Voltrelle landed on the roof of the nondescript building at the outer edge of the industrial district. As far as the city records were concerned, it was a warehouse for cloth and paper products on the way to a recycling plant. The street-facing part of the structure was just that, providing cover for the building’s other purpose.

As the heroine approached the hidden entrance, memories of her first visit here flashed through her mind in picture-perfect detail as if it had happened yesterday rather than three months ago. She also remembered the conversation with Dr. Catalytron a few days later that explained what had happened to her.

She’d given him a severely edited version of the encounter with Dusky Fox and pretended to believe that he was just “a friend” of Hyperitek’s billionaire owner. He’d informed her that the gel was a skin-permeable ointment for administering medications through the skin. It had an unfortunate tendency to short out electrical equipment with the slightest exposure. This particular batch was infused with an experimental drug designed to enhance memory and attention. It had an unfortunate tendency to randomly bring subconscious thoughts to the surface and permanently fixate the subject on strong stimuli. Both formulas were on the verge of being written off as failures.

Voltrelle reassured Dr. Catalytron that she’d been only slightly exposed to the gel, hadn’t experienced any side effects, and that the same was apparently true for her opponent. As far as she could tell, he believed it.

Of course, the reality was that they’d both gotten massive doses of the stuff, acted out some subconscious fantasies, and been very strongly stimulated indeed. Now, they were unmistakably fixated on each other, unable to forget the experience and irresistibly craving more of the same. The urge could be resisted for two or three weeks, but never completely denied.

They’d come to an understanding. Each of them accepted that she needed the other. Neither of them wanted the situation to become known. To minimize the risk of being caught, they held out for as long as possible until one of them broke down and discreetly contacted the other to arrange a rendezvous. Voltrelle felt a bit proud of herself because she’d made the call only twice to Dusky Fox’s three times.

She pushed aside the past to focus on the here and now, especially trying to forget that this time she’d been the one to plead for relief. The villainess had complained a bit about interrupting her plans for a major heist, but not very strenuously; she too had been feeling the itch. She had, however, insisted on a day’s delay while she made some “preparations”.

Voltrelle found the secret rooftop door leading into Dusky Fox’s hideout. Actually, it wasn’t really her hideout any more, except for these special occasions. This place had been converted from criminal lair to no-tell motel, equipment and loot replaced with bondage gear and adult novelties.

She stepped inside and found herself looking down at a large cluttered storeroom. Even with her power aura illuminating the space, there was plenty of darkness and cover for her host’s hit-and-run tactics.

A flight of stairs led down to the floor. They were almost certainly rigged to trip or trap an unwary intruder. Instead, she flew over the railing and floated downward.

A beanbag struck her dead center, making a loud ping as her power energized a little gadget inside it. It was their agreed no-mess substitute for the gel. The first hit could be ignored, the second grounded her, and the third would signify her defeat and surrender.

Hovering halfway between floor and ceiling, she surveyed the area the shot had come from. Out the corner of her eye, she spotted a flicker of movement darting out from behind the Saint Andrew’s cross frame. She immediately targeted it with a weak dispersed shock blast.

A remote-controlled cat toy sputtered to a halt as another beanbag pinged her from the left.

It was the third time she’d fallen for that trick, she thought ruefully as she dropped to the floor. Playing scrupulously fair, she paused for a long moment, as exposed and vulnerable as if she’d actually crash-landed after a sudden power failure, and awaited the third tag.

She saw it coming, a badly aimed throw that sailed by more than a yard to her left. “Don’t just stand there like an idiot! This is too easy!” Dusky Fox snapped.

The voice wasn’t coming from anywhere near the same direction as the throw. Her electrical sense told her it was coming from a speaker, not a person. Maybe the wild throw was a mechanized fakeout. If she wasn’t in either of those directions, where was she...?

Moving across the floor in a zigzag trot, Voltrelle scanned the room. She glanced at the ceiling mirror above the water bed, whirled, and lobbed another dilute electrical attack.

A buzzer sounded, indicating that she’d scored a hit. Like her, Dusky Fox did not suffer any handicap the first time she got tagged.

“Touche!” This speaker was at the other end of the room. The heroine targeted her opponent’s last known position, hoping to score a second hit and force her to continue the fight blindfolded.

It was too late, however. “Nice try!” sounded from yet another speaker. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were actually trying to win.”

She took a moment to fry all the speakers she’d detected. They couldn’t fool her, but they were an annoying distraction. Trying to watch every direction at once, she ducked behind the silk-mesh body harness Dusky Fox had used to suspend her during their last session. With the corner behind her and the netting in front of her, she had both cover and a clear field of view.

“That’s better. Now, you’re giving me a challenge. Can I find some way to sneak up on that defensive position, or should I just charge and hope I can tag you once before you can tag me twice?”

Another zap, another dead speaker. If her opponent wanted to keep playing head games, eventually she’d have to speak directly and give away her position.

Dusky Fox snickered. “Or should I just wait for you to come out and give me a clear shot? After all, you called me. I’m sure you’ve had enough foreplay and want to get to the main event.“

Another speaker sputtered and died under Voltrelle’s assault.

“Congratulations, that’s the last one.” Apparently it was the truth; she wasn’t sensing any electrical current driving the sound. She focused her power to direct a brighter glow in the direction of the voice.

Suddenly, Dusky Fox emerged from behind a rack of corset-and-garterbelt ensembles. She dived to the floor just in time to evade a shock blast. She rolled to the side, flinging a pair of beanbags. They skittered along the floor toward Voltrelle’s feet as the heroine tried to score the double-tag.

The targeting indicators sounded: Bzzt! Ping! Bzzt! It was unmistakably clear that Dusky Fox had scored the third hit a split second before Voltrelle did.

The villainess picked herself up off the floor and approached the heroine. “That was close—a little too close for your own good.” She smirked. “Let’s be honest. You wouldn’t know where to begin if you actually won and had to be the big domineering butch instead of the submissive little bitch. That’s why you always lose.”

Voltrelle stood silent and passive as Dusky Fox reached into one of her larger belt pouches and took out a thick leather strap and a length of chain. As per their arrangement, the victor buckled the collar and leash onto the vanquished and led her to take her place in the victor’s chosen sexual scenario.

Voltrelle was led through a doorway into a cozy room. At the center was a padded horizontal cylinder about a foot across mounted on twin supports. It had handlebars at one end, two pairs of nearly vertical protrusions about an inch wide and several inches long at the top, and two pairs of stirrups and an assortment of straps below.

“Time to get naked.” Sometimes, Dusky Fox made a long slow striptease production of it; sometimes she was direct and to the point. Apparently tonight was one of the latter occasions.

Voltrelle pulled off her costume and underwear, setting it on a small shelf in the corner. She was glad there would be no more repetitions of her first visit, in which her costume had been shredded and she’d been left to fly home wearing only her mask and boots. She’d spotted a few people on the ground enjoying the free show; thankfully, nobody had taken a picture and posted it on the net.

Within a minute, the two women had stripped away every bit of clothing except their masks. Those were an implicitly understood exception to “naked”; neither of them wanted to expose her own identity or learn the other’s. Better that they remain Dusky Fox and Voltrelle, Mistress and Slavegirl, with no other names to complicate things.

Dusky Fox turned a knob recessed in the front of the tube. Clear oil emerged to coat the upper projections with a smooth sheen.

“Up you go,” she directed. “Settle down onto the front seat and take the front plug in your pussy and the rear one up your ass. Take it nice and slow and easy.”

Voltrelle hovered above the forward saddle-shaped indentation. Inch by careful inch, she lowered herself, shimmying her body as the wands penetrated her deeper and deeper. Finally, she let her full weight settle onto the seat.

“Hands on the handlebars.” She complied, and cuffs were buckled around her wrists to hold them in place. “Feet in the stirrups.” They, too, were soon firmly strapped in.

The heroine felt her companion vault into the rear seat and glanced back to see how she mounted the device. Lacking the ability to fly, she instead stood up in the stirrups and gradually bent her knees to settle her body into position.

With both women firmly seated, Dusky Fox reached around to grab Voltrelle’s tits. “Now for the fun part,” she declared. “I rewired it especially for you. Every time you zap the handlebars, all four plugs will get a little jolt and the vibes will start buzzing. If you stop, the machine stops. Understand?”

Voltrelle nodded.

“OK, babe, get this party started!”

She send a small surge of power into the handlebars. Jolts in her ass and pussy made her shudder, and quivering vibrations maintained a slow simmering version of the sensation. Experimentally, she gave it a bigger zap. The shocks and the vibrations were more intense, but didn’t startle her as much now that she was expecting them.

She heard a whisper behind her, “Yessss... just like that.”

Again and again, Voltrelle fed electrical energy into the handgrip, squirming and shuddering, squelching her moans so that she could hear the ones coming from behind her. Each time, she increased the power level just a bit, keeping both women at a gradually intensifying sexual simmer.

Suddenly, she applied a stronger surge to the device. She heard a gasp as the hands on her tits squeezed hard, a sensation she had been learning to enjoy. Returning the favor, she leaned back and pressed her back firmly into her partner’s bosom. Then, she stopped, letting the vibrators wind down to a near halt. As she heard a murmur of disappointment behind her, she gave the machine another powerful zap, turning the sigh to a yelp. Mischeviously, she repeated the cycle a couple more times, pushing both women close to but not quite over the edge.

Finally, she resumed the steady stimulation. As an added touch—literally—she ground her back into her partner’s tits and caused her to reflexively reciprocate. They were both at a near-boil now, primed for one last push....

Voltrelle supplied that push with another intense power blast. They both tended to moan rather than scream at such moments, but this time they did scream as the shock jolts inside them straddled the borderline between pleasure and pain. They both went limp, with only the straps and stirrups keeping them in their seats.

“Ooooohhhhh...” Voltrelle was the first to recover. “Are you all right?” she asked, alarmed to hear nothing behind her.

“Yeah... I think.” Dusky Fox shakily stood in the stirrups, pulling out the double penetrators. “I need to fix the voltage limiter on this thing.”

“I’m sorry; I gave it too much juice.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Her tone was firm, but not domineering. “It’s my toy and my scene; anything that goes wrong is my fault.“

Voltrelle almost raised an objection as it occurred to her that she’d actually been the one setting the pace and controlling the stimulation. She thought better of it and remained quiet as her companion dismounted the seat and released her from it.

“Let’s take a dip in the hot tub and cool off,” Dusky Fox said, breaking the awkwardness of the moment. Without any further ado, they adjourned to the spa, one of the few components of the lair that had remained unchanged since heroine and villainess had fought more conventional battles there.

The two women relaxed in silence. Their cravings were far from satisfied, but the pressing urgency had dissipated. For now, they were content to take in the sight of each other’s bodies and exchange caresses and kisses.

Finally, Dusky Fox spoke up. “I’ve been thinking of getting you a nice fancy slavegirl collar—something you can wear at home when you’re thinking about me. You do think about me when you’re jilling off, right?”

Even here, between the two of them, admitting to that out loud was a bit much for the heroine. “I can’t accept stolen goods,” she replied, side-stepping the question.

“Oh, come on!” In the mellowness of the moment, her tone was one of friendly banter rather than dominance. “I think about you when I’m jilling off. Well, either about you or about the next thing I’m gonna steal. So lighten up and let me steal you a nice collar so I can think about both at once.“

“You’re incorrigible!” the heroine snorted. She paused for a moment, and then burst into a wide grin.

The villainess gave her a quizzical look. “Yeah, it is kinda funny, the good girl and the bad girl stuck with each other like this,” she said. Then she flashed a grin of her own. “Funny and hot,” she amended. Leaning close and looking her companion in the eye, she asked, “Ready to go a few more rounds?“

Voltrelle nodded. Yes, it was funny, and, yes, it was hot, and yes, she was ready to continue, but none of those was the reason for her smirk.-----

“I’m going to win the game next time,” she told herself. “or the time after that, or the time after that, or as many times as it takes. And then...” Her grin grew even wider. “...and then, you brazen little thief, I’m going to enjoy giving you the spanking you so richly deserve!

-----

FINIS