The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

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.