The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Recognize this, Scar?”

Rebecca swung the mirror around, so the little Asian woman could see herself hanging in the rope harness. She hung upside-down in a reverse hogtie, her little high breasts up in the air, arms and legs tied beneath her in vicious knots. The ropes around her hips left her bare pussy open to the touch.

“Beautiful, Rebecca-chan,” said Scar. Her voice slurred slightly, still recovering from Daze’s blow, but her mouth split in a wicked grin. “You’re such a talented slut.”

“Thank . . .” Rebecca’s cheeks burned. “I’m not your slut, bitch.”

“You’re under arrest for drug-dealing, mind subversion and sex trafficking,” said Rebecca. “And that’s just for starters . . . there’s going to be a fuck of a lot more.”

Scar’s golden eyes fluttered closed. Her tongue licked across her bronze lips. Rebecca’s throat went dry as Scar flexed in the ropes, taut muscles rippling ever-so slightly.

So restrained and yet so . . . relaxed.

In control.

“Such a sexy game, Rebecca-chan,” sighed Scar. “Are you going to interrogate me now? Yes, let’s do that next.”

A trickle of sweat ran down the back of Rebecca’s neck. The porcelain skin of her big soft breasts rose and fell as her breath deepened. “This isn’t a game, Scar. And I’m going to . . . .”

“Interrogate me, yes,” Scar laughed soft and low, “I love our little games, Rebecca-chan.”

Scar’s laughter always made Rebecca feel so hot and wet. Such a sexy game to play.

Rebecca clenched her teeth. She shook her head to clear it, placed her fingers on either side of Scar’s head, “Alright then, you asked for it.”

—Scar.

Rebecca’s psychic eye looked into the tiny woman’s mind.

Scar’s thoughts ran past Rebecca’s vision, blurring, impossibly fast, circling and shuffling like a pack of cards in the hands of a master dealer. Rebecca couldn’t make sense of it, it shouldn’t have been possible, but whoever had taught Scar psychic defenses had done an astonishing job.

Rebecca could break the cards apart, but even then it would take time to re-assemble them and even just the power to break the pack . . . the darkness surged up inside Rebecca’s soul for a moment, but she suppressed it. Too dangerous. Daze had been right, better to wait.

Suddenly, the master dealer flashed a card in front of Rebecca’s face.

The hardwood of the desk mashed against Rebecca’s thick pink nipples as she squirmed her big slave tits against it. Her knuckles white as she gripped one edge of the desk while pushing her bare ass higher, bending over the other end. She could feel another woman’s thighs and hips pressed against her own, the other woman bending beside her; pretty, dark skin slaked with sweat as the two of them chanted in submission.

A spiral rotated on the screen before her eyes and in the center of the spiral she saw a pair of pretty dark eyes and heard a voice talking inside her empty head. The voice told her she had passed every test and shown obedience to Scar-sensei and the Kage. She sobbed as she felt the fingers lubing her dripping cunt then pushing in, more and more, so deep. Gasped as she felt the thumb enter as well. Filled up. Controlled.

“Yes, Rebecca-chan,” said Scar. “The night you joined us. A poetic reward for completing your first drug delivery for The Fist.”

Rebecca’s mouth hung open. She tried to pull out of Scar’s mind, but the cards twisted and blurred around her. Another image flashed before her eyes.

She stood in SIU headquarters. A small administrative office, cluttered files piled on metal filing cabinets. A mousy brunette in a plain white blouse and brown skirt sat behind a desk, pushing her thick glasses up the bridge of her nose. One of SIU’s admin’s, Rebecca didn’t even think she knew the woman’s name. The woman ceased fiddling with a webcam and looked up.

The woman smiled, “I’m so glad you deigned to visit my humble office, lead detective. I have something to show you.”

Rebecca’s weird green eyes popped as the dumpy woman started to undo her plain blouse’s buttons, “What the fuck are you doing!? You’re going to get fir . . . .”

The symbol on the admin’s creamy left breast glowed. Two Japanese symbols. Mind. Body. Separated by a scar. Rebecca’s pussy dripped as she crawled into the admin’s arms, taking one big brown nipple in her mouth and suckling, listening as she heard Scar-sensei’s orders. Letting her head be pushed down underneath the brown skirt, so that Rebecca could worship between the admin’s sweaty thighs. Rebecca fingered herself to orgasm as her handler came on her face.

The blinking webcam let Scar-sensei see it all.

“Ah,” whispered Scar. “Now, you know how we got you in the first place. It amused me to watch you that night, pretending to be ‘Kira Blake.’ Our informant had already identified you and Daze to us. Who do you think arranged for you to have a SWAT team member as a partner for an undercover operation?”

Rebecca whined. Scar had been in control all along. Every step of the way.

So hot.

God, she’d been controlled by Scar, even before she’d realized it. Her cunt burned with a need to feel Scar’s fingers and tongue. Her mouth watered at the thought of Scar’s delicious pussy.

“Let’s play a little more, Rebecca-chan, then you can release me and carry me away with you. Why not even tell everyone I’m your prisoner? We both know how sexy it is to know who’s really in control.”

A card flashed up.

Rebecca sobbed, naked on her hands and knees. Scar rode on her back, side-saddle, using Rebecca’s girly red pigtails as reins. The pigtails had pretty pink bows. A goddess sat on a spartan throne before them, listening as Rebecca reported, begging to be given new ways to serve the divine will. The Kage. A tug on her pigtail-reins made Rebecca crawl forward between the Kage’s long legs . . . .

“Yes, you love being controlled don’t you, Rebecca-chan?” said Scar-sensei. “Love being seen to be controlled. Worship me then. Let them find you like that. Such a lovely game for us to play.”

Rebecca’s hands dropped from Scar’s head. They pulled down the silver zipper over her dripping cunt, her thighs slick with the juices leaking from beneath her shiny black panties.

“On your knees, slave,” said Scar-sensei.

Rebecca-chan crawled around Scar-sensei’s body and parted her mistress’s thighs, sliding in between them. Her nostrils drank in the musk of Scar-sensei’s beautiful pink pussy.

“Watch yourself, Rebecca-chan, watch yourself in the mirror.”

Scar-sensei’s juices tasted like sweet nectar on her tongue. She licked slow and deep between Scar-sensei’s wet labia. Swirled her tongue around her mistress’s swollen clit. Sucked delicately upon it. Rebecca-chan saw herself in the mirror, obedient and blissful.

Scar-sensei laughed; hanging in the rope harness being serviced by her favorite slave.

The darkness inside Rebecca rose up. A huge cloud of inky blackness drifted up into her mind. It exploded. Rivulets of black oil running in between her thoughts, filling up the pockets and streams they found there.

Rebecca broke away and stood.

“Rebecca-chan, do not . . . .”

“Shut the fuck up, bitch,” Rebecca shuddered. She struggled to maintain control, “My name is Lead Detective Rebecca McCandliss of Infinity City Special Investigations Unit.”

Rebecca examined an object on the floor. She found what she wanted.

“How about this, Scar? Recognize it too?”

Scar looked at the bamboo dart, inches away from her eyes, “Rebecca-chan, what are you . . . ?”

“Tipped with Orbweaver drug, right? You used it on me that first night, didn’t you? Ever done it yourself?”

“No! Don -nnn . . . .”

Scar’s eyes rolled back. Her body convulsing.

Rebecca pulled the tip of the dart from Scar’s neck, “Drug dealers always end up sampling the merchandise, Scar. One way or another.”

She picked up Scar’s box of needles. The cloud of darkness streamed upwards into her mind, an uncontrollable slick she could only restrain, but not stop, “Let’s see if I can make these work. Let’s see how your . . . what did you call them? How your lotus petals respond?”

She ran her finger into Scar’s wet pussy; pulled Scar’s labia apart.

First needle.

“Your organization is called The Fist?”

“Yes.” Scar moaned, her eyes shut.

“What is your rank?”

“Commander.”

Second needle.

“How many commanders?”

“Four.” Beads of sweat appeared and dripped from Scar’s bare skin.

Third needle.

“And The Kage is the supreme leader?”

“Yesssssss.” Scar mewled, her thighs parting of their own accord. Rebecca’s psychic eye could see Scar’s energy flowing down into the little Asian’s melting core.

Fourth needle.

“How did The Kage recruit you?”

Scar moaned.

Rebecca saw an image rise to the front of Scar’s fractured mind.

A man and woman fighting. The stink of human waste in the air; wooden, poorly constructed walls enclosing a tiny space. The woman crumpled in one corner, cold and still. The man turned towards the cowering little girl watching from the far corner of the dreadful room. Glimpse of his yellow teeth and pitted cheeks as he bent down to grasp the child. Then a blur came and the man simply disappeared, only a broken rip in the wall where he used to be. Strong, warm arms picked up the little girl. The child saw pretty dark eyes as a soft voice comforted her.

“Well, shit,” said Rebecca. “Didn’t expect that. The Kage adopted you?”

Scar’s chest rose and fell, breathing heavy.

Fifth needle.

“No.” Scar started to sob.

“But she raised you?”

“Yes,” Scar whimpered.

“How old is the Kage?”

“Centuries.”

Rebecca blinked.

Sixth needle.

“Is the Kage human?”

“Yes.”

Rebecca blew her cheeks out in relief. She hated dealing with quasi-divine alien entities. The Olympians, in particular, were crazy bastards.

She pulled back the hood of Scar’s clit and gently inserted the last needle.

“What is the Kage’s secret identity?”

Scar whined.

Rebecca leaned in and blew across Scar’s sensitive skin, “Tell me, Scar, just tell me this one little thing and then I’m going to get that big black dildo you used on me and give your pussy-mind the fucking it so richly deserves . . . . You know you want it so bad, it’s all you care about.”

Scar started crying, her lips opened and closed.

Rebecca ran her fingers around Scar’s hard nipples.

Rebecca pressed her mouth against Scar’s ear, “Tell me, Scar, your pussy-mind is going to feel soooo good when you do. Tell me the Kage’s secret identity.”

Cracks and fissures opened up on the remains of Scar’s mind; then it finally broke.

“Cecelia . . . It’s Cecelia . . . .”

Rebecca’s head split as it hit the hardwood floor. Ropes snapped apart. A sudden blur of motion and then silence except for her own painful breathing.

Rebecca could feel damp blood trickling from her skull. She struggled onto her knees.

“You will pay for this,” the Kage’s voice shook the air as the blur of motion engulfed Rebecca.

White-hot lances speared through the redhead’s shoulder blades; the pain momentarily blinded her. She couldn’t feel her arms; they hung uselessly by her sides.

Rebecca blinked back tears. She saw a glowing hand giving way to purple silk arm bands traveling all the way up to a woman’s elbows. Black fishnets covered the woman from her elbow to her shoulder where black cloth started. Rebecca looked higher, until she looked the woman directly in the eyes. A black valkyrie’s mask covered the woman’s face, but her black eyes filled the world.

Rebecca whined. A crushing weight pressed upon her soul, the same weight that she’d felt when Daze had come bursting through her apartment window, but multiplied ten thousand-fold. She tried to beg for forgiveness, but only a high keening note issued from her mouth.

“Silence.”

The glowing fingers pressed against Rebecca’s forehead. Breath strangled in her throat. Fingertips made small circles on her skin.

“Open for me. Open your pussy-mind, slut.”

The redhead could feel the fingers pressing and stroking and circling and then . . . they pushed inside. Her body quivered.

“Yes, feel them inside you. All thoughts dissolving. Just melting away as my fingers fuck your pussy-mind.”

Fingers moved slowly through her thoughts, burning them up. Evaporated in the heat. Melting together again in a new form that pressed and squeezed around the fingers.

Slick and hot and wet.

“Your mind is a cunt to play with, slut. I should have done this the night my sweet Scar-chan took you, but, no, too sentimental. She took such joy in your submission, why would I spoil that?”

Slut’s cunt-mind dripped around the fingers filling it. Juiced and clenched.

Spasmed as the glowing fingers fucked in and out.

“No thought. No will. Just an endlessly hot cunt waiting for the next woman to fill it up.”

A line of drool dripped from slut’s mouth onto her heaving breasts.

Didn’t register it. Didn’t register any of it.

Just fingers. Moving inside her cunt-mind. Fucking all thoughts away.

“Keeping you aware is too dangerous. You will be transferred into my personal service. I could use a bed maiden of your height.”

Ropes wound around her, tight around her big soft tits. Pressing up between her wet labia and her ass cheeks. A rough knot teased her clit. Hands took her wrists and bound them to ankles behind her back. Somebody hauled her aloft.

Floating in darkness.

“You’ll be less than a slut. You’ll be a slave. Not just in word, but in every desperate moment of your existence,” said the Kage.

Slave’s eyes rolled up. Gloved fingers pulled at her eyelids.

—Focus.

Slave’s vision cleared for a second and she saw a tall redheaded woman standing before her in the darkness. The redhead’s hair drawn back severely against her scalp. A spectacular body clad in a black and blood-red dominatrix uniform. The redhead’s disturbingly green eyes looked down on slave, her lips curling at one corner.

—Goodbye, Rebecca McCandliss.

Slave lost focus. Her eyes rolled white once more.

—Before I kill her, I suppose I should thank the Kage for so thoroughly subduing you.

The dominatrix disappeared and slave drifted in the darkness.

Obedient.

Mindless.

Without will.

The air against the woman formerly known as Rebecca McCandliss shimmered.

The Kage moved instantly; arching backward in a balletic leap. A fraction before the blast wave.

The pale flame blew outwards and upwards, shredding walls, tearing brick. The ceiling of the dojo blazed, beams creaking and warping in flame. The hardwood floor split open and cracked, seared black.

The Kage landed on her toes, beside Scar’s unconscious form, facing the red-headed dominatrix standing in the center of the broken dojo.

“Most impressive,” said the Kage. “The last time I’ve felt this kind of energy . . . was well over two hundred years ago.”

The redhead nodded.

—I am The Harbinger. You have removed my only obstacle. Thank you.

The Kage shifted, bringing her feet together as she stared at The Harbinger.

—Time to die.

“My my, and I only want to enslave you,” the Kage said dryly.

The Kage pointed her fingertips and brought them together in front of her chest. Her body vibrated. The lighting of the dojo dimmed as the air vibrated all around. Every light bulb but one burst as the Kage’s shadow writhed and shifted until it separated. Silhouettes of her form rose from the floor all around the room before the light faded into a small halo around The Harbinger.

There was no sound of foot falls, and no light pierced the abyss. Not even a thought escaped it.

The Harbinger’s pale flames danced forward into the darkness and disappeared.

The Kage’s laughter echoed from out of the void, “What’s it like having a florescent light as the only light in your world? No sound, no thoughts, utterly alone with danger on every side, knowing one misstep could land you right back in my lap, where I will be the only light left in your world?”

A kunai entered The Harbinger’s small circle. It stopped in midair before falling to the floor. A mere test.

The Harbinger’s pale flames circled around her before spreading in every direction at once. The Harbinger waited for that scream of terror that was bound to follow her flames, but it never came. Only silence remained.

Two shurikens entered The Harbinger’s space. She stopped them instantly before feeling the presence of two more directly behind them. They managed to make it halfway in before The Harbinger stopped them. Her eyes fell to a piece of parchment attached to one.

The parchment ignited and exploded. The Harbinger pulled a psychic shield over herself, containing the power of the explosion. She took a step away from the new hole in the floor, wanting to avoid an ambush from below. She watched as the darkness encroached on her. She turned her head back, seeing that her circle of light had shifted with her.

Darkness slid inside Samba. A thousand little black ants crawled beneath her skin. They pulled open her eyelids. Samba tried to scream; instead her breath wheezed as invisible puppet strings hauled the body on the office table upright.

Voices drifted into Scar’s office from the dojo floor. One voice sobbed, pitched somewhere between ecstatic submission and desperate pleading. The other voice spat out words, “Yes, feel them inside you. All thoughts dissolving. Just melting away as my fingers fuck your pussy-mind.”

The strings plucked at Samba’s limbs. She stood.

One string ran through the top of her skull. She could feel it tugging on her mind. Her puppet head jerked from side to side, eyeballs rolling to order. Hands raised up to either side, the body jerking forward, knees lifting and falling. The hands reached downward, floating through the air to rest on the hilt of the katana mounted on Scar’s rear office wall. The ants crawled up through her arms, making the little hairs on her skin bristle, till they crept into the fingers. The hands closed their grip around the hilt. She lurched to her right as the hands pulled the blade from its sheath.

Samba screamed again. A dry rattle came from her throat. The strings turned the puppet, head weaving, back bending forward, blade held before her.

The voices still came through the office door. One voice panting. The other still enraged, “Keeping you aware is too dangerous. You will be transferred into my personal service. I could use a bed maiden of your height.”

The strings wove and Samba danced. She found herself with legs wide, knees bent, the blade held upright across the front of her chest, elbows raised.

The string in her head jumped. Black oil poured through the gap in her skull. It slithered into the corners of her mind, pushing into any gaps it found. It twisted inside her thoughts.

Samba’s vision suffused with green. She could hear four beats. Both Rebecca’s and Scar’s biorhythms; listless, almost flatline. The speaking woman’s beat; sharp, supple and furious. And pressing inside her head, the oil thundered with the beat of the Harbinger.

A flash of flame left bright pins floating before her eyes, but the Harbinger kept them pried open. The strings edged her to the office door. The heat from the dojo’s burning ceiling and walls spun against her bare skin. The strings kept her facing forward.

The dojo was an odd scene for Samba. Only one light remained unshattered. Several rows of dark figures stood in a circle around The Harbinger, all with their hands to their chest. A woman in a very exotic outfit sat on the floor with the soles of her feet touching, her hand raised to her chest like the rest, and her eyes closed. An eerie blue glow enveloped her, growing brighter by the second.

“I’m quite disappointed. I thought you would be a challenge, but you’re as helpless as anyone else,” the woman said as she stood up. Her eyes were still shut tight.

The compulsion bore into Samba. She couldn’t resist it. The puppet strings jerked her forward, behind the woman and raised the blade.

The green-haired girl, pale and wide-eyed, struck downwards, her knuckles clenched white around the hilt of the katana.

The blade bit into the Kage on her shoulder, just below her neck. It sliced through skin before stopping dead against the Kage’s raised forearm. Her arms whipped up to trap the blade. It jerked out of Samba’s grasp. The Kage yanked on the blade from the other side, flipping it over and taking it in her hand.

“You both suffer for that.”

The Harbinger’s head snapped to look at the Kage. Pale flames spread from her hand, shooting toward the woman and Samba. The strings holding Samba upright snapped. Her knees hit the floor hard. Her scream pierced over the sound of the flames.

The woman twisted on her heels, jammed the katana into the floor, and held her hands out as if to catch the fire. Blue light formed a whirlpool around her hands and sucked the flames into it, turning into a sphere and expanding as more fire poured into it. The Kage pulled her hands back and raised her arms to shield her face a split second before the blue light exploded violently outward.

Samba flew backward and crashed against the wall. She watched as The Harbinger was blown back and fell to the floor.

The Kage grunted and pressed hard enough against the floor to crack through the floor boards. She fell to her knees and panted as blood trickled down her face from near her temple. Nearly a fourth of her mask had shattered, and the resulting shrapnel had wounded her.

Only opening one eye, the Kage dashed forward and grabbed the katana on her way to The Harbinger.

A loud crack pierced the air as part of the roof gave way. The woman shifted herself and changed direction. Samba’s eyes could barely follow as she managed to slip between the falling roof and Scar, grabbing her at the last second and sliding all the way to the wall. The woman flung her head back and looked toward The Harbinger.

The Harbinger had recovered from the explosion and stood back on her feet. The woman stood up and escaped through the hole in the roof.

—No!

The Harbinger staggered.

The blazing roof finally caved in.

Samba saw the flames fall from the sky.

Bricks and mortar slammed into the floor.

—You.

The Harbinger’s voice pierced through the roaring fire.

Samba tried to lift herself up, but an invisible weight kept her on her hands and knees. She watched as The Harbinger slowly floated toward her. The fire cowered away from her, being stifled by pale flames that rose up with increasing furor.

The pale flames surrounded Samba, creating a barrier between the burning building and her. Each second ticking by brought The Harbinger closer, but no matter how much Samba struggled, she couldn’t even crawl away.

The Harbinger’s feet dangled inches away from Samba’s eyes. A whimper forced it’s way from her chest.

—Fear?

Samba started to rise off the floor, dangling like a rag doll in front of The Harbinger.

—You think what you feel now is fear?

The Harbinger met Samba’s eyes.

—Twice you’ve disobeyed me. You’re more than deserving of my judgment. Fear will be all you know.

“I . . . .” Samba felt an invisible hand around her throat. She choked and struggled to speak. She gritted her teeth and concentrated. She could feel The Harbinger’s beat. It boomed around her like continuous thunder. Each one shook Samba to her core.

Beyond that, she could faintly hear Rebecca.

“I’m . . . not afraid.”

It wasn’t cold. It wasn’t really warm either. It was more like there just wasn’t any heat. It wasn’t comfortable, though. It felt stifling. Nothing was comfortable. The gravel stones against her bare ass irritated her, but if she stood up to walk, the gravel would be against her feet. If she laid down, it would be against her entire body.

It didn’t smell bad, but there was a certain staleness to the air. It bothered her enough that she couldn’t get used to it.

The lighting wasn’t very good either. Everything appeared monochrome. Even herself. Though, the only things to look at were herself and the level surface she sat on. No matter where she looked, it was the same backdrop of gravel going to a black horizon.

It was nice in it’s own way, though. At least there was no one to bother her here. She could think whatever she wanted, and she never had to worry about the repercussions. Though, whenever she tried to think of her girlfriend to make her smile, it just didn’t seem to come to her. She couldn’t make out enough specific details to feel anything. She couldn’t even figure out her name.

She couldn’t even make herself feel sad.

At least it was safe. Nothing would bother her here. Nothing was here to bother her. Well, almost nothing.

The sound of a heart beat thudded through the stale, uncomfortable air.

She clutched her knees tighter to her chest. It wasn’t her heartbeat. She hadn’t been able to hear her own since she woke up here.

She looked around again. Reaffirming that she was here was the only way to stay occupied. She craned her neck and shifted on the gravel to make a complete three-sixty.

A small green wisp stuck out from the abyssal horizon.

She tilted her head. She had to be seeing things. It hadn’t been there before. Nothing ever changed here.

She closed her eyes and counted to ten. When she opened them, the green wisp was still there. She furrowed her brow and stood up. Something had changed in this lifeless world. Maybe it would occupy her for a little bit.

Each step made her grumble. She had to draw in more of the stale air, and the gravel occasionally poked into her heel, making her steps painful.

Seeing the green wisp drawing closer and closer inspired her to keep going. The further she went, the more uncomfortable she became. Her limbs were sore and aching. The gravel felt like glass. The air was turning rancid. Even the intensity of the green wisp started to hurt her eyes.

It was so tempting to return to where she was and sit back down. At least she was only a bit uncomfortable there.

She slowed to a stop, staring at the beacon out in front of her. It was probably just her imagination.

Another heart beat resounded through the air, this time threatening to deafen her. Her hands moved to protect her ears as an image of determined green eyes flashed in front of her.

She knew those eyes.

She started walking again. While the world got harsher, the light only became more inviting. She could see the light moving, swaying. Before long, she could make out the figure of a naked woman prancing on a slightly elevated surface.

“Samba?” she called out while still approaching.

“Hello Rebecca,” a seductive voice replied.

Rebecca picked up her pace, rushing to the swaying figure. She stopped a short distance away as Samba continued to sway.

“Why are you here?” Rebecca asked.

Samba spun on the elevated surface. Her naked body bathed in green light. She dragged her finger nails up across her skin, her flesh inviting Rebecca closer.

“Why are you here?” Samba asked.

“Aren’t you going to answer first?”

Samba smiled as she spun, sticking a leg closer toward Rebecca. Rebecca followed Samba’s leg up. She took a step forward, brushing her hand against Samba’s calf.

“I know why I’m here, so I don’t need to answer. I’m more curious about why you’re here.”

Nothing existed past the elevated surface Samba stood on except an endless abyss. The dancer didn’t seem to care as she pulled her leg back and stepped on the very edge of the surface.

“I think I died?” Rebecca questioned herself as she said it. She didn’t remember dying.

The heart beat broke around them, this time it was more gentle, almost soothing.

“It sounds like you’re still alive,” Samba said as she beckoned for Rebecca to come closer.

“Then why am I here?” Rebecca took another step forward. She wrapped her arms around Samba’s waist.

“I don’t know,” Samba said, making subtle movements with Rebecca.

“I’d like to leave.” Rebecca felt a strange compulsion to reach up and tilt Samba’s chin so the two could make eye contact.

“And how do we do that?” Rebecca saw Samba smile as she looked back.

“We jump,” Rebecca said. She had no idea how she knew that was the right thing to do, but she was certain it was.

Samba nodded and pulled Rebecca up onto the elevated surface. Together they turned around, each wrapping their arm around the other.

“I knew you would find your way,” Samba said as they both jumped into the abyss.

Samba’s breath strangled in her throat as the vice closed around it. A cascade of tiny sparks flickered in her vision, little black spots appearing in their midst to snuff out the lights. Her blood howled against the constriction, sharp needles of pain pressing up through her skull as the oxygen in her brain died.

The pain slowed.

She could see two weird green eyes drifting closer to her own in the flame. Watching her die.

Her eyes rolled up, white.

The sound of her blood became a soft, rustling noise. Fading.

The pain stopped and warmth wrapped around her. She could see a peaceful light in the distance, it beckoned to her, as if from the depths of a long tunnel.

—No.

The pain came whispering back. The peaceful light made it even more agonizing to experience its bite.

—Samba. Come back.

Samba could feel a light on the other side of her eyelids, but kept them closed. Strong arms holding her tight against a soft chest. She couldn’t feel anything under her feet.

Samba forced her eyes open.

Bright flames licked, but didn’t touch. A nimbus of pale flame floated in the air surrounding her, holding back the destruction. The flames drifted away, becoming smaller and smaller. Samba shifted her arms upwards to curl them tight around the redhead’s neck. She burrowed her head to the center of Rebecca’s chest.

“Rebecca, are we flying?”

—Shhh, go to sleep.

Samba thought it sounded like a wonderful idea. She pressed her lips against Rebecca’s porcelain skin and shut her eyes again.

Samba woke up.

The down comforter drawn up over her shoulders made her feel deliciously warm. Her head rested comfortably against one strong arm beneath it while another arm curled over her side, fingers touching her just below her navel. She could feel Rebecca’s bare breasts and pussy and thighs molded against her. Samba wriggled in a reflex of pleasure. Sleeping for a year like this could be delightful.

Memories of the last forty-eight hours drifted through her head.

Rebecca had been exhilarated, even as The Pink Sakura burned down behind them, “Fuck Samba! You’re incredible, you let me do things I’d never try. You’re like an anchor to me!”

Sitting in the back of the SIU van where they’d put her when the police had finally arrived, the look Rebecca had given her made Samba shiver. Her body had given out long ago. She drifted in and out of sleep curled against Rebecca, finding herself kissing and sucking on Rebecca’s skin as if she were on autopilot.

Rebecca encouraged the behavior, though Samba could tell she wanted more. The redhead’s energy had been a mystery, but she enjoyed time to decompress and relax. They’d still been in that position when Rebecca’s girlfriend, Arianne aka Voltira The Electric Girl, had arrived.

Awkward.

Even more awkward, when it turned out Arianne wanted to watch. Samba wanted to draw a line at that, but a part of her couldn’t stop. She wasn’t sure what she was dreaming or what actually happened from that point on. She had been offered coffee and some donuts to try and wake her up, but she refused them. She just wanted to sleep.

Samba remembered Rebecca confronting some officers about interrogating and registering her, but all the details were hazy.

Daze had left early in a fury to join the police hunt for The Fist. She’d pulled Samba to one side in a corridor at SIU headquarters and kissed her fiercely before leaving, “I’ll be back for you.”

Nobody knew the location of the Kage or Scar, but their drug operation in Infinity City had been busted and they’d become public enemy number one with a bullet on multiple law enforcement lists. Some of their ninja-slaves had been captured, but were refusing to talk. Jezebel wouldn’t say a word. Thankfully, Sidhe and Karamel appeared to be more or less themselves, neither remembered very much.

Rebecca insisted she not go back home, but Samba didn’t try hard to convince her otherwise. She felt something bustling inside her on the way back to Rebecca’s apartment. Now that she was alone with Rebecca, it was much more obvious. In private, she didn’t have the frustration of a thousand beats permeating the walls of the police complex and disturbing her mind.

As soon as they stepped through the threshold of the door, Samba couldn’t contain herself. She had pounced Rebecca and forced her to the couch. She could still taste Rebecca’s lips on her own. Each second she just became more and more amped up.

Rebecca seemed to know what Samba needed. Rebecca subdued Samba’s mind just enough so her powers wouldn’t go out of control. The experience was something Samba couldn’t forget. She could finally feel free from her own dance as Rebecca spanked her until she thought she couldn’t have another orgasm.

Though, that didn’t stop her from having many more.

Samba eased herself out of Rebecca’s arms, careful not to wake the sleeping redhead. It felt cold without them, but she forced herself to stand and make her way across the bedroom floor to the closet. Her cheeks flushed as she stepped over the double-headed dildo on the floor. That had been lots of fun.

She found a big white tee. Rebecca’s clothes were all too big for her, but at least that made it easy to get into them. She slipped into an ill-fitting pair of jeans, turning up the denim bottoms to make them the right length. Samba snuck into the living room, remembering she’d kicked off her sneakers by the apartment door. The first rays of dawn filtered through the windows overlooking the harbor. She found her sneakers and pulled them on in a hurry.

Samba reached for the door handle. Her fingers hovered. Maybe, she should stay. Not like Rebecca wouldn’t be able to track her down. Samba bit her lip.

She tugged on the handle.

“Leaving before breakfast?”

Samba whirled. Rebecca stood in the hallway behind her. A gossamer-thin black gown barely concealed Rebecca’s curves, one of the redhead’s pale long legs lay uncovered by the split in the gown. Samba could make out the shadows of Rebecca’s thick pink nipples underneath the nearly transparent material.

“I . . . uh,” said Samba.

“Isn’t this the kind of thing you wanted me to help you stop doing, honey?” Rebecca closed in. She ran a finger along Samba’s cheek. “Stay for breakfast. A girl like you needs a little pampering.”

“I . . . Rebecca . . . I’m not sure . . . .” Samba’s breath caught as Rebecca leaned in, soft lips pressed against Samba’s throat. It felt difficult to think as gentle hands slipped around her hips and guided her back into the apartment.

“I bet you’ve never had an Ulster fry, have you?”

“Um . . . no.” Samba let Rebecca press her down into a kitchen chair. She arched her back, closing her eyes, as Rebecca pulled Samba’s green hair to one side and planted another kiss on the back of her neck.

“Well, my Ma’s special recipe is heaven. If you can survive the heart attack afterward, of course.”

Bacon and eggs and potato bread started to fry. Despite herself, Samba’s mouth watered.

Rebecca chatted amiably, “First thing is to get you a proper job, can’t have a registered meta-human being a stripper, can we, honey? I have plenty of contacts if you want to do some kind of modeling . . . actually . . . I organize these underground shows on the side, I could totally use you in them, very tasteful bondage scene . . . ok, maybe not. Oh! Arianne wants to take you shopping, have you been to Secret Provocante? She has a store discount, you’ll love their stuff. And then you’re going to need a firearms and unarmed combat training schedule, I’ll have Callaghan make one up for you. I can handle the psychic stuff, I have an ex called Kira who would be ideal for that too. Oooo, I know! You should meet Daivya . . . .”

Samba contemplated a life of being organized by Rebecca McCandliss. Something had to give somewhere.

“Rebecca . . . .”

Rebecca turned from the sizzling bacon. She gasped. Green light suffused the room, flowing over her. Her hands drifted to the front of her gown, undoing it and letting it fall to the floor, “Oh, yes, Samba.”

Samba pulled the baggy jeans down and leaned back in the chair as Rebecca’s eager tongue went to work between her thighs.

Yeah. Maybe she could get used to this.

Oh yes.

Definitely.