“Heh, wow. You put up a bit of a fight.

” Stormwave chuckled as she walked past

a few broken machines. Their scattered remains littered the street, each one marked
by carbon scoring where her lightning had burned through their brass-colored shells.
The fox was pretty certain that they weren’t actually anything so heavy or weak,
what with them staying more intact than most things she electroblasted, but
whatever.
They weren’t moving.
At the other end of the street was the elder terror herself, the Artificer. The
older wolf was leaning on her staff, panting slightly as if she wasn’t used to such a
physical battle. Most of the heroes of Horizon were not the most aggressive, at least
when talking. Purity and DuraBelle? Those two would talk, take it easy. Let her get
the first blow in or set up some tricks. That’s why she had such a success rate against
those two; her relative anonymity and cautious fighting style left those direct heroes
completely off balance.
“Perhaps you’re just good exercise, Stormwave.” The Artificer reached up to
adjust her glasses. They let out a soft glow as she reviewed each of her magical
options. Most of them had been used up or wouldn’t work on the fox a second time,
leaving her a little frustrated. Her poker face wouldn’t show it off, but she was
growing concerned.
“Well, you sure look like you could use it!” Stormy grinned as she leaned
forward, barely even breathing hard. “Because wow, ready to call over? Gotta hit
the gym, Golden Oldie.”
It wasn’t that Artificer was completely weak. Rather, more that she was just out
of shape from years of civilian life. Taking care of kids, a house, all of that? It tended
to run conditioning down.
 “Funny.” The obviously not amused wolf glanced at the bottom of her emerald
glowing glasses. At least one thing should work, provided the hastily cobbled
together idea didn’t explode. Magic was known for being just a little bit volatile.
“Yeah, I know. I’m frickin’ hilarious.” and that grin just showed that, yes, Stormy
completely believed it. “But hey, punch o’clock.”
Stormwave, as always, was just suddenly moving. The fact that she moved so
quickly caught many of the villains off guard and Artificer was no exception. It did
help that her magical technowhatsit was able to pick up on the fact that she was
going to move, sure, but the glasses were only so much help. There came a point
where the matronly thief was still dependent on her reflexes, ones which had slowed
somewhat in the years since she’d been at her prime. Alchemy and trickery had
slowed the decline to a more measurable slope, but she was hardly the girl she once
was. It was times like now that she really knew that she was no longer her younger
self, bright eyed and literally bushy tailed.
Target in range.
“Please work.” Ekatrina muttered beneath her breath as she reached into one
of her utility pouches and pulled out one of her numerous magical trinkets and
gewgaws.
This one was a piece of bone carved into the shape of a miniature flute. It didn’t
seem that unique in construction except for the arcane symbols embossed into the
surface. The little bits of gold glowed brightly as soon as the soft wind ran through
the reed, also made of bone, and it started to vibrate just right. That little bit of wind
carried its song through the open air, filling every ear with a hypersonic blast of noise
that couldn’t be heard by anyone around. Not Artificer, not the civilians. No one.
Except Stormwave.
The Artificer smirked as she saw the rushing vixen falter. First was one step
moving without grace, then it was her quarry staggering against one of the fallen
klockwerks. A surge of electricity blasted off of the vixen as she lost focus on what
she had been doing, matched in time when her hand reached up to rub her forehead.
A groan of annoyed pain and a curse word floating in the seemingly silent air
between them were all that the suddenly exceptionally distracted superhero could
do after the tool activated.
“Throckmorten’s synapse shocker.” Ekatrina gloated a bit as she stepped
forward, watching the heroine stumble to her knees. The milf of malice could afford
some gloating now that she had her enemy so debilitated. “Not that you can hear
me. You know, it took some extra effort to key it to you.”
The Artificer put one finger beneath Stormwave’s chin, forcefully tilting her
upwards to face the gloating villainess. Their eyes met even though she could see
that Stormwave, for now at least, was still rather unfocused. It was that pain pushing
its way through her brain, natural sonics aided by magic, that kept her from utilizing
any of those silly powers she thought would win the day. Even throwing a punch was
impossible for the time being.
Estimated synapse shocker time remaining; 21 seconds. 20 seconds reminded
her ever helpful glasses.
She sighed as she read that. Some of these artifacts were not meant to last long.
This was only made worse when they were things she made herself, copied from
relics too valuable to spend on a simple shopping spree. The downside was that this
device only worked on a given person once so she wasn’t going to be repeating this
encounter next week.
“I.. nnf…” Stormwave tried to speak before completely losing track of the words.
It didn’t help that the terror of the ancients was putting a finger to her lips.
“No words. You don’t need those. Not anymore.” the wolf whispered while
wrapping a band of gemstone studded, silvery metal around the vixen girl’s neck.
The effect of the control torc was instant; the green haired hero stiffening up as
if a blast of her own lightning had run down her spine. The sound of her exhaling
sharply, the wideness of her eyes, even the way her hands went down to her sides
were all the expected responses. What couldn’t be seen were the internal effects:
the shifting of neurons and blocking of responses that would go against the super
criminal. It wasn’t replacing any thoughts at all, only accentuating ideas that were
there. Guiding instead of pruning.
“I…” it was a little impressive that she got a word out before the shocker turned
off, but she got something. Her eyes relaxed as the bone tube cracked before
shattering. Her muscles might not move at her control but at least it wasn’t painful
to think anymore.
“No ‘you,’ little one. Only me.” the wolf leaned in and whispered into the
heroine’s ear, one hand wrapping around the pacified peacekeeper’s back. The sure
fingers slowly trailed down the duratex clad body, stroking her spine in a slow,
sensuous way. Just the fingertips turned out to be enough to send little waves of
pleasure through the girl’s body. It was made worse by the magical band, the latent
lust catalyzed by the arcane circuitry around her neck. It got stronger, built like a
feedback loop only for the Artificer. One touch would feel nice, better, best. An echo
turned into a flood.
“Besides, you have to pay me back for stopping me at the museum last week,
hm?” Ekatrina breathed softly over the stiffened super’s ear, hot breath going over
the sensitive inner parts. It was gratifying, encouraging even, to feel someone so
defiant become immediately pliable. An expected urge pushed her hand down, filling
itself with the famous crime fighter’s rump. The curvy backside was perfectly built,
plump enough to give a satisfying squeeze but toned enough to bounce. Even her
enemies had to admit that Stormwave had more than earned her reputation for one
of the best backsides in Horizon.
“Stuh…” Stormwave winced as her words were turned off by the techno-magic
thingamajig, this torc. Talking had been said to be a no-go so she couldn’t speak. Not
to argue, complain, or protest. Even if her perfect posterior was suddenly groped
and kneaded like bread dough, rubbed about by the notorious milf’s growing lust. All
she could do was groan softly as those feelings were captured and magnified by the
torc, reflected into themselves so that the ripples could become stronger. It was like
some Captain Planet of fucking, Artificer’s powers combined to create one already
turned-the-fuck-on fox.
“Stop? Oh, my dear.” the victorious villain laughed as she continued to molest
that ass, kneading the cheeks left and right. There was something so powerfully
arousing about touching a hero when she couldn’t fight back. It was the same feeling
she’d had with Purity, so many times. Victory always brought a rush beyond anything
else, leaving her much needier than an average day. Typically, her husband was
more than enough to slake her thirst. But today?
 She wanted this fox.
“We’re only starting.” Ekatrina had to use all of her willpower to not use that
control device to force this mouthy heroine to strip her own costume off, here and
now. The idea of having a victory celebration right on the rubble, using one of her
destroyed klockwerk as a chair, was definitely pleasant to imagine but it would
probably just turn out to be uncomfortable. If she was going to get her payback on
this mouthy little fox, she was going to take her time. Enjoy it. Really settle in and
take what she deserved.
“Well, I’m gonna start by be- nnnf!” Stormwave kept trying to run her mouth
since that was her actual superpower, but it didn’t work out too well for her when
the magic made her shut it once more. This seemed to be the main goal for any
villain in Horizon, a mark of pride perhaps, to make the chatterbox superhero shut
the fuck up. She was notably irritating.
Artificer didn’t answer, just snapping her fingers. A little magical technological
circuitry thing sparked control through Stormwave’s torc, making her electrical
powers jump to life against her will. The tiny little tingles hit the nerves and pushed
her to start walking forward, her limbs jerkily moving forward. The fact that it was
using the talkative vixen’s powers to control her made it more humiliating, which
was better for keeping the girl on edge. Which meant distracted.
Then Ekatrina clapped her hands once, calling one of her hidden machines over.
This one was quite a lot less ‘humanoid’ than the others, more of the giant metal
spiders she kept seeing in recent movies. About four meters tall and having entirely
too many limbs, the construct skittered forward with distressing speed and agility
across the broken parking lot, leaving deep divots where its pointed feet struck the
stone. Stormwave was unnerved as she watched it get closer, rather disliking this
turn of events but not able to summon her powers to fight it off. Even worse, her
mind kept getting distracted as the magic interfered with her powers.
Being psionic kinda sucks sometimes and.. uh… then the thought went ‘poof’
and the arachnobot went to work.
A bunch of little feeler-arm-things began wrapping her up with lengths of
composite cables. The streams of mixed plastic and probably magic were able to
stretch like gossamer threads despite having enough strength to keep her restricted
struggling from having an effect. Even if she could get a little lightning out, the stuff
sure didn’t seem like it was going to burn or conduct. It got worse since the strings of
mechanical silk were seemingly placed just right to go over her most sensitive
regions, crossing between her legs and modest bust over and over. They were
tugged up tighter, grinding uncomfortably with every bounce and jostle the robotic
bug made. It was at the worst with her perfectly toned posterior, the rump on
perfect display for the villain who had grabbed her so roughly.
“What are… uh…” Zyla winced as her thoughts turned off once more. It seemed
to come in waves, like little bubbles popping where her thoughts should be. The
vacuum left behind had her struggle to fill it a moment later, giving a moment for the
evil Artificer to add something instead. It wasn’t controlling her thoughts, just
making it hard to focus on anything else.
Which sadly made it hard to look away from the matronly villainess as she
stepped before the fox, taking her time to walk home. The fact that she was so
confident manifested itself in a swaying to her hips, keeping the distracted vixen
caught on the size and shape of her elder captor’s body. There was just enough of it
to have some bounce behind it, especially when trapped in the tight costume. She
briefly wondered if this was what all of the villains thought when she was kicking
their asses, but that thought jointed the others in the fizzy popping feeling. Instead,
it was right back to butt, making her almost annoyed that she was so into girls. Why
was the older canine hot enough to get her distracted? How could she be distracted?
Every time she tried to think in some direction that didn’t lead to butt, the tight
material keeping her held brought her right back to horniness. Trying to think about
escaping suddenly brought a rather perfect pressure against her covered sex,
bringing her thoughts back to getting off. Bam, she was looking at that butt and
thinking about having fun with it for the next couple hours. Then she realized what
she was thinking about, thought about getting away, and the cycle continued. It
might even be that the torc was encouraging such a spiral of thoughts, helping to
keep the passenger nice and passive on their way home.
She didn’t even notice they’d passed through the city, going through the
corners and turns to the cul-de-sac that Ekatrina called home. It helped to keep her
captive from knowing how to get to her house, even if she coincidentally had.
Delivery girls certainly do get around.
“Welcome home, Stormwave.” Ekatrina looked over her shoulder as the spider
came to a halt. It was a small relief that her neighbors werent home. Having to sneak
in unseen was difficult already. Doing so with a superhero? Near impossible.
The spider, of course, couldn’t come into the house. It was simply too large!
Damaging her floor was out of the question. A wave of her paw had the fox get
grabbed by two smaller klockwerks, their hands grabbing the strings binding her up
like handles. The change in pressure elicited a little whimper of forced pleasure from
her charge, stoking the flames in Artificer’s body. Heat was already spreading
through her and just got stronger the more she thought about how to use the girl,
how much she could push this position of advantage forward. Her own thoughts
were so all-encompassing that she scarcely noticed the noise of the spider
disassembling itself, turning into smaller machines. In a few minutes, it would vanish
into special hiding places across the yard. Marcus, wouldn’t ever notice.
Probably.
“Now.” The Artificer moved to her bedroom, glancing this way and that to
confirm that her thankfully oblivious husband was away. “The last few times we’ve
met you’ve had such poor manners. No respect for decorum, always talking. Perhaps
you’ve been in need of a lesson?”
The matronly wolf moved to sit on an easy chair next to the vast bed, spreading
her legs just a bit. Those intrusive thoughts overtook the vixen once more, filling her
with imagery of so many lurid displays with the villain. All of this frustrated arousal
was only making it harder to focus on anything that wasn’t the distressingly visible
crease between her enemy’s thighs, bringing those sapphire eyes right where they
were going to be soon. The curves of the wolf, the way the outfit folded just a little
bit at the joints, all of it was drawing her further into the whirlpool of need and want.
Ugh, the fox hated it.
“Nothing to say?” Ekatrina leaned over and put a finger under Stormwave’s chin
as she was placed on the floor. The superhero, her mind lost in the myriad of bluntly
sexual fantasies, just looked up with a slightly glassy look in her eyes. It was obvious
what mattered was behind them, not before. “So little respect for your elders. I think
it’s time we taught that mouth how to be more… proper.”
It didn’t take the pressure from the Artificer’s hand atop her head to tell Zyla
what was coming. Nor was there any magical coercion dragging her further down
the rabbit hole. All that mattered were the feelings of arousal overwhelming the
vixen, creating clouds of lust and need that obscured the world outside of the tiny
world she’d been trapped in. Not even the bedroom itself was in focus, blurred out
and fuzzy. It was like the rest of the world was a TV with a bad connection,
contrasting so brightly with the immense focus on the wolf above her. Everything
she could imagine was slowly zeroing in on only one place, one thing. One job before
her.
“That a girl…” Ekatrina murred as the tongue slipped free, pressing against her
heated sex.
The outfit did nothing to hide the outline of her body, but it was in the way.
Even the tightest of fabrics dulled the feeling of a worshipful vixen learning her place,
so the matronly wolf reached up to one of her many magical tools. A ray of light
traced the costume’s contours as it slipped open, a hidden slid slit now freeing her
form. This brought a sudden squeak from the captive fox below her and greater
pleasure rippling through her body as the vixen’s tongue invaded the exposed cleft.
Without urgency, the lupine supervillain leaned back in her easy chair, propping
her head up on one hand while her elbow rested. Her pleasure grew as she watched
the heroine below fulfil her newest duties, looking as the glassy stare reflected back
at her. The torc about Stormwave’s neck glowed as it pressed more and more of
those thoughts further into her mind, swirling them about in a vortex no girl could
escape from. Every passing second had Zyla losing herself deeper into the act of
pleasuring her captor, her kidnapper, and that seemed more and more okay.
Why fight when your nose could flick against the Artificer’s bundle of nerves
just right, bringing a gasp from the villain? Why bother trying to escape when your
tongue, practiced more than the mature criminal would expect, could draw a series
of little moans from the gloating canine? It didn’t seem to make sense, wanting to
bring more pleasure to someone who had just been trying to do… something bad.
But it was right. Proper. The act of pleasuring this woman was bringing burning hot
heat back into the fox, like a magnetic feedback loop that just made it worse and
worse as time went on. Every tease and twitch made her feel it more, warmer and
hotter within her skintight, duratex suit.
When the Artificer wrapped fingers about her hair, Stormwave knew she was
doing well. She wanted to do this well, right? There was some reason she was
concerned about making the wolf feel better, pushing her to get off? It didn’t matter
if the thoughts of tongue-fucking the wolf before her were a mousetrap that she’d
fallen into. That just meant they had to be proper and correct. That’s how that
worked. Rubbing her lips against the villain’s nethers brought them both pleasure, so
why stop? She could plunge her tongue further in, work at a greater degree than
before. When the villain moaned, the hero quaked in need. She could keep going,
working harder, faster and…
The spasming around her tongue brought Stormwave actual clarity for the first
time in a while; how long had she been working on the wolven villain? Was she
slurping away for a long while, explaining why her knees and jaw were so sore? Even
her back felt stiff from holding this position for so long. Her butt out, hands at the
floor. When had the cables been removed? They were gone, she could move. But
her tongue kept working away, licking as the woman before her rode out her
powerful orgasm. Shame and shock burned at her mind as she pleasured her
through the act, wincing as the thoughts popped in and out of reality.
“Ah… good…” Artificer panted a little bit, leaning backwards to bask in the
afterglow. Everything was going well, soon she could go for round…
A door closed down the hallway.
“Honey, you home?” came a deeper, masculine voice and a set of heavy
footsteps. The dazed pair looked towards the bedroom door as the husband stepped
into sight, though Stormwave was quickly pulled back to look into the depths of the
villain’s slit.
“Oh, yes dear. Just having a little fun with… a friend.” The matronly wife smiled
softly, looking towards the powerful male, a thrill running through her at the sight of
him – like always. Teasingly, she adds, “I was wondering if you might… care to join us?
You know how these cosplayers are.”
Cosplayer? She knows what that is-pop went that thought. Back to licking.
Of course, he didn’t speak. There was only one response needed; the sound of a
zipper going down. Stormwave was in for one fuck of a night.