The Perils of Spectra: Cosplay, Captivity and Chloroform

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Damselbinder

This is a one-off, spin off story set in the Enhancegirl universe, starring fellow heroine Spectra. Enjoy!

"Uaaaggghhh!!" A stocky man in a brightly coloured costume was thrown back against a wall by a blast of energy, a searing hole left in his mauve costume.
"Big Shot!" another man cried out. "You'll pay for that one, you ignorant cape!" The man, clad in red lycra from head to foot, attempted to lock eyes with his target. Like the fallen Big Shot, this man - codenamed Mindblow - was a superhuman, able to psychically render unconscious those with whom he made eye contact. But before he could meet the sparkling, jade eyes of the heroine he and his allies fought, there was a blinding flash, literally. Crying out in pain, Mindblow covered his eyes, only to find himself kicked hard in the stomach. He went down.

"If that was not a clear demonstration of my superiority to you ignoramuses, then you are even more foolish than I took you for," a tall, beautiful young woman said. She was posing dramatically, though this was not exactly out of vanity, but rather out of habit. The Japanese born heroine was, in her civilian life, a professional - even acclaimed - model. She had greater acclaim, however, as Seacouver's most beloved superheroine - Spectra, otherwise known as Mariko Asakura.

Two of the members of the Catastrophe gang, who had been in the middle of an already half-botched bank job, had already been defeated by the time Spectra came to dealing with Big Shot. These two were the real robbers, the other five being little more than muscle. One was an explosives expert, G-Bomb (the only Catastrophe gang member not to be a superhuman), the other being a technopath, who had rather grudgingly accepted the codename 'Satellite-B' to keep with the obscure naming theme of the group. With Big Shot and Mindblow down for the count, this left three: Angermax, Hammerblow, and their leader: Catastrophe himself.

"RAWWRRGHHH!" Angermax, a wiry, dark eyed berserker, certainly lived up to his name. He slammed his fist against the ground, his terrakinetic abilities launching a wave of seismic energy which tore up everything in its path as it raced along the floor of the bank, throwing linoleum everywhere.

Spectra was almost taken aback: she had not expected this level of power. Nonetheless, she shot a blast of thermal energy at her feet, vaulting her over the wave of seismic force. She landed on the other side, and very nearly got her head taken clean off by a swing of Hammerblow's massive mace. She ducked just in time. Hammerblow, a rhinoceros of a man, howled a raucous laugh, and swung again, his huge hammer swung surprisingly quickly. These two were certainly a level above Big Shot and Mindblow, whom Spectra had dispatched with such ease. But she was still Spectra, after all.

"Aaaaaaaarrrggghhh!!" Angermax roared, looking to channel his energies directly into Spectra's body, swinging his fist at her while Hammerblow did the same with his mace. But, at the last instant, their target vanished entirely.
"Huh?!" Hammerblow stopped himself mid-swing, lest he hit his comrade. "Where did she -" Alas, Angermax was not capable of quite the same self-control. He barrelled forward in total disregard for the fact that Spectra was no longer visible, his fist cracking into Hammerblow's weapon.

"Nyyyarrrgghh!" Hammerblow cried, as his mace shattered into a thousand pieces, the shockwave from the impact sending him spinning through the air. He crashed through a bank-teller's window, behind which its staff still cowered. "Hrrrghhh!" Angermax was perfectly intelligent when not in his berserker rages. Unfortunately, his powers depended entirely on them - like Spectra and Enhancegirl he required a transformation to access his powers, and that change also made him a rage filled animal, barely able to distinguish friend from foe.

He was so enraged that he did not notice when Spectra reappeared a few metres away from him. Her invisibility power was limited: as light went around her it did not reach her eyes, which both blinded her and deprived her of her powers after only a minute. Still, it hadn't taken much intelligence for Spectra to know in which direction to move away from the grunting super-crooks, even without her sight. Without so much as a pithy remark, she gathered her energies, and fired a massive light blast at Angermax. He turned far too late to counter it with his own powers, and he was laid low.

"I bet you think you're hot s**t!" the last remaining gang member, Catastrophe, said. A bright aura surrounded him, his fists were clenched, and his teeth were gritted. The mightiest of the gang's members, hence his being their namesake, he was gathering his powers to summon a blast of light energy far in excess of anything Spectra could make, powerful though she was. And, unlike Spectra, he could generate his powers internally, he did not require a light source to use them. Yet she stood calm, not even bothering to prepare a retaliatory strike.

"Well, you're about to meet with a Catastrophe, sister!" He was much shorter than Mariko, but his height belied his power, spiky, black hair crowning a savage face. "Get ready for the big one!" He clasped his hands together, and unleashed a massive torrent of energy towards Spectra. The onlookers cried out, in terror that their black-haired rescuer would be disintegrated.

But Spectra had no such concerns. She raised her hand, and the energy curved back in a shallow arc, heading straight back towards Catastrophe.
"What the f-" he barely had time to say, before he was engulfed. He had some resistance to his own abilities, but the blast was more than enough to send him crashing through a concrete wall behind him, knocking him out.
"Cretin," Spectra muttered. She was not known as the Mistress of Light for nothing. While Catastrophe could produce vast amounts of light energy, Spectra could manipulate it to her whims. Turning Catastrophe's attack back on itself had been child's play for the capable heroine.

Strolling outside, Spectra was met with the amazed stares of an amassed force of police, who would have been no match for the Catastrophe Gang, certainly not its stronger members.
"Spectra!" A senior cop called out. "Miss Spectra!" She approached the man with a model's strut, flicking her short ponytail as she walked. "How did you do it?" he asked, amazed that even Spectra had defeated all seven of the criminals.
"It's simple," she said. "Unlike most, I do not allow to myself the luxury of failure."


Mariko - having shed her powers for the moment - went straight from one life into another. With the villains defeated, the oriental dame was fulfilling her more prosaic role. However, this role was that of a professional model, so while her other life was certainly more prosaic than her heroic one, it was still far from humble.

"Miss Asakura!" A colourfully clad woman in her late twenties greeted Mariko as she walked into a spacious, well lit loft. "Such a pleasure that you have accepted my invitation."
"The pleasure is mine, Miss Christiana," Mariko replied. She slipped off an expensive coat, revealing a close-fitting black dress underneath. Her long legs were covered by a pair of black stockings, giving her a severe, yet feminine look.
"Please, please, call me Anita," the hostess said, smiling broadly, a slight Italian cadence to her otherwise convincingly American accent. Her hair was dyed purple, with a pair of sunglasses resting upon the top of her head. She somehow managed to pull off a green trouser-suit, something Mariko thought would have looked absolutely hideous on anyone else. Indeed, there was a strange kind of alluring presence around her, an almost bewitching sense of attractiveness. Anita was a fashion photographer, rather a successful one in fact, and she had asked Mariko to join her for an exclusive photoshoot.

"Very well, Anita," Mariko said, the words tripping off her tongue with the polished ease and lightness of her footsteps. "But in return, please do call me by my forename as well."
"If you insist, Miss Mariko," Anita said, beckoning her towards a set of lights pointing against a plain white wall. This was clearly Anita's studio, as well as her loft. There was already a large, expensive looking camera pointing against the wall, and another hanging from Anita's neck.

"Why don't we start with a bit of practice, Miss Mariko?" Anita said, as her model stepped before the lights. "Just do whatever comes naturally to you." Mariko was used to photographer's having much more specific directions. For one thing, she'd not even been given an outfit to wear. But a photoshoot by Anita Christiana was a serious gig: Mariko was famous as a model, but she was no superstar. Anita's seal of approval could be a major step in that direction.

Mariko took a coy pose, crossing one foot at the other in a flirtatiously defensive gesture. She turned her head a little from the camera, but turned her eyes towards it, as if curious, but shy.
"Oh, very nice!" Anita said, taking a couple of snaps. She closed the blinds of the windows, to give her better control of the light. "It is as if there is a sensuality surrounding you of which you are a little nervous," she said. "It is very enticing." Taking her cue, Mariko tucked her right leg behind her left, rubbing her calf with her heeled shoe, while folding her arms behind her back.

"Oh, stupendous, stupendous," Anita said, not really talking to Mariko. "Very elegant, very feminine..." She took a few more photographs, before changing film. "Alright, let's move on to the outfits I had in mind for you." Darting like a rabbit to the other end of the room, she revealed a long rack of clothes on a pull-out closet. Before Mariko could even take stock of most of them, Anita selected one, and pushed the rack away, folding the outfit neatly over her arm.

"Whose collection am I modelling?" Mariko asked. "One of the Italian fashion houses, perhaps?"
"No, no, no," Anita said hurriedly. "I suppose you might say you're modelling my collection! I'm a bit of a seamstress in my spare time, I must confess." She handed the neatly folded bundle to Mariko. To the oriental model's surprise, it was a peach coloured leotard, and a pair of soft, flat shoes.
"A...ballet outfit?" Mariko said, lowering her eyebrows in curiosity. It seemed strangely low-key: Mariko had been expecting to be wearing truly bizarre things, such was Anita's reputation.
"My dear Miss Mariko, you have such a..." She was searching for the right expression. "Such a mixture of strength and fragility. I must cap-" She stopped herself mid-sentence. "I must record it. What better complement to such a character than the garb of the modern ballerina? These days she is no longer a delicate little waif, I think."
"I should think not," Mariko said, moving behind a screen to change. She pulled the stockings off her legs, before her dress fell to her feet, exposing her briefly before she pulled the leotard onto herself. It fit very snugly against her long body, skin-tight without being uncomfortable. She slipped the shoes onto her feet after kicking off her heels. As a girl she'd done a little ballet, and she still remembered how to tie the ribbon to the shoes, and how to wind it up her ankles.

Mariko stepped out from behind the screen, her natural grace making her look every inch the ballerina.
"Oh, magnifico," Anita said. "Step into the light, please. That's good, yes, just there. Try to - try to show me...that you are like a Prince Rupert's drop. Even a hammerblow will not break you...but a tap in just the right place, and you shatter." Mariko followed Anita's odd instruction as best she could. She lifted her arms up towards the ceiling, arching her back slightly, and perching on her toes. She formed one fluid curve with her body - except for her head, which bowed slightly: the weakness that Anita had asked for.

"Good, good yes..." Anita said. "Just...there is a certain something..." Anita put down her camera, staring agitatedly at Mariko.
"Is there a problem, Miss Christi - ah, Anita?" Mariko relaxed her pose slightly, though her mind was a touch more anxious. From Anita's manner, it seemed as if she might abandon the photoshoot altogether.
"No. Well, yes. Ah...I'm not sure." She gesticulated as if in internal conflict. "The vulnerability I seek...it is not quite coming through, I think. Perhaps..." She darted towards a cupboard filled with props - feather boas and the like, from what Mariko could see - and emerged with some ribbon, the same kind that Mariko had used to tie her shoes to her feet.

The photographer scurried - always her movements put Mariko in mind of one animal or another - towards her model.
"Please, place your hands behind your back," Anita said. Mariko did so. She felt Anita's hands on her wrists, holding them together before slipping ribbon around them.
"What are you -?" Mariko spun back around when she realised that Anita was trying to bind her wrists. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Perhaps I have been too bold," Anita said. "You must understand - when I have a sense of an image I cannot help but endeavour to -" She stopped herself again. "Ah, to put it to celluloid." Mariko wondered for a moment which word it was that Mariko seemed so keen to avoid using. "I urge you to co-operate. We make a name for you, yes?" It was this that persuaded Mariko. Something this unusual might indeed make her stand out.

"...very well," Mariko said grudgingly. She turned her back to the photographer, and placed her hands behind her back. She felt ribbon against her skin again, but this time she resisted the impulse to fight back. The ribbon was smooth against the model's skin, but Anita was binding her arms tightly, and swiftly, wrapping ribbon all the way up her wrists, and over her forearms. Mariko tried to shift her arms a little to make them more comfortable, but she found that she was bound much too tightly. She hadn't expected Anita to be so quick.

"Ah!" Mariko gave a quiet gasp when she felt Anita's hands on her uncovered legs, the photographer taking hold of Mariko's supple calves and pressing them together, before entwining them in more ribbon. She criss-crossed the ribbon over Mariko's skin, making it almost impossible to tell which length of ribbon was holding her shoes on her feet, and which was binding her.

"Very good, such scintillating vulnerability!" Anita said, moving round to look at Mariko from the front. In her revealing leotard, with her graceful limbs tied up so tightly, Mariko looked very vulnerable indeed. Anita moved over to her fixed camera, angling it slightly to catch the light that reflected off Mariko's left shoulder. She took a few pictures. Mariko looked sultrily at her, trying to get a tinge of anger into her face, while suggesting perhaps a hint of interest.

"Oh, very nice, Miss Mariko," Anita said. "Let us try a few poses, eh?" Her finger tapping by the shutter of her neck-slung camera, she turned Mariko around by her hips. Such rapid intimacy from a photographer was nothing strange to Mariko, but in her current situation she noticed it more. She turned her head, looking over her shoulder as Anita shot her, the bright flash of the bulb illuminating her tan skin, the angle illustrating for all to see the way in which Mariko's arms were bound.

Mariko remembered that, were Anita's photographs published, they would not be the first time that the public had seen her bound. Mariko had been kidnapped some weeks ago, and her abductors had sent a photograph of their lovely captive to all the local rags.
"Perhaps," Mariko thought, "the public would respond well to my seizing the visual of the captive for myself." With that in mind, Mariko knelt down, looking up at Anita as if in supplication. "Is this the kind of image for which you are desirous?" Such a sentence would have sounded plain awkward from most speakers, but English idiom and syntax seemed to bend to Mariko's will.

"Oh yes indeed," Anita said, quickly bringing up her camera. She looked straight down at the kneeling beauty before her, framing the shot so that Mariko's bare legs, while still in the background, were prominent in the frame. Anita then pushed Mariko in the back, not quite roughly, but heading in that direction, so that the tied up ballerina - as she seemed to be - bent forward, exposing her hindquarters to Anita's camera. Mariko once again looked over her shoulder, smouldering at the camera.

"Truly, you are the natural for this!" Anita said. "There is a sense of...sensuous enslavement that you suggest. Perhaps, Miss Mariko, you fear that you enjoy finding yourself in such a state." Mariko frowned.
"I am responding to your requests," she said curtly. "If you attempt to make guesses about my mental state, you are likely to be in error."
"But of course," Anita said. After a few more photographs, she stopped. "Hmmm...the point between power and powerlessness..." she mumbled to herself. She lent down, and began untying the heroine at her feet. Released, Mariko stood to full height, taller by some way than the photographer. Though she'd had some trepidation, Mariko had in the end been untied by the eccentric woman, and - given that she could transform with a word into her powered state - she'd never been in any real danger. Seeing how much taller she was than Anita gave her a little more confidence as well.

"Perhaps we try something else, eh?" Anita said, returning once more to the rack of clothes. She handed Mariko a golden bundle, with something wrapped in the shimmering fabric. Mariko was also given a pair of light-grey, ankle high, heeled boots. Retreating behind the screen, Mariko was rather glad to be rid of the ballet outfit. She slipped the boots on first, before slipping on the dress. It was short and tight, once again baring Mariko's legs. This time it also bore her shoulders, only just coming up to a little way above her breasts. The item that had been bundled into the dress was a rather elaborate mask, designed to cover just the eyes, like Spectra's own mask. It was a genuine Venetian mask, of carved wooden construction, painted delicately in gold and red. Mariko took to the charming item immediately, and placed it on. She looked in a mirror to admire it, noting how is wide eye holes, and the way its edge ran along the edge of her cheekbones made it hardly a disguise at all.

"Wait a minute," Mariko said. She looked again at the mirror. "This is -" There was no mistaking it. The mask was a little more elaborate, and the hem of the dress a little shorter, but Mariko could see that she was clad in the outfit of a fellow heroine: of Enhancegirl, no less. Enhancegirl, whom Mariko had tried to humiliate by capturing and photographing her. Enhancegirl who, ignorant of Mariko's actions, had come to rescue her from her kidnappers, whom Spectra had then had to rescue from the mind-bending Mesmeredith. Always when she was around there seemed to be trouble, the kind in which Mariko did not like to entangle herself. "This is ridiculous," she huffed, stepping out from behind the screen.

"Oh, you look fabuloso, Miss Mariko." Anita was beaming. "I must confess, I am quite the fan of this Enhancegirl! She exemplifies the je-ne-sais-quoi that I look for, the femininity that is strong and vulnerable at once."
"What I look like is a cosplayer," Mariko thought. "What would you like me to do?"

Mariko was first asked to take a number of action poses, her experience as an actual heroine lending verisimilitude to her tableaux of kicks and punches, her dress slipping precariously down her thigh as she performed a particularly impressive high kick. However, Anita was not satisfied.
"We have the strength..." she said, "but now we need the counterbalance." Mariko was rather aghast to see Anita producing two long lengths of rope. Mariko again resisted the urge to refuse: even with her limbs tied, the balance of power in the situation was still very much in her favour.

Grabbing her arms a little more roughly than the previous time, Anita pulled Mariko's wrists behind her, crossing them this time, and rapidly encircling her slender arms in cord.
"Ah," Mariko complained quietly, feeling the bite of cord against her skin. Anita wound the same length of rope around her chest, pulling her arms tight against the small of her back, and pinching Mariko underneath her breasts. Her shoulders were pulled back along with her arms, making her appear all the more vulnerable. She knelt down to bind Mariko's ankles, and the Japanese model once again felt the urge to fight. Something didn't feel quite right, beyond Anita's... kinkiness. After all, she'd seen much racier photoshoots from the auteur. It was...the simplicity of it. Normally Anita would be using all kinds of ludicrous flourishes, like parrots perching on her subjects' heads.

"Good, good," Anita said, binding Mariko just below the knees as well, to make her look (and feel) very secured indeed. Leaving the willowy beauty trussed in ropes, Anita began snapping more photographs. Once again, Mariko made an effort to look sultry. "No, no, no," Anita said. "Look at yourself. You are a superheroine that has been captured. Less smoulder, more...distress!"
"A damsel in distress?" Mariko thought. "How jejune." Nonetheless, she played along. She widened her eyes, opening her mouth as if gasping in shock.
"Wonderful, my dear," Anita said, moving in closer. "Look down, Miss Mariko! Look at that gorgeous body of yours, all wrapped up! You've been beaten, bound, your powers counting for nothing!" Anita's energy was rather infectious, and Mariko did as she was told, looking dejectedly at her body, the shimmering golden dress clinging to her slender form almost as tightly as the ropes. "That's right! You cannot believe how easy it was, can you?" She took snap after snap, until she suddenly stopped.

"What?" Mariko said, after a long pause. Mariko looked her up and down, almost hungrily.
"Well, if you are Enhancegirl, then..." Anita whipped out a handkerchief that was tucked into her shirt. "She is always captured with chloroform, right?" The fine hairs on the back of Mariko's neck stood up. Was the handkerchief seriously soaked in chloroform?
"Is that truly necessary?" Mariko said, nervousness creeping into her voice.
"Oh, please, just for a fan of Seacouver's newest heroine, and her brightest fashion star." As ever, flattery was the key to Mariko's heart, but even so she was very hesitant indeed about what Anita was doing. But just as she was about to try to free herself, she saw that the handkerchief was not damp, nor did it have any scent whatsoever. "Just a tableau," she thought.

"Mph," Mariko complained slightly as the cloth was pressed down over her mouth, thick and warm from its presence to Anita's chest. Mariko was aware of how she looked: just like how Enhancegirl, whom Spectra considered so much weaker than herself, would look when she let herself get caught and drugged. Immediately, Anita took a photograph, then another and another, grinning like a reptile.
"Oh yes, excellent," she said. "This really has been most enjoyable, and we've scarcely even started," she said. Noticing Mariko's wary expression, she added: "Remember, Miss Mariko! You are a heroine who has been tricked and is being drugged. You begin to weaken, surely?"
"Mmmph..." Mariko sighed. She took up a more plaintive expression, looking as if she were indeed in the process of being drugged, lowering her eyelids. "Wait..." she thought. "How is it that she knows that Enhancegirl is vulnerable to chloroform?"

"MMMPPHHH!!" Mariko cried out, her eyes widening in severe alarm. She tried to pull her head away, but Anita suddenly dropped her camera and seized Mariko by the back of the neck, pushing her face into the cloth. "NNMMPHHH!! GGHHDD HHMMPHH!!!" Mariko realised all too late that, with her mouth covered she couldn't utter her change-word, couldn't transform into Spectra.
"Oh, this has been very, very entertaining indeed," Anita said. "I suppose when I said that you were a heroine who has been tricked, you thought I was not speaking the truth? Or am I wrong, Spectra?"
"She knows who I am!" Mariko wriggled desperately to escape, but the ropes binding her were much too strong. "How could I have been so...been so..." Mariko found her eyelids fluttering, showing off her dark blue eye-shadow, though certainly not in a way that Mariko wanted. She felt very strange indeed - she was beginning to feel weak.
"This cloth has been dusted with a fine, odourless powder. A lot more expensive than chloroform, I can tell you," Anita said, "but just as effective for knocking out a lovely superheroine."
"Mmmmmpphhhh!" Mariko wriggled her soft, bare shoulders, but the violent motion was unexpectedly tiring. "Mmmphh..." she moaned, as her long, bare legs started to feel feeble, incapable of supporting her. "Nnnmmphhh...nnmmmphhh..." Mariko found that her long, svelte body was being entirely supported by the apparently mad photographer. Anita released Mariko's slender neck, but the Oriental damsel was unable to move her face from the drugged cloth. Anita took the opportunity to take Mariko by one of her shoulders, holding the heroine against her body.

"Nnnmmphh...yhhh...khhhnnnd..." Mariko said through the thick cloth.
"Do you feel that?" Anita replied. "Your beauty and your strength have been captured, along with your body." She said 'captured' with such relish that Mariko knew at once that this was the word she'd been trying to avoid. As the drugged, whimpering beauty fell against her, Anita moved her hand down over Mariko's hips and onto her thighs, stroking her bare skin.
"Mmph...mmmmpphh..." Mariko objected, finding herself helpless to stop Anita from touching her. Her powers counted for nothing. She had been duped, and no matter how circuitous and elaborate the deception had been, she still felt a fool. "I... I can't...believe...I've been captured...again..." With a long, slow sigh, Mariko gave in to the drug, falling into a deep, forced slumber. Her eyes fell shut, and her tall body sank into Anita's arms.

"That's it, dear," the photographer said, easing Mariko onto the ground. She stroked Mariko's face, the sleeping beauty a picture of serenity. Needless to say, Anita got quite a few pictures of her unconscious subject. But she did not remain idle. She dragged the tall, slender damsel into the centre of the set, and began to untie her...


"Mmmmphhh...mmmmpphhh..." Mariko moaned, her head swimming. Weakness clung to her body, and she could barely move. Her eyes opened briefly, then fell shut again. The drug that had knocked her out was potent, and Mariko was struggling not to lose consciousness for a second time. She managed to force her eyes to stay open, and found bright lights shining in her face.
"Back with us, Miss Mariko?" As her eyes adjusted to the harsh light, Mariko saw the figure of the mad photographer straight in front of her.

"Grrrmphh!" Mariko tried to rise from where she'd been sat, but found that she could not. "Mmph!" Mariko gasped, as she looked down at herself. She was dressed in completely different clothes, for one thing: a black top with dark grey stripes, halter necked with a white shirt collar serving as the halter. It was very low cut, and designed to reveal Mariko's midriff as well as her cleavage, which was accentuated by a push-up bra. So skimpy was the top, Mariko's bra was actually visible. She wore a matching skirt, extremely short, with small slits at the sides, her long legs covered by a pair of glossy, flesh-tone stockings. Tall black heels finished the ensemble. It was like a skimpy parody of what an office worker might be expected to wear. That, however, was not the worst of it. Mariko found herself not only dressed in this new outfit, but also trussed up in new bonds.
"Mmmmphh!" Mariko looked over her shoulder to see her wrists again bound behind her back. In fact, her forearms had been completely wrapped up in sticky, silver duct tape all the way up to her elbows. Not just that: Anita had wound tape around Mariko's chest, fixing her arms in place, while also serving to push up Mariko's small, but perky breasts. Mariko's legs were bound with several layers of tape around her ankles, and another set of layers above her knees, keeping her limbs pressed together. Mariko found herself seated in a swivelling office chair, with tape around her chest binding her to it so she couldn't even get up.

"Ymm crmmmsmm whhmmphh!" Mariko accused, though the many layers of tape that had been wrapped round and round her mouth muffled her accusation somewhat. The last thing Mariko noticed about how Anita had prepared her was a small pair of half-moon spectacles sitting at the end of her nose. "What the hell is this?!"
"A most appealing situation, no?" Anita said, moving in closer to get a clearer shot of Mariko's angry expression. "The hard working secretary, finding herself taped up and gagged by industrial saboteurs...or jealous colleagues, perhaps?"
"Nmmmphhh!!" The proud captive answered, kicking out her heeled feet at her captor.
"Oh, my, we can't have that. Anita knelt down, and grabbed Mariko's legs, pulling them down so her feet rested on the floor. The model fought, but Anita was too strong, and too quick. Mariko soon felt an additional layer of tape being pressed against her ankles, as tape was wound around the central leg of the chair. Mariko's legs were being fixed into place, tied to the chair so she couldn't struggle. "Is this what she'll do if I resist? Tie me up even more tightly?"
"That's better," Anita said, taking a close up shot of Mariko's bound, stocking clad legs. "The sexy secretary isn't supposed to put up much of a fight." She spun the chair around a few times, disorienting Mariko, who was still a little groggy from the drug.
"Mmmphhh!" She wriggled slightly, but she was thoroughly trapped. "Sexy secretary? Is she being serious? I am Spectra, not some office bimbo! How dare she do this to me?!"

Anita, still kneeling, turned her camera up to get a full body shot of the impotently thrashing heroine.
"Such vehemence, such rage..." Anita said. "It makes you a most interesting subject, since you are in fact completely helpless." As Mariko sat wrapped in tape, her lovely body bound and clad in what Anita had selected for her, she couldn't help but feel that Anita was right. She was helpless.
"I wonder..." Without warning, Anita pulled down on Mariko's blouse, revealing her bra completely, Mariko's perky breasts now almost completely on show. "So sensuous," she said, running her hands over Mariko's legs, her thin stockings offering no real protection from Anita's advances.
"Dhhmmphh thhphh mmmmphhh!" Mariko protested, but she couldn't really do anything about it. What's more, she knew it. As she was touched, aware of the exposure of her breasts, she blushed.
"Ah, how charming!" Anita remarked, instantly recording Mariko's blush for posterity. Mariko winced in acute embarrassment.

"I think I have what I need from this one," Anita said. "After all, we do not have an infinite amount of time at our disposal."
"MMPHH!!" Mariko screamed through her gag when she saw what Anita was doing. A thick white cloth was produced, along with a vial of clear liquid. Mariko didn't have to think too hard to guess what Anita was about to do to her. As the cloth was dampened by a sickly-sweet liquid, Mariko wriggled desperately in her bonds. But she was powerless, and when the drug soaked cloth was shoved over her mouth and nose, she swiftly became even more so.

"MMMPPHHH!! MMM-NNMMPHHH!!" Mariko screamed, her senses assaulted by the overwhelming scent of chloroform. Shaking her head from side to side in an effort to get her mouth away from the cloth, she dislodged her ponytail, her short black hair falling about her face as she struggled.
"That's right," Anita said, "struggle, Mariko! Fight me! Every time you fight, you will lose. Every loss proves to you that everything you are is for my possession."
"MMPHH!! Mmmphhh..." For the second time, Mariko found herself losing consciousness. Her struggles were becoming little more than weak shuffles. "No...my body is too weak...I cannot...I cannot get away..." Mariko thought as her mind grew hazy. She leaned back in the chair, no longer possessing the strength to hold herself up. "Mmmphh...nnmmphh..." she whimpered, as her head lolled forward, the rest of her long body now completely still. "I...I can't...can't fight it..." Mariko realised, all too late. Her sparkling jade eyes fell shut, as she was knocked out for the second time.

Mariko was cut away from the chair with a pair of scissors, and pushed down onto the ground, where she fell in a heap, her bound body completely subject to Anita's manipulations. Her short skirt rode up, revealing her firm ass, her glasses clattering to the floor. Anita paused briefly to admire her captive's exposed body, before cutting away the bindings once again.
"Perhaps," she said, leafing through the many costumes she had prepared, "something a little more...familiar this time."


"Mmph?" Mariko awoke with a start, lying flat on the ground. For a moment, she forgot where she was, but the memories came back soon enough. "Mmngghhmph..." She was still gagged and, as she tested her body, she found that she was still tied up as well. With some dread, she looked down at herself. "Oh for heaven's sake..." she thought, as she saw that she had been dressed in, of all things, a kimono. "Just because I'm Japanese doesn't mean I want to wear this kind of thing!" Her hair had been tied up into a top knot, which - though it had been done in a feminine manner - was more like a samurai's hairstyle than a geisha's. The kimono itself was pastel pink, with a pattern of indigo flowers and a loose sash around the waist. Though the garment was loose around the oriental damsel's narrow shoulders, it did at least cover her legs, her feet clad in wooden sandals. Mariko sat up, with some difficulty.

"Mmmph!" Mariko saw why it had been so difficult to sit up. Her arms were bound behind her in a very awkward way, with thin, dark brown ropes. Her elbows had been bent so that her hands were pointing up towards her neck, bound together to hold them in place. This was not a comfortable position, but the discomfort was lessened somewhat by the fact that ropes tied around her chest and going over her shoulders anchored her wrists in place, holding them in their position. The ropes were criss-crossed over her chest in an elaborate fashion, almost like a woven pattern. She could tell her legs were bound tightly, around her ankles and thighs, but the bottom half of the kimono was covering them so she couldn't tell exactly how they were tied.

The bright flash of a camera re-alerted her to Anita's presence.
"The enthralling femininity of the Japanese beauty clad in a silk kimono...how could I resist?" she said, stepping forward.
"Mmmphh!" Mariko complained. A thick red cloth had been wrapped around her mouth and nose, keeping her from speaking. She wriggled in the tight, restrictive ropes, finding herself just as helpless now as she'd been in her 'secretary' outfit.
"I think my shibari technique might need a bit of work...but it's quite effective. I mean, you're trussed up pretty nicely, it seems." Anita said, getting closer to her bound, nubile captive. Mariko moved back, vainly trying to keep some distance between herself and her captor. But it wasn't any use. Anita sat down behind Mariko, folding her legs over her captive's midriff, pulling her in.

"Mmmphh!" Mariko fought against Anita's grip, but she was too tightly tied up to accomplish much, the silk of her kimono brushing softly against her flawless skin as she wiggled her body. Indeed, as she writhed, Mariko shook the sleeve off her right shoulder, exposing it, along with a great deal of her chest.
"Well, if you insist on revealing yourself," Anita said, and pulled at the part of the kimono covering Mariko's legs. Or rather, she revealed that what was covering Mariko's legs was not part of the kimono. It was merely a piece of cloth, part of that from which her kimono had been cut. As it was pulled away, Mariko's bare legs were exposed, and the jade-eyed maiden realised that she wore a pastiche of a kimono, nothing more. Her long limbs were bound as intricately as her torso,

"A long-legged, Japanese damsel, tied up in a revealing kimono," Anita said into Mariko's ear, managing to frame quite an effective shot even from her awkward angle behind Mariko. "What could make for a more enticing image, eh?"
"Nnnmmmrrmmphh!" Mariko growled. "I can't believe I've been reduced to the object of this woman's...predilections!" That moment, Mariko felt Anita take her by her shoulders, a gesture of power over her subject.
"It is not so different to what you normally do, is it? The photographer comes in, he tells you what he wants you to do, you do it. He wants you half-naked, that's what you give him. He wants your limbs entwined with those of another beauty, that's what you give him. The life of a model, no?" Mariko resented the description. Anita had always been known as an eccentric, but one who had the utmost respect for her models. Was this cruelty something she'd been hiding all along?

"Nngmmphh?" Mariko was seized by the chin, her head pulled back. "Dhhmmphh! Sthhhp!" Anita had a pipette in her free hand, and she quickly dropped a number of droplets of liquid onto Mariko's gag. "NNMMPHH!" The liquid soaked in quickly, Mariko finding her senses met with a familiar smell. It was chloroform. "Mhhn-nmmmphh..." Mariko whimpered, knowing that she was soon to be limp and unconscious once more. As Anita released her head, Mariko could feel the chloroform beginning to affect her.

"Feeling drowzy, Mariko?" Anita said, standing. Even without Anita supporting her, Mariko was just about able to stay sat up. She realised that her chloroform-dampened gag was not as saturated as the cloth Anita had used before. "Perhaps...if I try...I can stay conscious..." She could feel an insidious weakness creeping through her body, relaxing her, making her feel warm and soft, as if lying back and giving in completely would be the easiest thing in the world. But Spectra did not give up. For a while, Anita simply watched her long-limbed captive struggling valiantly against the drug, but Mariko did not give the impression that she was fighting an internal battle. Her eyes were half-closed, her head slightly bowed. Her sylphlike body was still, as she focussed all her energies on staying awake. Bound and gagged as she was, the scantily clad damsel looked as if she had completely accepted her captivity, her soft mews only serving to enhance that impression.

"Perfect," Anita said. The subdued, submissive Japanese beauty was precisely the image that the photographer had been seeking, and she eagerly shot a number of photographs, mercilessly recording Mariko's drugged bondage, every wriggle of her shoulders, every gentle shift of her long, exposed legs.
"Mmmmmppphhhh..." Mariko moaned, as she realised that her resistance had played completely into Anita's hands. Every flash of the relentless camera made her feel more and more hopeless, as she realised how powerless she looked. A hot feeling rose inside her, an overwhelming sense of humiliation that mixed with her groggy, drugged state. "She...she has me...completely in her power..." Like a trapdoor opening, Mariko's strength fell away from her all at once. "Whhmmphh..." she whimpered, and swooned, falling back onto the floor, completely unconscious in an instant.

Anita loomed over the captured heroine. She took off the drug-moistened gag, wiping away the traces of chloroform that remained on Mariko's pretty lips. Her hands lingered on the helpless maiden's lovely body, the maiden whose strength and beauty Anita felt compelled to capture, massaging her limp form. The oriental damsel was very much unconscious, so there was no danger of her suddenly waking. Completely limp, Mariko found her willowy form manipulated by her captor, turned onto her front so that her arms could be untied. Eventually her arms fell loose to the ground, before her legs were released from their bonds as well. "Hmm," Anita mused, catching sight of a red skirt on the rack of clothes. "Perhaps we continue with the oriental theme...in a slightly different way."


For the third time Mariko awoke from a chloroformed slumber. This time, however, her dose had been relatively small, her own swoon playing as much of a part in closing her sparkling eyes as the drug had done. She rose almost as she might have done from an ordinary sleep in her own bed. Of course, the problem was that the blurring effect on her memory that the chloroform had was lessened, and Mariko's memories of the manner in which she'd fallen unconscious were very much intact, and all too clear. She tried to move and got the expected result: she was tied up. Looking down at her body to see how she'd been bound, she was shocked to see two things.

It was her manner of binding which surprised Mariko slightly less. She was wrapped in shimmering, gossamer ribbons, criss-crossed all the way down her slender body, from her shoulders down to her ankles, thick enough to hold Mariko in helpless bondage, but thin enough to show off most of the body that the ribbons bound. Her long, silky legs were pressed inescapably together, her arms pulled into a box tie, and trussed so securely against her back that Mariko could hardly even twitch them in the gossamer bindings. A few of these ribbons were even wrapped over her mouth, just thickly enough to cover her lips, but tied tightly to keep the damsel gagged.

"Mmph!" It was not her bindings that elicited the most distress from Anita's incandescent captive, however. It was her outfit. "She - she cannot seriously have done this!" Mariko found herself clad in a pair of tall, red high heels, and a matching, pleated mini-skirt, barely brushing the tops of her thighs. Her chest was covered by a tight, white bodice with elaborate, short sleeves. With her arms bound so tightly behind her, Mariko could not see the thin white gloves she wore, but she could feel them, and more or less guess what they looked like. They, and her bodice, had accents to match the colour of her mini-skirt. , and there was a large, purple bow in the centre to top off the ensemble.

Mariko was dressed in a sailor fuku, a skimpy version of what Japanese schoolgirls habitually wore. At first, she'd thought that this was another dig at her heritage, but when she felt the tiara around her forehead, she realised that it was not merely that. She had been dressed up as a character from the manga Sailor Moon, a series about mini-skirt clad crime-fightresses who wore just the sorts of outfits that Mariko had on.
"Mmmphh! Nnmpphh!" Mariko complained, shocked and embarrassed that she had been dressed up like that. Memories of reading the manga when she was younger reminded Mariko that her outfit was not generic: she had been specifically dressed up as the character Sailor Mars. "Mmmpphhh!!" Mariko writhed upon the ground with all the strength she had left, trying to find some weakness in the ribbons wrapped around her. Anita stood by her fixed camera, taking picture after picture of the captive she had forced into being a cosplayer as she struggled on the floor. "Mmmphh...mmmphhh..." Mariko had been significantly weakened by her previous doses of chloroform, and she'd fought too vigorously. She was in real danger of passing out again.

"I suppose you might call this one a personal indulgence," Anita said, coming closer and using her handheld camera again. "I always did have rather an affection for Sailor Mars in my teenage years. And the outfit does rather suit you, my dear. Another chance to show off those gorgeous legs of yours, for one," she said. "Besides, if I recall, the Sailor Scouts were often in such perils, no?"
"Yhh...hhrr...hhnshhnn," Mariko said through her gag.
"Perhaps," Anita said, interpreting her gag talk more or less accurately. "But I'm in control." Making her point decisively, she placed her foot on Mariko's chest, holding her down. It was a gesture of absolute domination, and Mariko could do nothing more than shake her head from side to side to register her discomfort as Anita took snap after snap of the fuku-clad damsel.
"I've read the stories about Spectra," Anita said, turning Mariko onto her front, and rather judiciously lifting Mariko's skirt with her foot to get a shot of her firm ass. "You seem very proud of your strength. Yet you give it up to me so easily. It's here now," she said, pointing to her camera. "It's in these pictures. Your beauty too. They belong to me. Everything you are is in these pictures now."

Anita took her foot off Mariko, and attended to something behind her which Mariko had not seen yet. It was a wire frame mannequin, genderlessly proportioned, and about the same height as Mariko. Anita crooked one of the mannequin's arms up and nodded, satisfied. She then turned back to Mariko.

"Mmmph!" Mariko found herself hauled back onto her feet, held up by hands around her waist. Her high heels, as well as making her bound legs seem even lengthier, made Mariko feel as if she were walking on tiptoes. She was much taller than Anita now, but as she stood face to face with her relatively diminutive captor she was not empowered. This much shorter woman, with no powers or weapons, had defeated Mariko completely. Her height made Mariko feel vulnerable, like she might fall and shatter at any moment.

Still held by the waist, Mariko was pushed towards the mannequin, having to hop in her heels to go as fast as her captor required. Once she was standing right before it, Mariko felt hands around her thighs. Before she even had time to object to herself being fondled, she found herself pushed up and over the mannequin, in fact being draped over its right shoulder.
"Whhggmphh?" Mariko didn't quite understand what was happening. Why was Anita involving a mannequin? She only understood when the mannequin's crooked arm was pulled down, tightened around her thighs. She was being posed - posed as if the mannequin were carrying her over its shoulder. "Nnmmphh! NNMMPPHH!!" Mariko complained, wriggling in the wire frame grip. She was simply too weakened, however, to get loose from it, or even to knock it over by shifting her weight. Her skirt rode up, exposing her ass completely, a pair of frilly black panties doing very little to cover it. "MMPHHH!!" Mariko complained loudly, as Anita repositioned the mannequin's arm so that it was holding her by her firm behind, impressing its fingers slightly into Mariko's smooth, tan skin.

"Very nice, Mariko...such a lovely body...we could dress you in rags and you would still be fabulous!" Anita made sure to take pictures of Mariko in that state, exposed and tossed over an artificial shoulder, her long, bound legs draped down the mannequin's front. She walked round, getting pictures from every angle.
"Mmmhhh! Nnnnnmmpphh!" Mariko moaned, every picture another piece of proof of the Japanese heroine's weakness and foolishness. "Mhhhnnmmphh..." Again, she had used too much energy, and her eyes threatened to close.
"Feeling a little tired, Mariko? Well perhaps you should have another rest." Mariko froze.
"No...she can't...she mustn't chloroform me again, she -" Mariko's mental denial was shown to be in vain in very short order. Still balanced over the shoulder of the manikin, the bound beauty felt a thick cloth pressed over her face again.

"Nnnnnmmmppphhh..." Mariko could smell the heady scent of the cloth before it even touched her face. "Unhh...no...not again...why is...why is she doing this? How...how long will she...keep me like this?" Already weak, Mariko became completely limp within a matter of seconds, her body giving in before her mind did.
"That's it. Sleep," Anita said. "Surrender everything you have to me." She began stroking Mariko's hair with her free hand. "There is so very much I could do with you, my captivating captive." She looked into Mariko's almost closed eyes, seeing the capacity for resistance almost completely drained away. "And I will," she added, just as Mariko lost consciousness again. Her last thought as she passed out was again disbelief that such utter defeat was possible for her.

Anita gently eased Mariko back onto the ground, her expression one of delicate serenity as her captor moved her around. She fell onto her front, the ribbons binding and gagging her hardly seeming necessary. Indeed, Anita swiftly removed them in preparations for Mariko's next ordeal, though they would soon be replaced. Anita already knew in what she would dress her unwilling model, and it was designed to reinforce Mariko's status as Anita's captive.


It took a while for Mariko to reawaken. She'd been given a large dose of chloroform this time, and even when her jade eyes did finally open they fell shut again soon afterwards. On the third attempt, Mariko managed to stay awake, though she was still extremely groggy. "What...what has she...done to me...this time?" Mariko wondered, her rage diminished severely by the drug in her system. What Mariko felt first was that she was on her knees, her torso bent forward. As she summoned some strength, she managed to lift her torso up. She was not surprised to find that her arms would not be so co-operative. They were tied behind her, of course, bound simply at the wrists and elbows in soft, nylon ropes. Her legs too - two circuits of rope round her ankles, and two more just above her knees. Another thick cloth had been wrapped around her mouth
"Mmmphh..." As Mariko's eyes adjusted again, she saw that her shoulders, arms and the upper parts of her breasts were uncovered, with some kind of collar around her neck, and detached cuffs on her wrists. Her legs and feet were clad in fine fishnet tights and black heels, her torso covered (somewhat) by something that felt like a cross between a leotard and a corset. She could also feel some kind of headband. She looked up to see if she could see it, and saw something sitting atop her head that she couldn't quite recognise.

"Nnnhhphh..." Mariko moaned when she did realise at last. They were rabbit ears - Anita had dressed her as a playboy bunny.
"I'm going to make my point as clearly as I can," Anita said, stepping forward. Mariko looked up at her as quickly as her groggy body would allow. "This is not the outfit of the strong heroine. You are an object to be looked at and fondled." She punctuated her point by squeezing one of Mariko's perky breasts.
"Dhhhnnd!" Mariko complained.
"You cannot object. Your power is mine. Your strength is mine. Your beauty belongs to me, Spectra." Anita smiled as she spoke. "I possess you." She knelt down by her captive, and ran her hands along her fishnet-covered thighs. She took a single photograph, but seemed much less interested in taking pictures now.

It was at that point that Mariko was surprised to hear a trilling sound from Anita's pocket, the trilling of a cellphone. She took the phone out, and Mariko expected her to reject the call, or switch off her phone. But she did not. A strange look came over her. Suddenly, she seized the still-damp chloroform soaked cloth, and pressed it over Mariko's mouth.
"Mmmmnnnmmphh?!" Mariko was very confused. Why had she been allowed to wake only to be immediately put to sleep again.
"I can't have you being a nuisance, yes?" Anita said, her eyes anxiously darting to the phone as it continued to ring. But it didn't take long for Mariko's eyes to flutter shut once again. She fell onto her back.
"Hello?" Anita said, answering the phone while rushing out of the room, one ring away from missing the call. She clearly didn't want even to risk being overheard. She left Mariko unconscious on the ground.

Almost unconscious, that is.
"Mmmhhhnnn...mmhhhpphh..." Mariko had managed to hold on by a hair's breadth, and now Anita was out of the room. With a titanic amount of effort, Mariko managed to start shuffling along the ground. The drug had nearly complete hold of her: Mariko's mind was drowzy, her body slow and uncoordinated. Her breasts rubbed against the floor as she went, threatening to spill out of her top, but the inner core of strength upon which she always relied had not dwindled completely, and she risked embarrassment in her attempt at escape.

She managed to get all the way past the screen behind which she'd changed, only about four feet away from the door that led to the stairwell which would grant her a passage to escape.
"Mmmhhhnnn..." Mariko was dizzy, disoriented, and tightly tied up to boot, but still she wriggled along the ground. "I...have to...have to get away..." she thought.

"Oh no you don't!" It was not to be. Whatever business Anita had had was swiftly concluded, and she came back to see her captive attempting to escape. What had taken Mariko minutes took Anita seconds as she strode over to the trussed up beauty. She grabbed her by the shoulders, hauled her onto her feet, and shoved her against a wall, gripping her roughly.

"You don't get it yet? You. Are. Mine."
"Nnnmmpphhh..." Mariko moaned, as the rag was shoved over her face once again. Anita pressed it so tightly that she was able to hold Mariko up with just that hand, leaving her other hand free to fondle Mariko's shoulders and breasts. "I feel so...dizzy...can't think...can't move..." Mariko couldn't organise the sensations she was experiencing coherently. Her dizziness and grogginess, her bondage, Anita's hands on her, she couldn't make sense of any of it. Confused and overwhelmed, Mariko gave in completely this time. She sank slowly down to the ground, her brief attempt at escape cruelly thwarted. She fell against Anita's legs, unconsciousness and defeated once again.
"Clearly you did not get the message," she said. "I will have to give it to you more thoroughly, then."


When Mariko awoke again, she could hardly remember where she was. She had been drugged so many times that a drowzy stupor had settled firmly over her, even in wakefulness. If you'd asked her if she was a captive, if she'd been tied up by a madwoman she would have said yes. If she was the model, Mariko Asakura, she'd have said yes to that too. But if you'd asked her whether or not she was Spectra, mighty Maiden of Light, she would not have been entirely sure.

Of two things Mariko was immediately aware. The first was her bonds. Her arms had been pulled back very tightly, and her long, much-admired legs were completely fixed together. Moving one without moving the other would have been impossible. And yet the bindings themselves were very soft - silk straps softer even than the kimono in which Mariko had been dressed before, rendering the lovely heroine helpless, but also caressing her yielding skin every time she moved. And skin was all her bindings touched. Mariko had been stripped almost completely naked, a flimsy, frilly, strapless black bra and underwear all that protected her modesty. Her shoulders, most of her bosom, her supple legs all there for the eye to see. Her bonds had been applied to secure her as much as possible, while leaving her as exposed as possible. Her wrists and elbows were bound, and tied to her back to keep them in place, but sparingly. So too with her legs, silk was wound around her slim ankles and below her knees, but nowhere else, to make sure as much of Mariko as possible was naked.

That was the first thing. The second was her hair. It seemed to shoot straight up in a way that Mariko couldn't explain.
"Nnnnnphh..." she whimpered through a thick cleave gag that had been pulled between her lips as she slept.
"Do you see now the position you are in?" Anita said. It was only when Mariko looked at her captor that she understood why her hair looked so odd - she was hanging upside down. Suspended from a rope wrapped around her feet, she dangled in mid air. Anita placed a hand on Mariko's midriff, stroking her taut skin. Mariko, her senses having returned a little more, noticed that Anita was not even holding a camera now.

"This is what you have been reduced to, Mariko. Stripped down, tied up, helpless. All the rest you allowed to be taken: your power, your pride. So this is what was really there all along, because that is what you have kept." To Mariko's dismay, Anita planted a kiss on her naked thigh, leaving a clear, red lipstick mark.
"Dhhnn...nnynnnphhh..." Mariko bleated weakly.
"You can't object. You're a possession now. You don't have the right to object. The beauty in your body belongs to me, Mariko," Anita said. She kissed Mariko's other thigh. The oriental maiden's skin was soft and very sensitive there, and she blushed at feeling another woman's lips against her. Anita then kissed Mariko's breasts, leaving two red marks on the yielding flesh of Mariko's bosom.
"Mmmpphhh...mmpphhh..." Mariko continued to whimper, as she felt Anita's lips on her slender neck as well. She kissed Mariko there again and again, leaving mark after mark. In her drugged state, after her humiliating ordeal, Mariko couldn't help but derive a sensual pleasure from Anita's uninvited kisses. She recognised her feelings, and the proud heroine felt ashamed. Anita's hands wandered all over her body, squeezing her ass, her hips, caressing her legs - whatever Anita desired.

"That's it, Mariko," the photographer said. "Don't fight anymore, eh? Nothing left to fight for anyway." She kissed the backs of Mariko's knees, and the captive shivered, a soft sigh coming from her mouth. Anita met Mariko's eyes. The fire had gone. She looked completely subdued, completely in her captor's thrall. "You're not even going to try to fight, are you?" Mewing softly, Mariko slowly shook her head. Anita smiled, and gradually removed her gag, ready to plant a kiss on the beautiful damsel's lips. Mariko opened her mouth slightly, receptively, but apparently wanting to say something. "Yes?" Anita prompted.
"Spectrum is Green," the superheroine replied.

Anita was thrown back. It had been her turn to be deceived. In a blinding flash, Mariko had blasted away her bonds, and transformed herself. Her black underwear was covered with tight, silver lycra, emblazoned with her emblem. A short cape hung from her back, knee high boots covering her feet, and a domino mask over her eyes. She was Spectra once again.
"Now," she said, creating a ball of light energy that had enough power to evaporate Anita. "What exactly was it that you were saying about my being your possession?"
"I - I..." Anita stammered. Spectra brought the energy ball closer. "I have never been more sorely tempted than I am right now, you insane witch! When I received these powers, I swore never to kill in any circumstance other than self-defence. That and that alone is the only reason you are alive right now. You will however, be going to prison. You've made sure to leave plenty of evidence, after all."

"Oh, I don't think so." The speaker was not Anita. The voice came from behind Spectra. She turned, ready to unleash her powers at the new threat. When she turned around, however, she found herself met with a pair of ethereal, violet eyes.
"Stop, Mariko," the newcomer said. Astonishingly, Spectra obeyed, the ball of light in her hand dissipating. "Kneel."
"Yes," the heroine said, in a strange, breathless tone, and dropped onto her knees.

"You have made a bit of a hash of this, haven't you?" the newcomer said to Anita.
"I...she..." Anita still couldn't think of anything to say.
"It doesn't matter much," said the voluptuous woman with the violet eyes. "Forget. And sleep." Anita did so, falling unconscious onto the ground in an instant. For Anita Christiana was no kidnapper. A little kinky, perhaps, but she would never in her right mind have done anything like what she did to Mariko. But she was not in her right mind. She was under the control of Hypnotra, and had been the entire time. Mariko's ordeal had really been inflicted by Hypnotra, not by Anita

"Change back, Mariko," Hypnotra commanded.
"Of course," Spectra replied. "Spectrum is Red." With a more subdued flash, Spectra's outfit vanished, leaving Mariko kneeling in her skimpy underwear once again.
"Good, good," Hypnotra said. "Now sleep."
"Ooh..." Mariko sighed, falling instantly into a deep slumber. She slumped forward onto the ground. Hypnotra knelt down next to her.
"Now, Mariko, you will forget...and you will remember..."


"Unnhhh..." Mariko groaned, awakening again. There was a moment of panic, until she realised that she was in her own bed, in her own house. The panic was restored, however, when she tried to move. "What?!" Mariko kicked away the bedclothes on top of her. She was bound - wrapped up in silk straps, exactly as she'd been before, her slender limbs trapped in bondage. "How has this..." And suddenly, she remembered.

"You're not even going to try to fight, are you?" Mewing softly, Mariko slowly shook her head. Anita smiled, and gradually removed her gag, ready to plant a kiss on the beautiful damsel's lips. Mariko opened her mouth slightly, receptively, but apparently wanting to say something. "Yes?" Anita prompted.
"I..." Mariko did not know what to say. As soon as her gag was removed, she could have transformed, but she wasn't. "I - mmph?" Mariko was interrupted by Anita's lips on her own. "Mmph?" Mariko felt Anita's tongue stroking hers, and she found herself choosing not to stop her. "Mmph..." she sighed, giving into the kiss. "Am I really choosing?" she thought, still unable to understand why she was doing what she was doing.

"You do understand," Anita said. "You are a possession now, Miss Mariko."
"I...I know," Mariko finally said. "I'm...your belonging. Everything I am is yours." Mariko felt utterly weak. She'd been duped, defeated and overwhelmed, dressed up and stripped down as Anita had pleased. Why was she not angry? "You - you've captured me...it's such an overwhelming feeling. I can't fight...can scarcely even imagine fighting anymore. How did you do this to me?"
"You did it to yourself. You allowed me to bind you. You had every opportunity to stop me. But you didn't. You offer up your strength to me so that you can be enslaved."
"I...must have done," Mariko replied meekly. Her slender, half-naked body shivered as Anita stroked her legs, the oriental damsel still hanging from the ceiling. "What are you going to do with me now? I won't...I can't stop you. Whatever you desire to do to me, you...you can."
"You've given me what I need, eh?" Anita said, cutting her down from the ceiling. She caught the tall captive as she fell, the bound beauty finding herself lying in a bridal carry. She looked into Anita's eyes, her pretty mouth slightly open, receptive and submissive to her captor.

She was carried down to Anita's car, where she was propped up in the back seat, and strapped into place. Tinted glass hid her from prying eyes as she, still tightly tied up, was brought back to her own house.
"Ah!" Mariko gasped quietly, as she was pulled out of the car, and tossed over Anita's shoulder, the photographer proving incredibly strong. The tall model seemed to weigh nothing as far as she was concerned. Gripping Mariko's soft thighs and firm behind, Anita carried into and through her house, locks seeming just not to matter to her in the least.

Mariko was carried into her own bedroom, and laid down on her bed. In nothing but black underwear with her arms bound behind her back and her silky-smooth legs tied tightly together Mariko was aware of how utterly vulnerable she looked.
"Bewitchingly feminine," Anita said, caressing Mariko's legs and her slinky hips. "Now sleep, Mariko. Perhaps we will meet again soon."
"But will I - mmpphh?" A damp cloth was pressed down over her mouth. "Mmmmpphhh..." A sweet smell - chloroform. Mariko felt it taking hold of her quickly, robbing her of all strength. But it was not really her strength, she felt. Anita had seized her strength for herself when she had captured the now helpless beauty. Her body gyrated sinuously as she grew more drowzy, but this slowed down as she grew ever weaker. "Hhmpphhh...ggnnmpphh..." Mariko whimpered, not fighting, not stopping Anita from drugging her. She was completely in Anita's thrall. As her consciousness faded, and her pretty eyes fluttered shut, she wondered if being enslaved was what she'd wanted all along when she first put on the mask.


"How did she get me to say those things?" Mariko wondered aloud. "How did I think those things?" It seemed so unlike her, but the memory was so strong. "Do I... really think that?" She did not yet have answer, but one thing was for sure. As she lay in her bed, with her supple limbs tightly tied in silk, she made no effort to untie her beautiful, half-naked body, lying trussed up where her captor had - apparently - left her, and where she had submitted completely, the heroine content to be a bound, drugged slave.
kira21120
Neophyte Lvl 2
Neophyte Lvl 2
Posts: 16
Joined: 10 years ago

love your story~sexy heroines and great chloro ko! Can't wait for more stories about many chloroform trips of Spectra
Damselbinder

kira21120 wrote:love your story~sexy heroines and great chloro ko! Can't wait for more stories about many chloroform trips of Spectra
Well thanks very much indeed, Kira21120! There's plenty of chloro scenes in the other stories I've submitted, but hopefully there'll be even more in the ones to come!
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