The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

When Flag Girl came to, she awoke to a head that felt like it was full of cotton, and a mouth just as dry.

“God,” she groaned, “W-what...what happened…?”

She blinked, and slowly pushed herself up off the unfamiliar mattress she found herself on. That was a bad idea though, because instantly she felt a wave of dizziness sweep over her, sending her groaning back to the sheets, eyes screwed shut to stop the room from spinning.

Her befuddled mind struggled to piece together a coherent memory, but all she could manage were fragments. She remembered the warehouse, and her mission to try to find the missing District Attorney who had been investigating an underground slavers ring. She remembered thinking how it was such a simple thing, that she didn’t need to involve her idol, Ms. Americana, that it would be a great way to prove her worth as a heroine.

It all sounded so simple...but then things had gone wrong.

So very, very wrong.

“Ohhh...fuck,” she cursed, grimacing in dismay. Now she remembered. She hadn’t just failed at the mission, she had fucked up, enormously. She remembered suffering abuse at the hands of the slaver thugs, remembered the horrible realization that the attorney had herself been compromised.

And then she remembered him. The Jackal.

Her face flushed, and not just in embarrassment. The man had proven to be an absolute brute, far beyond her skill to overcome in combat, and worst of all—

God but he’d done a number on her…!

“Stop it,” she chided herself, “Don’t focus on your mistakes. You have to think of a way out of here. What would Ms. Americana do?”

It wasn’t much, but the little pep talk was better than wallowing in despair. She waited a moment for the dizziness to abate, and then, moving far more slowly, she allowed herself to raise her head and crack open her eyes.

She was in a room she did not recognize, but instantly she was struck by the garish opulence being flagrantly displayed. The bed she lay on was massive, half-again larger than a king at least, and the sheets were silk so smooth it felt like her fingers were running across water. It was cool and soothing, and she realized only then that she was completely and starkly naked. Her costume was nowhere in sight.

Motherfuckers.

The lighting was low, thank god—anything brighter would have been impossible to tolerate—and came from two ornate lamps standing in the corners of the spacious chamber. A tiger skin rug (Flag Girl felt a pang of aching sympathy for the poor animal) adorned the rich hardwood floors, and all the furniture in the room save the bed was either leather or a dark, ebony wood, inlaid or trimmed with gold.

Tribal figurines decorated the tables and counters, matching the great, leering masks that hung on the walls. There were no windows, so she could not tell what time of day it was, or if the outside matched the exotic decor of her surroundings. Was she even in Delta City anymore? She couldn’t remember. Everything after her...encounter with Jackal was a fog. She vaguely remembered being strapped to a chair, and tossed into a van. She remembered a sea of leering faces, and groping hands...and repeated, vile intrusion of—of cocks…!

Dear lord, she hissed, I—I’ve been used...raped…! Over and over again by those...monsters!

She screwed her hands into fists, feeling the righteous indignation swell inside her, even as she felt hot tears squeeze out the corners of her eyes. She pounded the mattress furiously. She hated the wave of shame that rose up inside her, but the anger she welcomed. It was helping clear her head. Gave her purpose.

She wouldn’t be beaten again.

Listening intently, she could hear nothing beyond the great ebony doors on the far side of the room. She had to assume there would be guards. They’d taken her power belt, of course, but as much of a disadvantage as that was, she wasn’t totally helpless.

She’d been trained by the best.

I just have to get to my feet.

That proved to be more challenging than she’d expected. Her limbs felt like jelly, and her muscles ached. Red markings ringed her wrists and ankles from the ropes that had bound her, and even moving made them sting. Swallowing was...difficult. Her throat was painfully parched.

That’s when her eyes fell upon a tall decanter of water waiting on the table next to the couch, a series of overturned tumblers arranged carefully around it.

Cautiously Flag Girl staggered over to it, eyes never leaving the door for long. She kept a hand upon the furniture to help maintain her balance.

“It’s probably poisoned,” she thought dismally, eyeing the clear fluid. But really, what choice did she have? If she didn’t drink, she’d dehydrate, and never get a chance to escape. And if it was poisoned, well…

Would that really be the worst thing? Compared to the fate that likely awaited her?

“Fuck it,” she grimaced, and poured a glassful for herself, splashing liquid across the tabletop. Warily she sniffed the fluid, detecting nothing, and took the smallest of sips—and still tasted nothing but water. Greedily, she swallowed her fear and gulped it down, then refilled the glass and did it again. In for a penny, in for a pound, right?

Amazingly, the water helped. Tremendously. After just a moment, the relief she felt in her mouth and throat overcame any concern she had about the contents of the decanter, and soon even her head was feeling less muddled. Her superhuman stamina was starting to kick in.

She was feeling better already.

Maybe I’m not so doomed after all, she thought hopefully, shaking out her leaden limbs. Maybe the slavers had underestimated her ability to recover, and if she could lie in waiting, catch them by surprise as they came in—!

Just then, the sound of a heavy lock being turned made her blood run cold. She snapped her head to the door in time to see the handle turn, the panel swing inward, and the huge, intimidating figure of a man glide regally in.

Flag Girl suppressed the instant feeling of panic that fluttered in her chest, and glared at her adversary. “YOU!”

“Ahh, my dear Golden Girl,” Jackal purred, his deep voice resonating sonorously in the room. “I did not think you’d be so soon awake.”

“Well you thought wrong, you wretched bastard!” she snapped, dropping into a combat stance. “Where am I? Where are the girls?”

To her indignation, the hulking black man was ignoring her outburst, and casually closed the door behind him. He strode easily to a nearby desk, where he began to remove his cufflinks and heavy, gold jewelry. The man’s taste in attire was as opulent as his decor. The bastard even turned his back on her! Did he really think so little of her as a threat…!

It only took one look at him for Flag Girl to be dismally reminded of the vast physical disparity between the two of them. Ms. Americana was a good half a head taller than Flag Girl, and this monster was taller than her by much more. Broadly shouldered, with muscles that shifted and pulled noticeably against his clothes with every movement he made, he looked less like a human being and more like the avatar of some malevolent, jungle god, coiled like a tiger ready to pounce. It was that last notion that had Flag Girl on the defensive the moment he entered the room. Even through the fog of her recollection, she knew—painfully well—how easily he had dominated their last engagement, knocking her about with fists the size of cement blocks as if she were little more than a rag doll. If she had any hope of beating him this time, she would have to be extremely cautious.

I can’t let him surprise me, she steeled herself, Don’t let a single thing slip by. Be vigilant. I’ve got to keep a close watch on him for the first tell he might attack. If he gets his hands on me…

But that thought was too horrible to dwell on for very long.

“So many idle concerns,” Jackal droned, oblivious to the frantic strategizing going on behind him, “Nothing you need worry your pretty blonde head about.“

“You bastard!”

“I am glad, though, that you seem to have recovered,” he said as he turned, before flashing her a cruel, white smile. “We can begin your training.”

Flag Girl blinked. “T-training? What the hell do you mean?”

But Jackal didn’t answer her. Instead, to her shock, he began to unbutton his expensive shirt, revealing a chiseled, smooth torso that looked like it was carved from the same ebony as the doors. Flag Girl felt her cheeks flush furiously at his brazenness, and she couldn’t quite bring herself to look directly at him, she felt so embarrassed. “S-stop that!” she halted, “I don’t know what the hell you think is going to happen, but if you think I’m going to let you lay a hand on me, you’re out of your goddamn mind!”

“I don’t just think, golden girl. I know. We’ve both seen how utterly incapable you are of stopping me.” He smirked. “Why not just make it easy on yourself and give up?“

Flag Girl flinched, trying to match his bravado, but it was impossible. The man oozed confidence, and it only fed the seeds of doubt still lingering in her mind. She tried to stamp them down.

“You can go to hell!” she shouted.

“Temper, temper,” the slaver chuckled in his thick, African accent, “Is that any way to speak to me? You weren’t nearly so defiant a few hours ago.” He laughed as her face reddened even further. “In fact,” he continued, “as I recall, you called me ‘Master.’ You said you loved me.”

The blonde heroine blanched.

“You’re—you’re sick!” Flag Girl hissed, “Whatever I said—it wasn’t true!—I-I was confused, tricked...I…”

“There there, pretty pet,” he said tolerantly, “I know what you meant. I am no fool. You weren’t really submitting to me. Not really.“

Flag Girl shouldn’t have felt as relieved as she did that he seemed to be relenting. Sweat had beaded onto her brow, and glistened on the slopes of her taut 38D-sized breasts, and she could feel her pulse beating frantically in her chest. She hoped her voice didn’t quiver as much as she thought it did. “T-that’s right!” she rasped emphatically, “I would never submit to you!“

“Maybe not to me,” he repeated, “but you did submit...to this!”

And with that, his massive hand unstrapped his belt buckle with a metallic clink that made Flag Girl jump involuntarily. She made to retort, but his fingers slid down his zipper, and his slacks fell away—

—and all she could do was gasp.

Columns of dark, muscled thighs came into view as the expensive fabric slid away, but it wasn’t the sight of them that had stolen Flag Girl’s breath: rather, it was the wrist-thick monster that hung between them. Jackal’s cock slithered free of its confinement, a dark brown serpent that, even only half-engorged, reached nearly down to his knees. Riddled with pulsing veins, it barely even looked human; it was so barbaric, and well matched to its evil owner. Its bulbous head was nearly the size of her fist, and swayed at the end of his swelling member like the weight at the end of an obscene pendulum. Seeing the stunned look on her face, he gave his hips a slow roll, and his cock began to swing, slowly and heavily. He watched as her eyes snapped to the motion, her body tensing in instant alarm, but she did not run, or make any move to escape. Her eyes were saucer wide, and her mouth worked uselessly to try and form any kind of denial, but the sight of his cock had frozen her in place.

Her eyes were drawn to it, like a moth to a flame.

“You remember this, don’t you, pretty girl?” he rumbled sonorously. “Yesss...I’ll bet you do. After all, you spent quite a bit of time helplessly impaled on it. Your sweet little cunt, sliding around it. So very tight. So very wet. Up and down. Up and down. Deeper and deeper inside you until you were completely at its mercy.” Jackal’s voice was even, deep, and rhythmic, its cadence matching the slow and steady swaying of his cock as he watched his prey with avaricious intensity.

Flag Girl was transfixed. She wanted desperately to challenge him, to fervently deny what he was saying, but...at the same time, she was having trouble concentrating on anything but the massive, obscene love tool steadily slithering before her. The very sight of it filled her with the most unsettling kind of stirrings, and a feeling of profound...emptiness...that would have shook her to her core...but she could hardly pay it any attention. All she could do was watch, and stare, as Jackal’s cock slowly began to lengthen...to grow. She could see the veins along his shaft swelling, filling, making his cock throb in time to the powerful beat of his heart. It rose, curved heavily under its own woman-taming weight, until the deep purple head seemed aimed right at her. Even though he stood several feet away, it seemed to dominate her vision, filling it completely.

Jackal took a single step towards her, and she yelped, stumbling backwards in alarm. He smirked, and took another, and once more Flag Girl staggered backwards, before a fresh wave of dizziness made her lurch to a halt and brace herself to maintain her footing. She winced, choking back a groan as the room swivelled back into focus...as Jackal’s bestial, arrogant cock swam back into focus.

“N-no…” Flag Girl stammered, afraid to glance behind to see where in the room she was lest Jackal take that instant to close the distance. She shuffled backwards gingerly, but he never let her get too far before he took a step in pursuit. It almost felt like he was herding her, somehow, and always, his enormous black phallus remained directly in her line of sight, bobbing heavily left and right as he moved. “I-I didn’t—you, you made me! I...I c-couldn’t—“

“Couldn’t what, pretty girl?” the wicked slaver whispered, “Couldn’t fight it? Couldn’t...resist? Of course not. Not once you felt it force its way inside, penetrating you. Filling you. Owning you. Oh, you fought me harder than most, but in the end, it didn’t matter at all, did it?“

“No…” she whispered, then reddened. W-wait, did I just agree with him? No, no, that’s not what I meant. I...I’m rejecting him. Rejecting his c-cock...his cock...his...god, his cock…!

Jackal noticed the slip immediately, and his thick lips pulled into a predatory leer. “That’s right,” he stated flatly, cutting through her mental fog and making the choice for her. “It didn’t matter. Because you’re a woman. A young, beautiful, desirable woman—,” he saw the blush his words brought to her cheeks, “—and nothing makes you feel more feminine, nothing feels more primally satisfying, than being helplessly impaled on a long. Thick. Hard. Cock.“

Jackal punctuated his last few syllables by wrapping his hand around the shaft of his dick, angling it so Flag Girl could fully see its terrifying length, and then stroking in time to each scintillating word. Her mouth gaped even wider as she watched his hand stroke along the column of flesh, his glans swelling a deep, angry, purple color. A thick bead of pearly white precum pushed past his slit, forming into a fat droplet that jiggled precariously for a heart-stopping moment before Jackal’s languid masturbation sent it falling to the ground, leaving a long, silvery thread back to his glistening cockhead.

Flag Girl swallowed. Hard.

He’s...he’s trying to confuse me...distract me. Waiting for me to let down my guard. Must f-focus...focus...on him. Can’t let myself be...beaten...gotta—gotta keep watching...keep...watch...ing...

She stared, intently, as another dollop of cum formed at the tip of his cock, even larger than the last. Why was her mouth starting to water?

Jackal’s dark eyes narrowed imperiously.

“Look at it, Flag Girl,” he commanded. His hand slid over his glans, smearing it with the glistening fluid leaking copiously from his slit, before spreading even more of it down his shaft, slowly stroking himself from base to oozing tip until all toe-curling thirteen inches of it was slick and gleaming. “You’ve never seen a cock like mine before, have you? It fascinates you. It terrifies you, even as it awakens your deepest, most secret feminine desires: to be taken...to be fucked...to be bred.” He grinned savagely as that last word made her gasp.

It’s not true! She thought frantically, I don’t want that! I don’t! I’m...I’m gonna…

But whatever thought she had, whatever indignation she sought to express, was drowned out by the sounds of wet, slippery friction as his hand continued its obscene movement along his cock. Movement, Flag Girl only dimly realized, she was finding increasingly hard to look away from. She had never seen a man...touch himself like that before...and while the rational part of her reacted with revulsion, another part of her found the sight to be strangely...compelling. Erotic.

Mesmerizing.

Jackal smiled, and watched as his obscene display slowly wove its spell over the shapely young heroine. He watched the parade of emotions that crossed her face. First shock, then repulsion...but soon, far too soon, repulsion changed into fascination...and then awe. He angled his cock until it was upright, brought his fist to the head, and slowly drew it down his length, uttering a low, masculine groan that made her shiver.

“Remind you of anything, pretty girl? Think back to the pit, where I held you perched on my lap. My hand is your cunt. You’re sinking, golden girl, sinking deeper, and deeper, onto my cock. At first it’s too much; I’m too hard, too thick, and too long, you try to escape...but I don’t let you. You get this far—” he slid his hand—her cunt—back to the tip of his cock until it was caught on the flare of his crown, and then slowly, purposely, slid it deep, deep down—“and then I pull you back down. Up. Down. Up...and down…” Her eyes followed him like an obedient puppy. She scarcely breathed. Her nipples were rock hard. “It gets easy to ride me, to sink, and let me fill you with pleasure. Your body gives up. You stop fighting. Your denials become gasps, your gasps become moans...and soon you’re moving on your own. Bouncing on my cock. Cumming, again, and again, and again…!“

She can’t even muster a weak shake of her head to deny him. The image was too vivid, the memory too raw. It hit her harder than any physical blow, forcing the breath from her lungs in an airy sigh. A pleasurable shudder ran through her; an aftershock of her defeat.

She whimpered.

“You feel it, don’t you?” Jackal purred, “Your mind might deny it, but your body remembers...and little by little, that small voice you hear grows louder and louder with every moment you stare at my cock. Slowly filling your head, drowning out everything else...and compelling you...to submit.”

His words were like a drug, the deep, resonant tone of his voice a narcotic, and as her eyes helplessly followed the lurid motion of his hand as it slid up and down his shaft, she felt herself sinking deeper and deeper into the erotic dream he was conjuring. It was like descending into a hot, steamy tub of water, and she felt the heat slowly rise up her body as her heart began to pound in time to the arterial beat of his cock. Her face, no longer just flushed, now felt absolutely feverish, and the cloudiness of her thoughts felt even worse now than when she first awakened. Her skin felt sensitized, so that even the light shifting of the cool air around her felt like the touch of a thousand light, airy feathers. Her nipples, so recently sprung to taut, engorged prominence, now practically ached for attention.

Worst of all though were the feelings steadily building between her legs. At first it had started as a distant tremor, a vague quivering that began the moment he had unveiled his fat love muscle to her awestruck eyes. But with every moment that passed, the feeling began to grow, until it became absolutely undeniable—even to the increasingly senseless Flag Girl.

She was wet for him, wetter than she’d ever remembered being. Her pussy lips were swollen and flushed, pink and glistening, and trickles of her arousal dripped down the insides of her thighs. At the head of her slit, the nub of her clit was already jutting and full, standing proudly out from beneath its protective hood. It throbbed in hot, heedless, wanton need, and to Flag Girl’s muddled mind, the steady beat of it began to sound like the repetition of a single, wicked word.

Cock.

Cock.

Cock.

Cock.

She had to fight hard to stop from uttering it herself.

“What’s happening?” she whimpered weakly, her arms slowly dropping to hang limply at her sides, “C-can’t...think. Room...spinning…”

“You’re not thinking with your head anymore, golden girl,” her oppressor breathed, stalking closer, “You’re too aroused for that. Now, you’re thinking with your cunt. And your cunt knows exactly what it wants, doesn’t it?“

“What it wants…” Flag Girl repeated dreamily, his words penetrating her weakened consciousness and embedding themselves in her mind, where they seemed so undeniably true. In the depths of the sex-haze steadily blanketing her thoughts, one image stood out: that big, thick, beautiful phallus sliding into her wet and willing body. Filling her. Dominating her. In and in and in. Her pussy clenched reflexively at the thought, and she could only sigh in frustration.

God..she felt so...empty...

He took another step, and this time, Flag Girl followed on impulse, stepping backwards just as he wanted. He smirked, and did it again, slowly guiding her backwards, while his hand continued to glide along his cock. Slowly. Up. Down. Up...down...

She felt drawn to it. Like a moth to a flame.

“There’s no need to fight,” he said soothingly, “You can’t. You’re too weak, pretty girl, and my cock is too big...too strong. You want to give in. You want to serve it. Please it. Because you know exactly how it can make you feel.“

“Good…” Flag Girl moaned, her clit throbbing, “So….good…!”

She was nearly his now, Jackal knew. Her body was ready; so much so that he knew he would have no trouble forcing his enormous shaft into her sweet and tight pussy, but it wasn’t enough that he break her body. No. What Jackal wanted was to ruin her entirely, to take Ms Americana’s beautiful young protege and make her his complete slut.

He took one final step, and this time when Flag Girl backed up, her legs struck something cool and soft.

The bed. Jackal’s massive bed was laid out behind her, like a monster ready to swallow her up. She teetered dangerously as the unexpected collision nearly overwhelmed her balance, but staggered to a halt, her eyes still fastened to Jackal’s drooling, black serpent. He stepped closer, and this time there was nowhere to go. She could only watch, and whimper, as he closed the distance...and the hot, cum-dribbling tip of his head touched against her stomach.

She gasped, staring down at it. Against her skin, the difference in their tones was even more glaring; hers, creamy and pale, and his, black as night...and so terribly, incredibly thick.

“Here. Have a little taste,” he taunted her, grasping the base of his shaft and slowly painting a trail of cum down her belly, sweeping languorously over the rise of her mound, and nestling into the open folds of her vagina. Whatever resistance might still have lingered in Flag Girl’s mind, her body recognized its owner, and her pussy welcomed his cock with a hot, wet kiss. She drew in a sharp breath, her blue eyes fluttering as she rose up onto her tiptoes, unconsciously tilting her hips to offer him access...but Jackal held back. He chuckled, content for now to just rub the head of his cock along her soaked pussy lips until Flag Girl was panting raggedly.

“Oh god…” she whined, “Oh...god…”

“This is your god now, sweetling,” the wicked slaver leered, “And it demands your supplication. Spread your legs!“

The command came so suddenly that Flag Girl had no time to process it. Instead she simply obeyed, widening her stance, opening herself up completely to his advances. Jackal rewarded her instantly by thrusting forward, rubbing the length of her pussy with the rigid top of his cock. He sawed in, grinding her for eight heart-stopping inches before reversing the motion, and forcing a long, helpless moan from her throat. When he finished, she was trembling, and her thighs shook with the effort of keeping her upright. The top of Jackal’s cock was soaked, with even more spilling from her cunt to drip to the floor.

Her head swam with the most luridly sexual of thoughts. Her pussy ached for penetration. Her clit found relief rubbing against the smooth curve of his glans, sending little jolts of will-sapping pleasure licking up her spine. He waited a count, then did it again, sawing himself between her legs. This time she didn’t just gasp, she cried out, glassy eyes staring blankly as her teetering legs were overwhelmed and she collapsed forward. She would have fallen, but for the massive hands that took hold of her hips, guiding her forward until her cheek rested against his hard torso, and palms pressed beseechingly against the rigid contours of his chest and arms. He pulled her hips forward until she was resting at the very base of his cock, while the rest of his length jut out obscenely beneath the curves of her taut asscheeks.

Her clit found the harder mass of his pubic bone, and she let out a needy sigh, fingers raking his skin. Her body seemed to be moving on its own now, or worse—dancing to the seductive manipulations of her wicked captor, for without realizing it, she began to hump against him, grinding her hard little love button into him and rubbing her pussy along her shaft until it too dripped with her shining froth.

Jackal grinned, and let her ride him like that until her rhythm began to hurry, her breathing growing ragged, as she mindlessly drove herself towards the release her body so badly needed—and then his hands clamped against her hips, holding her immobile against him and ceasing her efforts. She whined, and tried for a few seconds more to futilely move in this grasp, but it was useless. He was simply too strong, and she simply had no strength left.

“Please…” Flag Girl whimpered, drooling against his chest. “Please….”

“Please what, Golden Girl?” he sneered, “Please stop?”

“N-noo…!” she squeezed his arms, weakly shaking her head. “I can’t...I...I need it…!“

“Should I let you down?” he wondered, “Take away my cock?”

“NO!” she cried out now, voice squeaking in desperation. Her eyes were screwed into glazed slits, and her fingers clawed his skin pleadingly. “Don’t do that...don’t...take it away…!”

“Or perhaps,” he whispered evilly, “I should let you go. Leave you outside, for your mentor to find you.” And then he added, “And never let you feel my cock again.”

This time she didn’t answer right away. Instead, she just squirmed, panting against his chest, as her sex-fogged mind struggled to make sense of his words. Vaguely, she knew she should say yes, should jump at any chance to escape, but Flag Girl was beyond rational thought. Her mind was overwhelmed with arousal, drunk on desire. The only feelings that made any sense at all were the too-rapid jackrabbiting of her heart in her chest, the delicious tingle of her nipples dragging against his cool skin, and the slick, feminine heat burning between her legs. Between the far too distant, and indistinct concept of ‘freedom’, and the immediate, overwhelming promise of complete and thorough fucking, the choice was far, far too easy. At last, Flag Girl’s eyes, so heavy now with the ardor of pure, female passion, fell softly, and decisively, shut.

“...no…” she breathed, whisper-quiet, confessing her sinful desires into his spit-soaked flesh.

A feeling of vile victory swelled in Jackal’s barrel chest, and he smirked. Slowly, he used his grip to control her hips, dragging her forward and back along his throbbing cock. She moaned.

“You want to cum?”

“Yes!” she choked, “Yes, please, I—”

“You want to be fucked?”

“YES!” she groaned throatily, humping him shamelessly, begging with her body as much as with her voice. She panted, “F-fucked...I wanna be fucked...fucked…fucked…”

“You know what happens if I do, don’t you, sweet girl?” the monster rasped, his cock dominating her poor little clit, “I will make you my slut. A slave to my cock. I will make you cum your sweet brains out, until you’re nothing more than my obedient, docile little whore!”

“Yes….! Oh god yes…!” Flag Girl choked, wantonly thrusting her hips. “Yess….fuck—OH!“

She cried out as she was suddenly lifted into motion, the room careening wildly around her as Jackal let her fall backwards to sprawl on the sheets. He climbed up after her, kneeling as he took hold of her knees and forced them up and open, planting them into the bed beside her gorgeous heaving tits. Flag Girl opened her lust-lidded eyes, her vision swimmingly dizzily before they managed to focus—just in time to see the massive, oozing head of Jackal’s cock descend toward her dripping cunt. It slid along her lips, easily bullying them apart and nestling his tip against her clasping opening.

“Say it, fuckpet,” Jackal hissed, ”BEG!”

She groaned, arching her back, clawing at the sheets as her glassy eyes stared beseechingly into his black orbs. “FUCK ME!” she moaned, “Fuck me….please!! Make me your slut! Make me your whore! Just...please...give me your cock! Give m-me...your...c-caaaAAAAAHHH!”

Even as hopelessly aroused as she was, she was still young and tight, and her body valiantly tried to hold off the ravening cock Jackal pressed into her cunt, but it was no use. Her pussy succumbed just as her mind had, and with a thick, wet slurp, Jackal sank himself into her in a single, slow, conquering thrust. Inch after thick, veiny inch forced its way into Flag Girl’s pussy, filling her as only he could. It was torture; the sweetest, most obscene torture the poor girl had ever known, and it seemed like it would never end. It might have been more merciful had there been pain—at least then, she might have had the slimmest chance of breaking the evil slaver’s wicked sex-trance...but there wasn’t. There was only pleasure. Raw, cock-stuffed, mind-melting pleasure, against which the young superheroine simply had no defense.

She came, her pussy spasming around him and her toes curling in the air. Her fingers raked at the sheets, her head tossing back and forth as she moaned and mewled her ecstasy. Jackal took advantage of her weakened state, and slid himself as far in as she could take, then paused to enjoy the sensation of her pussy walls trying vainly to milk his shaft.

“That’s a good girl,” Jackal murmured soothingly as Flag Girl finally came down off her high. The release left her panting, and dizzy, and as her senses slowly came back, they were dominated by the overriding sensation of the great, thick phallus almost fully buried inside her. Jackal flexed his cock, triggering quivers of aftershocks through her sensitive cunt. Flag Girl sighed dreamily. The slaver’s thick lips twisted into a sneer.

“You needed that, didn’t you? Master knows when his playthings have been too long without his cock. Ah, but a little slut like you wouldn’t be satisfied with just one, now would she? No. You crave more. Much more. Isn’t that right, golden girl?“

Master? Plaything? These were words that should have filled her with indignation at being so plainly objectified, but she couldn’t think to process them. They just soaked into the fertile bed of her mind, entangling into her thoughts. So much of what he said felt true.

Flag Girl nodded mindlessly.

“Yesss…” she slurred, “Need mmmore...must have…more…” She opened her baby blues, looked up at her captor with wide-eyed, teenage devotion, and began making whatever small movement she could with her hips, thrusting herself at his cock invitingly. “P-please…?” she pleaded.

He looked at her wolfishly. “Please...what?”

Her eyes flickered back and forth between his in confusion, trying to determine what would please him. And then it dawned on her what he wanted, and she blushed a deep red.

“P-please…” she repeated, before adding, in a whisper, “Master.”

“You’ll be screaming that soon enough,” he chuckled, “and since you asked so nicely…!“

With that, Jackal braced himself over her, like a lion over its prey, and did what he was most known—and feared—for.

He fucked.

The thick, rigid shaft of his cock slid almost all the way out of Flag Girl before he plunged back in, just as deep. Slowly at first, but every stroke began to build, until he had reached the steady, pounding rhythm that had proven the undoing of so many women before her. She writhed, panted, and tossed her head in utter disbelief as the pleasure irresistibly began to mount. Then, right on the heels of her first orgasm, another started to break, pounded out of her in merciless, foot-long thrusts.

She howled.

“YYesssSS!” she cried, “Don’t stop! D-don’t...stop…! So d-deep...so….good…! So—ohhh, I can’t, I...I’m c-cumming—cumming again! NNnnhghh!”

“Give in, slut,” Jackal hissed, “You cannot resist. Cum. Cum for your Master...now!“

A deep, penetrating thrust took her over the edge. She seized, pleasure wracking her body, but still he didn’t stop, and so neither could she. Her body was nothing more than his fucktoy now, and it answered only to the hard, black demon plundering her sex.

Jackal was relentless, his stamina unyielding. Over and over again, he forced Flag Girl to submit, each release coming quicker than the last until it seemed not like a series of orgasms, but rather one that never seemed to end. He fucked her until her eyes went vacant, rolling up into her head, and the only sounds that escaped her ragged throat were unintelligible groans, whines, and grunts.

But then she felt him tense, his cock bloating inside her even further before he announced his own release in a rumbling, powerful grunt. Hot, thick ropes of semen erupted from his cock, pouring into her clenching pussy and flooding her sex. The sensations triggered the most powerful orgasm yet, and Flag Girl came screaming, long and hard, before at last merciful darkness overtook her, and she passed out.

Flag Girl had no idea how long she had been unconscious, but when she came to, she found herself no longer splayed on her back, but seated in Jackal’s lap. The dark slaver had carried her over to a nearby chair, and had settled her against him, her legs hooked over its arms, spread wide. One hand was between her legs, idly toying with her sex, while the other cupped and kneaded a receptive tit, teasing her nipples between thick fingers.

She mewled sleepily, arching into him. God, her whole body just...tingled. She didn’t know how long he’d kept her like this, but there was no denying that, unconscious or not, his touch had been devastatingly effective. Sitting in his lap made her feel so terribly small...and so deliciously controlled.

‘Awake at last, I see,” he chuckled, craning his neck down to lick the juncture of her shoulder and neck. “Ready for more?” As if to answer his own question, he hooked two fingers into her quivering vagina and began to pump them in and out. The sounds it made responded far more eloquently—and honestly—than anything her stupefied tongue might have managed, squelching and sucking wetly at his intruding digits. Flag Girl moaned, reaching up and feeling for his powerful shoulders and neck, stroking him with her hands.

“More…” she droned, rocking herself into his hand, “Please...give me more…!”

“It would be so easy to make you cum on my fingers,” he said, “But I think you’d enjoy something else even more, wouldn’t you? Look between your legs.”

She complied, and gaped when she saw him rising imperiously just past the soft rise of her mound. Her pussy clamped down on his fingers greedily.

“Cock,” she cooed vacantly, licking her lips as she stared at his bobbing purple head. “Pussy wants...cock!”

“That’s a good little slut,” he rumbled. “Take it. Grab it with your hands, and put it where it belongs.”

His words—his permission, she later realized—sent an unexpected thrill through her, and as she reached her hands down, she found them trembling with excitement, anticipation. As soon as she felt them connect with his waiting member, she sighed, letting her fingers roam the contours of his head and what little of the shaft she could reach. She tried to encircle him with her fingers, but he was simply too thick. His flesh throbbed hotly against her palm.

“I’ll give you time to play with it later,” Jackal told his enthralled victim, “but I think we both know you’re a little too excited to focus properly right now.”

Flag Girl nodded. Of course he was right. All she could think about right now was feeling that monster back inside her. She was too distracted to touch him properly, to...please him, with her small, soft hands. And she wanted to, very badly. She felt a deep, intense need she barely recognized, but one that kept coming back to a simple, primal desire to...serve.

But that would come later. He had told her to do something. She felt helplessly compelled to obey.

Carefully, she guided him backwards until his broad head reached her lips, and she began to pant as she rocked herself against it like she had his fingers, instinctively wetting him to make his entry easier. She found she couldn’t quite angle him inside her the way she was seated, and so she flexed her legs, raising her hips up with the help of the armrests, until she could feel him nudging the mouth of her vagina. Then, taking a deep breath, she let herself sink down.

“Ooohhhh!” Flag Girl groaned as his cock slid easily into her soaked and receptive pussy, After the initial shock of his arrival wore off and she had stretched to accommodate his considerable girth, Flag Girl felt an almost sublime lethargy swell inside her. Feeling him in her pussy, filling her up, just felt so unbelievably good, so undeniably right. She mewled contentedly, laying her head back against his broad chest and sinking completely into him. He was so much bigger than she was; even sitting, he dwarfed her, and she felt so helplessly small in his lap. But perversely, the same disparity in their physicality that once filled her with terror now made her feel strangely at peace. Safe.

Owned.

There was just her, and his thick, magnificent cock.

Rocking her hips, Flag Girl began to grind herself onto him, marvelling at how the easy, rolling motion made him shift inside her in the most delicious ways. It wasn’t long before she was panting and gasping as the pleasure—and her urgency to fulfill it—began to mount.

So when Jackal reached around to seize each of her heavy tits in his large hands, she practically swooned, and let out a long groan of desire as he began toying with her nipples. She bit into her knuckle to stifle the cry.

“Ahh yes,” he smirked, “I remember how sensitive these are.” He caught her stiff peaks between his finger and thumb, and began to tug, and twist. “Every time I pluck them, you get tighter and tighter around my cock. Yess. So tight and wet. I don’t think it would take much to make...you…!“

“UUHNGG!” she whined helplessly as his skilled nipple teasing sent her right over the edge. Her hips spasmed uncontrollably, and the random movements of his cock only made the pleasure worse. She could feel herself leaking all over him, and in the hazy fuck-fog blanketing her mind, she pictured what she must look like. Legs spread wantonly, back arched to thrust her heaving tits into the hands of her conqueror, while rivulets of her cream ran down the fat length of his dark cock and full balls. Just imagining it made Flag Girl lick her lips.

Jackal eased up, letting her down from the climax slowly but remaining deeply buried in her grasping cunt. His hands began to explore her naked body, stroking her face, neck and thighs, raking over her clenching abdomen. It wasn’t how she expected him to touch her; she was so used to be groped and abused, cloddishly fondled by ruffians who cared not a whit for her enjoyment.

What he was doing was different though, not just from them, but from the brutal fucking he had administered just hours (minutes? Days? She didn’t know.) earlier. Of course, the tenderness was entirely a lie; a cunning manipulation Jackal knew would leave her head spinning, and she reacted just as he’d expected. She practically melted in his arms,

“You belong to me now, Flag Girl,” the wicked slaver whispered in her ear, making her shiver. “You’re my doll. My toy. My pet. You exist only for my pleasure and my satisfaction. My will is your will.“

She couldn’t make sense of what he was saying. His roving hands kept distracting her, plying her with pleasure when she tried to focus, and soon he had her mindlessly nodding along as his words soaked into her subconscious. Her tongue felt thick and clumsy in her mouth, refusing to form anything more complicated than simple, monosyllabic grunts and whimpers.

Then his fingers found her clit, and those grunts and whimpers rose in pitch dramatically.

“You’re a slut. A whore. The pleasure I offer, you will come to crave, day and night. It will be your addiction. Your obsession. And you will do whatever it takes to get more.“

His tongue swept along her throat, and she gasped raggedly. His fingers thrummed against her clit, and though his cock remained almost motionless, just the thickness of it inside her was an erotic pressure she could not escape. It held her fast, impaling her, keeping her helplessly in his lap. She could feel the orgasm coming, its size and power rising like a wave. It was then that a single thought cut through her mind with utter clarity.

I’m going to drown…!

That didn’t stop the sensations from rising, or her hips from obediently thrusting into his manipulations, and almost as soon as it formed it was swallowed up by a rising tide of ecstasy. She knew it to be true. There was no way for her to stop it, or to deny it. Somehow she knew that this time, when she came, something would...change. Maybe permanently.

So why were her hips moving on their own, trying to get his monster cock to thrust deeper inside her? Why was she baring her neck to his lips and teeth, and why was her hand atop his where it stroked and caressed that oh-so-vulnerable spot between her legs, not to stop him, but to urge him on?

It had to be true, everything he said. She had to be a slut and a whore. She must want to be his pet, his...plaything. Why else would she be reacting that way? It was too hard to think. It was so much easier to feel, especially when it felt so sinfully good.

“What’s your name, girl?”

His question startled her eyes open, but his fingers were waiting at her clit, and a deft caress of it made them flutter white all over again. She didn’t even think before she answered.

“L-lyd...Lydi..a…” she panted.

“Good girl, Lydia,” Jackal leered. “You’re being a very good girl for me, and good girls deserve a reward. Cum.”

She could not resist. His command over her body was total. His fingers on her nipple and clit; his cock inside her; his voice in her head; they were too much. The wave she’d been riding on so precariously finally tipped, and swept her under.

Flag Girl’s body went rigid in his lap, every muscle seizing. Her pussy clamped around him hard, and even more of her cum gushed around it as her legs splayed wide. Her back arched, eyes opened to stare up at the ceiling in wild, sightless ecstasy over a gaping mouth that couldn’t even scream. Only low, strangled sounds of ecstasy choked free, and the pleasure—it didn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop.

He wouldn’t let her.

It was almost pathetic how easily he goaded her along. Every time she thought she was through, he simply had to stroke, or squeeze, or thrust, and she was cumming all over again. It was cruel, and evil, how he dominated her body into submission until it dragged her spirit down with it.

But it was also brutally effective.

And as she was dashed from wave to wave, as one orgasm rolled into the next and the room began to fall away as darkness crept in, her earlier moment of clarity proved prescient. There was no last minute rally, no dramatic, defiant explosion before her will finally shattered into a million small, insignificant pieces. The hero formerly known as Flag Girl simply…

Drowned.

Everything after that was a blur of vague impressions and moments of white hot excess. She had no concept of time. She must have ate and drank, but she didn’t remember. He would wake her with touches to her body, or his mouth upon her breasts or (oh GOD) her pussy, until she had roused enough to listen as he poured more of his sweet, poisonous words into her mind even as he filled her with his devil cock.

He fucked her from behind, making her cry and moan like an animal as she clawed ineffectually at the sheets.

He made her ride him, bouncing herself like a doll for his pleasure until she could barely move any more.

Exhausted, she would be flipped onto her back, her knees would be pressed beside her taut breasts, and he’d take her again, like he did the first time. She liked that position best. More than the others, it made her feel the most helpless against him, the most submissive. And when he came like that, it was always so hard, and deep, and good…!

And she happily—loudly—cried out her submission with every orgasm he plied from her obedient, eager body.

“Everything’s ready, Boss.”

Jackal glanced absently over his shoulder, and waved a dismissive hand at the henchman waiting at the door. “Good. I’ll bring the merchandise along shortly.”

The door began to swing shut again, but just before it closed, Jackal heard the man pause a moment to admire the sight before him, and utter a low, envious, ”Damn,” beneath his breath.

For on the carpet, kneeling between his knees, was the buxom, blonde girl they had captured days before. If he hadn’t seen her himself, he would have scarcely believed the brave and defiant Flag Girl and this girl were one and the same.

Her lips were painted a garish and deep red, her hair pulled into two bouncy ponytails on either side of her head. Her naked body wiggled and rocked in playful excitement, even as her mouth worked noisily to swallow Jackal’s thick and swollen cock. Wet choking and gagging noises filled the room, but the girl never slowed in her efforts to please the black demon pulsing in her throat. Her little hands worked feverishly along his shaft, stroking him where she simply couldn’t take any more, or else holding and caressing the huge balls hanging below.

The door clicked shut, and Jackal gave her head an affectionate pat.

“Very good, fuckpet,” he crooned, “Remember. I want you to swallow every. Last. Drop.”

She paused long enough to nod, and looked up at him with worshipful, doe eyes. She knew he was close. She stroked him faster, sucked harder, and waited hungrily for her reward.

She mewled in pleasure when she felt him explode, gushing huge jets of thick cum into her waiting mouth and throat. She swallowed desperately to accept it all, wanting so very badly to please him and do as he said. She didn’t want to disappoint.

Jackal grinned. She really was a good little thing. So attentive and affectionate.

It almost pained him to have to let her go. He almost had half a mind to keep her for himself.

But, in the end, the prospect of several million dollars in unmarked, untraceable currency was far too enticing. She would make an excellent addition to the sultan’s harem, he was sure.

Besides, he thought, glancing over at the star-spangled uniform lying in a heap in the corner, I have bigger prey in mind.

“I wonder if your mentor will be any more of a challenge than you, fuckpet,” he laughed.

Flag Girl’s only answer was a low, vacant moan.