Leslie Reynolds, but better known in the criminal world as Seducta.

Of course, she too had entered the center in her civilian attire. Unlike the conservative Kym, however, she was dressed in a tight fitting thin white v-neck t-shirt, of which the outline of her white bra could be seen underneath. She also wore skin tight blue shorts and brand new, spotless white sneakers.

The redhead at the desk looked up at Leslie with her practiced smile. She unconsciously licked her lips. “Welcome to Belinda Jones. My name’s Tiffany. Can I help you?”

Leslie leaned forward with both hands on the counter. “Of course, you can my dear Tiffany,” she said smiling. “But first, you can loose yourself in my eyes and become my willing slave.”

“What... I... oohhhh,” was all the reception could get out before her eyes glazed over. Lips still moist, her mouth remained open in a soft “o” while her whole body sagged in the chair as the entranced girl was sucked into the mesmerizing green spiral of Leslie’s eyes.

With a wicked smile on her lips, Leslie explained to the receptionist what she’d need to do to be a good slave.

The receptionist never noticed the two other figures that had accompanied Leslie inside. Two teenage girls, a petite brunette with frizzy hair carrying a brown satchel and a slim blonde decidedly English in style. Nor did she notice their glassy eyed looks. The same one she now wore herself.

Leslie guided the entranced receptionist up from her seat, and was immediately replaced by the blonde teenager. “Secretary mode,” Leslie addressed the short haired blonde. The teen’s manner shifted to one of a vibrant, tentative receptionist.

Heading into the interior of the building, Leslie questioned the compliant red-headed receptionist on the building’s layout. Behind them they could hear the blonde greeting another visitor to the center. “Welcome to Belinda Jones. My name’s Vivian. How may I help you?”

In the maze of the nighttime facility, Kym and Kim had just exited a near empty exercise room. Kym glanced about and then pointed a little down the white, hospital-clean hallway to an “Employees Only” marked door.

“Well, I think that’s enough to convince me. I’ll definitely join up.... But what’s over there?” Kym finished her sentence with concern.

“What... oh, that’s the employee’s change room. Anyway, come down this way and—”

Kym sharply interrupted her guide. “But I just saw a man in a ski-mask enter there.”

Her guide gave her a quizzical look. “What? Probably just one of the staff,” she said with a smile, but walked over to look anyway. Kym followed right on her heels.

The small oriental pushed the door open and looked around the spacious, but empty, tiled woman’s change room. Lockers lined the walls, a wood bench through the center, and an exit at the rear leading to a washroom.

“No, there’s no one in here,” Kim explained, turning back around to find her visitor gone. “Hello? Miss?” she asked puzzled.

She searched along the corridor and peered into the rooms. Finally shrugging to herself, she headed back to reception.

A moment later a large panel on the false ceiling lifted up and slid away. Kym gently floated back down, pulling the panel closed behind her.

Dusting herself off, she wasted no time and ducked into the change room. “Hello? Anyone in here?” she called out quietly.

No response.

She raced fully inside while unzipping her top. Picking a locker at random, she stopped before it, grabbed the tumble lock, and yanked it down, breaking the mechanism inside. She had to do the same to two more lockers before she found a uniform that would fit her.

Stealing back out into the hallway unobserved, she ran her hands down her tight white cotton T-shirt, trying to smooth it into shape. She adjusted a name tag on her chest, belonging to someone named Barbara, and then headed off down the hallway. She had an appointment to keep. Time to put a kink into the blackmailer’s plans.

It was almost nine. The mayor would already be in the private Jacuzzi with a bag full of money.

Halfway there, she spied something she hadn’t been expecting. The sight of the mayor’s daughter, Tara Lester. In a red tank top and jean shorts, she passed in front of Kym at the intersection of a corridor. Tara held a big terry-cloth towel folded in her hands.

Kym looked up and down the intersecting white corridors, then quickly caught up to Tara. Noticing a less used access corridor, she overtook Tara and turned around in front of her. Then Kym grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her sideways into the tight corridor.

“Tara! Are you alright? What happened to you?” asked a puzzled Kym, still holding Tara by the shoulders against the wall.

Her answer came back in the blank stare of the hypnotized teen.

In a dull monotone, Tara answered back, “No one can interfere. No one can interfere. Anyone who interferes must be terminated.”

Only on the periphery of Kym’s vision did she see that one of Tara’s hands was actually inside the towel. A soft “pffft” sound spat out of the towel along with a small portion of the cloth.

The hallway resonated with the sound of the metal bullet striking the floor at Kym’s feet and bouncing away. Kym looked down at the small hole in her shirt, just to the left of her navel on her flat, toned stomach.

Smugly Kym smiled back at Tara’s blank expression. “Sorry, dear, that kind of thing isn’t going to work on me.” Deftly she reached in between the towels and pulled the silenced 9 mm handgun out of Tara’s grasp. “Nice piece,” she said, passing it into her left hand.

Looking Tara squarely in the face, she reached back and deliberately slapped her hard across the face. “Wake up, Tara!” she ordered quietly, but harshly.

For a second Tara didn’t react, then she blinked once, turned and looked back at Kym. “Hey,” she began, scowling, dropping the forgotten towel. Then quickly slapped Kym back.

The smack was loud, but not as much as the curse Tara uttered as she yanked her hand back, clenching at it in pain. Kym didn’t even flush from the smack.

“Where.... where am I? Who are you?” the scared girl asked Kym.

Before Kym could answer, someone came around the corner and both of them looked over to see Leslie appear. She looked equally as startled to see both of them.

“Kym... what are you doing here?” Leslie halted, shocked at the turn of events.

Kym looked back at Tara, saying, “It’s okay. This is police officer Leslie Reynolds.” Then she turned back to Leslie. “I’m so glad you’re here. But I didn’t think the mayor was going to get the police involved. How many are here?”

Leslie smoothly replied, “Just myself and Heath. We’re keeping this to a minimum. But I thought I heard a muffled gun shot? Was someone hurt?” She looked down at Kym’s shirt and the small bullet hole.

Kym stared down at the ground between them perplexed, glanced over at Tara, then looked back to Leslie. “I’m okay. She tried to shoot me, but missed.”

“Did she?” said Leslie, obviously disbelieving.

“I don’t know who either of you are,” Tara spoke quietly, her voice trembling, “but I’m getting out of here.” She made to move forward, but Leslie put a firm hand on her shoulder, staring deep into her eyes.

“Just a moment, Tara. Don’t you know that it’s... sleepy time,” said Leslie, her voice smooth and soothing. Tara’s eyes immediately glazed over and her body relaxed back against the cool brick wall before her eyelids sunk shut. Her mind once again vacant and awaiting instructions.

Leslie turned her attention back to Kym, who was also affected by Leslie’s hypnotic trigger phrase. For a second Kym’s face showed signs of resistance. But almost imperceptibly she sighed as she lost the battle within and her eyes unfocused and then wavered shut. She too awaited her mistress’s commands.

Leslie took the gun from Kym’s limp arm, where it dangled in her loose grip. Then she reached down, lifted up Kym’s tight white T-shirt, worked her hand underneath and then poked a glossy nailed index finger out through the bullet hole, wiggling it about. She lifted up the shirt to show the teen’s perfectly flat stomach—not a even a scratch.

“Kym, you know you can trust me. There isn’t a secret in the world you would keep from me. What’s your super heroine name?” she said warmly, a smile on her red lips as she crossed her arms, tapping the gun absently against her left arm. She had a feeling she already knew who the girl was.

“Red Justice,” replied Kym sleepily.

“Excellent—truly excellent,” laughed the villainess. “I think there’s going to be a change of plans. Here are your instructions...”

The room had a green, jungle motif. From the circular Jacuzzi to the benches and door. All of it shades of green and brown, with dark wood panelled walls.

The mayor faced the door amidst the sprays and swirls of the Jacuzzi. The aging political warrior sat with his back to the bath’s edge, both arms stretched out along the dark green rim. Just beside his right hand lay the duffel bag with the money. And just beneath it was a .44 caliber pistol.

He waited impatiently, his hands smacking the rim absentmindedly every once and awhile. His cold gaze locked on the door.

Finally, indeed finally, it opened. He watched the woman walk in, dressed in a white bathrobe. Was she the kidnapper? A liaison? Or just an employee come to check on him?

She was a voluptuous raven haired teenager, her long hair free and wild. She walked straight in and then down the Jacuzzi’s built-in steps right towards him. As she stepped into the warm, steaming water, she reached down, undid the cloth belt, and then flung her bathrobe backwards and completely off.

He gasped in shock, taking in her perfect, vivacious form and walk. Naked except for simple white panties and a bra. She had a sensuous smile on her lips, but an odd distant look in her eyes.

Uncontrollably his eyes were drawn to her huge, full breasts, mounds of womanly virtue held tightly by her push-up bra, the resulting cleavage enough mesmerize any man.

In silent answer to his stare, she stopped directly before him and looked down at him with a teasing smile. Then she put her hands behind her back and easily unhooked her bra. First crossing her arms over her breasts, she slowly brought the straps forward while uncrossing her arms again. Slowly. She lowered her arms and the bra, finally tossing the white bra away as her magnificent breasts were revealed in their naked glory.

Still the mayor’s mind turned over the sight in utter confusion. But then he shook his head vigorously from side to side. Grimacing, he stared up at the beautiful teenager. “You’ll need more than that to enslave me, my dear,” he said said defiantly, reaching his right hand carefully beneath his duffel bag and wrapping it around the cool, reassuring grip of the metal pistol.

She sunk down to her knees in the water. Unphased by his words, she still smiled at him provocatively as she leaned forward towards him with both arms outstretched. One hand reached lovingly behind his head, holding it there, while the other went to the side of his face. She gently stroked his upper cheek with the back of her hand. Then also placed that hand behind his head and moved in to kiss him full on the lips, her eyes closing.

He responded automatically to the kiss, but watched with open eyes, pulling the pistol quietly out from under the duffel bag.

Then, deliberately, she began to push him downward into the water.

He could hardly believe her strength, his free hand grasped the tub’s edge for support. His aging yet bulging muscles strained to hold him upright. But to no avail. He felt himself slowly pushed down to his shoulders in the hot, swirling water. Still she kissed him fully with silent passion, their lips hardly separating.

Pulling the gun out from under the bag, he swung it around and leveled it at her temple. He tried to warn her off through the muffled kiss. But with the water up to his chin, he had no choice—he squeezed the trigger with regret.

The gunshot echoed loudly around the room. Her head titled a fraction to her right side, breaking their kiss, and her hair splayed outward from both the impact and concussive force.

She continued to smile at him almost insanely, as if what he had done was cute or child-like.

Without looking, she withdrew her left hand, traced her fingers along his well defined arm and up his rigid hand. There, she grasped the pistol by the shaft. He turned his head to look at his immobile gun as she squeezed her hand effortlessly around it. It crumpled in her grasp with a whine of metal and snapping sounds. He let go and she tossed off to the side of the room. It banged loudly and slid across the tiled green floor.

Her hand returned to the back of his head, and again she moved in to kiss him. He quickly reached out and grabbed hold of her by the shoulders, trying to push her back with all his might—but also a futile act.

“Stop”, a smooth female voice ordered from the now open door. Kym froze in mid-motion, her lips parted from the impending kiss that she was a fraction of a second away from delivering.

The mayor strove to look around Kym’s frozen form, but he was still solidly locked in her embrace.

But he only had to wait for a few seconds. He watched the blonde super criminal Seducta walk elegantly around into his field of vision, hands triumphantly on her hips. The form fitting green costume complemented every curve on her perfect body.

Just behind her walked Tara in tow, following her but without really seeing anything else. Behind them the door closed quietly.

Seducta knelt down a few feet from him, giving him a good view of her ample endowments. Smiling, she reached up and raised her dark green mask, sliding it up over her hair to sit on her head and reveal her identity.

“You!” The mayor spat the word out as a curse.

“Of course,” she replied with a wicked laugh, pulling the mask back down and adjusting it in place. “If your mind hadn’t been so strong, if you hadn’t resisted me so hard, you would have lived long and happy as my slave and puppet. But no, your mind had to be so strong. I’m afraid I don’t take rejection too well, Ted.”

“You bitch, what have you done to my daughter?” he snarled out, looking past her and up at his daughter, who only looked blankly at a wall corner near Seducta.

He turned his attention back to the enchantress. “When I get out of this, I’ll tear your eyes out! Personally!”

“Tut, tut, Ted, that’s no way to talk to a former lover. But, you see, you won’t be getting out of this. You’ve lost. You’re going down. And I’m afraid, quite literally.” She titled her head to the side slightly. “Strip and into the tub, Tara. Remember your instructions.”

Methodically, the petite brunette removed her clothes. First, untying and pulling off her shoes and socks and then unzipping and peeling off her tight jean shorts to reveal her white panties. After sliding those down, she lifted up the red tank top and let it fall carelessly to the floor. Finally she stood completely naked.

Firm, medium-sized young breasts. An untamed curly bush down below. Over all, a pale, smooth form that didn’t see much sun at all. And certainly never hard work. Stepping over her clothes, her lithe form descended into the Jacuzzi.

“Kym”, instructed Seducta, “get behind the mayor and restrain him.”

Unable to resist her super human strength, the mayor was shoved about without recourse as Kym maneuvered behind him, sitting herself against the tub’s wall and then pulling the mayor back into her powerful embrace. She wrapped her arms across his own, locking him against her.

He watched his daughter stand over him. Her voice quaked as she looked down at him. “But... but... it’s my father,” she said weakly.

“No,” commanded Seducta, looking directly at her. “Look at me—into my eyes. It’s not your father. It’s your boyfriend. Remember, it’s your boyfriend.”

Tara’s confusion vanished with a sigh of relief as she was consumed by the mesmerizing spiral of Seducta’s eyes. “Yes, it’s my boyfriend,” she said in a quiet tone.

“And what do you want to do to him?” prompted Seducta.

In response, Tara sank down into the water before her father. He felt her long nails dig into his bathing trunks and tug them off. He squirmed in Kym’s grip, thrashing his legs wildly, but Tara succeeded anyway in pulling the trunks free.

He yelled as he felt her soft, supple young hands wrap themselves around his cock. “No... no! God no! Someone help me!” His powerful voice filled the room.

Seducta laughed quietly again. “It’s no use, Ted. No one can hear you and no one’s going to save you. Trust me. The staff here have been, you might say, very compliant.”

Ted looked over at her in horror, then back at his daughter. She was staring down through the swirling water, watching her hands work their miracle on his hardening member. No, must resist, must resist, thought the mayor repetitively to himself.

She giggled. It had finished growing to full size. He thought he was going to be sick. She leaned forward and kissed him warmly. He held his lips tightly together, then snapped his head to the side in defiance.

Undisturbed, she knelt over him, hands on his shoulders, and then sank downward onto his crotch. Her pert young breasts full in his face.

Reaching down, she grabbed hold of his engorged rod and plunged down onto it. She closed her eyes and started to move back and forth.

He tried. He really tried. He willed his erection to go away. The tightness of her warm pussy filled his mind. His eyes cast at the ceiling, praying for salvation. He continued to pray as the pleasure of his daughter riding him stabbed into his mind. He groaned in defeat, moaning, “Oh god... oh ggggod...”

Seducta watched in pleasure. The turn of events had progressed far better than she could ever had imagined. Not only defeated, but also humiliated in his final moments. Perfect.

As his daughter rode him slowly and carefully in the swirling water, she too groaned her own moans of pleasure. Against his wishes, his mind had betrayed him. Her sounds turned him on even further, his moans matching hers in volume.

Seducta stood up and walked the few paces backwards to the wall, leaning lazily against it, watching his torture.

“Please,” he half-heartedly begged, “please, anything... I’ll give you anything...”

Seducta didn’t respond in the slightest, watching intently with her sharp green eyes.

His torture was endless in his mind, his pleading coming and going, but his torture never ending. At least, he hoped for salvation when he came and an end to his torture. He began to wish for it—to wish to come in his daughter.

But he wouldn’t find such freedom early enough. For it was her cries of ecstasy that sounded first as she was racked by an intense orgasm. Tears streamed down his face as he looked up at her enraptured face.

And eventually, he did find freedom. His muscles tightening as he exploded forcefully up inside her. Her young form still rocked against his dick.

Seducta watched with undisguised pleasure. She issued the last key words. “End game.”

Still riding him, Tara reached blindly forward and placed her hands chokingly around his neck. His mind shattered, Ted didn’t care.

Kym sat fully upright, while pushing the mayor downward in the water. Both father and daughter slid into the center of the tub, the mayor vanishing beneath the chlorinated, bubbling water.

With her hands around his neck, Tara continued to ride the penis even as it started to loose shape. At the same time, Kym held the mayor forcefully by his shoulders to the tub’s floor.

He bucked and thrashed with new life, the instinct for survival taking over as he started to drown.

But a minute later, and after a few seconds left of twitching, all was silent as his daughter gradually stopped fucking her dead father. She sat perfectly still on top of him, hands still clenched at his throat, and her eyes remained closed.

“Kym, get dressed and follow me. Tara, remember: ten minutes and then you will awake.” Seducta walked over, scooped up the duffel bag, then picked up the ruined gun and placed it within.

After waiting for Kym to redress in the bathrobe, the two of them exited.

Amongst the swirling waters of the warm Jacuzzi, Tara sat there contently, a smile of absolute bliss on her sweat covered face. Maybe the last one she’d ever have.

Vivian stood at the bottom of her driveway, school bag slung over one shoulder. She brought a hand to her head, rubbing her right temple and trying to get her bearings. She felt like she had just spaced out and couldn’t remember what she’d been doing the moment before. But here she was at home.

“I.... I have to get to my room,” she mumbled unconsciously, the image of a white box forming in her mind.

Leslie’s grey Jag sailed away through the city streets without effort. Pretty high scale for one on a cop’s salary, one might think. But that was before she had become the super villainess Seducta. During her first year on the job, a particularly violent arrest resulted in head trauma that released her latent mental abilities.

After that, it was easy to acquire the wealth she needed to live well. To acquire a “family” estate. To have everyone believe that she had grown up wealthy and prestigious. Needless to say, it had been very different growing up in government subsidized housing.

Today, she left the urban core behind them, heading north into the posh districts. Beside her, the entranced law enforcement student Kym Frances sat silently, relaxing calmly in her seat. Her hazel eyes stared blankly ahead.

A grin spread across Leslie’s face as she turned her attention back to the roadway, again happy with the turn of events. She had captured the secret identity of the super heroine Red Justice with such ease that it delighted her. But if there was anything she’d learned from her former criminal mentor and mistress Emerald, it was that super heroines were best used and disposed of promptly.

In no time, they rolled to a stop before the black piked fence. It towered above the car in the late evening sky. Beyond, a comfortable mansion sprawled across an immaculately kept the lawn with shrubbery, flower gardens and stone paths.

A security camera off to the side of the arching black steel gate watched them. Leslie powered down her window, then reached out to tap a sequence on a free standing control panel by the driveway’s edge. The gate swung open almost soundlessly, only the slightest sound of scraping metal.

Without raising her window, she took the car in and around the lit circular drive. They stopped at the interlocking brick steps leading up into the white mansion Exteriors lights by the entrance’s overhang lit the area well, and around the periphery of the house flood lights illuminated portions of the grounds.

The large double wood doors opened up before Leslie had completely exited the Jag. She walked around and, with indifference, addressed the dark haired male servant who appeared. Dressed in nothing but black, tight skimpy shorts, he was tall, lean and handsome, but almost mundanely so. Toned muscles held in control, he stood at the ready.

“Take the girl inside and put her in the guest suite,” she ordered him with the tone she reserved for servants. “Chain her up and sedate her with the maximum dosage for her size—she has quite remarkable constitution.” Leslie continued past him without awaiting a response, nimbly running up the steps and walking into the house.

“Yes, mistress,” replied her servant, even though she was all but gone. He walked down the steps to the still running car, opened the passenger side door and while holding it open, bent down to stare within at the beautiful and, of course, hypnotized teenage girl. “Your mistress is my mistress, exit the car and follow me,” he said politely.

Mechanically, Kym worked her way out of the car and stood beside the servant as he shut the door. He turned and walked into the house as she followed behind by a few steps.

Just inside the door and the classic wood styled foyer, the servant called out to his left and down a corridor, “Beth, take the car around to the garage.” Like his mistress, he didn’t await a response and went straight to the main, curving staircase. A balcony overlooked the spacious hall that they crossed.

A blond haired male servant watched them ascend with disinterest as he coincidentally crossed the hall.

A moment later, an admirably endowed brunette in a skimpy white thong two-piece bathing suit raced outside to park the car.

Upstairs, Kym’s guide pushed open the door to a lavishly furnished bedroom, straight out of a Victorian museum exhibit. Standing back from the door, he pointed within the now lit room and ordered, “Lie down on your back on the bed and wait for my return.” As she entered the room, he pivoted on his heels and walked briskly down the hall.

He returned to the room carrying a silver tray with intricately designed brass handles. On it were several small bottles and a syringe. He examined the brunette as he pulled up a chair and lay the tray on the foot of the bed.

She was perhaps 19 years old, maybe 20, probably a college student. Long full dark brown hair, yet not the mistress’s favorite colour. Unblemished perfect skin and presently vacant soft brown eyes. An athletic build; she wore a size-too-small white t-shirt embroidered with the logo for a club named “Belinda Jones”, plus matching white shorts.

However, he could easily see why the mistress choose this one. She had huge breasts, flattened out somewhat into more rounded spheres now that she was lying on her back.

Bending over and looking under the bed, he pulled out a wooden chest. From inside he extracted four sets of chains, each with leather binds at the end.

Delicately he lifted her arms up and placed them by the sides of her head. Then he attached the binds to her wrists and ankles, tightening them securely. The chains were then connected to the bed’s posts, where locking mechanisms were discretely attached. Although he adjusted them for length, he still left the chains loose enough to provide sufficient movement.

Picking up a loaded syringe, he tapped it once as he held it vertically, looking at the solution within. “Sleep,” he ordered her without watching as her eyelids smoothly closed and her consciousness disappeared.

Finding the vein on her left arm, he gently pushed the needle in. Or rather, he tried. Looking down quizzically at the needle, he pulled it back and examined it. “Hmmm,” he mused, then tried to insert the needle again.

And again he couldn’t do it. He tried harder. A little too hard, actually. The needle snapped at the base, flying off to the side with a small stream of the tranquilizing drug. He looked up at the girl’s sleeping face; she didn’t seem disturbed in the least.

“Ah,” he mused, “a super heroine. No problem.” He stood, did an about face and left the room, leaving the door open.

Equally as quickly he returned, this time carrying a brown opaque glass bottle and a white face mask. The mask, made of a formed fabric material, looked similar to an air filter mask. However, inside the mask was also a piece of white gauze.

He opened the bottle and poured some of the contents into the mask. Closing the bottle, he adjusted the gauze pad inside the face mask and then placed the mask securely on the girl’s face, where it completely sealed off her nose and mouth. He stretched the yellow elastic bands attached to the mask around her ears.

The girl’s eyebrows furrowed as the smell initially hit her. Still in sleep, her head turned from right to left and back again, trying to escape the sweet fumes of the chloroform. But there was no escape and again her features relaxed as she sunk deeper into a drugged sleep.

He promptly left with the tray, turning off the lights and then shutting and locking the door from the outside.

Through the cool waves of lethargy, Kym’s eyes strove to open under the pressure of the anesthetic. A blurry world of darkness greeted her for her efforts. Faint moonlight, or perhaps street light, shone through from some windows nearby.

She closed her eyes and the disorientation passed as the lull of sleep called for her again. Resisting, she opened her eyes more slowly this time, seeing the edges of the bed that she was on and shadowy blocks of furniture beyond in the darkened corners of the room. Soft light highlighted the edges of a door near the foot of the bed.

She moaned softly under the mask, shifting about on the bed, trying to bring her hands down to her sides. The rattle of chains sounded and her arms fell back weakly to the top of the bed. Being restrained was an odd feeling she wasn’t accustomed to.

Craning her head backward and to the side, she looked up at the leather manacle holding her right wrist to the chain. Sighing once, she clenched her fist, the effect threatening to send her under again, then jerked her arm downwards toward her body.

For a fraction of a second the chain and binding held, then the leather tore and her arm continued down to land sluggishly across her stomach.

She looked down at her hand, needing to see it to will it into motion. Like a limb half asleep, she brought her hand up to her face and drunkenly pulled the damp mask down and off. The elastic bands snapped away from her ears and the mask landed harmlessly on her chest.

She deeply breathed in the cool night air, her lips still moist with the traces of the chloroform. Her features relaxed as her false sense of freedom whisked her back into the depths of sleep.

It wasn’t for another twenty minutes before she woke up again. Blinking awake, this time she found herself more aware of her surroundings.

“Where am I?” she mused quietly to herself. She stared off in thought at the featureless ceiling, trying to remember how she came about being there—wherever there was!

She distinctly remembered being at the fitness center. Yes, that was correct, her mind reassured her, and she remembered finding Tara, and then Ms. Reynolds stumbling on the two of them.

But then what happened? “Seducta! Of course,” she exclaimed in a restrained revelation. “Seducta must have found us and kidnapped me. Maybe everyone.” She had to find the others quick.

Trying to make as little noise as possible, she undid the bindings with her freehand and slid easily off the bed. “At least Seducta has no idea who I am,” she smiled as she whispered to herself. “She’s going to be in for a rude awakening, cause this girl packs a hell of a punch.”

Rising up on her tip-toes, she silently floated across the room, her sneakers barely touching the thick carpeted floor.

At the door, she grasped the handle and leaned against the door with her shoulder. She pressed an ear solidly to it, while her other hand held the door’s rim. “What I wouldn’t give for super hearing,” she mumbled, then held her breath and listened.

Silence. Well, almost silence. The almost inaudible sounds of the old house itself. And the sounds of the wind and night outside her window.

Peering around the room she located a box of tissues by a night stand. Pulling out four or five,she crumpled them into a tight ball and then dropped it carefully beside the door.

Then she glided over to the large window, pulled the thick floor length curtains apart and looked out into the dismal, cloudy Autumn night.

“Wow,” she murmured, but had suspected it all along. A massive estate with a finely cut lawn stretched out into the dark night. Lights on the circular drive far off to the right and the street lights beyond the three meter spiked fence gave the property its dimensions.

She pushed back the clasp on the old window pane. It lifted up easily and stuck firmly in place. Then she dug her nails into the mesh bug screen. It snapped in protest and ripped away as she tore it downward inside its frame. Now she had a free passage for her escape.

First poking her head out to make sure it was clear, which it was, she pulled her weightless form through the window, hovering as she righted herself. Casting her eyes to the residential street corner off to the left, she could just make out the names of the intersecting streets.

Then she blasted straight up, a whoosh sound filling the vacuum in her wake. The world shrunk behind her into muddled colours of black and brown, with millions of lights sprinkled across it.

She arced across the sky. A blur of long dark hair, white clothes and the soft pink of her skin. The thunderous sounds of her passage boomed behind her as she oriented herself across the sprawling mass of the city towards the college and her apartment.

Her thoughts filled with the urgency of her task. Fueled by her taste for revenge, she crossed the distance quickly enough and soon slowed to a bird’s glide as she sailed straight down onto her apartment’s dilapidated roof.

Soundlessly landing before the old, battered steel access door, she pulled out a key, opened it and walked briskly down to her apartment.

A fraction of a second after entering her place, she grabbed her fitness center t-shirt by the collar and ripped it off. The fabric tore down through the front, her breasts practically thrust outward as she flung the shards of it to the sides. Reaching back, she unclasped her bra and pulled it off one arm and let it slide down the other as the tremendous globes that were her tits fell free.

By then she was already inside her bedroom, kicking off her shoes and tugging down the tight white shorts. Flicking on the closet light, she knelt inside the already open door and opened up an old trunk. She tossed out the clothes on top without concern, then removed the false bottom. Inside her spare super heroine costume lay neatly folded.

Taking out the thick red spandex body suit, she stretched open the top and thrust a leg through it and then another. Pulling it gently all the way up one leg, she unconsciously smoothed away the creases until it completely formed to her smooth, deceivingly ordinary leg. Then the other leg and up her torso and over her breasts, working each breast in as she pushed her arms into the holes and settled it across her shoulders. She shifted the fabric around her breasts until the large bubble-like white lettering of “RJ” was centered correctly. Albeit distorted across her cleavage.

Quickly kneeling back down she retrieved her veil-thin white cape. It easily attached to hidden buttons on her collar, hanging mid-way down her back. Then came the white, ankle-length leather boots.

Almost complete, she retrieved from the box one of two thin aerosol spray cans, along with her vinyl face mask. It was the only item of her costume that she had not made herself; it had been made for her by the super hero Batboy.

She sprayed the chemical inside her mask and then placed it carefully onto her face. The form fitting vinyl flowed perfectly across her features, over her forehead and down her neck to tuck just inside her spandex neckline. The special adhesive designed by Batboy held it easily and painlessly to her face, almost like a second skin. Larger-than-necessary holes for her eyes and mouth made it feel like it wasn’t even there.

Walking away from her closet while tugging on her short white gloves, she paused for a moment while staring absentmindedly into her floor length wall mirror. She was Red Justice now. Ready for battle and about to kick some serious ass.

Equally as fast as her escape, and equally as covert, she sped back to her kidnappers. Ironically she knew precisely where it was, only a minute or two from the mayor’s residence.

Clenched fists held out before her, her red bullet form streaked across the night sky to once and for all finish off Seducta.

With care she sailed over the neighbourhood, then floated vertically down to the same window from which she’d made her escape. It was still open. She paused to look about before steeling back into the darkness. Behind her a camera in one of the lawn trees tracked her entrance, unbeknownst to her. The same camera that had captured her exit.

Inside, she shut the window quietly then fly to the door, landing without a sound. Carefully she examined the ball of tissue—quite undisturbed. Had anyone come in to check on her, they would have unknowingly pushed the tissue ball aside.

Again listening at the door, she turned the cool metal handle slowly, letting the light bleed in from the hallway. Bringing her head to the edge, she peaked an eye around to look at the richly decorated hallway of deep brown wood paneling and a golden rug. She could make out the passage extending in both directions, and just ahead from her door, a railing overlooked the downstairs.

Seeing no one, she moved out into the hallway, pulling the door soundlessly shut behind herself without looking back.

With her hand still resting on the handle, she looked further up and down the well lit hallway. It was lavishly decorated with golden framed pictures and interspersed with metallic lamps resembling the gas lamps of days of old.

She started to walk forward to the railing, when from a door ahead, and directly opposite the stairway leading down, a man stepped nimbly out into the hallway.

Tall, lean, handsome. Also almost naked except for black, tight shorts. He moved with the grace of a hunter.

A puzzled look crossed her face as she tried to remember where she’d seen the dark haired stranger before. She knew she had, but just couldn’t remember where.

He continued towards her as she back-pedaled into a combat stance, her fists clenched and brought up defensively.

He smiled once, then became a blur of motion. Every muscle a dance of some martial art she had no comprehension of. She met the first two lightening fast attacks solidly, his blows blocked by her warding forearms.

Then he leaned into her. Her world became a spinning ball of confusion. She flew head-over-heels and crashed through the wood banister before her mind could register her predicament. So much so, that she smashed into the wood floor down below with a mighty crash, the house itself shaking.

Sprawled out on her back, she wished she had remembered while she was falling that she could fly. While technically unhurt by the fall, she was still stunned that anyone could have done that to her. And how? Wasting no time, she rolled onto her side, her cape cascading around her and pushed herself forcefully back up to her feet.

High above her by the shattered railing, her warrior opponent stood calmly. He remained that way as she shot up towards him, her right fist drawn back to deliver a mighty blow.

He sidestepped her attack as she landed before him. Then he returned with a rapid fire succession of his own powerful blows. Stomach. Neck. Face.

She again gave ground and somehow lost her balance. She felt her legs kicked out from beneath her and spun wildly off the balcony again.

But this time, halfway down, her mind took over and her decent halted as she hovered in place.

Turning about weightlessly, she looked back upward to see his foot on a collision course with her face. Instinctively she ducked, although again she was thinking more like her secret identity Kym.

He flew onward to the floor below, landing unscathed in a kneeling-sliding position. He rose, turning about in a wide martial arts stance and then beckoning her down to him with his right hand.

She dropped down to the ground floor. But not by his rules this time, she thought more calmly. Spreading her legs a few paces wider apart, she crossed her arms in a defiant super heroine power stance, staring down her opponent.

Almost a blur. She watched him slice through the air to reach her. Concentrating. Concentrating on one single motion. She waited till he was a second from contact and then freed her right hand and held it palm flat towards him.

And then powered it into his mid-section.

A crack resounded and he folded in half, flying backwards and crashing into the large mahogany double front doors. The doors strained but held. He bounced off and onto the floor at her feet. Quite defeated.

“Well, done!” a voice called down warmly to her from the balcony, a gloved clapping sound supporting it.

RJ spun around, ready for another battle, her heading craning up to the balcony. To the left of the damaged portion, the stunning super criminal Seducta stood applauding her. Her long pure blonde hair hung in a loose stream over her right shoulder. She wore the outfit of light green with dark green accessories and face mask. The plunging neckline gave a teasing view of the flesh of her large, natural breasts.

“Finally, it’s just you and me again,” RJ challenged, pointing her right index finger up at her adversary.

“Not quite, my dear,” laughed Seducta with an amused smile. “You’ve already lost, child, you just don’t know it yet. Pendulum—finish her.” She leaned against the railing, watching down with anticipation.

RJ caught the movement off to her left, and turned about to face her new opponent. Like the first one, he too was almost completely naked. Wavy blond hair, tanned, lean, and very fit. Perhaps 5′8. With a youthful clean shaven face, he looked like he belonged on a beach trying to pick up scantly clad babes.

At about three or four meters away, he didn’t bother advancing forward. Instead he reached across to the right side of his shorts. As she followed his motion she realized it was more of a loincloth. Carefully he undid the knot of the cloth and it fell down to the ground.

RJ couldn’t help laughing out loud. The man’s full erection pointed skyward. What sort of villain was this? she mused.

She looked back up at his smiling, blandly handsome features. Then the motion caught her attention and she looked back down at this cock. It was jerking back and forth. Left and right. Right and left. Then slowly the motion smoothed out and the erection began to swing back and forth like a pendulum.

She couldn’t help laughing again at the lunacy of it. But she also couldn’t help watching it. The huge, glorious rod of man-meat. She licked her smiling lips unconsciously, watching it swing back and forth. Back and forth.

She giggled helplessly to herself as she walked dizzily forward, her eyes glued to its swinging motion. Thoughts of it filled her mind. Of its power and size. The thought of it in her mouth. Or of it filling the void deep inside her.

She knelt down before it, stilling giggling like a virgin school girl. A look of amusement on her face as she smiled and marveled at it.

Then it stopped. The glorious pillar of perfection filled her vision and her mind. She tugged off a white glove and then reached tenderly forward with her bare left hand, her fingers tracing up and down its vast length. Holding it by the side gingerly, she reached forward and ran her wet lips along the shaft, starting up from the base. The tip of her tongue poking out between her lips.

Still giggling, she took the tip of the penis in her mouth, sucking on it ever so lightly. Then her eyes closed and her mouth engulfed half of its length.

Happy and content with the object of her entrancement, her head began to bob up and down on it. Her lips sliding easily now against the moist length of it.

The villain aptly named Pendulum placed his hands lightly on RJ’s shoulders, looking up and over at Seducta with the smile of a conqueror.

Seducta nodded to him and applauded him quietly. Turning casually to the right, she walked sensuously down the hall, hips swaying, laughing all the while.

Pendulum closed his eyes and time vanished for both himself and RJ. She, lost in worship of the object that had dominated her, and Pendulum, in the sensuous movements of her mouth and tongue against his shaft.

But eventually, he came violently as she pulled her head off his cock and switched to her soft hand. She jerked the oozing, spurting load of cum across her masked face as he groaned in pleasure. The hot jism dripped down her mask, across the corner of one eye and over her lips. She smiled in satisfaction and titled her head back, giggling almost drunkenly and half asleep.

Opening his eyes, he smiled down at the sweet face of the cum covered heroine. “Open your eyes and rise, my lovely slave,” he ordered, his voice an octave too high for his appearance.

She smiled as she rose, but looked back down at his sagging dick. Her true master.

“Follow me, slave,” he ordered, walking past her and up the stairs.

She turned to follow him, to follow the wondrous dick, but then it left her field of vision. As she walked forward her mind fought its way clear. The full feeling of the oozing, hot cum on her face and lips suddenly struck her. It helped wipe the cobwebs out of her mind. The amused innocence that lulled her defences away was replaced by her strong determination. Her mind wasn’t certain on what had just happened, but she knew how to solve it.

She closed her eyes, grabbed him by the shoulders, spun him stumbling around, and then blindly laid a swinging round-house across his jaw. He snapped sideways and crashed into the stairway wall. He rebound off to fall twisted at her feet.

Eyes still closed, she reached down and felt his pulse, trying not to think about his manly virtue.

Content that he would survive, at least with medical attention, she stepped over him and up the stairs to the landing.

Wiping the cum from her face the best she could, she flicked it to the ground and looked left and right along the long corridor. “Now, which way did you go?” she quietly asked the empty corridor.

Turning to her left, she crept cautiously along the hallway. She past several closed doors before reaching a large, ornately carved one at the end of the hall, where light shone from underneath.

She turned the levered knob slowly, then burst into the pink room. The door smashed into the wall, then swung back shut and closed behind her.

Sitting before a dressing table with a large mirror was Leslie Reynolds. Leslie couldn’t disguise her surprise when she looked over her shoulder. She was barefoot and dressed in a revealing white silk nightgown, her large breasts visible beneath the almost transparent fabric. Her smooth, cleanly shaven legs were crossed. She had stopped in mid-action of running a comb through her long blond hair.

Watching RJ carefully, Leslie slowly lowered the comb and placed it on her dresser. Her composure was returning after the initial shock. She got up and starting walking towards RJ.

RJ took another step further into the room. Her gaze drifted around it. From the pink walls, to an open closet to the far right, a thick fuzzy carpet that circled around a queen sized bed, its drapes tied back to reveal it neatly made. Two large, fluffy pillows on top of the sheets. And just laid across the center of the bed, the green spandex costume and mask of Seducta.

“Oh, my god,” RJ stammered out, bringing her attention back to the now rising Leslie. “You’re Seducta!”

“Yes, yes, I am. Were you seriously expecting someone else?” she asked calmly as she stopped a foot away from the shocked RJ.

“I can’t believe... it’s you. Wait... I... I remember now, in the fitness center... It was you! It was you who hypnotized me!” she accused the smiling villainess.

“Indeed. But I’m afraid it’s all over for you now, my dear. You see, you’ve already lost. What you—” her words ended abruptly as RJ cut in.

“No, you won’t get me this time,” she said strongly as she closed her eyes, clenching her fists as she did so and preparing to fight blindly.

Leslie sighed in an amused-yet-bored-rich-fashion, rolling her eyes. “Sleepy time,” she said smoothly.

Immediately RJ’s arms fell limply to her sides and her head titled downward. She swayed gently on her feet, deeply hypnotized.

Leslie placed a finger under RJ’s chin and gently raised her sleeping face. Lips parted slightly, Leslie leaned in to kiss the sleeping heroine. Her lips hovered over RJ’s. “So innocent—so perfect,” she cooed. Then she kissed her softly.

She withdrew and walked back to her dressing table. Opening a drawer on the far right, she sifted through it for a second before taking hold of a metal instrument. She turned around holding a black handled pair of scissors and smiled at the defenseless RJ.

Walking back over, Leslie unconsciously reached up and tossed her stream of blonde hair back over her shoulder, titling her head slightly as she did so.

Leslie’s gaze appraised the perfect form of her slave. Then she ran her fingers through RJ’s dark hair, brushing it delicately around an ear. Using the tips of her fingers, she traced down the contour of the girl’s neck, then along the outer curve of a globular breast, to her narrow waist and finally zeroing in on her flat stomach. The form fitting fabric costume looked like RJ had been poured into it.

Leslie pulled the red spandex fabric outward, holding it between a thumb and forefinger. Opening the pair of scissors, she stabbed the bottom blade through the stretched fabric.

Still holding onto the fabric tightly, she aligned the sharp blade vertically and slowly slid it upward. It easily sliced through the taunt spandex. The pale of the pink skin beneath could be seen through the ever growing opening.

Leslie watched in delight as she sliced through the cleavage and also that of the super heroine “RJ” logo. The weight of RJ’s breasts pushed the spandex further apart, where Leslie could see the inner curves of the entranced girl’s tits.

At the collar, Leslie snipped the reinforced material. Smiling wickedly, she placed her left hand through the open fabric at RJ’s neck and slowly ran her hand down the soft expanse of the young flesh. Her hand slid over a full breast and then caressed it underneath the fabric, her nails running back and forth over a nipple. Feeling the weight of the breast in her hand, she squeezed it gently.

She pushed the spandex fabric fully to the side, freeing RJ’s left breast. The fabric remained taunt against the outer curve of the breast as Leslie played her shiny nails along the curves of the supple skin.

Breaking away, she returned the scissors quickly to the desk and wasted no time in returning. Taking hold of both the fabric by RJ’s free breast and the fabric over the other covered one, Leslie pulled the fabric fully aside to reveal the magnificence of the twin orbs.

Then she pushed the costume off to the sides and downward, also pulling it down along RJ’s shoulders and arms. She freed the spandex from each of RJ’s dangling arms, removing the gloves in the process. A few seconds later, the top portion was peeled all the way down to the teen’s waist, where it dangled inside out.

Leslie stood back a foot, then opened the fabric catch on her white nightgown and let the garment fall to the floor around her. An equally breathtaking sight. Perhaps ten years RJ’s senior, she was in peak physical condition. Super model appeal with a completely shaven pussy.

She moved forward and embraced the masked RJ, feeling the warmth of the teen’s body against her own. Leaning in, she closed her eyes and whispered softly in RJ’s right ear. “Forget. Forget everything. Forget who you are. Only remember that you love me. That you are my slave. That you will do whatever I say. Open your eyes and love me.”

She leaned back and opened her eyes to watch RJ’s open as well. RJ smiled upon seeing her. They kissed instantly. Their lips melted passionately together while RJ’s hands lifted up to return Leslie’s embrace.

Their hands caressed and groped one another as they kissed deeply, Leslie’s tongue probing into RJ’s mouth.

Leslie broke free first, taking hold of RJ’s hand and leading the heroine over to the four-poster bed.

Leslie quickly tossed her Seducta costume to the floor, then sat down on the bed and pushed herself into the middle where she lay down, showing off the length of her mesmerizingly beautiful body and legs. Raising her knees and placing the flat of her feet on the bed, she ordered RJ to pleasure her.

Immediately RJ climbed onto the bed and sank down between Leslie’s legs. Sliding her arms through the gaps under Leslie’s raised legs, RJ grasped her by the waist and brought her face down into her pussy, her warm breath against Leslie’s juicy clit. RJ’s tongue flicked back and forth across it, the taste of it filling her mind.

Leslie brought her hands down and buried her fingers within the depths of RJ’s hair, her long nails shining through it as she forced RJ’s head closer to her clit. “Harder,” she moaned. RJ’s long hair flowed down around her head, almost hiding her endeavours from view.

RJ readily complied and Leslie immediately responded, her head titling backward slightly and to the left as her eyes rolled back and then closed. A smile of pure pleasure on her face as a soft moan escaped her barely parted red lips.

Tugging RJ gently by the hair, Leslie pulled her willing slave free of her sex and then up the bed towards her. RJ eagerly climbed up it, her full breasts hanging beneath her, brushing against Leslie’s equally fine skin.

Their lips met again, Leslie savouring the taste of herself on RJ’s lips. The feeling of her slave’s soft hair around her face and her warm embrace. RJ’s right hand snaked its way across to fondle one of Leslie’s breasts, massaging and caressing it.

Leslie worked her way down RJ’s form as well. Taking hold of the costume by the waist, she tore it the rest of the way down to RJ’s pussy. Then she peeled it past RJ’s ass and down each leg to her knees.

Leslie gently pushed her compliant lover over and onto her back. Then she rolled over herself and mounted RJ across her midsection. RJ’s magnificent lover towered over her as she looked up with expectant and adoring eyes. Leslie ran her hands back through her own hair, pulling it together and then tossing it over her left shoulder in one stream.

Leaning back down on RJ, she kissed her hungrily. Abruptly she stopped, stroked RJ’s cheek once, then turned about on the bed. Her fine ass, filled out perfectly, backed towards RJ’s face. Then Leslie bent her head down and brought her own expert tongue to RJ’s pink, swollen clit.

RJ giggled, squirmed slightly, then relaxed again. Adjusting her pillow slightly, she placed her hands on Leslie’s wide hips and brought the bare pussy back on to her face. Her tongue again sought out the moist center of pleasure. Leslie’s juices trickled down her tongue, causing her to swallow the delectable nectar frequently.

Eyes closed, the two woman ate each other out leisurely. But much sooner than RJ would have consciously expected, had her mind been free, a slow rolling orgasm flowed through her. Almost casual, relaxing in nature. Leslie licked her prey more fiercely as she felt the heroine almost imperceptibly shudder beneath her.

And again RJ’s mind kicked its way free of the enchantment. Her mind wasn’t quite sure if she was in hell or heaven. In any case, the feeling of sleepy ecstasy that filled her whole body suggested her body had betrayed her at last. She let her hands fall to her sides, eyes closed as she tried to fully comprehend where she was and what she doing.

Leslie disengaged and moved back around. She smiled at her sleepy lover warmly, her lips coated with RJ’s juices. RJ looked like she had actually passed out. Leaning in to kiss her, Leslie said softly, “How adorable!”

Using the sound to guide her hand, RJ slapped Leslie hard across the face. The smacked echoed around the room as Leslie tumbled completely around and fell on to her back beside RJ. Her legs tangled over one another and a hand flung out and over the edge of the bed, her wrist limp.

Her head lolled on the pillow, facing away from RJ and towards the wall. Her eyes were open for a second longer as her head stopped its back and forth motion, then the eyelids sunk heavily shut on unseeing eyes. Slack jawed with a large slap mark flushed red on her face.

“Bitch,” spat RJ up to the ceiling, then sat bolt upright on the bed. And looked down at herself. Naked! Immediately she covered her breasts with crossed arms, hands cupping over her nipples. She could see the wet stain on the bed between her legs. Somehow her costume had been destroyed and the shards of it were gathered down around her knees. She couldn’t seem to remember anything before entering the bedroom. Well, at least I’m still wearing my boots, she observed.

She started to lift a hand up to her face, changed her mind, then changed her mind again and exposed a breast as she felt to make sure her mask was still in place. She sighed in relief as she felt it intact. “But how can I be sure she didn’t hypnotize me into revealing my identity?” she said quietly to herself.

She looked around at the unconscious villainess and the quiet room. Wiggling to the end of the bed, she swung her legs onto the floor and stood up carefully. She held one arm across her breasts to shield them, cupping the right one. The other hand she held down across her nude pussy.

Spying the fallen silk nightgown, she knelt down, still trying to cover herself, and snatched up the fabric. Quickly slipping into it, she looked over at herself in the dressing table’s mirror to realize it did nothing to hide her endowments. Indeed, she could see her naked form easily beneath the sheer fabric, not to mention the sight of her erect nipples.

“Still, better than nothing,” she reasoned to herself. She bent down, unknowingly exposing her rounded ass and pussy to the sleeping woman, and tore the rest of her costume free. Balling it up into a round mixture of red spandex and white cape. She scooped up and put on her white gloves. Somehow wearing them made her feel slightly better, although she wasn’t sure why. Mask, gloves, boots—could be worse.

A phone? She looked around and found one on a corner table. A black, elegant two piece phone trimmed in gold. The numbers were punched as soon as she had the phone in her hand. “Please... be back,” her voice pleaded to the ringing. She gripped the phone in both hands now, as if squeezing it would help.

Three rings later and a woman with an elegant Australian accent answered the phone. “Chase residence. How may I help you?”

“Yes, is Dirk there?” she asked rapidly.

“Yes—” RJ sighed in relief, tension draining from her shoulders “—who may I ask is calling?”

RJ glanced over at Leslie’s slumbering form. “It’s me. Kym,” she replied hesitantly.

“One moment, Kym,” came back the reassuring voice as she was put on hold.

An agonizing twenty seconds later, which felt like a full minute to Kym, Dirk’s voice filled the phone. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his tone concerned.

“I really, really need your help again,” she began.

Kym paced about the brightly lit wine cellar. At least, it would have been a cellar, if it had not been converted into a laboratory. In fact, the initial entrance to it was still a wine cellar. But once through the secret door, gleaming metal benches, computers and all sorts of equipment and gadgets filled the cramped room. The original dark stone walls almost gave it a mad scientist feel.

She was dressed in a casual black leather jacket, belted securely at her waist, and in skin-tight stone-washed jeans. She still wore her white boots, white gloves and, of course, her red mask.

Arms crossed, she paced back from the closed secret door to the form of the teenager Dirk Chase. Tall, perhaps 6′1, he was lean but muscular. She watched the back of his head. Expertly cut dirty blond hair, short but styled and wavy. He wore a white, carefully ironed dress-shirt, black tie, and black dress-pants. Well polished shoes rested on the bottom rung of the lab stool where he sat typing away on a computer.

Of course, Dirk was better known to the city as Batboy. Scourge of the criminal underworld. Today, however, his crime fighting equipment was being used for a more specialized purpose. It was being used on the third person in the lab.

That person, of course, was Seducta—or rather, just Leslie Reynolds right now. She was sitting in a steel chair. The chair was against the wall opposite from Dirk, so Leslie was facing them, her relaxed back on its headrest.

The chair looked to RJ like it should’ve been in a horror movie as part of some torture paraphernalia. She didn’t want to know where Dirk had obtained it.

Leslie, dressed unknowingly in a white cashmere sweater and black slacks, was strapped securely in the chair. Not that she was resisting. Rather, she was watching a 31″ television screen a few feet before her, accompanied with some tinkling, soothing music on small bud earphones that she wore. She had a smile plastered to her face, her eyes wide and glassy. She looked like she was stoned. And, in fact, she was, in a manner of speaking. The sleeve of her right arm was turned up and several bandages marked spots of injections.

On the screen she watched a spiraling kaleidoscope of colours, continuously flowing inward, creating a tunnel effect that had easily sucked her drugged will and consciousness into it.

Now she freely watched the spinning pattern. The subliminal commands on the screen flowed unhindered into her, carefully adjusting and altering her mind. Or more correctly, her memories. The soothing music, designed to promote an alpha rhythm in the brain, also carried simple, powerful messages.

RJ looked at the back of the bulky TV and then the relaxed expression of Leslie watching it, the patterns of the display reflecting off her skin. If it weren’t for the restraints, RJ fancied that Leslie was so relaxed she would have literally slid out of the chair and onto the floor.

She looked back at Dirk. “Are you sure this is going to work?” she asked, worried.

Dirk turned towards her. He would have been handsome—or rather was—except for the raging case of acne he was battling. A sharp, angular face and chiseled chin. Placing his hands on his knees, he looked up at her with a pleasant, reassuring smile. “Well, I hope so. I’m afraid I haven’t done anything like this before. But you’d be amazed what you can find on the Internet these days. This computer program I’m using should wipe out her memory of your identity and also what she put you through. Otherwise the events of the past few days should remain intact. Then we can turn her over to the police.”

He stood up and walked over to Leslie. The hypnotic drug seemed to be working well, making her compliant and receptive to the reprogramming. He briefly checked her pulse then returned to RJ.

He put an arm around her sagging shoulders and lead her towards the exit. “Come on, let’s go upstairs. The program’s going to take a while. I’ll think of something to amuse us.” He hugged her one-handed then released his arm, opened the secret door and beckoned her to follow him through.

As he led her upstairs, she found herself watching his ass, and then an image of a cock swaying back and forth filled her mind. “Strange,” she murmured, closing her eyes for a second and shaking her head. She wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but she knew that what she wanted to do now was to distract her troubled mind.

Halfway up the stairs, her voice brought Dirk to a dead stop, his back visibly straightening. It was more how she said it then what she said.

What she said was, “Oh, I think I have an idea what we can do...”