The Ultimate Superheroines Forum

Prologue (The List)

The Enslaver stared at the list and tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle a self-satisfied smirk. There were five names on the paper and no further information or instructions. Of course, anything else would have been superfluous. He knew exactly who these women were and he knew what the writer of the list wanted him to do with them. Not for the first time, the villain wondered if anyone else in the world enjoyed their job as much as him.

Arclight – Amanda Gambling
Cypher – Carol O’Donald
The Shroud – Miriam d’Antwain
Slipstream – Phoebe Jones
Snowblind – Natasha Bryant
He was impressed that they had managed to penetrate the superheroine’s “secret identities”. It would make locating his targets all the more simple. Briefly he considered each name. The only difficulty he could envisage was The Shroud; her magical abilities were more than a match for his own. He would need to think of something very special for her to play with.

The other “slaves-to-be” would be a challenge, but he knew that he was more than a match for any of them. Arclight was strong and tough, Cypher had an affinity for electronics, Slipstream was blisteringly fast and Snowblind could manipulate the temperature. These were all very useful abilities to be sure, but of limited use when it came to resisting the spells that would bend them to his will.

* * *

The villain decided to leave Miriam’s capture until last. He needed time to arrange suitable entertainment for the mystic heroine. So, working alphabetically, his first victim would be Arclight. A lithe and muscular redhead, the heroine was certainly an imposing figure. The Enslaver wondered how much use her much-vaulted invulnerability would be again what he had planned for her.

Luring the heroine into his trap proved staggeringly easy. It seemed that she had developed quite a competitive streak. In fact, Arclight would do almost anything to avoid sharing the limelight with her fellow heroines. All that the villain needed to do was to entice her with an unsolved crime, leaving just enough clues to draw her to him.

A high-profile robbery, which devolved into a kidnapping, seemed appropriate. Although all the superheroines would notice this, he planned to leave Arclight a metaphorical “trail of crumbs”. This would give her the head start she needed and with luck, she would be so keen to beat her friends to the “prize” that she wouldn’t notice what was really going on, until it was much too late.

* * *

The battered car swerved madly across the road, nearly colliding with a lamppost before the driver somehow got it back under some semblance of control. Amanda wrenched the wheel to one side and still barely managed to avoid the oncoming vehicle. She cursed as her car bumped over the curb, a loud grinding noise suggesting that she would need a new exhaust far sooner than planned. She might be invulnerable, but her car unfortunately wasn’t.

It took several seconds for the off-duty heroine to realise that the other car had been quite literally riddled with bullet holes. She smiled triumphantly, it seemed that she really was on the right track. Briefly she considered turning the car around and trying to follow what was obviously the getaway vehicle, but by now even its brake lights had disappeared in the darkness.

Instead she opted to retrace the criminal’s journey. She knew that they had lurched, drunkenly onto the main road, emerging without warning from a small track. The dirt road led up into the thinly wooded hills. Gritting her teeth, and imagining the damage that the rutted trail would do to her suspension, Amanda carefully indicated.

They must have had a reason to be on this track. Signs at the entrance proclaimed, “no through road”. The heroine stayed in low gear, trying to keep the revs down. It was a bumpy journey, but she could not help but imagine what glory would come when she tracked the villains to their lair. With any luck she would recover the stolen money, rescue the hostages and have the bad guys locked up before breakfast.

Unfortunately for the young woman, she was not destined to have any good luck at all today.

* * *

Chapter One (Look who else needs rescuing now)

Amanda drove her car cautiously up the narrow track; she was relying only on her sidelights in the hope that she would be less obvious to anyone keeping watch. After several minutes of dirt track, the young woman saw the dark silhouette of a building in the distance. She immediately pulled her car off of the road, and spent some time hiding it from view. Obviously a concerted effort would easily find the vehicle, but all she wanted to do, was to evade the casual onlooker.

Once she was sure that her car was camouflaged, the detective made her way carefully up towards the farmhouse. She could make out no signs of life, the windows were all dark, and nothing stirred in the cool night air. Her trained eyes did, however, notice the recent tread marks in the mud and a discarded chocolate bar wrapper. It was apparent that someone had been here recently.

Amanda picked her way forward, using what cover she could find, until she reached the stone walled house itself. The front door was locked, but rummaging in her pocket, the young heroine pulled out a small metal device and immediately set about breaking in. The lockpick gun made quick work of the old mechanism, and seconds later she was turning the handle and peering inside.

The house showed similar evidence of recent occupancy, but certainly nothing to tie anyone here to the break in and apparent kidnapping. Amanda was beginning to get frustrated and was thinking strongly about calling for backup, even though she knew that the other heroines would use the opportunity to steal her glory. Then, suddenly, as she was about to give up, she discovered the small wooden door that led down to the basement.

Having searched everywhere else, and finding nothing more incriminating than a few discarded beer cans, she knew that something important had to be concealed downstairs. Peering into the gloom, Amanda drew her torch and waved its powerful beam back and forth before descending. At the base of the narrow stairs was another door, this one more sturdy and modern looking. She checked the handle and to her surprise discovered that it wasn’t locked. Carefully she pushed the door forwards before stepping through into the room beyond.

Of course, Amanda had no idea about the small booby trap that had been left for investigators like her. She didn’t notice the small wire that was released as she opened the door, and was oblivious to her danger as she entered the basement itself. What she was aware of, however, was the sudden rushing noise from directly above her. The startled woman looked directly up; recognising the sprinkler head a split second before several pints of water thoroughly drenched her.

The young woman cursed loudly as her costume was drenched. The cold water seemed to soak straight through to her skin, chilling her and bringing her out in goose bumps. She couldn’t understand why anyone would go to the trouble of laying such a childish trap. All she could think about was what the rest of the team would say if they saw her like this. Then, suddenly Amanda saw what else was in the room and she immediately forgot her own troubles.

She saw the three small cots, briefly noted the shackles and the strange machines, but her attention quickly focussed on the two naked and unconscious women.

“What kind of sick……”, began Amanda, shaking her head in disbelief. “What on earth have I stumbled across?”, she thought, “this was obviously more that just some bank robbery gone sour”.

Her train of thought was abruptly stemmed by a sudden wave of vertigo. Amanda felt the room spin, for a moment she closed her eyes but found that this merely served to make it spin more rapidly. She reached out with her hand, trying to steady herself against the doorframe, but her vision swam and twisted and she nearly stumbled. Looking down at the stone flooring and bending forward brought some relief from the curious sensation, and the young detective remained like that for some time while the spinning slowed and finally ceased.

“It must be the shock,”, she reasoned.

The pattern of the flooring held Amanda’s attention for some time. “How fascinating”, she murmured and obligingly the pattern rose gently towards her. The young woman was confused to suddenly find herself lying on the cold damp ground, but for some reason it seemed too much of an effort to attempt to rise. Her earlier chill had now been replaced by a warm lassitude that seemed to flow through her body, melting her muscles as it went.

Amanda had never drunk alcohol, but this was what she imagined it must feel like. Deep down she knew that she should be worried or even scared, but the soothing warmth gently lulled her worries away, leaving her happy and placid. Her body felt heavy and boneless, she struggled briefly to move, but it was so much more pleasant to merely lie still and let these feelings wash over her. She giggled softly, not quite asleep yet but gripped by a weariness that would soon overcome her.

The young detective didn’t realise that the “water” with which she had been so thoroughly soaked contained a combination of a powerful anxiolytic (or colloquially, “what, me worry?”) and DMSO (dimethylsulphoxide), an industrial chemical whose main property was to allow other chemicals to pass through, for example, the skin. Thus, once properly drenched, the drug passed quickly through her skin and into her bloodstream.

In the basement, two girls slept on in their own drugged slumber, while on the floor, mere feet away from those she had come to rescue, lay the superheroine. She was still conscious, but could only revel in the wonderful detached sensation. The warmth had reached her neck and face now, and her thoughts were becoming more and more sluggish. It was hard to concentrate now, there were so many things that she should be doing, but anything was too much of an effort.

A gently smile played across her lips as her eyelids flickered once. “Just a little sleep and I’ll be right as rain……”, she thought, “then I can do whatever I was supposed to.”

With one more deep breath, which seemed to expel the last of the heroine’s energy, Amanda drifted into a quiet sleep, troubled by strange and vaguely erotic sensations. Her eyelids finally closed and her body slumped completely relaxed on the hard stone floor. Her breathing came slow and even now, as she lay awaiting the return of the villain who had so easily felled her.

...

Chapter Two (Collars and cuffs and oil ... oh my!)

The villain lectured his young apprentice as they watched the closed-circuit television feed.

“Ah good, as you can see, this particular heroine has chosen the “mind-field” pathway, this should prove both entertaining and educational”.

On the crystal-clear screen, a lycra-clad young women edged cautiously along a narrow white corridor. Moments earlier she had awoken from a drug-induced slumber, to find herself imprisoned within a complex maze of passages, rooms and dead-end corridors. Her search for the exit was destined to be short-lived as her next step planted one boot-clad foot firmly on the trigger for one of the villain’s “lace-mines”.

There was an explosion of white smoke as the mystical device activated. In an instant the heroine’s costume was literally shredded from her, the next moment a myriad of slender black tendrils snaked around her, moving with preternatural speed. As the fog cleared she was revealed to the watchers.

“I do so love that look of incomprehension”, stated the villain blandly, “she really has no idea what is about to happen to her, although I’m sure she’s bright enough to realise that it won’t be good …. for her at least”.

On the screen they could see the shaken woman attempt to steady herself. Her trim body was criss-crossed with fine laces that despite their apparent fragility would resist her strongest attempts to break free. The laces seemed to emanate from thicker bands, which encircled her wrists, ankles and throat. Around her forehead was a single lace that sat like a circlet. Although the laces covered her body, they did nothing to hide her nakedness, in fact they appeared to accentuate it, lifting and supporting her breasts, even forming an intricate pattern around her pelvis ending in a single strand which was pulled tight between her legs, digging into the woman’s sex.

The heroine clawed at the laces, knowing that they were part of some nefarious trap. Her strong fingers made no impression on the strange material, but the next moment the laces activated to restrain their unwilling wearer. The single strand, deep between her legs began to glow gently, pulsing with energy as it began to softly vibrate. The heroine tried to scream, but another lacy strand took the opportunity to force itself into her mouth as she drew breath. It then inflated into a mouth-filling gag which silenced her cries into muted “mmpppfffffs”.

“Now that she is nice and quiet, let me explain what is happening to our delicious guests”, the villain practically gushed. “First that crotch rope is magically stimulating her – the reason for this is two-fold”, he continued analytically, “firstly it makes her writhe in a most agreeable way, but more importantly it keeps her somewhat (ahem) distracted for what else is going to happen”.

The startled heroine mewled into her gag, embarrassed at the sudden attention. She continued to try to get free from the magic laces, but they stubbornly resisted all her attempts. Much to her embarrassment she found a thin trickle of drool escaping the gag, dribbling freely over her body. It was at that moment, that the band around her throat also began to glow, softly at first but slowly growing in intensity.

“Ah, now as you can see, our pretty captive is entering the second phase”, stated the villain matter-of-factly, “the glowing choker will slowly drain her worries and strength, keeping her happy and docile while it does its evil work … I do love my toys you know?”

For the heroine, it began so gently that she wasn’t even aware of it. The insistent buzzing between her legs was making it almost impossible to concentrate. Then, gradually, that didn’t seem to be a problem anymore. Abruptly she realised that her worries and concerns were being washed away, there was a moment of panic, then that too faded and evaporated. Soothed by the subtle magic, she found herself unable to care as her arms and legs grew steadily weaker.

The villain watched as his captive’s face settled into a calm expression. He smiled knowingly as she slumped softly to the floor, her legs no longer able to support her as the muscles relaxed completely. A few moments later she lay serenely on her side, the band around her throat glowing steady and brightly. Rivulets of drool pooled on the floor beside her gagged mouth, unnoticed and uncared for.

“The next phase is as entirely unnecessary as it is aesthetically pleasing”, the villain joked, “For while she is now entirely helpless and at the mercy of her beautiful laces, I find the female form is best appreciated when bound”

As if responding to the villain’s short statement, the heroine’s anklets and bracelets began to glow with the same inner light as the other active portions of her lace prison. Slowly the bands pulled together, the bracelets drawing her arms behind her back while the anklets secured her ankles. Finally, all four bands pulled together, clicking into place and leaving the young woman effectively hogtied, her wrists and ankles bonded together.

“Mmmm”, he murmured appreciatively, “Yes, that really is just the ticket”.

For a moment he allowed his gaze to wander freely over his prisoner’s helpless form. Various adjectives sprang to mind: lithe, supple or even nubile. The villain shook his head slightly. Normally he preferred his slavegirls to be blonde, but then that was hardly a problem was it? He was, after all, about to have her moulded entirely to his will.

“Good, good”, he continued belatedly, “The final stage is just about to begin”.

The apprentice stared at the view screen. At first he wasn’t sure what he was looking for. But eventually he saw that the slender circlet had taken on the same glow as the rest of her laces. At first it pulsed weakly, slowly becoming more intense. Despite the fact that she was apparently unconscious, the helpless girl let out a low moan, her body writhing against the silken bonds. Her breathing was coming in gasps, and he could see that tiny beads of sweat had already begun to appear over her naked form.

“Our lovely captive has been subdued, as you can see”, the villain lectured, “At the moment she is basking in all the sensations which her laces can provide. The circlet is the key of course. Having ensured that she is nicely suggestible and completely unable to worry about what is happening, the next task is to pop some new ideas into her open and malleable young mind”.

* * *

Her eyelids felt so heavy that she could barely keep them open. Every now and then they fluttered closed, only to jerk open again after a short battle. But these battles were becoming more and more difficult. A soft whispering in the young heroine’s mind lulled and soothed, it seemed to ask her why she was resisting. The voice promised pleasure beyond her imagination and yet only asked for one thing. Her obedience, her surrender.

She tried to ignore its gentle insistence, and would probably have been able to hold on, were it not for the maddening attention of the cord vibrating between her bound legs. It gradually lifted the helpless woman to one climax after another, each one seeming to diminish her reserves a little more. Each time she came, she was a little more weak and drowsy on her recovery, a little more willing to listen to the quiet voice, a little less able to resist.

The villain watched, entranced by the struggles of his captive. He knew that Amanda would eventually succumb to his magic, but there was something noble and not a little erotic about her resistance. He found himself becoming aroused by the situation, and had to remind himself that this was purely business and that he had a job to do. After the heroine was truly beaten, then he could think about his own pleasure, but not before. Well, perhaps he could “think” about his own pleasure, but he must make sure that he carried out his task.

Finally, after what seemed like eternity for the heroine, the various assaults upon her proved too much. With a soft moan, Amanda’s eyes slowly closed, and although she fought for a moment to open them again, this time they stayed shut. The voice continued to whisper, the laces continued to buzz but it was so much easier not to fight anymore, so much easier just to lie back and feel.

The villain smiled as he saw Amanda’s body relax into a semi-slumber. The moment had arrived when the work could begin in earnest. While his captive lay still, her only reactions being the slightly shudders which marked each new orgasm, the villain collected a small vial from a nearby shelf.

He passed it to his apprentice and gestured for him to take it. Grinning happily, the younger man practically ran out of the room, so eager was he to reach the fallen heroine. He had the advantage of knowing the maze and the traps that lay within. Once he had found her, the apprentice unstoppered the vial, releasing a small puff of dark vapour. Carefully, he poured a small measure of the fragrant oil onto Amanda’s chest.

Moving with delicate patience, he began to massage the oil over their captive’s body. He lingered over her neck, tracing a thin finger down her collarbone and into her cleavage. Slowly he massaged the oil into Amanda’s breasts, making sure to coat each nipple with a thin sheen.

Next he ran his hand over the woman’s belly and down both of her legs, before kneading her sex and making sure this too was oiled. Once he was satisfied, the apprentice rolled Amanda over onto her stomach, and proceeded to oil her back and arms. He spent several pleasurable minutes rubbing over the heroine’s backside, before he realised that the potion might be beginning to affect his senses as well.

Cursing his stupidity, the man quickly muttered a counterspell, and purged any lasting residue from him. He knew that the Enslaver would have noticed this and would no doubt refer to it as a “schoolboy error”.

Amanda of course, without either the knowledge or ability to defend herself, and coated now from head to foot in the substance, was privileged to experience the full force of the magic. Aroused as she had been this now doubled and then tripled. She had never felt more sensual, and still her ardour continued to increase. At the same time, her body seemed to be become more sensitive, every slight touch caused pleasure to leap through her. The gentle vibration of the laces became a maddening roar of absolute bliss.

Despite being almost unconscious, the young heroine groaned and moaned, arching her body in need. The next orgasm burst on her, causing her to scream and instants later the next, continuing as an almost constant stream. In moments her oiled body was beaded with sweat, her body convulsing as she was bathed in total pleasure. The apprentice just watched, enjoying the wanton display and yearning to take his pleasure as well.

But consummate professional that he was, he merely continued with his instructions. He knelt down beside her, being careful not to touch the gyrating captive and whispered another command.

“Collar”, he smiled.

The thicker band around Amanda’s throat continued to glow, but now the hue began to change, as did that of her circlet. Slowly the whispering began to change as well. Now a new mantra was repeated in the helpless woman’s mind, replacing her own thoughts. Thoughts she no longer needed, easier just to listen now, to relax, be pleasured and follow.

“Submit, Obey, Believe, Surrender, Submit, Obey, Believe, Surrender”

While Amanda listened and came, the apprentice readied the final item that would complete her transformation. He loosened the lace, which had now burrowed deep into the crevice between the woman’s legs. Amanda was by now so far gone that this didn't stop her relentless orgasms.

Then, very carefully, the apprentice inserted a large black rubber cylinder, softly rounded at one end, into his captive. The heroine bucked and shook as the device entered her, but settled back once it was in place. Finally the apprentice tightened the laces back into place, sealing the device deep inside her.

Only one last thing remained, one last command and it would all be over. The apprentice leaned forwards and gently kissed the heroine on her soft lips. Then he gave her the final command.

“Slave”, he breathed.

The dildo began to glow in the same manner as the laces, and to vibrate gently with them. Softly, seductively new thoughts began to form in the young woman’s mind. She knew that she must resist the attentions of the magic device, but knew too that it would be futile. She knew that her next orgasm would destroy what remained of her will, leaving her subservient and docile, but still the pleasure inexorably built within her.

She struggled mightily, but really the end result was never in any doubt. The strange oil made her so aroused, and heightened all of her perceptions, the collar kept her drugged and weakened her resolve and the glowing vibrator slowly increased its intensity, bringing her closer to her final climax.

Her breath was ragged now, sweat coated her bound body and her eyes were screwed tightly shut. Her entire body was tensed, trying to stave off the orgasm that was even now creeping closer. Then, without warning, the sensations crashed over her, her body arched and a scream of mixed horror and pleasure escaped her lips. Her body shuddered as a series of orgasms rocked her, each new climax stealing a little more resistance. Finally, after the last orgasm had resolved, she slumped down on the floor, her breathing deep and rapid, her body flushed and quivering.

When the captive opened her eyes, there was no more Amanda. The only thoughts in the woman’s head now were of pleasure and submission. The woman’s body trembled, but her strength seemed to have left her. She knew that she should be kneeling, but it was too hard. Her desire to relax into the sensations warred with the need to obey. It felt so good, to be powerless, helpless, totally at the mercy of her owner.

“Just lie back my pretty slave”, Master told her, “you are, after all, too weak to do anything else. Aren’t you?”

The woman sighed and gave into the sensations. She slowly dropped back, trying to unfold her legs as she did so, but in the end too drained to manage even that. The former heroine sprawled happily on her back, legs still tucked beneath her, as if kneeling. She felt as weak as a kitten, her body heavy and loose. She knew that her Master could do what ever he wished, and that she could do nothing to stop him. That understanding made her moan, leaving her aroused and trembling.

...

Chapter Three (Baiting The Trap)

The Enslaver watched avidly as his apprentice extracted the necessary information from the once-proud woman. Arclight’s subjugation had gone entirely according to plan and she was now eager to assist in the capture of her former colleagues. The villain was amused and more than a little impressed, by the way in which his minion used the heroine’s desires against her. She wanted to outshine the other superheroines. Of course, in her new role as an obedient slave she still felt the need to be the best. How could she better prove her continued superiority over them than by helping to enslave them?

He was still following the list, and by dint of that fact, his next victim would be Cypher. Slave amanda had kindly provided some access codes and the supervillain had a very special message which he would send to the unprepared woman. The delicious irony of trapping a computer nerd by using an email was really quite intoxicating.

True magic didn’t have to involve elaborate hand gestures and chanted phrases in ancient languages. In fact it merely required the practitioner to impose his or her will onto reality. The mystical trapping generally helped to focus one’s attention, but the villain considered them to be something akin to a crutch. To the casual onlooker he seemed only to pause for a few moments. They would perhaps have noticed how his eyes became unfocussed, as though he were gazing into the distance.

Satisfied that the enchantment was now in place, he clicked on the "send" button and waited for the heroine to reply. Idly he wondered which route Cypher would take through his maze and how long it would take before slave amanda would be joined by her new sister carol.

* * *

Carol sat at her desk and for what must have been the hundredth time today, wished that she were somewhere, anywhere else. Short, scrawny and pale-skinned she could not have been further from the archetypal superheroine in appearance. Large, thick-lensed glassed seemed to cover half of her face, an effect completed by the large unkempt mane of blonde hair, which sat atop her head.

Of course, in the tradition of secret identities, Carol could transform in an instant, becoming Cypher. As a superheroine her skin was described as alabaster and without her glasses people would focus on her bright blue eyes. Limpid was the adjective that sprung to mind. Even her unruly hair was tamed, pulled mercilessly into a long ponytail.

A soft chime announced the arrival of an email. This in itself would not have been reason to celebrate, but Carol had instantly recognised the sender. She knew that if Amanda was actually contacting another member of the "team", then something truly extraordinary must have happened.

First, Carol glanced around, to make sure that no one was watching. She then opened the innocuous-looking mail, and was about to see what Amanda wanted when abruptly the screen saver kicked in. Or at least that was what she assumed had happened.

A swirling mass of colour appeared on screen, instantly drawing her attention. For a moment she was confused as to what was happening, but then she felt a sudden wave of dizziness and it was almost as though she were falling into the screen. She shook her head lazily, her mind still reeling, but then she looked up into the pattern again, and she was lost.

Carol found herself totally focussed on the swirling shapes and colours, falling deeper and deeper into a state of relaxed attention. She didn’t really understand what was happening, but the effects were pleasant enough and she was happy merely to allow her eyes to lose focus, as she seemed to sink into her chair. Moments later she was so relaxed that several seconds passed before she recognised that the maelstrom of colours had disappeared.

Her eyes seemed to be drawn back to Amanda’s email, reading the words, which seemed to command her unwavering attention. The young woman’s entire body felt so heavy, she seemed to be pinned in place by a great, comforting weight. It felt so nice, so placid and tranquil.

"You will find that you gaze is fixed upon my words now", the email began.

"And you will also find that if you try to pull your gaze away from them, all that will happen is that your muscles will become too relaxed and sleepy to move", it continued.

Carol continued to read, wondering why Amanda had sent such a strange message.

"Go ahead and try," the words urged, "to look away, to keep your eyes closed, to back away from the screen, to reach out and turn it off".

She struggled, fighting to break the strange spell that the words seem to hold over her. But they were right, all that happened was that her muscles seemed to weaken and relax. It was becoming an effort to merely remain sitting upright in the chair.

"You can’t do any of that, can you?" it asked.

Carol couldn’t understand what was happening, but the words were right. It seemed, for the moment at least, that she couldn’t do anything but sit back and read.

"Just focused", it told her.

"And helpless"

Only two simple words, but still she shuddered. Fear warred with arousal, and the heroine couldn’t decide which was more disturbing.

"Fixed"

"And unnaturally calm", the message went on.

"You know that you should be fighting, struggling, resisting, but these words are so reassuring".

Carol found herself agreeing, she knew that she should be doing all those things.

"And their grip on you seems so total, that part of you wonders if you should just give in, follow and do everything I suggest".

The heroine wanted to believe that the words were wrong, but she knew that on some level that was exactly how she felt. Something was very wrong and yet it all seemed to feel so right.

"That idea is very attractive to you right now", the words told her, "just sitting back, reading on, being attentive, doing what you are told … like a Good Girl".

She gasped, not wanting to admit what she was feeling. Her arousal seemed to burn within her, rising moment by moment and making her ache with need. She wanted so much to just reach down and begin to pleasure herself, and yet she knew with certainty that she couldn’t. After all, the words told her that she was fixed in place, didn’t they?

"Of course", she read on, "being a typically spunky superheroine, you’ll probably start to struggle round about now".

The words seemed to remind her of what she should be doing. She realised belatedly that she had been lost for a moment, just happy to be led. How could she have been so stupid? Some villainy was at work, and she could not allow it to best her.

"It feels nice though, doesn’t it?" the words asked innocently, "But of course you are still captive and who know what devious things I’m planning on doing with you?"

"Struggling now", the words reminded her.

"Fighting"

"Resisting"

"So while you sit there, quite literally my captive audience. While you try to pretend that this whole experience isn’t making you hot and horny in your helplessness. Why don’t you have a look at some pretty pictures?"

Slowly the swirling colours seemed to settle, an image becoming gradually more distinct. Carol realised that she was squinting at the screen, trying to recognise what was appearing. Distantly she wondered what was happening, but it seemed unimportant somehow. It was only when the image had sharpened completely that the words continued their inexorable crawl.

"The first two ladies you probably don’t recognise", the email told her, "they were just unfortunate enough to work at the bank I robbed. Allow me to introduce them anyway. Slave grace is the delightful redhead on the right. Next to her is slave karen and I’m sure you recognise the young lady kneeling between them don’t you?"

For a moment it was a mystery, then suddenly recognition dawned. Carol couldn’t quite reconcile the docile young woman kneeling on the screen before her with the proud and abrasive Arclight. But it was definitely her. Body wrapped in laces, apparently bound and gagged.

"Now that I have your undivided attention", the email continued, "allow me to introduce myself as well. I am The Enslaver, although soon you will be happy to address me simply as Master".

The heroine was trying to break free from the word’s unnatural grip. But her eyes kept returning to Amanda’s face. She looked so small and weak. Everything about her proclaimed that she was blank, docile, helpless even programmable. Carol wasn’t sure where that last idea had come from, but once again she felt her body shiver uncontrollably.

"I’m sure that you are eager to come and rescue your friend. Of course, by doing so you will doom yourself to the same fate", the email seemed to tease, "But, if you are so foolish as to come, we’re waiting for you here".

She scanned the address, recognising it as an industrial estate and predictably in the "bad" part of town. This Enslaver had admitted that this was a trap, but it seemed that she had no option but to walk into it. Once again her gaze returned to the picture, how could she possibly leave her friend with this fiend?

With a start she realised that the email had begun to scroll again. Her eyes seemed draw to the motion, and no sooner had a new sentence appeared, that she felt herself being sucked in once more.

"Now", the words told her, "I think you need to take a few minutes to relax for me and just soak up all the wonderfully sneaky suggestions that are contained in this message. When you’ve absorbed and accepted everything, you’ll find that you’ll be able to move and act freely again. I suggest that you enjoy that luxury while it lasts!"

Very slowly the picture disappeared. Was it her imagination, or for a moment did she see her own face mirrored on one of the helpless girls? The hidden messages began to exert their evil influence on the young heroine. Slowly she could feel herself becoming more aroused. She didn’t understand, but for some reason she felt an intense sexual excitement that built from moment to moment. Why would the idea of being naked and captured excite her?

Without thinking, Carol’s hand found the waistband of her skirt and she began to stroke herself idly. Leaning back, she let her eyes drift closed. Her breathing became more laboured and still her ardour grew. The strokes became firmer and a knot of pleasure began to grow in her stomach. She gasped and suddenly a great wave of ecstasy rolled over her, the knot expanded until it threatened to consume her, then unexpectedly another wave crashed down, and all she could see was a mass of swirling colours.

Carol’s body continued to convulse, each orgasm driving her deeper and deeper. Eventually she lay still, having fallen from her chair and onto the carpeted floor at some point. Every now and then, her eyes would flicker slightly and a soft moan might escape her lips, the only evidence of the continuous pleasure that wracked her body.

* * *

Time passed in blissful oblivion. Eventually her movements slowed until she finally lay still. It was some time later that she finally drifted back to consciousness. Carol took several moments orientating herself before she realised she was lying on the floor, her face matted to the carpet where she must have drooled at some point. Carefully she got to her feet, feeling surprisingly good, given that she had lain so uncomfortably for who knew how long?

Abruptly she realised that she was staring at the computer screen again and she quickly looked away. But the message appeared to have run its course; all that remained was the address and the mocking warning not to visit if you wished to retain your freedom.

Carol wrote down the details, still not quite trusting the seemingly inert email. Then, just to be sure, she deleted it and instructed the computer to over-write it with random noise. She managed to avoid her co-workers as she slipped quietly into the bathroom. Moments later she had tidied herself up and felt ready to take on the world. She harboured no illusion that she could waltz into the villain’s lair by herself. Instead she planned to bring as many heroines with her as possible.

It occurred to her as she headed towards the underground car park, that she had no idea what other suggestions she might have been exposed to. She slipped into her car and made a mental note to ask Miriam to scan her mind for her before she did anything silly. Worry gnawed at her as she pulled onto the main street and headed towards their headquarters.

...

Chapter Four (Trojan Horses Couldn’t Drag Me There)

It didn’t take Carol long to explain the situation to the other heroines. Arclight was in trouble and the villain had thrown down his gauntlet by openly challenging them to rescue her. They all knew that they were being lured into a trap, the question was, would their combined abilities be enough to escape it?

While the rest of the team were changing into their costumes, Carol sort out Miriam and explained her predicament. She didn’t want the others to know, not least because they almost certainly wouldn’t allow her to come with them. But she trusted the Cajun sorceress and felt sure that she would be able to undo whatever evils the Enslaver’s email had done to her.

Miriam was more that happy to help, she had detected the magical residue, which still clung to her friend and knew that she had been exposed to a powerful spell. She did not recognise either the spell itself or the caster. But there were more than enough spell-users out there, so it was perhaps not surprising that she had not yet encountered this one, or his works.

Leading the young computer programmer into her own chambers, the dark-skinned mystic had her sit and try to relax. Carol was obviously frightened, although she was attempting to conceal it. Miriam could only imagine what she must be going through. As far as she knew, some villain had implanted who knew what kind of suggestions into her brain. Until they could undo the damage, she would be looking over her shoulder, waiting for something terrible to happen.

The sorceress allowed her breathing to deepen and slow. She carefully stretched out her perceptions and being sure not to touch the other woman’s aura, she began to examine it. The enchantment was obvious, crude and unimaginative. For a moment Miriam found herself wondering how such an amateurish effort could have the effects, which Carol had described.

She was just reaching out with her powers, when her caution took over, and she began to analyse the magic in more depth. For a second it seemed that it would be able to hide its secrets from her exploration, but then she penetrated the veil. Miriam gasped slightly, shocked at how cleverly the villain had constructed this trap. To make something so complex appear so simple showed a degree of skill that she had not encountered for some time.

Carol was staring at her friend, concern obvious on her thin face. She had heard that soft gasp and wondered what horrors the young mystic had found.

"What is it?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"I’ve found the problem", Miriam hissed, the strain evident in her tone, "But it is a little more complicated that I had first thought. This may take a little while, try not to worry".

Carol knew that she wouldn’t get anymore from the sorceress, not until she had finished what she was doing. The seconds seemed to crawl by and her apprehension just grew. What if it couldn’t be undone? What if the Enslaver was too powerful?

Miriam was taking her time. It was clear that this spell included a number of secondary enchantments, all designed to stop someone like her from dispelling it. While she used her second sight, time seemed to have no meaning. She could focus all of her considerable talents on understanding. Eventually she felt that she had the measure of it. In her mind’s eye it was as if whoever had woven the spell had left two loose threads for her to pull. One would trip the trap while the other would safely disarm it.

The sorceress pondered this for some time. Outwardly the solution was simple, disarm the trap and let her friend go free. But somehow that didn’t sit right with her. It wasn’t that it was too simple, rather that this spell caster had already almost succeeded in hiding his intent from her. That made her cautious in the extreme. Could this be another trap? Could she be wrong in her reading?

Once again she focussed more intently, straying almost too close to the edges of Carol’s aura. Slowly the picture resolved and once again she was forced to admire the artistry involved. She had not misread the spell; the choice was between activating the spell or disarming it. The part she had not seen was that whoever disarmed the spell would have its energy reflected onto them. In reality the choice seemed to be, either have the spell affect Carol or herself.

It was maddening not to know what the spell would do. If she knew that, she could fashion a spell offering some sort of protection and then maybe risk bringing it down upon herself. But it was impossible without that knowledge. Silently she cursed, angry that the villain seemed to be out thinking her.

But there was a way, she knew. Perhaps not ideal, certainly not something that she would choose if there were any other options. But, never-the-less, it seemed the only solution under the circumstances. I did however mean at the very least dabbling in the darker aspects of magic.

"Do you trust me?" she asked urgently.

"Of course", Carol responded instantly.

Miriam half-smiled, guilt and excitement warring within her. She was conscious that in some way she did want to choose this path. Despite being aware that given time she probably could find a safer route. But the decision had been made and if she was damned as a consequence, then so be it.

She concentrated, weaving the complex spell. Most people think that we believe something because it is true. For a mystic the reverse is true, things happen if you believe them strongly enough. Miriam knew that a direct assault on the enchantment would just cause it to activate. Instead she sort to subvert it, turning the spell to her own design.

Carol’s mundane senses were unaware of what was happening. She merely felt the briefest of jolts and then noticed her friend’s eyes as they lost their distant look and refocused on the real world.

"It’s done", Miriam stated, too sharply.

Carol didn’t trust herself to speak; she simply embraced the rather startled sorceress and clung to her for a moment. Eventually she reluctantly disengaged and straightened her clothing. She stared into Miriam’s eyes, relief evident on her face.

"Thank you", she said simply.

This time it was the other woman who couldn’t seem to find the words. She had already decided that Carol didn’t need to know the truth, but it was so hard. Guilt seemed to well up inside her, almost making her choke. She managed a quick smile before she had to turn away and busy herself with some trinkets.

Fortunately, Carol seemed oblivious to her friend’s discomfort. By the time Miriam had finished rearranging the vials on her desk, the computer programmer had departed. She wiped her eyes, before leaving her sanctum. Pushing aside all thoughts of ethics, Miriam knew that she had to keep her wits about her. This Enslaver was a powerful and subtle opponent. Had she not been quite so paranoid, she would have being caught in his enchantment already. This was an enemy worthy of her respect, even if his methods were abhorrent to her.

That last thought drew her up short. Was she really so different? After all, what she had just done to Carol could hardly be held up as an ethical act. She had allowed the other heroine to believe that everything was okay, when in fact the spell was still there and almost certainly affecting her in some way. The sorceress tried to ignore her own discomfort. She had done what was needed in the circumstances.

* * *

The heroines assembled in their briefing room. Cypher, dressed in her silver bodystocking, appeared determined but still nervous. Beside her was Snowblind, a slender Nordic beauty whose fur-trimmed leotard did little to conceal her toned physique. Next came The Shroud, her own outfit more practical than revealing. She eschewed the cape, which seemed almost de rigour for a magic user, instead choosing red and green robes.

That left only Slipstream, the svelte speedster who nervously hopped from one foot to the other, constantly in motion. She also wore a leotard, although with the number of panels that had been cut out of the material, it was really almost a bikini.

They knew what was at stake and appreciated at least some of the risks they could expect to face. The priority was rescuing their colleague and everything else was secondary. Each woman practically itched to capture this vile supervillain, however. While being able to capture proud heroines was one of the perks of a villain’s job, they could not help but feel that the Enslaver had stepped over the line somehow. While he remained at large, none of them would feel safe.

Given that the villain had more than a passing understanding of magic, Miriam decided not to attempt to teleport them. It was likely that he would detect them and it was important to retain at least some element of surprise. They would be meeting the villain on his own turf and that made any advantage they could gain, doubly important.

Cypher was the only heroine who lacked the means to travel rapidly. Snowblind was more than happy to help, lifting her up before literally skating away on a chute of ice. Slipstream raced ahead, scouting their path with ease, while the Shroud followed behind, a simple flight spell speeding her progress. With Slipstream’s help, they managed to avoid notice. By no stretch of the imagination could they be called stealthy, but at least they could avoid drawing attention to themselves.

* * *

The heroines paused on the outskirts of the industrial estate. Cypher hunkered down and rested one hand lightly on the ground. She reached out with her powers, searching for anything that was drawing power. One by one she dismissed the mundane until eventually she was left only with anything that seemed out of place. She was not surprised to find the entire site literally littered with surveillance devices. It was obvious that the villain expected to know about any unwelcome guests.

Very carefully she began to work her way through each device. Blinding motion sensors, disabling microphones and even looping the pictures, which the cameras were transmitting. She left no trace, effectively she just "asked" the devices to do what she wanted and they were happy to do so.

Next it was the Shroud’s turn. Her role was much the same as the computer programmer’s, only her realm was that of magic. After rechecking to make sure that she wasn’t falling into another hidden trap, she felt sure that there was no mystical surveillance in place. One of the buildings did appear to have been warded against entry but Miriam did not think she would have much difficulty breaching that protection if necessary.

The finally task passed to Slipstream. She would run a quick circuit of the area and visually check what the two other heroines had already found. With an ironic salute, the speedster set off, becoming a blur as she accelerated to top speed. Unfortunately for Phoebe there was a small hole in their carefully thought out plan. Yes, they had found and disabled any electronic or mystical sensors, but that still left good old-fashioned mechanical devices.

It was the most simple of traps that the speeding heroine literally fell victim to. One moment she was hurtling around the buildings, scanning here and there as she went. Then, the next instant, the ground opened up beneath her and sent her plunging into darkness. Lightning fast, she scrambled to find a handhold, but the walls seemed almost frictionless and she could do nothing to even slow her descent.

* * *

The Enslaver had tasked his apprentice to scry the area around their lair. Viewing the area through the eyes of one of the many birds, which roosted in the buildings. He knew that the heroines would be arriving soon and suspected that his defences would be quite easy for them to breech. There was always the risk that the Shroud would detect the magical intrusion and that was why he was not watching himself.

"The enchantment is still in place", the young man announced after some time.

That was unfortunate and not what he had predicted. It seemed unlikely that Carol wouldn’t have told her friend about his insidious email trap. Why would the sorceress risk bringing her along without even trying to undo the damage? She must have detected his hidden trap, but that still didn’t explain why she was needlessly exposing the super-powered nerd to more danger.

"And the fast one has just fallen into chute seven", he continued, a note of triumph in his voice.

The villain pondered for a moment. It was a shame that the Shroud hadn’t already been dealt with, but it was no matter. There were more than enough traps in his maze for a dozen heroines. Arclight was his already, Cypher as well, although she did not yet know it. Slipstream, separated from her friends should be easy pickings. That just left two threats. He smiled happily to himself; he really did enjoy capturing these powerful women. The only thing more delicious was breaking their will.

...

Chapter Five (The Sound of Silence)

Phoebe’s descent ended abruptly as she impacted against a yielding surface. For a moment the breath was knocked out of her but she recovered quickly. The lithe young heroine sprung to her feet and immediately began to survey her surroundings. She was not surprised that she got nothing but static when she tried to use her communicator. It appeared that, for the moment at least, she was on her own.

For the speedster this was nothing new. When you moved as fast as she could, it was difficult to act as part of a team. Not that she was complacent, in fact far from it. She knew that this villain had managed to capture Arclight and that was no mean feat. If she wasn’t careful she too could fall into his clutches. Idly she wondered if Amanda’s bravado had ultimately led to her downfall.

Returning her thoughts to the here and now, Phoebe quickly recognised that she was in some kind of maze. Featureless walls and ceilings added to the disorientation. Everywhere she looked was white and well lit, but there was nothing to any clue as to where she should go next.

Phoebe forced herself to move more slowly, she had not been paying attention outside and as a result had fallen into some kind of pit. She was sure that there would be no second chances in this maze. If she failed to notice something important, it might be the last mistake she made. Her reflexes were dialled up so high that her body practically vibrated. The heroine picked a direction at random and began to walk carefully down the corridor.

* * *

The Shroud followed the speeding heroine’s path, using her second sight. As the concealed pit was triggered, it was as though Phoebe suddenly disappeared. With growing concern, the mystic scanned the area again and again. But her friend seemed to have vanished without trace. So much for the element of surprise. It seemed that the villain was still at least one step ahead.

Stiffly she informed the other heroines of what had happened. Miriam could see the other two girls exchanging nervous glances. She did not blame them, they were being picked off one by one and it seemed there was little they could do about it. They knew that they had to trust Phoebe to take care of herself, but each of them secretly wondered if she would fare any better than Amanda.

Carol used one of her hijacked cameras to view the area from which Phoebe had disappeared. Although there was nothing to explain her sudden disappearance, she could see where the racing woman’s footprints had just stopped. She immediately ruled out anything technological or magical, either she or Miriam would have sensed something.

Keeping together, but maintaining a little distance in order to avoid one lucky shot taking them all, the women headed for the area. It was with a great sense of relief that they all arrived there safely. They were moving with extreme care, their nerves jangling with each nervous footstep. The entire estate was one big trap but there was nothing for it but to go on in anyway.

* * *

In the control room, the Enslaver began to lecture his apprentice again.

"Now", he began as they watched the display screens, "It would appear that young Slipstream has decided on the "hushed heroine" pathway".

On the screen Phoebe had just rounded a corner. She stopped short when she saw what lay before her. Concern and puzzlement flashed across her features. The corridor ahead was very different from what she had encountered so far. A series of coloured squares replaced the ubiquitous white floor tiles.

"Let’s explain the rules shall we?" the villain asked.

The heroine recognised a trap when she saw one. She was in the process of trying to figure this one out when the villain’s gloating voice began to echo around the maze.

"Hello Slipstream", he laughed, "welcome to my maze. So nice of you to drop in".

The villain was conscious of his apprentice wincing at the awful pun and made a mental note. Young people these days had no sense of tradition. Breathing an exasperated sigh, he continued with his explanation.

"Before you is a simple puzzle. There is one safe route across and all others will lead to consequences", the villain paused to let that sink in, "I’m sure that even a heroine of limited intellect, such as yourself, should be able to figure it out, eventually".

There was a brief burst of static and then silence. Phoebe waited briefly, in case the villain was planning to divulge a little more information. Once it became clear that no further clues would be forthcoming, the heroine returned her attention to the puzzle.

She looked at the coloured squares for a moment and then turned her gaze to the walls. Phoebe didn’t want to try to best this villain on his own terms. Instead, she took two quick steps backwards and then launched forward. In an instant she was a blur. Abruptly she veered sideways, planting one foot against the wall and then vaulting upwards. Keeping her momentum the heroine pressed forwards, now running perpendicular to the floor.

But, just when it seemed that the villain might have miscalculated, a blinding flash of multicoloured light engulfed the young woman. She had been teleported before and immediately recognised the sensations. When her vision cleared, she found herself back on the far side of the coloured puzzle.

* * *

It took her a heartbeat to realise what had happened and when she did, Phoebe loudly cursed the unseen villain. Although she had been transported back to the starting point, nothing else had made the journey with her. Of her costume there was no sign. Adding insult to injury, the villain’s mocking voice came once more over the hidden speakers.

"Oh dear", the villain smirked, "I’m afraid we don’t tolerate cheats in this game. Because of that I think we will have to double the forfeits for your next attempt. Maybe that will convince you to play by the rules".

Phoebe tried to cover her nakedness while she gave her full attention to the coloured tiles. She should have known that the villain wouldn’t have made it easy for her. It was clear that the panels were arranged in a seven by seven grid. Each row and column seemed to contain one tile of each colour. Orange, blue, two different purples, green, yellow and red.

She stared at the pattern for several minutes, not noticing how it seemed to flicker and flash. Realisation came suddenly and she was forced to chide herself for not noticing earlier. It was the two different purples that had foxed her, but something had stirred in the back of her mind as she recalled a well rehearsed mnemonic; "Richard Of York Gave Battle In Vain".

So, the villain had presented her a puzzle with the colours of the rainbow. All she had to do now was navigate across touching each tile in turn. Phoebe stepped forward, knowing that even with her prestigious speed, she couldn’t react more quickly than the teleporter. With a slight edge of trepidation, she placed one foot on the red square in the first row.

There was just long enough for the speedster to believe that she was safe and then came another burst of light. Once again it took her several moments before she could focus on what had happened. At first she could only concentrate on what she had done wrong, surely she hadn’t misread the colours. Then, as she took a hesitant step forward, another concern took precedence.

* * *

The Enslaver was delighted to see the heroine struggling with his puzzle. True to his word, the second mistake had inflicted a double forfeit. While Phoebe’s bindings were nowhere near as restrictive as those that Arclight wore, it was clear that they had been styled in the same manner. Thick black bands surrounded the young heroine’s wrists and ankles. Each pair of cuffs was linked with a narrow thread. This left her hobbled, unable to take more than a short step. Her arms were similarly tethered, although this was less of an imposition at present.

"That will slow her down", he mused, "I wonder if she will figure it out before she runs out of chances?"

Phoebe strained against the apparently slender bonds but it quickly became clear that she could make no impression on them. Her shoulders slumping slightly in resignation, she fought to keep her emotions under control. She didn’t want to fall to the villain. Using that determination, the heroine turned her gaze back to the puzzle and tried to understand why red hadn’t been the right choice.

But she was certain, the tiles were definitely laid out in the colours of a rainbow. Perhaps she was looking at this the wrong way. Phoebe bit her lip and tried to decide if it was worth the risk. She could, of course, choose to retrace her steps, to find another route. But, by the same token, there was no reason to suspect that she would fare any better with any of the Enslaver’s other puzzles.

She came to decision then. There was no way that she would give up now. The villain had already stripped her costume from her, and shackled her. If she didn’t complete the puzzle, then all that would be for nothing. Very gingerly, Phoebe stepped onto the first row again. This time her foot landed squarely on the violet square.

Again there was the frustrating pause to allow her the illusion that she had merely needed to reverse the order of the spectrum. Then another burst of light dashed those away and she was returned to the start again.

* * *

The Enslaver practically clapped his hands with glee. His apprentice tried his best to ignore the display, focussing instead on the display screen in front of them. This latest mistake had resulted in Slipstream being gagged. A black band bit into the sides of her mouth, holding a large ball in place.

Phoebe’s hands scratched at the gag, trying to dislodge it. But the band was too tight and her probing fingers couldn’t find any way of unlocking it. All the heroine could do was "mpppffff" helplessly in frustration. Adding insult to injury, the villain chose that moment to comment on the heroine’s situation.

"That is so much nicer", the Enslaver enthused, "I do find that you heroines are so much easier to appreciate when nicely bound, naked and gagged into silence. You aren’t doing very well are you Phoebe? You only have another three attempts, after which you will be mine to do with as I wish. Perhaps you should try to think a little harder".

The heroine glared at where she thought the speakers might be hidden. Her anger grew but she knew that she had to remain calm. Her discomfort increased as she realised that with the ball in her mouth she was unable to swallow. She tried to ignore this new indignity and instead returned to the puzzle. There had to be a way past this, surely?

The villain had told her that she had only three more attempts. It seemed clear that each failure added to her adornments. She was very clear that this particular set was not one she wished to collect. The colours couldn’t be random in their order, that would be too unfair. But it was equally clear that the key wasn’t the rainbow. Phoebe tried to think. There had to be something she was missing.

More minutes crawled by, but eventually she came to her decision. She was struggling to find any logical link and if either this or its reverse didn’t work, it seemed unlikely that she would be able to find another. Strengthening her resolve, she stepped onto the first row again. As her foot touched the blue square, she braced herself for the flash of light.

* * *

But this time nothing happened and eventually she had to admit that she had made the right choice. If she was correct, the next square should be green. Her second step was slightly less hesitant, and after releasing a breath that she hadn’t even realised she was holding, Phoebe continued across the puzzle. Stepping on the next colour alphabetically.

With a sense of relief she stepped from the final yellow square. Phoebe felt elated, she had beaten the trap. Of course, she was still bound and gagged, but for the moment she was unbowed. Wiping away the spittle, which continue to ooze around the edges of her gag, the heroine strode carefully down the corridor.

In the control room, the apprentice watched his master for a reaction. He had not expected the heroine to escape this trap and he wasn’t sure how the Enslaver would take it.

"Well she didn’t get away completely unscathed", he told the villain, "I’m sure the next trap will get her".

The villain looked at the young man and a small smile played across his lips.

"But this trap isn’t finished", he laughed, "She hasn’t got away at all. Of course, the process would be far more rapid if she had failed another three times, but it is of no real consequence. Watch and learn".

* * *

Phoebe followed the corridor around another corner. It opened into a larger chamber and the heroine braced herself for what she might find within. The villain’s voice called out to her again, almost as soon as she stepped across the threshold.

"Welcome", he cried, "Well done with that coloured puzzle. Now let me tell you about the second part of the test".

The heroine froze for a moment, not quite comprehending what was being said. Had she not completed the test by crossing the room? What new twisted competition did he have in mind.

"Good, I see that I have your attention", he continued, "You’ve done pretty well so far, only three of a possible six items of what could loosely be termed clothing. That should help you, although I fear that you aren’t nearly clever or strong enough to succeed".

"Mpppffff!" screamed Phoebe into her gag.

The heroine didn’t notice how the gag began to glow when she cried out, but the other effects were difficult to miss. She convulsed, eyes clenched shut as her body thrummed and sang. Her back arched, Phoebe threw back her head and let out a long, drawn-out, squealing sigh through the gag and then finally dropped down limply.

For a few moments she was content merely to bask in the after glow. But as the feelings dimmed, the young woman realised that the slender tethers which linked her cuffs seemed to have shorted while she was lost in her climax. Again the villain’s laughing voice sounds from all around.

"Very nice", he complimented, "Truly a wonderful display. As I sure even a woman of your limited intellect must have realised by now, if you make a sound then you will orgasm and the bonds will grow tighter. There are all sorts of other interesting things, which will start to happen as well of course, but I don’t want to spoil the surprise. All you have to do, pretty Slipstream, is to make it to the exit on the opposite side of this room. Good luck!"

* * *

Phoebe fought the urge to respond to the taunts. She had about 8 inches of play in her bonds and estimated that she had lost about 2 inches when she climaxed. She didn’t notice any other ill effects, but couldn’t help but wonder what evils the villain had planned.

Gingerly, the heroine began to walk forward. Her eyes scanned for any potential dangers, but so far the room appeared to be empty. It was when she took her second step that the villain’s evil plan was revealed. Phoebe gasped, barely stifling herself in time. The ground felt as though it was electrified, tiny shivers of energy played over her bare soles, tickling and buzzing.

The heroine pressed on, trying to increase her pace while still maintaining her balance. The tethers made it difficult, but if she could speed her progress even a little then she might just manage. Of course, the villain had stacked the deck against her. By the time she had made it only half way across, the shivers had become almost unbearable. She bit into the black gag, trying desperately to remain silent, but it was too much.

The barest of moans escaped her lips and in the next instant she was writhing on the floor, energy flickering over her body. The orgasm ripped through her, blowing her thoughts away as if they were leaves in a gale. It took long moments before she recovered and by then, the tickling energy had subsided to a gentle buzz. Her wrists and ankles were now only three inches apart however.

Just when she allowed herself to hope that the reprieve from the tickling might be permanent, it restarted but with even more vigour than before. She knew that she had to keep going, but now she was practically hopping across the chamber. It couldn’t end like this, surely? Not victim to some sick pervert’s traps. Phoebe could see the exit beckoning her, just a few more short steps.

Perhaps it was her imagination, but in that instant, the strand binding her ankles seemed to move of its own volition. She stumbled, tried vainly to regain her balance and then fell forward. Phoebe managed to get her hands under her and cushioned her fall. But with the impact, a great whoosh of air exploded out of her and triggered the gag once again.

* * *

The Enslaver watched, as the heroine was lost once more in the throws of her orgasm. Her teeth bared as they bit into the gag, while her body tensed against her rapidly tightening bonds. He was happy to wait for her climax to subside. He didn’t want her to recover completely, but she had at least to be aware of what he was saying. When he deemed the time to be ready, the villain spoke confidently into the microphone.

"Oh dear", he said earnestly, "That didn’t go so well, did it? Well now that you’re all tied up, let me explain one of the other interesting things that’s about to happen".

On the screen Slipstream was struggling to rise. Despite being bound hand and foot, it seemed that the heroine was still trying to escape. He shook his head sadly and waited for the enchantment to activate. It did not take long. Her gag began to glow again, more brightly this time. Slowly the glow changed, flicking from one colour to the next. Realising that time was short, the villain continued to explain.

"Now at the moment your mouth is gagged", he told her, "but in a little while I’m going to gag your thoughts as well. In fact, any second now you will find that you will have to speak out loud any thoughts that pop into your head. I sure it won’t take long until you are nice and blank, thoughtless and docile. Did I mention how easy it will be to pop my own ideas and thoughts into your empty little brain then?"

Phoebe wanted to deny it, but before she could do anything else, she began to moan quietly into the gag. Just as the villain had promised, she was voicing each new thought and the gag responded in turn. Her world contracted as she gave voice to a series of little muffled shrieks and shuddered in her bonds. Her hands balled into hard white-knuckled fists and her bonds seemed to tighten even further, digging into her soft flesh as she rode the orgasm.

The villain turned to his apprentice, happy to hand over the care of this particular heroine to his junior. He, after all, had bigger fish to fry.

"Go to the chamber", he ordered, "When she stops climaxing she will be blank and programmable. Don’t forget to dress her in the rest of her new costume once you have finished. That way the effects will be permanent".

The apprentice nodded his understanding and then walked carefully out into the maze. There was a reason he had signed on as a henchman and that was the opportunity to take his pleasure with these damnable superheroines. He was going to enjoy teaching slave phoebe about her new role.

...

Chapter Six (Frozen Assets)

The other heroines had not been idle while Phoebe tried to escape the Enslaver’s maze. From the Shroud’s point of view, no one would waste the time and energy necessary to ward an entire building, unless it contained something important. It was just too extravagant to be merely a trap (although it was likely that there would be more nasty surprises inside).

Neither Snowblind nor Cypher had any skills that would help the mystic to breech the villain’s security. Instead they busied themselves scanning their surroundings for more threats. Although they didn’t voice it, all three heroines were anxious as to what might have happened to Phoebe. Having lost one colleague already and with Cypher’s near miss, things did not look good for the missing speedster.

Miriam was perhaps even more cautious than usual. The villain had already concealed traps within seemingly simple enchantments. She had guessed the nature of the spell, still lying in wait inside Carol’s mind and had no intention of falling prey to a similar booby trap. It took three more checks before she finally believed that there were no hidden effects and even then she could not shake the feeling that she was still missing something.

The Shroud knew that she could simply shatter the mystic ward by exercising her power. However, despite everything, she still wanted to maintain at least some element of surprise. Instead she acted very much as she had with Carol, subverting the spell and forcing it to work for her. The sorceress was braced for surprises but it appeared that her analysis had been accurate. With but a moment’s concentration the ward was now hers to control.

Three nervous heroines stepped quietly inside the building, only Miriam noticing the slight prickling sensation as she passed through the magical barrier. Almost as soon as she was inside, the mystic could sense what was being concealed. The building contained an enormous wellspring of energy, almost certainly the source of the Enslaver’s power. Miriam knew instinctively that she would not be able to harness this power for herself. The villain had already attuned himself to it and only an elaborate ritual (or failing that, the magician’s death) would allow others access to it.

The heroine glanced around nervously. With the degree of subtly she had witnessed so far and this amount of raw power, there really was no telling what he might be capable of. It really was little wonder that Amanda had fallen under his power. Miriam began to subtly strength her magical protections. Once again she felt pangs of guilt, knowing that she would be leaving her friends almost completely unprotected. But there was no other choice, she could shield them all ineffectively and have them all fall. Or she could defend herself at the expense of the others but thereby have the chance to win through.

Miriam glanced at the other two heroines. Truth be told, Carol had fallen already, she just didn’t know about it. She had no illusions that Natasha would fare any better. The only one of them with any chance of besting this villain was the Shroud. A heroine’s life was one of sacrifice, but in these circumstances it seemed that it would be her friends who paid the necessary price.

Not trusting herself to speak, she gestured for them to follow her and unknowingly entered the Enslaver’s maze.

* * *

Alexander didn’t really think of himself as a henchman or worse still, a minion of the Enslaver. He was moderately happy with the idea of being his young apprentice but preferred the title of trainee supervillain. The young man knelt carefully beside the silent heroine. Then, working swiftly, he began to complete the complicated spell, which was keeping her blank and helpless.

Carefully he ran one finger around Phoebe’s midriff, his tracing digit leaving a narrow black band in its wake. Next he drew a simple collar around her throat, before finally completing the picture with an unadorned tiara. Almost as soon as the neophyte mage had completed his work, thin laces flowed around her naked form, framing her beauty.

Now that she was secure, the apprentice could begin his work in earnest. A simple cantrip would allow his captive to hear even whispered words with absolute clarity. The heroine’s mind, empty now of all distractions, would be filled with new thoughts, new ideas. Alexander found that despite his efforts, he was becoming aroused. Briefly he considered the young woman who lay bound before him, her nubile body tantalisingly close. The consequences of disobedience were almost too awful to contemplate, but he couldn’t shake the thought of taking his pleasure with this heroine.

He was silent and still for long moments as he waged an internal battle over what to do next. Then, finally, he took a deep breath and muttered another spell. Instantly his ardour was banished, the magical equivalent of a cold shower. He cast his eyes, longingly, over his victim and then, shaking his head sadly, he activated the tiara.

The black band began to pulse softly with an inner light. Alexander knew that each time it did so, the magical headband was implanting knew thoughts and ideas into the receptive blankness. Each pulse sent a rewarding shiver of pleasure through her, eventually making her groan into the gag. Every groan made her body respond, dampening her mind once more, keeping her placid and unable to resist. Knowing this, the apprentice found himself becoming aroused again.

* * *

The villain was dividing his attention between two screens. In the first he could see his apprentice while he worked on Slipstream’s conversion. While on the main display, the remaining three heroines were walking gingerly through the maze. He suppressed his irritation as one by one, the cameras began to fail. Fighting the urge to activate Carol’s latent enchantment, he tried to guess which route they were taking.

He knew that by now the Shroud would have found his centre of power. It did not take much intuition to realise that she would be heading towards it. The Enslaver peered at the map, if they took the most direct route, it would lead them through "Vent Alley". He allowed himself a grim smile. Although the traps there did use a mixture of technology and magic, he felt confident that they would be effective. It seemed that at least one more heroine was about to fall into his clutches.

Minutes later he was rewarded as a softly flashing light appeared on the map. Someone had blundered into a drone vent; all he had to do now, was to wait until the victim was deposited below.

* * *

The shutter slammed down with breath-taking speed. Natasha had felt something shift beneath her foot and reflexively had taken a step back. Released by the pressure plate, a solid mass of metal just dropped into the corridor, sealing it. The heroine spun, and was just in time to see a second shutter drop into place behind her. Cursing, she began to beat her fists against the wall.

On the far side of the barrier, Miriam and Carol had been equally shocked. They called out to the other woman, but the metal deadened the sound. Each reached out with their powers, but it quickly became apparent that this was not the answer. Carol could sense no technology nearby and to Miriam’s surprise she found that the entire shutter was formed from cold-forged iron, anathema to magic of all kinds.

Natasha was having more luck from her side. By directing a chilling blast of super-cooled ice at the metal she was hoping to make it brittle enough to shatter. The barrier was heavy and thick, but she was sure that given time, she could find a way through. Of course, in the Enslaver’s maze, time was something that was generally in short supply.

The heroine didn’t notice as small vents began to open behind her. Noiselessly they began to disgorge their contents. Six small silver spheres floated free, the air shimmering around them as they began to encircle the oblivious woman. It was only when one strayed into the periphery of her vision, that Natasha realised her peril.

She spun quickly, keeping her back to the wall in the hope that it would offer some protection. Wisps of steam began to form around her hands and the temperature dropped precipitously. The drones slowly spun around her and Natasha could tell that their aim was to attack her from all directions. Not wishing to have to react to whatever they were programmed to do, the heroine decided to go on the offensive.

Her first icy burst enshrouded the nearest sphere, it registered the attack with a short whine, before it shattered into broken shards. She moved to target the next machine as they launched their own attack. Five beams of light shone out and, not knowing what this might mean, Natasha danced nimbly out of the their path. Of course, for a moment the beams still played over her and although she only experienced a fraction of the effect, the heroine knew that she was in trouble.

Her second shot went widely off target as warmth and excitement flowed through her. She kept moving, knowing that the tiny weapons were tracking her. Blindly she launched several more blasts and was rewarded with another startled screech. Her opponents were down to four now, she might be able to manage this. Another brush of their energy beams left her reeling and as she danced away she chided herself for getting too cocky.

* * *

Phoebe found a new reality forming around her. She felt wonderful, relaxed and happy. Each new thought popped obligingly into her mind. She found that when she just accepted, her reward was pleasure such as she had never experienced before. At first some part of her might have tried to resist, she just couldn’t remember. Every time her thoughts seemed to stray or fought to shape themselves, everything would fade into blankness and she would only recover when new ideas had taken hold, replacing the old.

She had no thoughts of her own, nothing to interfere with or confuse what she needed to learn. She was empty, blank, helpless and that aching void begged to be filled. If she wanted to remain this happy, feeling this wonderful, then she just needed to do as she was told. Her pleasure came from her total submission, her obedience. So long as she was a good girl, so long as she did what she was told, then she could stay here in this wonderful place.

The thought of not being here filled her with horror. It was so intense that she found herself drifting quietly into blankness while the thoughts calmed and reassured her. When she next was aware, Phoebe realised that she had to be someone’s good girl. That she needed someone to tell her what to do. That she needed to be owned. With that realisation, the pleasure drove her back into the abyss.

All the while, Alexander watched and enjoyed. He could sense some part of her inner conflict and knew that by now she was so far down the process that she would be actively assisting the changes being made to her. Effectively she was binding herself even more tightly to the control. The chains she forged would be almost unbreakable and with a little mystical assistance, the proud heroine would never regain her much vaunted free will.

* * *

It seemed that they had reached a stalemate. By dodging and weaving she was able to avoid the majority of the drone’s probing beams. But, it was almost impossible to aim when she was constantly in motion. The problem was that Natasha was tiring, while the machines continued relentlessly. The heroine knew that she had to think of a new approach, and soon.

Ignoring the attacking spheres for a moment, she instead sucked the heat from the air around her. Moisture began to freeze, forming an ice shield in front of her. To her relief she saw that the brilliant light could not penetrate her hastily erected wall. Now that she had an effective defence, Natasha felt confident to take the fight back to the machines. Once more she focussed her powers, coating her body in transparent armour. Immune to the cold, she could now bide her time and aim more carefully.

The four remaining drones were quickly whittled down to three and then two. But, over-reaching due to her newfound invulnerability, Natasha had lost track of one of the orbiting spheres. She didn’t notice as it swept behind her, targeting her with a small laser. In an instant it had melted through her armour. Then, without warning, it reactivated the shiny beam of energy. The light shone through the chink in her defences, focussing between her legs.

Sensation flowed into her, brilliant and burning. Her nerves were on fire and her mind struggled to recover from the continuous onslaught. Sensing its opportunity, the remaining drone moved to hover before her face. Its own laser made short work of her facial armour and then it was able to illuminate her face. The light glowed in her eyes, igniting her optic nerve and washing up into her mind. Pleasure, so pure that it was like a physical force, threatened to consume her.

Natasha had no idea when she had fallen to her knees. All she could see was the blinding light. All she could feel was the orgasmic fire that burnt into her. Her defences were all melting away. The icy armour now nothing but water, soaking into her costume. Soon her thoughts, her mind, would melt as well, leaving nothing to resist the Enslaver’s attack.

* * *

Cypher and the Shroud finally decided that they were wasting their time trying to breech the barrier. For a while they had assumed that Snowblind would find her own way through, but now that hope was fading. There was nothing for it but to continue into the villain’s lair. Their goal was still the power source and they were resigned to facing whatever traps lay along the route.

Miriam was concerned that the Enslaver might be able to track them through Carol’s enchantment. At first she had tried to construct some sort of countermeasure but as they moved deeper into the maze, she began to wonder if this was something she might be able to turn against him. At the moment they were very much dancing to his tune, and so far that had cost them another two colleagues. It was way past time for them to start taking the initiative.

The mystic motioned her friend to stop. Then, being careful not to activate the villain’s concealed trap, she reassessed the spell that still lurked, inactive, in Carol’s mind. Once again she found herself marvelling at the subtle complexities of this sorcerer’s work. She had missed it on at least two occasions, but now that she knew what to look for, it was unmistakable. A tiny strand of energy drifted away into space, the link that connected the spell with its caster.

The trick was that such a link worked in both directions. It could be used by the caster in order to trace where their victim might be. But, it could also be traced back by an interested third party. Miriam did not have any illusions that the villain would have left himself unprotected, but it did give them another way of navigating the maze. Bracing herself, the heroine pushed out with her perceptions and began to follow the link back to its source.

* * *

The light was her world now. It flashed and spun, spirally into kaleidoscope patterns. Thoughts, emotions and sensations all shattered into fractals. The heroine was reduced to a moaning, drooling, climaxing puppet. Her entire being dissolving as she was taken again and again by the potency of the drone’s beam.

Even as the two drones let their energy play over her body, more machines were being released from new vents. She could offer no resistance as they began to strip her costume from her. If the beams had been devastating when experienced through the flimsy garment, as soon as they began to shine on her naked flesh, it was clear that she had only felt a fraction of their power. Moans became screams and her climaxes merged into a single irresistible orgasm.

More light lit up the young woman and the remaining drones began to "dress" her in her own set of laces, identical to those now adorning both Amanda and Phoebe. This was a difficult process, for although she was unable to resist, her body continued to move in response to what she was feeling. But, in the end, it only meant that it took slightly longer, for, eventually she too was neatly packaged, helpless now and ready to be programmed for an entirely new role.

...

Chapter Seven (Dark Reflections)

The two remaining heroines were now moving painfully slowly. Miriam followed the almost invisible strand of energy, knowing that it would lead them straight to the villain’s hiding place. Carol’s role was to make sure that no one was able to track them. But extending their powers to the full would always have a consequence and in this case, it had slowed their progress to a crawl.

Occasionally the sorceress would cast a sideways glance at her friend. She was using her, that much was clear. She felt the strange mixture of doubt and desire, which had plagued her ever since she had twisted Carol’s enchantment. The thought of controlling this woman’s fate was intoxicating, she had to admit it. But, of course, it was merely a means to an end. Wasn’t it?

Carol was entirely unaware of her friend’s attention. She was too caught up in the need to mask their progress. Her power flowed and arced, changing displays and paralysing sensors. Security systems found themselves chasing phantoms, while the two women were able to waltz apparently undetected, through the centre of the maze.

…

Alexander wandered back to the control room. He was still disappointed that he was not allowed to really enjoy their captives. But the Enslaver had been quite insistent that he returned to the control room. Something about a “final showdown”.

Giving his imagination free rein, the apprentice allowed himself to fantasise about what he would do, when he eventually took over. That had always been his intention, to learn everything the Enslaver could teach and then to usurp him. Then there would come a reckoning.

It came as a total surprise, wrenching him unkindly from his reverie, when he rounded a corner and came face to face with the trespassing heroines. Time seemed to slow and the neophyte mage did the only thing he could think of, he hurled his most potent enchantment.

Miriam reacted before her friend, stepping protectively in front of the computer specialist. Her expanded senses had detected the apprentice’s approach and she was ready for his clumsy assault. Her shield flared brilliantly, unnoticed by anyone without “the sight”. The spell impacted against its surface then sprang back to its source. Alexander could only watch in horror as his attack was reflected back.

There was just enough time to scream before he was knocked to the floor, dark green energy crackling over his body like lightning. His cries were abruptly muffled and his robes began to fade, only to be replaced by glistening dark laces.

“What’s happening to him?” asked Carol as she stepped out from behind the sorceress.

“Exactly what he planned to do to us”, Miriam announced coldly.

This spellcaster was hopelessly naïve. He had attempted an enchantment far beyond his ability, but the shape, the signature of that spell was certainly familiar. Then, as she watched, Miriam saw the apprentice’s body seem to warp and shift. That definitely wasn’t something that was supposed to happen. She concentrated harder, trying to fathom what was going wrong.

“Oh Goddess”, she gasped, horror displacing her anger, if only for a moment.

“What?” Carol demanded, seeing something akin to fear in the sorceress’ face.

“The spell was designed to be used only on women”, Miriam said, her voice flat, “He’s obviously not a woman, so the spell is making some changes”.

They could only watch as the apprentice’s body was slowly transformed. His chest expanding, swelling and softening. Hips flaring and shaping, being remoulded. The heroine’s couldn’t pull their eyes away; it was both fascinating and horrible.

“Do something”, whispered Carol.

Miriam, didn’t, indeed, couldn’t answer. It was not until the process reached the mage’s genitals, that she managed to croak her response.

“I can’t”, she managed, “it’s too late”.

Adding to their discomfort, Alex’s responses suggested that he was enjoying the process, at least on some level. The laces had already seen fit to gag their wearer, but that only softened the moans into a melodious hum.

The Shroud stared at the aura of their would-be attacker. Despite her anger, she could not stop her hand from flying to her mouth. She let out a small gasp, before she regained control. The spell was unravelling as she watched, the caster’s skill so clearly not up to the task. But, the horrifying part was that when it expired, not everything would return to how it had been before. This was a spell that sought to make permanent changes. But if stopped before it had run its course, she did not want to imagine in what state it would leave the apprentice.

Carol saw her friend’s reaction and instantly knew that this was worse than she had realised. But, before she could ask what was happening, Miriam strode forward and rested one hand on the mage’s protean form. The sorceress’ eyes rolled back, and she let out a single long breath.

She poured energy into the fabric of the spell, reweaving the failing sections and strengthening its substance. It had never been intended to transform someone physically and it took a not inconsiderable portion of her personal power to stabilise it. The sorceress could see the spell in her mind’s eye, it was broken and incomplete, but there was a structure there and that was enough for her to build on.

She struggled, the magic seemed to fight against her, trying to break loose from the boundaries imposed upon it. Miriam had to tame it, bind it, before she could make it hers. But, in the end, Alex’s body did slowly begin to settle, adapting seamlessly to its new shape. Miriam had to admit, the slender mage made a quite attractive woman, even with her close-cropped hair.

…

Alexander couldn’t understand what had happened, he had performed the Enslaver’s spell flawlessly. When it sprang back to strike him, the impact had been incredible. It lifted him up, filling his body with pins and needles, before knocking him back down. By the time he had recovered, the enchantment had consumed his clothing and was wrapping him from the neck down in silken bands.

All thoughts of completing a counterspell vanished when the gag forced itself between his teeth. He looked up and saw the two heroines, standing over him, looking so smug. Baring his teeth, he glared at them, hoping that he would be there to see their inevitable enslavement. Then, he felt the choker begin to pulse and despite his best efforts to cling to them, his concerns began to melt away.

This was a mercy in the end, because it dulled his reaction when the spell began to change him. At first he had no idea what he was feeling. Heat flared in his chest and began to seep quietly over his body. Skin tingled and shuddered, forcing him to gasp. Looking down, he could see how his body seemed to morph and twist. What was happening to him?

Then the sensations increased, burning and arousing despite everything else that was happening. Dim feelings of panic flittered in the background, trying to make themselves heard, but the choker only glowed more brightly as it worked to force them away. Slowly the warmth crept lower, lulling him softly. He could hear the heroines talking, but couldn’t catch the words. They seemed worried, but that emotion was denied him.

Then, it reached his groin and pure bliss flowed into him. His eyes closed and his body rocked spasmodically. When he opened them again, one of the women knelt beside him, her hand on his chest. His brain, still almost overwhelmed, tried to grasp what she was doing. Then, as he looked at her hand, another question came, displacing everything else, except that pleasure.

Since when had he had breasts? That was definitely important and then leading on from that, what the hell was happening down there? A jolt of energy suddenly lanced into him, speeding the process. He couldn’t stay focussed enough to see what was really happening, but he instinctively knew that the sorceress was to blame. What the hell was she playing at? This wasn’t in the rules, she was supposed to be a do-gooder, she, sure as god made little apples, wasn’t suppose to change him into a girl!

Another wave of pleasure blotted out his remaining questions and by the time it had passed, the choker had smoothed away his concerns once more. His now slender wrists and ankles were bound tightly together and he could feel the strength draining out of him with each passing second. Overlying it all was the knowledge that it was getting harder and harder to think of himself as a “he” anymore.

Alex’s tiara activated and her eyes grew blank and glassy, the few remaining struggles ceased and all she could do was wait and listen.

…

Miriam stood shakily and tried to calm her breathing. She felt weak, the unexpected effort having taken its toll on her. Cypher regarded her, eyes filled with concern and just a shade of fear. The sorceress shook her head sadly, knowing that she would have to explain what had happened.

“Is … she okay?” the other heroine asked quietly, “Can you change her back?”

Carol could almost feel her friend’s anger. She had never seen the young woman like this. She suddenly seemed a little frightening, although that was tinged with something else, something dark but also appealing. The computer programmer felt as though she was looking at her friend with new eyes, almost as if she was suddenly realising how much she needed her.

She thought back to the attack, remembering how Miriam had protected her, putting herself at risk. Part of what Carol felt was gratitude, but again, that wasn’t all. She couldn’t understand what she was feeling, although she was happy to accept that for the moment. Miriam’s reply snapped her back to reality.

“She’s being reprogrammed, but physically she’ll be fine”, she said with cool detachment, “and no, not at the moment anyway”.

Carol considered that, wondering if anyone truly deserved this to happen to them. She thought back to her own encounter with the Enslaver, and this led her back to thoughts of Miriam. The sorceress had saved her at least twice now, perhaps it was time to start thinking about how to thank her.

“Three-fold rule”, Miriam stated enigmatically.

…

The apprentice knew what the laces were trying to do and (s)he fought against it. If s(he) could just keep the important thoughts in the front of her mind then she should be able to resist, at least long enough for the Enslaver to rescue her.

“I am Alexander”, she reminded herself, “I am the Enslaver’s apprentice”.

The tiara flared more brightly, massaging her thoughts with soft caresses and at the same time the laces thrummed and vibrated against her newly sensitive skin.

“Oh that’s nice”, she thought, “No … focus, I work for the Enslaver, my name is Alexander”.

Flashing again, tiny tendrils filtering through her mind as energy skittered over her body.

“I serve the Enslaver … as his apprentice. I am Alex”

She realised that this wasn’t quite right but the pulses never gave enough time for her to reconsider. Another flash of heat and she was simply gasping in surprise. Alex didn’t know what she was feeling; it was like nothing she had ever experienced. Dim memories tried to surface, only to sink into the depths as the heat returned.

“I serve and please … no … I am a servant … my name is Alex”

She could feel that she was slipping. She worked for someone, but it seemed impossible to remember whom. A single word came to the forefront, and she tried to understand what it meant. That knowledge eluded her, but she couldn’t shift the thought “enslave”.

“I am Alex …”

That much was safe, she knew her name didn’t she? Then another burst of warmth and nothing seemed certain.

“I live to serve … no I … serve … and please … as a servant”

I was so hard to maintain the continuity, every time she thought that she had a grip, some new confusion seemed distract her. The next pulse was enough to finally trigger this new body’s first orgasm.

“I live to serve and please …” she moaned into her gag.

…

“We can’t just leave her like that”, insisted Carol, glancing at the woman in embarrassment.

Miriam waited until the orgasm had receded before she answered. Her voice was so cold that Carol had to remind herself that this was still her friend.

“She’ll be okay and if we are to have any chance of freeing our friends from this same fate, we need to keep moving. We can’t bring her, she’d just be a liability”.

Reluctantly Carol followed the sorceress, looking back over her shoulder at the helpless woman who continued to twitch with each new pleasure.

…

Chapter Eight (Duel)

The Shroud knew that they were close and she, unconsciously, strengthened her protective charms. She wasn’t sure how she felt about what had happened with Alex. He had brought it upon himself, but wasn’t there perhaps some way in which she could have saved him? Miriam forced herself not to think about it, she needed to be totally focussed, if she was to defeat this adversary.

Carol could tell that her friend was waging some kind of inner battle, but the details were lost on her. For the first time, she was beginning to realise just how powerful the mystic was. The thought sent tiny tremors through her, and they were not entirely due to fear.

“What’s the three-fold rule?” she asked belatedly.

“Using magic for evil ends, will eventually bring three-times what you have wrought down upon you”, Miriam answered curtly, “Or so some people believe”.

Carol wanted to ask more, but the sorceress silenced her with a wave of her hand.

“We’re here”, she hissed, “You should get ready”.

…

The Enslaver did not appear surprised when the two women burst into his inner sanctum. In reality he had not sensed their approach, but he was experienced enough to recognise the need to preserve the illusion of control. Very gently he reached out and sent a tiny surge of energy into Carol’s mind.

“You took your time”, he laughed, “I was beginning to think that none of you would get through my maze”.

Miriam sensed the change immediately. She saw the link burn brightly before collapsing on itself and understood what had happened. Instead of reacting, she feigned surprise, while at the same time, scanning the chamber. The wellspring dominated the room, at least for those who could see it. It was a fountain of mystic energy, which roared silently.

Carol was also checking for hidden traps. She was not surprised when she sensed a number of concealed electronic devices. It was just as she was about to pass this information to her friend, that the villain’s spell finally activated.

It was far subtler in its effects that the spells that had been used on the other heroines, but it was no less effective. In an instant she had fallen back into a state of relaxed attention. She remembered the sensations, feeling sleepy, helpless, weak and focussed. Carol tried to say something, to warn the sorceress that something was very badly wrong. But the thought of struggling, of resisting, even of fighting just seemed too much effort.

It was so much easier to just stand there, giving in and doing everything she was told, just like a Good Girl. As she stood there, revelling in how good it felt, she didn’t notice the small robots as they began to crawl stealthily from their hiding places. Even if she had, she was too caught up in what she was feeling to have been able to react in time.

…

“It’s been an enjoyable game”, the villain announced, “but I’m afraid that it ends now. You lose Shroud!”

The heroine caught the flash of movement on the periphery of her vision. She flinched away, throwing up one hand and willing a barrier to form. Her reactions were fast, but in the end it made no difference. The tiny dart passed through her shield as though it was not even there. Quick as she was, she could not dodge out of the way and it stabbed unerringly into her leg.

Miriam blinked stupidly, not understanding how she had been hit. Then, to her horror, she felt a sense of disconnection and realised that she was being drugged. Somehow the villain had got hold of “inhibitor”; a drug that could block whatever it was that allowed humans to access their mystical powers.

“Cold iron darts”, the Enslaver explained, delighted, “and I’m sure you’ve already realised what payload they came with”.

The sorceress could feel her powers slipping away; it was becoming difficult merely to focus on the unseen world. At the same time, she knew that she was weakening physically. Her legs felt like jelly, and a dizzying sensation seemed to grip her. A dozen small metallic spiders moved to surround her, each menacing her with their weapons.

“Good”, he sneered, “soon you’ll be on your knees, a position you should probably get used to”.

Miriam knew that she was running out of time. Once the poison really started to work, there would be nothing for her to do. She glanced at Carol, regret and guilt welling up inside.

“Carol”, she cried out.

“Oh dear”, the villain called out, “You really don’t get it, do you? She’s mine now, all of you are”.

“I have …” Miriam gasped, “have a …”

The Enslaver laughed, enjoying the moment. Seeing this powerful woman weakened to the point where she couldn’t even complete a sentence was delightful.

“Shh”, he chided, “Don’t strain yourself. I will get to you soon enough, but first you’ll have to watch me enthral your friend here. It was a shame that you detected the trap I left in her mind. It would have been perfect if you’d have tripped that. A two-for-one if you like. But you really were silly, bringing her here, when you knew I had my claws in her”.

“… surprise for you”, the sorceress finally managed, “Carol … take him out!”


Carol heard her name called out again. The first time it had just drawn her attention, but this time there were instructions for her to follow. She had been standing, waiting for someone to tell her what to do. Her eyes found Miriam’s and with crystal clarity, she understood.

With certainty, she knew what she really felt about the sorceress, the woman who had protected and saved her, time and again. Carol examined her emotions. There was love and fear, helplessness and gratitude, but above all, there was the overwhelming need to please. She thought back and knew what gift she needed to impart, if she was to properly thank her.

“Yes Mistress”, she murmured.

The villain was about to explain, again, that he controlled Cypher, when his robots turned on him. A barrage of projectiles rained down, at least three piercing his body. He staggered back, that amount of venom felling him almost immediately. His mouth worked soundlessly, surprise and anger clear on his face, even as his muscles continued to relax.

…

Miriam drove her body onwards, forcing one foot in front of the other. She could feel the poison at work within her, and could only pray that she had enough time left. She was strong, but perhaps even that would not be enough. Panic started to build, fear and despair mixing as she considered the consequences of her actions. Then, just as she was beginning to give up hope, she reached her goal.

She could barely see the power source, where before there had been a roaring geyser, now all she could make out were flickers of light. As her legs finally collapsed, Miriam thrust her arm into the centre of the light, hoping that her gamble would pay off.

It was the mystical equivalent of sticking your finger in a live socket. Raw power leapt into her body, pain making her muscles lock and tremble. She screamed, the sound shockingly loud. This power needed to be controlled, but at the moment it was hard to think of anything except how much it hurt. Then, blessedly, the pain was pushed into the background and another sensation took its place.

This was beyond anything she could have imagined. It was raw, unsullied and primordial. To even think of what the Enslaver had used this for, seemed a travesty. Miriam grasped hold of that rage, that anger, using it as fuel.

Her enemy lay on the floor now, literally peppered with darts. She grimaced, still fighting and for the moment at least, not truly knowing who was in command. Whether she was mastering the power, or it mastering her.

She glanced at Carol and saw the adoration in her blank and glassy eyes. Miriam hated herself then, felt the loathing build. Angrily she thrust those feelings into the growing ball of rage, shaping and using it. Then, before she could talk herself out of it, she crawled into the light.

The sorceress had guessed correctly. As soon as he lost his power, the Enslaver’s grip on this node had relaxed. Even without her own magic, she knew enough to tap into an unattuned wellspring and right now, that was all that sustained her. She was merely a conduit, channelling and shaping but constantly fighting to retain that control.

Miriam had never felt this much power and it was intoxicating. All she wanted was to revel in it, but she knew that there was no time to indulge herself. Instead she took the swirling mass of rage and power and hurled it, with all her strength, towards her enemy.

She had modified her version of the Enslaver’s spell, using what she had learnt when Alex had attacked. Backed up by the prestigious resources, on which she now stood, its effect was almost instantaneous. He didn’t even have to opportunity to scream.

The effort was too much for the sorceress herself. She was already weakened by what she had given to stabilise Alex’s spell. Coupled with the toxin and her battle to control that wild energy, her fragile body just wasn’t up to the task. Clinging to the hope that she had done enough, Miriam slipped quietly into unconsciousness.

…

The Mindfield - Epilogue

Once the Shroud had recovered, she and Carol had been able to round up the remaining victims. They all seemed more than happy to be directed by the beautiful sorceress. The heroines could continue to do their jobs, albeit that they might need a little more guidance than previously and the other girls seemed more than happy to help out around the place.

No one had known how Alex and the Enslaver might adjust to their new condition. But it seemed that, in the short term at least, the process had left their minds malleable enough to accept what they were told.

Moving the headquarters into the villain’s old lair had not taken long. The sorceress was hardly going to pass up the opportunity of that much power. After all, if she didn’t claim it, who knew what villain might? The task of undoing everything that had been wrought still needed to be addressed, but for the moment it would have to wait. There were, after all, more pressing needs.

…

Miriam let her fingers run through Carol’s soft curls. She gripped the woman’s head tenderly and urged her on with the gentlest of pressure. The computer specialist had proven to be such a quick study, learning everything that her Mistress had imparted and then more. It was such a pleasure when the student outstripped the teacher. Miriam groaned, her eyes closing as she gently guided.

Carol luxuriated in the pleasure she was imparting. Everything she gave to her Mistress, was returned to her in equal measure. Miriam’s hand was warm on the back of her neck, touching her collar and reminding her what it meant to be owned. Her tongue flicked and lapped, small teeth nipping softly. Nestling her head between her lover’s thighs, she decided that it was time to surprise her with the new trick she had been refining.

Despite her friend’s best efforts, Miriam’s thoughts returned to the subject that had been bothering her. Although she could justify her actions, she could not shake the feeling that she had in fact, used her magic for evil. After all, that last spell had been fuelled almost totally by hatred and rage, hadn’t it?

“Do I really believe in the three-fold rule?”

Then, Carol, using that amazingly dextrous and clever tongue, showed her something entirely new. Both women found themselves lifted into a quite spectacular climax.

“Maybe I’ll worry about it later”, were Miriam’s last coherent thoughts for some time.

…

Another top quality story, particularly like chapter 2, just need someone with a £50 million special effect budget to convert it into a vid now. =D>

Unbelievable how you keep producing this amazing material!

Thank you both for the kind words and blush-inducing comments.

I'd love to see a vid based on similar themes - although, hopefully, it would require a slightly smaller budget!

*grins*

how small are you willing to go? :twisted:

If MH ever wanted to have me add FX to a full production, I'd be open to discussion...