Author’s note:

Here we go again. Part 7 of a one-part serial.

Questions answered, questions asked, and fan-service for everyone who wanted Sable to take charge and give subs everywhere something to fantasise about.

This really is a series in rigidly ordered parts, not a series of loosely connected stories set in the same universe. If you haven’t read the rest, you will have no idea what is going on.

Now, let the action commence.



Outside the laboratory door Catherine took a deep breath, smoothed down clothes that didn’t wrinkle and braced herself. It was her turn.

The door slid open with the smooth, low purr built in to announce it was working.

The Engineer was standing against a high desk, leaning on his elbows with his head in his hands.

After the first time one of them had tried to tiptoe up to him, she made sure her heels clicked on the floor.

“MRI,” he said as she got closer. “CT scans. Functional MRI. PET. None of it shows any fucking difference, and I don’t know if any of it is different to normal humans anyway!


He straightened up suddenly and hurled a pen straight through a monitor and its metal frame and out the other side, embedding it in the wall.

“Collecting scientists doesn’t work because they live by this world’s rules, so they don’t know there is any difference between humans and … them.

“I can build a machine that finds Supers, but it doesn’t work on you two. I can’t build a machine that finds humans, it just DOESN’T. FUCKING. WORK!”

He stood very upright and very still, breathing heavily with his hands clenched into fists by his side as the broken bits of monitor finished tickling to the bench and the ground.

She took a deep breath and opened her mouth.

His hand shot up, one finger extended in the universally recognised “shush” gesture.

“I’m going to let some steam off,” he said in a very controlled voice, turned sharply and marched out the door. The last thing she heard before the door closed behind him was a very polite “Could you please clean that up?”


Arnaud made coffee by instinct, avoided finding out the dangers of playing with boiling water while naked, found china cups and a silver tray and carried it all back through to the bedroom.

He stepped inside the door and instantly froze, blind and unable to move as black bands appeared over his eyes and around his calves, thighs, and chest and upper arms.

He was lifted off the ground and the tray lifted out of his hands before his arms were forced to his sides and bound there.

He instinctively reached out to the link between him and Sable and instead of a clean line through to her mind he found a muddy, vague sense of direction ending in a flaming wall of anger.

“Try and get into my mind again,” she said with the dispassionate, even tones of absolute certainty, “and I will rip your balls off.”

He felt a band encircle his scrotum at the base and slowly tighten, stretching it and forcing his testicles together. She didn’t stop until he gasped in pain.

“Do you understand me?”

“You did not want me to? You asked me what my powers were …”

He screamed as the band around his scrotum clenched.

“You did not get permission to use them. You’re new in this city, you’re new in this world, so I’ll tell you this very clearly. You can choose to be good or evil but if you choose evil I will hunt you down like a dog.”

“I believe I am a Villain,” he said tentatively, but she cut him off with a force he almost felt as physical.

“FUCK THAT. You are a HUMAN now, do you hear me? That means you make your own fucking decisions.

“I was bought into this world as a Hero. I thought what we did was pretty fucking stupid, and the way we went about it even more so.

“Then I came here and suddenly because I wear black I’m a Villain. Well, fuck that. I am what I make me. I look after myself and I choose to look after people who get in the way of selfish, fucked-in-the-head Villains or who get caught in the crossfire when Heroes with simplistic fucking value systems fire at will.

“And you are NOT going to just accept some fucking label put on you by fate because the mere fact of being human means you make your own fucking fate, do you fucking understand me?”

“This word ‘fucking’, …” he began.

“Is multiply useful,” she said brusquely. “It began as another verb for sex, now it can be whatever you want it to be, mostly emphasis. Don’t dodge the fucking question.”

“I think I understand you,” he said slowly.

“Good. Because I am telling you: I decide to be a Hero now. You live in this city, you make a life here, and by any gods anybody here believes in if you fuck with the people of this city I will fuck you up because I am appointing myself defender of anyone who can’t look after themselves, I don’t care how fucking unofficial I am about it.

“Because I don’t care about their status – if they’re old humans, or brand new, or just making up the scenery. While they look human they deserve all the rights of humans, you got that?”

There was silence, for not quite too long. “I understand you,” he said. “How am I to tell what is right and what is wrong?”

“What did you get while raping my fucking mind?” she snapped at him.

He was silent again. “Emotions,” he finally said. “Something … empathy?”

“Good. You keep that. You throw away the rest but you keep that. You feel what you do to people and you remember that.”

He almost nodded, but her bands still kept him locked rigidly in position. “Okay.”

She stared at him, drawing the silence out until he wondered what he had missed, what he was supposed to say. “Can I trust you?” She finally asked. “Can I trust you to behave yourself and stay the fuck out of my head?”

“I promise I will not do that again, now I know what I am doing,” he said with sincerity in his voice.

She stared at him, drawing the silence out past the point of discomfort once more. “Good. And believe me, if you try you may even succeed but I will go down fighting, and if you ever let me go again I will see to it I destroy you as completely as a Super can be destroyed.”

He didn’t need to wonder about the emotion the tone of her voice induced in him then. He knew immediately it was fear.


“Good afternoon!”

The Engineer’s only reply was a strangled moan of exhaustion and pain.

His latest guest was a Heroine called Mercura who dressed in a miniskirt and low-cut latex blouse, cape, face-mask, gloves to over her elbows and boots to mid-calf and who could project blasts of energy from the space in front of her belly.

She needed to curl forwards and use her hands to summon the ball of energy, so the Engineer had shackled her wrists and ankles to the corners of the room, face-up, and lifted her off the ground by a belt around her waist, arching her backwards.

Lying down, she would have been merely helpless. But by stretching her in a backwards arch around a thin belt cutting into her back he kept her in a constant state of tension and pain.

She may have been able to endure it if he hadn’t already conducted a full interrogation, but even a Super can reach exhaustion with an hour of continuous arousal followed by half an hour of orgasms while being forced to answer questions.

But not even a tall, fit, big-breasted Heroine in the throws of continuous orgasm had been able to distract the Engineer from his frustrations after she was unable, even in a state of complete delirium, to give him any insights into the nature of the reality of the world they were in.

He hadn’t even fucked her himself.

He fully intended to change that.

As he walked in the door she was side-on to him. He stopped a moment to admire the graceful, strained arch of her torso and limbs and the way he had kept her breasts out of the way by pulling her nipples up, using the rings he had inserted out of habit, pulling them at an exactly calculated angle perpendicular to her chest.

For purposes of symmetry, he had done the same thing to her clit, the thin lines from either end of her body now nicely balanced, the slight stretch on her clitoris sufficient to reduce her to mindless flesh but not cause any unnecessary pain.

She was still sweating and still delirious, body shivering as the piercings kept her at a level of arousal that should not, physiologically, have been possible even for a Heroine for so long.

He strolled slowly around her, relishing the view from all angles as he stepped over the chain holding her right wrist and moved in front of her. For the sake of convenience, he had strung her up so her head and hips were at approximately hip height, and then bought in a chair so he could interrogate her face to upside-down face.

He sat in that chair and regarded her.

The proud, defiant and noble face of the Heroine was now drawn, red, sweat-covered, slack-jawed and with unfocused, staring eyes. He had tied her hair to the floor to keep her head in one spot and it was pulling her forehead taut.

He waved in front of her vacant gaze. “Anybody home?”

Not even her pupils reacted.

With a sigh he took the remote out of his pocket and relaxed the tension on the three lines to her piercings.

She responded surprisingly rapidly, tone returning to her face and her eyes settling, coming together and focusing on him. She tried to speak, but it was a dry rasp.

He bent down for the water bottle by his feet. It was in the shape of a large dildo and the drinker had to suck hard to open the valve.

She already knew what it was and thirst overrode any revulsion she might still have. She opened her mouth wide and he slid it smoothly and with the ease of practice into her mouth. Her cheeks hollowed and she drank a litre from the self-filling reservoir before she stopped sucking.

He pulled it out of her mouth. “You were saying?” He asked, politely.

“What do you want with me?” she croaked. “I couldn’t answer any of your questions. What do you still want with me?”

“Well …” he began, then stopped and frowned. That wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She wasn’t supposed to have reached that point in bargaining, ever. There was a script – near two hundred years had taught him exactly what it was. She was supposed to …

“If it would help at all,” she whispered, “I promise not to attack you if you let me down.”

She was definitely not supposed to say that!

“Who are you?” he snarled, eyes narrowing. “And what have you done with the two-dimensional NPC I left strung up in these chains?”

“I am still Mercura,” she croaked. What is an ‘NPC’? I don’t understand.”

He rubbed his eyes vigorously, opened them to see her staring at him in pain, confusion and something that was definitely resignation. She had given up.

She had given up.

They never give up.

It was a fundamental rule – Heroes never give up, never admit defeat, keep fighting in the face of the most blatant proof they’ve lost, all up until their minds are controlled.

But she had given up.

He leaned forwards in the chair to stare into her eyes, nose to forehead.

“Were you human?” he asked, harshly.

“No,” she gasped. “I was never human. I began here.”

This was becoming hard to take. He’d have to go and fuck one of his maids to recover composure, at this rate.

He took a deep breath. “How old are you?”

“I’m not sure … maybe a year.”

One year? That was far more random than he had guessed.

“When did you have this sudden realisation?” he asked flatly.

“I’m not sure … I just … realised.”

He looked at her, dragging the moment out while trying to sort it through in his head and the look on her face, without the constant stimulation to her clitoris keeping her consciousness suppressed, becoming more and more drawn and stressed.

“What do you want with me?” she asked again, breaking the silence first. “Do you want to fuck me? Let me down and I’ll fuck you.”

He blinked, completely blind-sided. That was far too much like Sable, and unbalanced him for a second too long to maintain his composure.

“You’re a Heroine,” he snarled. “Heroine’s do pure and chaste, they don’t offer to fuck their captors to be let off punishment.”

“Why not?” she gasped, staring him straight in the eye. “You’ve done everything else to me. You’ve tormented me with sex for I don’t know how long. I can’t remember everything you’ve done to me. I got captured two weeks ago and raped and I didn’t enjoy it but you’ve forced me to enjoy this.

“So fuck me. Tie me to a bed if you like. Rape me as much as …”

“STOP!” He held up his hand, shaking a little with a confused mixture of bafflement, the fear of the strange and a murky rage at his assumptions being violated.

He pointed a quivering finger at his face. “You are changing,” he snarled. “You are evolving. You are becoming more intelligent, more self-aware and more reasonable. Soon you will be indistinguishable from actual human. Why are you doing that? HOW ARE YOU DOING THAT?”

“I don’t know!” she almost shouted, without the energy to do so properly, tears of frustration adding to the tears of pain in her eyes.

He abruptly lifted the remote, pressed it. The lines attached to her piercings tautened slightly. She moaned, eyes rolling back in her head but consciousness still lingering.

“Ask me again,” he said softly.

“Fuck meeee,” she groaned, body beginning to tremble in the inverted suspension.

“Be specific.”

“Shove your dick in me,” she gasped out. “Fuck my pussy. Please!”

“Beg to suck my cock. Beg to be allowed to suck my cock.”

Body and mind already broken, no amount of self-control could have prevented her from begging to wrap her lips around his head, begging to be allowed to suck him and show him what a good little cock-sucking whore she could be.

Her inventiveness impressed him so much he was convinced she wasn’t trying to deceive him, wasn’t just playing along with her kidnapper.

He slid off the chair into a crouch, ducked underneath her and came up between her legs, spreading his lab coat and pants with practiced ease and efficiency.

He turned off the tension once more and slipped the remote into his pocket before unclipping the line to the ring through her clitoris and flicking the thin cord out of the way.

“Mercura,” he said, mildly. “Are you sure you haven’t ever been fucked and enjoyed it?”

“No,” she whispered, barely audible to where he stood in front of her glistening, spread pussy.

“It feels like this,” he said, still mild, before seizing her hips, lining up and plunging in right to the core of her in one movement.


He pulled back and slammed in, his cock swelling, stretching her, finding her limit in girth and length, filling her as completely as was possible, adjusting his hips and leaning slightly forwards so he slammed into her clitoris every time he bottomed out inside her.

Her body, stretched tight but not locked in position, writhed under his hands as he groped her wide hips, muscular ass and thighs, narrow waist and up to the unnaturally firm globes of her breasts.

He settled into the tireless, superhuman speed and power he could maintain for hours, letting a little precum leak to seep into her bloodstream and make her his, all the while keeping up a running monologue.

“This is what it feels like, and it can feel better. Later on it will feel better. Oh, it’ll take me a long time to finish with you. I’ll fuck your pussy until you cum, and I’ll fuck your ass until you cum, and I’ll fuck your mouth until I cum all over your pretty Super Heroine face and I’ll fuck your tits and drench you with my cum and all the time you’ll be desperate for more, you’ll be begging, you’ll be pleading, because this is what happens to Heroines after I’ve been playing with them for hours.

“You’ll recover, but until then you’ll be mine. You’ll be mine in body and soul and you’ll be my willing fucktoy desperate to do anything I tell you to do, any sordid thing with me and my other toys because I know your body, I know how it works and I know how to make it mine and right now, strung up like meat, you can’t fucking stop me.

“Now cum, bitch.”

He let himself shoot inside her as her scream hit a pitch to shatter glass and her body thrashed in her bonds, clamping around him feeling so good he wondered, as he always did, how a non-Super could ever satisfy him again.

He pulled out of her abruptly, leaving her body desperate for more, his cock sticking grotesquely huge out the front of his pants.

Then he pulled out the remote and lowered her to the ground, the bonds falling away from her limbs and her body as limp as a rag doll.


Arnaud felt himself moved forwards, still bound rigidly upright.

“The thing about having sex while under mental control,” Sable said, her voice dropping from angry to a calculated, meaningful purr that made his skin crawl from the more unmanning fear of the unexpected, “is that you don’t remember it all. It’s hazy, a jumble of sensations, emotions, images and snatches of events.

“The problem with that is, apart from being unsettling and just maybe intensely terrifying, is it’s unsatisfying.

“It’s just not fair if your body has all the fun and you didn’t experience it properly, you know?”

Arnaud could sense her standing right in front of him, not by his powers but by the prickling of his forehead. He could also sense, as adrenalin washed his system and the pressure from the band around his balls did not let up, an involuntary erection.

“Luckily, I have almost everything I need to correct that. And you’re now providing the missing piece very nicely.”

He futilely tried to jerk backwards when he felt her grab his erection but his fear, based in uncertainty and his growing awareness of morality, was being fought by a deeper, more basic excitement and a desire to return to the sex he had only just discovered.

She began slowly massaging his cock a little too hard, a little impersonal, almost mauling it.

“I think, for the good of your further education, you should experience what being a toy feels like.” Her voice dropped further, became a husky whisper that slowly caressed his libido even as it made him instinctively fight to get away. “I think I’m going to take my payment out of you.”

He was hard beyond the point of return now. His body refused to listen to the reservations of his mind, it just wanted stimulation.

He knew she had no power over his mind but that was now a moot point when he didn’t even have power over his own body.

He felt himself moving again, twisting in the air, turning so his sense of gravity became confused and he wasn’t sure where he was until he landed on his bed, face-up.

The bands around his balls and the base of his cock kept him pointing straight upwards.

The bed moved as she slid onto it, shifting and rolling him until he felt her thighs settle around his waist and his bound arms, her naked flesh pushing his into the bed. The sensation was more exciting than he could have expected.

She shifted and he felt her buttocks press around his vertically trapped shaft and begin slowly rubbing up and down. The sensation was silken, intimate, erotic but absolutely maddening because, by touching only the top of his shaft below the head, she avoided all the most sensitive flesh.

She twisted her hips and he felt the dampness on her lips slide over his cock a second before her nipples grazed his chest and her full and firm breasts pressed him against the bed.

“You used me entirely for your experience,” she whispered, so close her breath tickled his nose. “So I’m going to use you entirely for my pleasure. You’re my toy now until I’m satisfied. You bound my mind so I will bind your body. You won’t get to cum until I’m good and ready to let you, and since I don’t have powers of mind control, I may just have to use pain instead.”

He suddenly felt pressure against his anus, tried to jerk away again but could do nothing as it slowly built, something round pressing against him until, no matter how hard he desperately clenched, it forced inside him. He whimpered, the sense of violation jarring violently with the remembered image, from her mind, of how good this intrusion could feel.

He throbbed even harder.

“Feel that?” she purred, her breath tickling his face. “Just like Supers and their machines keep doing to me. It’s such a pity you can’t feel yourself being invaded front as well as back.”

The pressure in his arse grew and he felt the thing slide inside until it passed where he had nerve endings and kept moving. It stretched him until he whimpered in pain and then stopped. His cock was now throbbing constantly.

She slowly licked his face, sliding her tongue up one cheek from his jawline to over the band around his eyes. He whimpered again.

She moved, her flesh suddenly no longer pressing against his cock, leaping athletically up the bed, landing with her calves pressing against his shoulders. He could smell her suddenly, a sharp musk more intense and arousing than the mere scent of her skin.

“Open wide,” she said from far above him. “I know you know how.”

He did know, from flesh memories filtered murkily through how badly her mind had been destroyed at the time.

He opened his mouth and felt her move, lower herself onto him.

His first taste of her awoke second-hand memories in his mind and instincts in his body. He suddenly craved her, began licking and sucking on her lips, finding her entrance with his tongue and forcing his way inside her as she purred and gasped above him.

“I don’t know what it is,” she gasped, “about revenge that is … oh! … So FUCKING HOT!”

She grabbed his hair, forced his head up. His tongue slid out of her and along, finding a hard, protruding nub that made her shake and exhale violently when he traced its outline.

She crushed his mouth against her with both hands, making it difficult for him to breath as he desperately laved her until she shuddered violently, let out a long groan and wet his face.

The taste of her cum was new and exciting, and when she released him he started licking it off his chin until her fingers trapped his tongue.

“Leave some for me,” she purred, before her weight shifted again, he felt her roll sideways, twist and stretch to lie alongside him, not touching his now painful genitals before slowly licking his chin clean, lingering on every stroke of her tongue.

She sucked on his chin, then slid higher up and kissed him harshly. He eagerly returned the kiss until her thumb forced his jaw wide open and she explored inside his mouth with her tongue, still tasting of her own juices.

When she pulled back he had to gasp for air.

He felt her slither down his body, her skin sliding over his with skin-crawling eroticism, until he knew without feeling it that her mouth was next to his groin.

When her lips engulfed the head of his now painfully hard cock an uncontrollable shiver went through every cell of his body, making the skin on his head crawl.

She effortlessly slid further down, sliding him through the warm hollow of her mouth to the snug wetness of her throat and down, sheathing him inside her tight oesophagus. The sensations, as she slowly slid him in and out, sucking a little when just his head was behind her lips and then swallowing him back down again, made his nerves scream, a strangled gasp of half pleasure, half pain, all desperate frustration bursting from him.

She pulled off, leaving him aching for more and the bands around the base of his cock allowing him no closer to release.

“Have to get you properly lubricated,” she purred, the bed shifting as she moved and positioned herself. He whimpered behind his blindfold, knowing exactly what she meant, before her nether lips pushed down onto his head and she slowly impaled herself upon him.

She squeezed as she lowered herself, forcing her flesh around him, squeezing his head. The sensations from his cock were now fire and ice, his whole body alive and aroused but burning. He opened his mouth to scream and she plugged it with a short, thick gag that forced itself to the back of his throat. He took it without gagging, the memories from her head telling him how.

She purred as she settled herself fully onto him. He could feel the entrance to her womb deep inside her. She moved, pressing and rubbing him at her limit, gasping in pleasure as he tried to scream around the gag.

She began to ride him, pressing her palms into his chest to support her, breathing heavily, fucking herself on him as hard and as fast as a Super could, a searing ribbon of pain from his oversensitive cock only adding to his body’s lust.

Her breathing turned to gasps. Inside his head, curled around himself while his body was wracked by sensation, he was begging her to finish, to climax, to stop torturing him.

Her pussy around him clenched even harder, pure agony making his nipples stand up like bullets and his balls clench futilely, full of cum they couldn’t release.

She began shouting, urging herself on, moving in a blur of speed until she spasmed around him, squeezing his shaft so hard he nearly blacked out, her cum squirting out even from that seal, soaking his belly and thighs, his ears assaulted by the shriek of a Super in absolute, dominant ecstasy.

She fell onto him when she came off her peak, hungrily sucking and licking the sweat off his face, almost eating his flesh.

She lifted herself off his still impossibly rigid shaft, shuddering with delight as it slowly left cunt while he almost wept with relief.

He felt her lie down next to him, her leg thrown over his, her breasts pressing into his side as she lightly tickled his chest.

“Was that too much for you?” she purred into his ear, breath tickling him. “I had to last three hours of that torment once. Don’t tell me you big, strong men are weaker than us soft women?”

She began loosening the bands around his cock and his balls, very slowly, his nerves not capable of registering a small change they were so drained.

“I guess the rules are that every torture ends with the victim cumming, hmmm? So I guess I’ll have to make you cum, then, won’t I?”

He almost quailed from that, terrified of what it would feel like when he was finally allowed release.

Blood began to flow more freely in and out of his shaft, bringing the same sort of blessed relief as severe pins and needles bring to a cramped limb, but on a scale of a hundredfold.

“The question is,” she continued, her fingers softly running over where his chest was bare between his bonds, deftly avoiding his nipples, “is how.” She tweaked one nipple, sharply, the pain a muted, pleasurable spike to his libido after the torture from his groin.

“I really don’t want to do you any favours if you’re my prisoner, now do I?” She grabbed his nipple and stretched and twisted brutally, blood surging back into his cock, a pulse so close to cumming running through it.

“After all, little fuck-toys get used, they don’t get pleasured, am I right?” She switched to his other nipple, crimping it between her fingernails, stretching until his skin would stretch no more and then releasing it with a sharp snap. The sensation felt as good to his cock as her lips had.

He felt himself turned, rotated as if on a spit, facing away from her. The plug in his arse, which had faded into inconsequentiality, suddenly came back to sharp prominence in his mind.

She pressed up against him, breasts pillowing against his back, hard thighs against his, hips against his buttocks, and the plug shifted.

“I’ve always wanted to use a strap-on,” she purred into his suddenly newly terrified ear, “but I never liked girls. Which was always a dilemma, until now.”

She flexed her hips, and the plug inside him moved, stretching and rubbing his anus. He was still wearing the dildo gag and couldn’t whimper, but he tried anyway.

“Do you know your G-spot is inside your arse?” she asked him, chattily. “It’s true. Right up with your prostate.”

She began pumping her hips, fucking him with what was clearly a longer and thicker shaft than a mere plug.

He tried to squirm away but despite her distractions his bonds did not give a millimetre.

She buried the dildo inside him and wriggled her hips. He could only feel it at his entrance, but that was more than enough. His traitorous cock began to pulse, without touching anything but the air.

She lined herself up and began a long, slow, in-and-out stroke. “I was never quite sure what men saw in this,” she said, still friendly and chatty. “They always seemed to want to shove things in my arse. But you know, I can see the attraction of this. There’s such a great sense of power about fucking you from behind.”

She punctuated her last word by slamming deep inside him, tears of humiliation squeezing out of his eyes.

“Don’t try and tell me you don’t like this,” she purred into his ear. “I can see you twitch.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, deeply ashamed. It was true. His cock was throbbing demandingly, was slowly building towards cumming, desperate for any sort of touch, even the sheets on the bed, but denied everything. The only stimulation was to his arse and deep inside it.

“I always wondered what it was like to fuck someone this hard,” she said with teeth in her voice, slowly pumping harder and faster into his arse. “I’ve always been on the receiving end.”

She was slamming into him now, bruising him, her hips slapping his buttocks so fast the sounds almost merged into one continuous noise, and he could feel himself teetering on the edge of cumming.

“It feels,” she ended, a tigerish grin in her words, “FUCKING FANTASTIC.”

He came, spurting so violently he sprayed over the edge of the bed and halfway to the wall, pumping out cum as she continued to fuck him, only his last spurts landing on the bed.


The Engineer carried Mercura to his bedroom in a reverse of the traditional fireman’s carry, head first, her lips stretched hungrily over the top half of his cock, every step making her bounce on her pneumatic boobs against his belly, fellating him without any effort from her exhausted body and glazed mind.

Siobhan was standing to attention by his door and licked her lips as they passed. He ignored her, so she began idly frigging herself when the door closed between them.

The Engineer marched up to his bed and flipped Mercura up and over and onto it, dropping her sprawled with her feet up towards the pillows, her shoulders on the edge, her head hanging over the edge, her lips not moving from his cock.

He began rocking his hips to slide a few inches in and out of her mouth as he stripped to the waist, then he leant forwards and grabbed her breasts, the hard piercings and her almost as hard nipples pressing into his palms as he put almost his entire weight on them and slid all the way into her throat until she was suffocated by his balls.

She took her first ever deep-throat with ease, even though her lips and her throat were stretched to accommodate his girth. He couldn’t remember if he had ever met a single woman in this world who had a gag reflex. Or, for that matter, a hymen.

Her body began twitching from lack of oxygen before he pulled back and opened her nose again, slowly fucking her throat as he leant hard enough on her breasts to lift his heels off the ground.

Her hips began twitching in involuntary fucking motions before he pulled back, left just his head inside her lips, said “Swallow all of it,” and came, pouring a gallon into her mouth, her throat opening and accepting it like a speed drinker, closing to swallow convulsively only as the stream slowed into a trickle.

He stepped back and ripped off his pants, kicking off his boots as she gasped for air, mouth slackly open, face flushed and sweaty hair reaching the ground.

With one movement he leapt onto the bed and twisted, landing straddling her, cock slapping against her belly. He pushed himself up, grabbed her torso and pulled her underneath him so her head lay on the bed, staring up at him so doped on his cum her eyes barely reacted when he put himself right in her line of sight.

“Where you serious about being prepared to fuck me?” he asked evenly.

“Yes Master,” she croaked, her throat now lubricated but still too drained to talk properly.


“I wanted … to bargain.”

“Would you have tried to defeat me?”

“I would have … kept my word.”

He stared at her, completely nonplussed.

Sable had been genuinely happy to have sex for the sake of having sex. His maids had been lifestyle submissives looking for a live-in Master. Felony had been looking for a good time. Every woman in this world had either resisted sex or welcomed it. Now Mercura said she would have accepted it because she thought she had to?

He had spent several weeks now watching his assumptions, his knowledge, his comfortable and well-worked out sets of rules crumble around him, culminating in finding Mercura growing and evolving as a sentient entity almost as he watched.

Now the Heroine’s use of sex as merely another bargaining tool – possibly the most human thing any non-human inhabitant of this world had ever done – made him feel suddenly and irresistibly angry.

He slid down her body far enough to line up at her entrance and shoved into her in one violent movement, shouting with rage as he did so.

His girth and her muscles made it a fight but one he was equal to. She screamed with pure pleasure, arching up underneath him, lifting them both off the bed and lifting them higher when, bottoming out, he drove her piercing ring into her clitoris.

He fucked her brutally, driven by a passion that completely overrode his normal calculating enjoyment.

She found the energy to scream in ecstasy over and over again, every time he slammed into her, jolting her up the bed and driving the air from her lungs. Her body was still too weak to wrap her limbs around him so her legs convulsed on the bed and her fingers clawed into the bedclothes.

Her pure enjoyment made him angrier, made him double his efforts, plunging into her so hard every time it would have shattered a non-Super’s pelvis, crushing her clitoris with its piercing, the mind-robbing lust from it joining the explosion from her whole cunt to make every cell in her body seem to explode.

He started crying, soundlessly, not letting up his fucking as his rage began burning itself out in her eagerly receptive body.

She screamed in prolonged orgasm three times before, feeling drained and hollow, he came deep inside her at the entrance to her womb, the most unsatisfying ejaculation he could remember, and collapsed on top of her.


Sable had let him go after she had dressed, and ordered him to get dressed immediately.

He was learning – he was very carefully not looking at her face, although she wasn’t sure if it was the best solution since it meant he spent a lot of time looking at her cleavage instead, and it kept distracting him.

“How many other … Supers are there?”

“In the world? I don’t think anyone knows. In this city? I’m not sure. I’ve met five or six Villains, I’ve met three Heroes, I think, and I’ve no idea how many there actually are. I haven’t had time to try and do any sort of census yet.”

He frowned, confused. “You tell me I am human, not Villain, but …”

She cut him off, sighing. “You are unique. I am … not quite unique. We are both different to every other Super in this city, and almost all the other Supers in the world. I used to be human. You are new and you are … less defined, more flexible. You know you are new, and you have the capacity for growth. They, so far, have … Actually not no capacity for growth, but …

“Ah, fuck it. Look: The Supers in this city, Heroes and Villains both, have grown since I arrived, but they grew in very predictable, very similar ways. Heroes and Villains did not blur the lines, they did not muddy the waters, they did not start overlapping. They become more complex stereotypes, but they are, all of them, still stereotypes.

“That is what I am warning you against, do you see?”

He was silent for a moment, frowning. “I … think so. What do I do now?”

She smiled, faintly. “You can start by making us more coffee. The first lot got cold.”


The Engineer lay on top of the limp Mercura until he got his breath back then, with a sudden feeling of self-loathing, twisted to pull out of her and throw himself sideways, landing on his back and lying without touching her.

As soon as his shrinking cock left her deliciously sore vagina, Mercura’s eyes began to clear, tone returning to her face and her Super powers of rejuvenation giving her back speech and fine motor coordination.

She rolled her head to look at him, lifting an eyebrow in surprise at the look of bleakness on his face.

He detected her movement, knew it signified a recovery more rapid than she should have been capable of, but no longer had the energy to be offended or even surprised by the fact. It now seemed perfectly normal. He would deal with complexities later.

He made a complicated gesture with one hand in the air, a gesture detected by a small camera in the corner of the room, interpreted by his house computer and relayed to the kitchen where Catherine put down her copy of The Ages of Lulu, picked up a pre-prepared tray, and walked briskly out past the hot water tap on the Engineer’s rococco espresso machine.

When she walked in, she automatically licked her lips at the sight of the two Supers, sweat-sheened and exhausted, sprawled across the bed. She was surprised when Mercura rolled her head backwards to see her, lifting an eyebrow at her costume and then rolled tiredly over to be able to take the drink Catherine offered her.

The maid moved from surprise to concern when she saw the listless, depressed look on her Master’s face and went sideways to shock when Mercura, with no hint of mental submissiveness, dismissed the maid as sexually uninteresting and gave the Engineer a calculating look.

Catherine retreated, burning with questions and desperately keeping her place by not asking any of them.

She stopped outside the door, giving the slightly dishevelled Siobhan, who had heard the entire session, a look that snapped the brunette out of her quiet self-satisfaction.

“Who the hell has he got?” Catherine asked, uselessly.

Inside the room Mercura, gulping orange juice to moisten her throat, kept steadily looking at the Engineer’s face and let the silence drag out until she no longer felt parched.

“I wouldn’t like to think it was me making you feel like that.”

He rewarded the joke with a short, harsh laugh. “You are now human,” he said flatly.

She frowned. “I told you …”

“You are NOW human,” he emphasised. “You hadn’t lived before this world, you weren’t reborn as I was, you were as complicated as a character in a movie but you are now human. Somehow, somewhy, your mind evolved.”

She tried to digest that and failed.

He detected her frown even without looking at her, and smiled bitterly. “Now,” he said, “you may imagine some of what I have been feeling.”

She mentally backtracked over the conversation. “What do you mean I was as complicated as a movie character?”

“You lived to a script. You didn’t learn, or adapt, or move outside the narrow confines of that script. You displayed a morality as complicated as a children’s book. You weren’t autonomous. You were a character.”

She opened her mouth for a reflex angry response, and managed to stop herself. And think. And light slowly dawned.

“Okaaay,” she said, slowly, as memories came flooding in. “I …”

She hurled her glass across the room and twisted to sit bolt upright on the bed, the room lights glinting off the large chromed rings in her nipples as she glared at him. “What the fuck did you do to me?”

Comments are closed.

July 2018
« Feb