Chapter
3 - Eyes of the Beast
by Soul
in Shadow (soul.in.shadow@gmail.com)
Miss
Americana paused at the top of the embankment and looked down at the steep hill
descending in front of her. Night in the Delta City forest was seasonably warm,
and she had been hiking briskly for several hours. The occasional cool breeze
flittered through the thick trees, providing some relief, but so far the
evening had been frustratingly fruitless.
The
moon was bright and full overhead, so bright that even the dense canopy
couldn't shield the forest floor completely, and coupled with her own
preternaturally keen eyesight, she had been able to navigate the woods
perfectly fine without need of a flashlight. She was glad for the cover of
darkness, as she had no intention of letting her quarry know she was coming by
forecasting her position with a conspicuous light beam.
She
reached to her belt and retrieved the mini-tablet Tessa had set her up with.
The screen lit up at her touch, just bright enough for her to check the map.
Her location was indicated by a bright blue dot.
"Three
spots down," she murmured to herself, noting the targets she'd already
investigated, "and nothing to show for it." She panned the map just
slightly north of her position and saw the fourth marker. It sat over what
appeared to be a the foot of one of the areas larger mountains, nestled between
two diverging river streams. She was nearly at the heart of the circular search
radius Tessa had triangulated based on the locations of the kidnapped girls. On
foot it had taken her almost five hours to get this far, but she was hardly a
normal human being. Her strength and speed had helped her cover significant
distance across incredibly rough terrain in half the time it would have taken
even the best forest ranger. The champion of Delta City was formidable, but
even she was starting to have doubts about being able to cover the entire area
in one night.
A pang
of worry had started to nag at her since the second target site turned up
nothing, one that had been growing increasingly anxious as the night
progressed. She feared for those girls, feared that even now she was already
too late. At each of the last three sites she had explored with dreadful
certainty that she would stumble upon their massacred remains, nothing but
another meal for this hellish creature. It was almost a relief that she hadn't
found anything yet. That meant there was still a chance. There was still hope.
A wisp
of wind rustled the treetops, and Miss Americana froze. The hairs on the back
of her neck pricked up, and a low sense of alarm fluttered in her belly. She
spun, expecting something--anything--to move in the surrounding shadows, but
there was only the forest. That in and of itself was worrisome, she thought.
Normally she should have at least seen the fleeing of animals, or heard the
drone of insects...but the forest, absent the sound of leaves rustling in the
wind, was dreadfully quiet. She felt utterly alone, and the solitude was
starting to play on her nerves.
Just
the wind, she thought to herself, but she could't quite shake the feeling that
she was being watched.
She
checked her compass, made mental note of the visual guides she could follow
from the landscape, and stowed the tablet. Righteous determination spurred her
on, and she leapt down the hillside. The fourth target was only about half an
hour north, closer if she hurried.
What
Miss Americana failed to notice was the large, dark form that was silently
stalking her path. She did not notice the gleam of hungry eyes that devoured
her superhuman physique. It had been centuries since last he'd seen a woman
like this! Her flowing raven hair, the alabaster smoothness of her skin, her
long, strong legs, and those impossibly large, bouyant breasts, she was a PRIZE.
And dressed in such revealing clothing! It was as if these modern females were
simply begging to be ravished. Already he felt his lust surging, and it was
only with some difficulty that the beast held himself back. He could sense that
this one was different. The ease and speed at which she moved spoke to her
physical prowess. This one might have even put up a fight, had he sought to
engage her directly. Though part of him yearned for battle, it was only against
the forces of men that he wished to slake his bloodlust.
He had
other, far more effective ways of subduing females.
He had
no need to chase her down; the fool was walking right into the heart of his
domain. Soon she would come upon his lair, where evidently she hoped to take
him unaware.
He
chuckled to himself, moving with utter silence and tremendous speed. How naive
of her. How utterly arrogant. This beautiful doe was walking right into the
lions den, so prideful in her own abilities that she thought she could best
him.
He
would relish putting her in her place.
----------------
It was
midnight by the time Miss American reached the fourth target location on her
map.
She
braced a red-gloved hand against the thick trunk of a nearby tree and stopped
to catch her breath. She'd run hard to get this far so quickly, and the going
had been tougher than she'd anticipated. She'd managed to cut her travel time
by a third or so. Every minute was important, if it meant being able to save
those girls from that monster.
She was
at the base of the Whitestone Hills, a series of small rises in terrain that
were the hallmark of this satellite town of Delta City. Though quite beautiful
and a prized location for hiking, they were far too remote to realistically
attract any meaningful tourism, and for whatever reason, the township of
Whitestone had steadfastly resisted efforts to intrude on the space. Whitestone
was an odd township though, anachronistic almost. The town had been established
many years ago, predating Delta city itself, a forgotten outpost descended from
Puritan explorers. Their descendants were rigidly traditional, and often made
allusions to being the caretakers of the forest. They were among the most
outspoken critics of DeltaNatural's efforts to frack mine the region, and were
almost apoplectic when Delta City, under its eminent domain clause, offered a
small section of the Whitestone Hills to DeltaNatural purely as a 'prospecting
site'.
The
mine itself was barely two miles from her present location; it was situated
almost at the center of the search region on her map.
"Makes
sense," Miss Americana thought, "If the blasts from the site somehow
woke this thing up, it would naturally stick close to its original
home..."
She
looked up at the hillside. The face was a little too sheer to safely climb
without equipment, even if the rise was eighty or ninety feet up. Miss
Americana resolved to follow along the base of the hill, heading west, until
the terrain allowed for easier ascension. She was looking for a cave, and the
mountain seemed to be the best place to start looking.
She
traced her way along the rocky foothills. Here the trees grew scarcer, and the
moonlight ignited the landscape in bright silver hues. She'd only been walking
a few minutes when something made her stop in her tracks.
A dozen
or so yards away, there looked to be a break in the mountain face, on a terrace
slightly higher than her present elavation. She might have missed it
totally...except for the strange, green mist that seemed to be seeping down the
rocky rise leading up the terrace. It slipped and flowed, oozing eerily between
the rocks, a green river of thick smoke nearly ankle-deep.
Ok, she
thought, that's definitely weird.
Cautiously,
she began following the current of the flowing mist. She picked her way between
the rocks, moving as quietly as she could. She failed to notice how the mist
seemed to cling to her boots...how long, wispy tendrils licked at her calves.
She pressed on, and soon came to a large, wide opening in the hillside. The entrance
to the cave was masked by old overgrowth and shielded from the path below by
large, fallen boulders. If she hadn't noticed the mist, she would have missed
it entirely.
The
mist was much thicker here, nearly knee-deep. The miasma was pouring out of the
mouth of the cave, where inside, it appeared even thicker.
Miss
Americana hesitated. Could it be some kind of natural gas? What if it was
methane, or something worse? But she couldn't for the life of her recall any
deadly gas that looked or behaved like this.
Suddenly,
from deep inside the cave, she noticed the dim, flickering glow of firelight.
Her
heart was pounding. This had to be it!
The
fire made her feel a little better about the gas; methane would have ignited,
and this stuff...cautiously, she knelt down, and very gingerly, took a whiff.
It
didn't smell...bad, per se, just...odd. Like overturned loam, or moldering
leaves. She risked a longer, deeper breath, inhaling until her enourmous tits
strained at their confining bikini top. Not just leaves and earth, she
realized, but something...animal too. Something very....male.
She
stood up, made to step forward, and had to catch herself on the mouth of the
cave as she unnexpectedly stumbled. She blinked hard, as a sudden wave of dizziness
came over her. Must have stood up too fast or something, she thought, trying to
shake away the cobwebs and only mostly succeeding. Weird.
Whatever
the mist was, it didn't appear to be toxic, and she'd come too far to turn back
now. She would have to trust her enhanced stamina to hold off any ill effects,
if there were any at all.
She
didn't realize that her stumble had knocked her tablet loose from her belt
holster. It fell into the thick mists, landing quietly on a patch of thick
moss, unnoticed, as Miss American entered the dark and misty maw.
A few
steps in and the ground seemed to slope down sharply. She held a hand against
the wall of the cave to keep her bearing. She wouldn't risk activating her
flashlight now, she would just have to move carefully. Distantly, the glow of
firelight continued to flicker. The path leveled off after a brief descent, and
the passage remained open and mostly unobstructed. The mist was hip-deep now,
and in the dark of the cave, Miss Americana could see that it actually had a
vague luminescence. It totally obscured the ground, but it did help guide her
way, and for that she was thankful. As immersed as she was though, the heady
aroma of the mist was much stronger, and seemed to be growing stronger still as
she moved further and further into the cave.
Forty
feet or so in, and she had to pause a moment to collect herself. Something was
wrong. Was it getting warmer? It certainly felt that way. Her skin felt
flushed. She could feel color riding high on her hot cheeks. And why did she
suddenly feel so...drowsy?
This is
nonsense, she scolded herself, you've been running hard for half the night. Of
course you're fatigued. As for the warmth, it had to be from the fire up ahead,
insulated as she was in the deep of the cave.
She
pressed on. The glow was coming from a bend up ahead, just a little further.
She had to find those girls.
Beneath
the surface of the mist, Miss Americana couldn't see how the miasma eagerly
clung to her passage, caressing her calves, her thighs, the swell of her toned
ass and the soft, gentle mound of her sex hidden beneath her bikini cut
panties. The touch was barely perceptible, but despite her enhanced
physiology's best attempts to resist, slowly, the ancient poison was beginning
to weave its sinister spell on the unsuspecting superheroine.
Only a
little further, she thought, breathing harder from the exertion of moving her
slowing legs, drawing more and more of that heady musk into her lungs as she
did so. It was good that she had the wall of the cave to hold on to, she was
starting to feel a little light-headed.
Finally,
she reached the bend in the path, and pressed her back against the wall of the
passage before carefully peering around the corner.
The
voice that greeted her nearly made her jump.
"There
is no need for stealth," came the rumbling call from the next chamber.
"Come. I've been expecting you."
She
snapped back into the dark passage, falling into a defensive crouch. Dammit,
how did it know? It can talk? what the hell was she dealing with?
she
didn't have time to figure out an alternative. she couldn't back away at this
point. If she had been discovered, then she had no need for further pretense.
She took a deep breath, and sprung into the firelight.
She was
ill-prepared for what greeted her.
The
cave rapidly opened up into a natural, circular chamber, with a cavernous
ceiling so high it vanished into impenetrable shadow. Along the walls,
makeshift sconces had been shoved into the hard rock. Sputtering torches
crackled and sparked, casting the entire room in dancing orange and red. The
floor of the great chamber swirled with thick green mist, a flowing whirlpool,
at the center of which, seated in a great stone chair that would have dwarfed
even a large man, the creature sat waiting.
It was
just as monstrous as the camera footage had shown. Ram horns curled up from its
broad forehead, while dark, thick fur curled out in a mane that melded into a
mantle about its shoulders. Its bare chest was massive, broadly muscled, its
skin the milky color of moonlight. Goat-like legs, covered in the same dark
fur, ended in massive black hooves that gleamed like obsidian. A wide, toothy
grin showed gleaming, wicked-sharp teeth. And its eyes, smoldering like green fire,
were fixed on her and her alone, wide, staring, and openly hungry.
And his
size! The camera footage barely did it justice. This beast was massive, even
seating he was as tall as she was standing. Miss Americana stepped forward,
swallowing hard. This wasn't going to be easy.
The
bigger they are, she reassured herself...but it was scant comfort.
"My
name is Miss Americana," she snapped at the creature, summoning all the
force she could muster, "I am the protector of Delta City and all its residents.
I've come to take back those girls you took, monster!"
He
cocked his head, "Miss...Americana..." he practiced the name, the
syllables unfamiliar. The creature leaned back into the throne. His head and
upper chest suddenly vanished into the deep shadow cast by its high back and
curved wings. Only his eyes remained visible; bright, piercing. They conveyed
utter confidence. "That name is...unsuitable. Women shouldn't have such
pretentious titles."
"And
just who are you to decide that?" she shot back, anger welling inside her.
She detested mysoginy. This pig would have to be taught a lesson.
"Who
am I?" it responded, before chuckling low, and deep. In the chamber, the
sound seemed to come from everywhere at once. "Why, my dear, I am a GOD.
And this..." he jestured wide around him with his great arms. "...is
my temple."
Miss
Americana shifted uncomfortably. The lightness in her head was getting worse,
and her arms felt like they were moving through mud. She couldn't see signs of
the girls anywhere. The chamber appeared to be a dead end; any adjoining
tunnels were hidden by the dancing shadows. God, those damn torches. The
flickering light of the flames was playing tricks on her eyes, making them feel
strangely...heavy.
"R-release
the girls," she ordered, "If you cooperate, I promise you a fair
trial for your crimes."
"I
have lived on these lands for nine hundred years. I answer to no court of
mortal man. As for the females..." his eyes betrayed a self-satisfied
smile, "It think you'll find that they no longer wish to leave."
The way
those burning eyes stared into hers was making her feel strange. She found the
sound of his voice weirdly soothing, like the bubbling of a wide, dark brook.
Again and again, she found her gaze being drawn to meet his, to stare into
those burning orbs. It made her body feel...warm.
"What
the hell do you mean by that?" she said, after slightly too long of a
pause. She didn't realize it, but she had started to sway, ever so slowly, as
the dancing firelight seemed to make the room dance around her. The horned god
watched her intently, seeing the way her breathing quickened, the way her
shoulders had started to slump. She was trying hard to fight it, but here
eyelids were beginning to droop. At last, he grinned, they could begin.
"You
will see for yourself...right now." And now he rose out of his throne,
stepping away and to the side abruptly, making her reflexively step back,
spinning to face him. Another sudden movement, and he was behind her, blocking
off the exit. Miss Americana took a defensive step back...towards the middle of
the chamber. Slowly, the beast began to stalk around her, circling. Miss
Americana followed him, continually adjusting her stance, wary of any sudden
movement, poised to punish any strike...but none came. The beast merely began
to pace a cirlce around her, slowly, confidently, all the while staring at her
with those bright, luminous eyes.
"You
have traveled a very long way, my dear," the beast said, it's voice
languid, sonorous, and strangely...compelling. "You must be feeling tired.
So very, very tired."
"I
d-don't know what you're talking about," Americana replied, struggling to
follow his movement. Every time she turned, it felt like it took a second for
her eyes to catch up. It was hard to focus, everything in the room seemed to be
moving; the flickering torchlight, the swirling miasma. But she WAS feeling
tired. So tired. Her thighs trembled. Her breathing was labored. The thick,
green mist filled her nose with a heady, musky aroma. Warm, enveloping, heavy.
She could barely catch her breath.
His
pace began to quicken.
"Oh,
but I do," came the honeyed drone of his voice, echoing in the cavern.
"I can see it plainly, my beautiful toy. Your breathing is labored. Your
body, so very heavy. With every moment that passes, you feel the strength
slowly draining out of you..."
Beautiful
toy? She didn't like the sound of that at all. It should have made her angry,
should have infuriated her, but instead, the words seemed to spark an unwelcome
blossom of warmth in her belly. It was getting so hard to move now, she was
barely able to keep up with him as he circled the room, faster, and
faster...making her head spin...making her so...dizzy...
She
couldn't focus. Everything was shifting around too fast. She was never able to
stand still for more than a second before he was nearly behind her again. She
couldn't let him get behind her, in her blind spot, so she kept turning...and
turning...
Her
eyes were drawn, naturally, irresistably, to the only thing in the room that
seemed to stay constant: the beasts deep, inviting eyes. No matter how fast he
moved, or how swiftly she had to turn her head, they were always there, almost
like they were floating in space. Wide. Open. Deep. It was so easy to let her
tired eyes focus on those deep, glowing
eyes.
He met
her stare, saw with mounting satisfaction the glazed, far away look in her baby
blues, and began to inch closer. Each revolution drew him closer to his prey.
"I
know more, my dear," he said, fresh cascades of the thick, green mist
pouring from his fanged maw. It wafted toward her, tendrils of it caressing her
face, and the swell of her heaving bossoms. "Your eyelids are getting
heavy. It's getting harder and harder to keep them open. Why not close them for
a moment? Just a moment. Feel them closing...closing..."
And
sure enough, Miss Americana's eyelids began to droop. Warm, welcoming darkness
filled the edges of her vision. But then, just before they shut, she seemed to
find some hidden reserve, shaking her head forcefully, "N-no! I don't know
what you think you're doing, but if you think that I'm going to let some
deranged animal h-hyptnotize me, you're crazier I thought!"
She
dashed forward suddenly, surprising him with her tenacity. Such vigor! Despite
the mist, despite the force of his will, still she resited him. This woman was
truly magnificent! His pulse quickened, and he felt the lust surge in his
loins. Breaking her, seducing her into sexual slavery, was going to be far
sweeter than he imagined.
Her
attack was brave, but the mists had taken their toll. Her movement was clumsy,
sluggish. He avoided her easily, stepping back at the last moment, before she
moved to pursue him again. Her strikes only met swirling tendrils of mist where
his hulking form used to be, and to her mounting dismay, Miss Americana
realized she was being toyed with. At any point he could have struck
back--could probably have killed her on the spot--but he only perpetuated their
dance.
He's
trying to wear me out, she realized, missing again. Her heart was throbbing
from exertion, but the thundering of her pulse, the surge of adrenaline, was
helping keep her focused. She was in too deep; she had come expecting some kind
of wild beast, not the cunning foe she faced now. If she couldn't find some way
of changing the dynamic...
All too
soon though her movements began to slow again, her attacks became more
haphazard. She staggered to a halt, barely keeping her balance. She screwed her
eyes shut, trying to stop the room from spinning.
"A
valiant effort," the beast chuckled, "But it's time to put an end to
this little game. You were so close before my dear. Now, you will fall
completely under my spell. Come...look into my eyes..."
"N-not
a chance," she panted, "I know what you're trying to do, and it isn't
going to work!" But even as she said it, she found her gaze being pulled
irresistably back to his own. Try as she might, she couldn't stop from staring.
They seemed to draw her in, tugging at her resolve, making her feel
drowsy...so, so drowsy. "Not...going to...work..."
But as
the moments passed, her breathing once more began to deepen, to slow. The
aggression slowly began to drain from her eyes, and a red flush rose on her
cheeks, on the upper swell of her breasts.
"You're
will is strong," the beast agreed. "A normal female would have been
entranced almost instantly. But hypnosis is hardly my only weapon, my dear. I
am a god of fertility, and my most potent power...is desire."
He took
a step toward her. She fell back into a combat stance, but it was about all she
could do. Her arms felt like lead. Her feet felt like they were burried in
sand. "S-stay back!"
"Surely
you can feel it," he said. His voice had taken on a low, smoldering bass
that made her belly flutter. "You felt it as soon as you entered this
chamber. A warmth, deep, primal...intoxicating...is spreading through
you."
Miss
Americana wanted to deny him, but to her horror, she realized he was right. Her
tired limbs...tingled. Her nipples had hardened trecherously, poking proudly
into the thin fabric of her bra. Around her waist, sinuous tendrils of green
mist continued their almost imperceptible caressing of her legs, her ass, her
sheltered womanhood. They licked along the edges of her bikini bottom, as if
trying to worm their way to the sultry, hidden treasure therein.
Worst
of all, the lethargy that she'd been fighting so hard to resist now seemed
almost alluring. She was so drowsy...so tired. It would be so easy to give in.
To close her eyes. To lay back, and let this monster have his way with her...
Wait,
what the hell, why would she think that? This beast had kidnapped those poor
girls, had apparently raped them, and was even now threatening her with the
same thing. It was obscene, wrong!
And
yet...why was she feeling so...excited...?
He
could see her struggling with her conflicting emotions, saw the way her brow
furrowed in confusion, in distress. He took another step forward, and this
time, Miss Americana barely moved in response.
"There's
no need to fight it, my pet," he soothed, his voice like honey, compelling
her to listen, "Just relax. Look into my eyes. Look deep, deep into my
eyes. My eyes control your will. My eyes control your desire."
"Y-you're...wrong...I'm
not...I won't..." she halted, her protests catching in her throat, as she
tried, vainly, to look away from him. But it was impossible. He had snared her.
The strength began to seep from her limbs. She began to sway.
"You
already are. Already your body responds to me. My pressence excites
you...arouses you. Let yourself go. Look into my eyes. Yesss. Deeper. Feel the
desire rising inside you. Filling you. You want to give in...you want to let
go....you're falling...falling..."
"Oh...oh
god...no," Miss Americana wailed, the blush on her cheeks unbearable, the
wave of light headedness irresistable. Suddenly she swayed too far, and
staggered back. She would have fallen, but the beast moved with cat-like speed,
wrapping a massive arm around her waist and pulling her close. He leaned her
back, pressing her side to his broad chest, supporting her effortlessly as she
tried to struggle against him. "No! No, let me go, I won't let you do
this! Stop!"
Her
fists beat against him ineffectually, rebounded off of his hard, muscled chest
and collosal shoulders. Being so close caused her already inflamed body to
smolder. She felt so weak next to him, so small. So...female.
Yes,
trapped in his grasp, she felt something primal stirring inside her. She basked
in his form, in his pure, bestial masculinity. She found herself sinking into
his embrace. She was so tired, so very very drowsy...and the way he held her
made it so easy just to let go, to lay back, to float...
"That's
it, my pet," he whispered as she started to swoon in his arms.
"You've been fighting for too long. You have no more strength. Give in. I
will not harm you. Quite the contrary..."
His
free hand came up, and before she could move to stop him, his wicked sharp
talon sliced through the thin material between her breasts, and all at once,
her massive, engorged breasts spilled into the open, her nipples painfully
erect.
"Stop
it! What are you--what are you do....oh...!"
He
began gently raking up the curve of her bountiful tits with the tips of his
razor-sharp claws, weaving tantilizing trails that made her glow. She managed
to grab his wrist with her left hand, but the sensations from her breasts were
making it hard to think, hard to focus. It felt so wrong...so...good.
She did
not push his hand away.
A rush
of unmistakable arousal now began to pulse through her. Every time those evil
claws would caress her breast, or brush enticingly against her diamond-hard
nipples, she would gasp. No one had ever made her breasts feel this way before.
As she
stared, his touch began to grow firmer, more brazen. Now he hefted one tit in
his monstrous hand, feeling its weight, gently squeezing until the soft, white
flesh began to push out between his fingers. As he began to knowingly knead her
sensitive brests, she began to pant. Her hand trembled, then slipped away from
his wrist to hang limply at her side. God, he was making her feel so...oh!
"I
know what you want," he breathed, as a fresh cascade of mist bellowed from
his maw to circle around her head like a halo, filling her nose and lungs once
more with his alpha scent. "I know how to stoke the fire of your need. I
know just how to make you tremble."
He
leaned her back so that her chest bent up towards him, offering her jutting
tits to his leering mouth. It opened wide, and Miss Americana watched as an
impossibly long and sinuous tongue slipped out to take her right breast into
its hot, wet embrace.
"N-no!"
she gasped raggedly, "Stop, don't do that! Don't...don't....ohhh"
But the
sensation was impossible to resist. His tongue was so long that it curled
around her entire tit, squeezing it, trapping it, while the tip began to lash
and circle her hard nipple. An involuntary moan was ripped from her parted lips
as that sinewy tentacle did its job. Unhurriedly he moved from one breast to
another, lavishing them with layers of slick spittle, until both breasts
gleamed wetly in the firelight. Her whole body quivered. Between her tightly
pressed thighs, her pussy began to throb. Against her will, she could feel
herself growing wet. Thoughts of what other wicked pleasures that devil tongue
could give began to race, unbidden and uncontrollable, through her fevered
mind.
Then a
sound, a sudden, light click, registered through her lusty haze. Her heart
stopped. That noise, oh god, it couldn't be...!
But to
her utter dismay, her worst fears were realized. The monster held her
unfastened power belt before her wide, fearful eyes, before tossing it casually
across the room, where it vanished beneath the swirling mists along the cavern
floor. Miss Americana groaned miserably, as what little boost the belt had been
giving her was stripped away. She had only a moment to lament the loss of her
power belt though, because all too quickly, the languid, lingual assault on her
too-sensitive tits burried her under a fresh tide of helpless arousal.
But
even as the beast licked at her breasts, his clawed hand began to move lower,
lower, gliding talons down her spasming belly until they came to the front of
her blue panties. She looked down in horror as it began another series of
tempting strokes, this time against the sensitive flesh of her legs, her
thighs. Jolts of erotic pleasure were dancing across her alabaster skin as he
stroked her legs, her ass, the tight juncture of her thighs as they struggled
to keep his questing fingers at bay. She should have tried to stop him. tried
to swat that evil hand away, but her body wasn't listening.
Gently,
patiently, the monster toyed with her flesh. Made her squirm.
God,
she was getting hot, he was making her so, so...hot!
"Spread
yourself to me," the beast whispered in her ear, the sensation of his hot
breath making her quiver. "Open your legs, my pet. You know you cannot
resist."
"No...no..."
she wimpered, but all too soon, her thighs began to unwillingly spread to his
coaxing fingers. Just a little at first, then wider, wider, as those knowing
talons began to dance up the sensivite flesh along her inner thighs, rewarding
her obedience with a surge of sensation, and revealing her covered mound.
Despite her protests, tell-tale wetness had seeped through the fabric as it
clung to her heated sex. He paused with his finger tips just brushing above her
parted knees, then slowly, slowly, he began to move up her leg.
She
couldn't take her eyes off of his hand as it moved purposefully upwards, knew
she should shut her legs tight, to trap him, to halt his progress...but
couldn't. "D-don't you dare!" she moaned, "Keep your hands
off...of...me..."
But
just before he reached her throbbing, covered cunt, he stopped,
descended....and began to climb just as slowly back up her other thigh.
Again
and again, he came close, so very very close, before moving away. Teasing her.
Making her twist, and tremble, battering her resolve. Her pussy was aching. Her
stomach would clench in anticipation as he neared her the front of her covered
sex, and then shudder anxiously as he dropped away. She started to pant, then
moan. Her thighs spread even wider, and her hips began to unconsciously thrust
against his questing hand.
Oh God,
was he right? Was he really some kind of...of sex god...? Is that why he could
make her feel the way she did, so utterly turned on, so helpless in his strong,
dominating embrace?
Finally,
apparently satisfied at the overheated, struggling mess he'd made of her, the
monster's talons flickered twice, slicing fabric, and her soaked uniform fell
away. At last her soaked pussy was laid bare to him, naked and vulnerable. When
he saw her bald cunt lips, he chuckled derisively. "You fancy yourself a
hero, and yet you groom yourself like a slut. For that is what you truly are:
not a hero at all, but a ssslut," he hissed the word into her ear, searing
it into her mind. Her eyes fluttered as she whimpered in denial. His hand
returned to the super-sensitized flesh of her inner thigh, and once more,
slowly began to rise.
This
time, she knew, they would not stop.
"Ssslut....ssslave....you
cannot deny it..."
"No,
I'm Miss Americana...I'm not a...a..." She couldn't say it. She was afraid
if she said it, she would know it was a lie. Her cunt twitched in need as that
conquering hand drew closer, closer.
What if
he's right, she sobbed inwardly. Why else would she be letting him touch her
like this? Why wouldn't her body obey her? Her thighs were slick with her own
juices. The feeling of his fingers slipping closer and closer to her pussy was
beyond arousing. She ached for him to end it, to touch her there, and when he
finally did...!
"Oh...!
Oh....God...noo....OOOH!" she moaned, as his masterful hand finally,
mercilessly, cupped against her throbbing sex. She melted in his arms, as the
waves of pleasure he had been denying her began to crash against her battered
will. Her wetness gushed against his fingers, though he only barely moved. He
was content to hold her there, at her most vulnerable point, enjoying the
sensation of her gooey wetness oozing against him. The lips of her pussy spread
easily for him, and the fleshy nub of her clit stood out proudly from its
protective hood. He brushed his fingers against it, making her swoon.
"Sssaaay
it...." he hissed, slowly, methodically assaulting her sex. He played with
her, a languid, messy manipulation, stroking up and down her overheated pussy
and forcing her to moan in wicked pleasure. "Sssay
it....ssslut....sssaaaay it....sssssluuut..."
Over
and over he whispered his demand for her submission, his voice alluring,
irresistable, mesmerizing. The pleasure of his hand made it impossible to
think, impossible to gather her will, for each time she began to struggle, he
merely had to brush against her engorged clit to send her crashing back down.
Her panting grew ragged. She couldn't escape. She bucked against his stroking
hand, no longer able to control her trecherous hips. She could only think about
the desperate, overwhelming NEED that he had stoked in her. She was too hot.
Too turned on. She felt like any moment she might completely explode, but his
fingers never let her get that far. They tormented her. She was so close. It
would only take a little more, just a little more pressure, just a harder
caress....but he would not let her come. She wanted to come. She NEEDED to
come...!
Wordlessly,
she began mouthing the words he was whispering into her drugged, receptive
mind. Her eyes were hooded, glazed, staring sightlessly up at the black shadows
on the cavern ceiling. She was floating on a cloud of pleasure, rising higher,
and higher. She could not stop herself.
"...slut..."
she barely whispered, and abruptly, his fingers grew still. She squirmed
against his hand desperately, begging him to keep going, to keep touching her
there. Oh god it felt so good.
"Louder,"
he hissed. Tears of shame welled in her eyes.
"No...please...I
can't...oooh", she groaned as his hand began stroking harder. Assaulting
her. Making her shake. His control of her clitoris was absolute. She moaned
helplessly.
"Louder."
Tears
rolled down her hot cheeks. Her hips swayed to the rhythm of his devilish fingers.
Her body sagged, melted...she could take no more of the delicious, wicked
torture.
"S-sslut.."
she breathed, then gasped as waves of pleasure rewarded her admission. He
assaulted her clit, massaging, squeezing, perfectly in synch with the rising submissiveness
in her moans. "Slut....slut..." she panted as he fingered her. Every
time she said it, he rewarded her, manipulating her clitoris, driving her
closer, closer. "I'm...I'm a....OOOH!!"
His
fingers moved purposefully now, one thick digit beginning to probe at the
entrance to her pussy, dipping in, opening her up. He trapped her clitoris
beneath the pad of his thumb and began grinding it against the firmness of her
pelvic bone. Miss Americana began to cry out, thrusting her hips, so close...so
very close...!
"Whose
slut are you?" he said, maneuvering her in his embrace so that her lolling
head turned to face him, until she was staring up at his cruel, grinning
visage, her eyes hooded, glazed. He stared into them. "Say it."
She
tried to fight him. She tried to muster even an ounce more resistance, but her
body was hopelessly in his control...and she no longer had the will to resist
his dominating gaze.
Her
baby blue eyes fluttered, drooped, and as the conquering manipulation of her
sex continued, began to slowly...slowly...shut. Her ruby lips let out a long
moan of pleasure, of resignation, then she whispered:
"Your
slut. I am...your...slut...!"
The
monster grinned down at his entranced conquest, totally in his power.
"That's my good little slave. Now...here is your reward."
The
finger that had been dangerously circling the opening of her vagina suddenly
stopped, and began to press into her, filling her up, massaging the throbbing
walls of her pussy while his thumb rolled against her clit. His finger was as
long and thick as any man's cock, and her pussy clenched around it, squeezing,
sucking him in deeper and deeper. She could only moan helplessly as he began to
slide it in and out, in and out, faster and faster. Her hips rocked eagerly
against his hand. The thick feeling of penetration, the friction against her
clit, and most of all, the release as her mind finally succumbed to his
hypnotic domination sent her over the edge.
"OH
my god...OH god yess...yesssss...YESSSSSSSSS!!!"
The
champion of justice exploded in the monster's torrid embrace, her body
spasming, cradled like a doll in his sexual grip. She wailed in ecstacy as the
orgasm he'd long been denying her finally came crashing down, surging,
overwhelming, until finally, mercifully, Miss Americana passed out.
The
beast chuckled in satisfaction, as he continued to manipulate her heated sex
through her body's helpless spasms. A second, smaller orgasm followed her
first, he felt it as her pussy clamped down greedily on his probing digit, but
the only sign Miss Americana gave was a weak, powerless moan. He was cementing
in her mind the feeling of overwhelming pleasure that came with her submission
to him. It would make the next step so much more satisfying. It would lay the
seed for her total and utter surrender.
"Sleep
now, my lovely slave, and dream of my touch. From now on, when you are in my
pressence, your body will unconsciously crave this pleasure I give. Now sleep.
Dream. Obey."
He
watched as her eyes began to flutter beneath her eyelids. A fresh blush of
color rose on her cheeks, and her red lips fell open in a soft moan. He gave
her rigid clitoris one last rolling caress before finally removing his hand
from her sopping pussy. He brought it to his fanged mouth, where his long
tongue snaked out to taste her sweet wetness. Gathering her up, he cradled the
overcome superheroine in his demonic arms, and carried his newest victim deeper
into his temple of vile hedonism.
The
thick, green mist swirled in his wake.