Proxy Plaything


by MrMarkus

Tags: #cw:noncon #bondage #comic_book #f/f #lesbification #dom:female #induced_lust #sub:female

This story is a work of fiction; any apparent resemblance between the characters in this story and any actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental and unintentional.

Do not read this story if you are under the age of 18 or if explicit sexual fiction is illegal in your jurisdiction.

This story contains mind control and explicit descriptions of bondage and sexual activity between women. If any of these concepts disturb you, find something else to read.

copyright 2018 by MrMarkus (aka marcus)

Cybrelle landed in an alley next to her target. Taking cover between a pair of dumpsters, she systematically tuned out the background hum of the city’s electrical grid and focused her full attention on the warehouse in front of her.

The electrosense trace that had led her here was clear. It definitely felt like a larger and more powerful version of the synchrotronic modulator prototype that had been left behind at the lab. This was the place, all right.

Bemused, she remembered Big Blondwyn’s bombastic message threatening to use the device to black out the city at midnight—it was always midnight with these ultimatums—unless her ransom demands were met. She’d confidently declared that Cybrelle wouldn’t be able to find the gadget until it was activated, which would be too late. Unfortunately for her, the various permanent magnets and coils and battery-powered standby elements were enough to generate a faint but distinctive EM signature, even when the device was powered down. It had taken three sweeps through the area, but she’d located it with almost an hour to spare.

There was just one more thing to do before moving in. She systematically examined the building with eyesight and electrosense and high-tech scanning devices. The modulator was in a room at the far corner of the building. There were a few active LED light bulbs and one biosignature just behind the outer wall. She focused her attention on the person she’d spotted. It was Big Blondwyn, all right.

This ought to be simple. Go in, keep moving, don’t let Blondie close to melee range, and keep zapping her until she went down for the count. That’s how their battles usually went. Good thing the modulator was several rooms away—it might have messed with her powers if her foe got a chance to activate it, and it definitely would have been damaged if she accidentally hit it with a blast powerful enough to stun Big Blondwyn.

Cybrelle hovered and quietly glided to the window closest to her target. Yes, there she was, sitting in a big recliner wearing headphones. It ought to be easy to catch her by surprise.

The heroine examined the window for mechanical traps. There weren’t any. Her more clever opponents had learned to use tricks that her special abilities couldn’t detect, but nobody had ever accused Blondie of being especially clever. Still, she’d learned to be careful.

Time to move in. She energized her forcefield as she smashed through the window and lobbed a lightning bolt at the villainess.

It missed. It wasn’t even a near miss. The recliner was several feet away from where she’d seen it a moment ago, and empty. “What the hell—”

The thought was cut short as she felt her ankle seized in a vice grip. Big Blondwyn was right inside the window, waiting for her to come through.

Desperately, she blasted her muscle-bound foe. The grip shuddered, but remained too tight to break.

“Now!” Blondwyn yelled.

Cybrelle’s electrosense flickered and shifted. The energies of the synchrotronic modulator were suddenly a lot more powerful, and much closer. The thing wasn’t at the other end of the building, it was in this room—it was active—and it was being controlled by another person her sweep hadn’t detected.

Madame Miragenne! Her illusions could trick her special senses, not just her normal ones—

The modulator energy focused on her. Her powers flared and sputtered for a moment, and then her forcefield and electrical blasts faded away as her energy was siphoned into the machine.

The heroine tried to escape, but it was no use. She’d learned a few martial-arts techniques to fall back on if her powers failed her, but they couldn’t overcome her captor’s raw brute strength. Held in an unbreakable grip, she could only watch helplessly as Miragenne strutted toward her, a black silk pouch in her hand. With one quick motion, the psychic villainess placed the bag over the heroine’s head.

“Ooh, kinky! Me likey!” Blondwyn chortled.

Cybrelle ignored the mockery and focused on holding her breath. The cloth was damp, and smelled sickly sweet... coated with a knockout drug.

She gasped as Blondwyn suddenly squeezed her body. She’d already reflexively inhaled before she could even try to stop herself.

She made one last feeble attempt to wriggle free of her captor’s grip, and blacked out.

Cybrelle blinked, and tried to stretch. Her arms and legs were stuck in place. She tried harder. Her body barely moved.

Her eyes started to focus. She was sitting over there, and over there... no, she was looking into a pair of mirrors a couple yards away at about eleven o’clock and one o’clock. Was it one o’clock now? No, probably later....

She forgot about the time and went wide-eyed as she realized that she was seeing herself in the mirrors naked except for her mask and several black leather straps buckled around her ankles, wrists, and neck. She was sitting in the same chair she’d seen when she arrived. Her feet were chained to the footrest at opposite sides, and her wrists were shackled to the armrests. Something seemed to be holding her neck down against the chair, but she couldn’t see what.

Taking a deep breath to clear her head, she focused her power to generate a surge of electricity at her left wrist. She produced a few feeble static sparks. She tried using every variation of her power she knew: ball lightning, bolt lightning, lift, thrust, forcefield, even just sensing local current flows. She got nothing but more useless sparks. At least her powers weren’t completely gone. Judging from a few times she’d temporarily lost them by overexerting herself, they’d slowly return over the next day or two.

She didn’t have a day or two. She might not even have a minute or two. Taking another deep breath, she tensed her muscles. If she didn’t have her powers, she’d have to get out of this without them.

Systematically, she yanked at each shackle with all the strength she could bring to bear. The chair shook a bit, but she remained firmly held in place. No doubt it was a custom-built chair to safely hold Big Blondwyn’s bulk, and probably reinforced even more to hold someone strapped into it. Still, she might be able to loosen something if she just kept at it—

“Ah, good; you’re awake.” It was Madame Miragenne’s voice, coming from behind her.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the heroine snapped. She stopped as an answer to that question occurred to her—this was one of Miragenne’s head games. “Very funny,” she growled. “Now stop it with the illusion.”

The villainess gave her a puzzled stare for a long moment. Then she laughed. “It’s not an illusion. You really are naked from the neck down, helplessly bound, and ready for sexy funtime.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Cybrelle stared in shock. It was a bluff. It had to be....

“I wouldn’t want to,” Miragenne calmly replied. “Nothing personal, but I don’t swing that way.”

“But I do,” said another voice.

It was Big Blondwyn, standing just outside an open doorway to Cybrelle’s left. She stepped into the room, revealing that she, like the heroine, was wearing only her mask.

“No!” Cybrelle thrashed in a desperate attempt to escape her bonds.

“Yes!” Miragenne retorted. “It’s a win-win situation. My friend here gets a nice little piece of ass, and I get to teach you not to get in my way. Well, I suppose that if we include your opinion it’s a win-win-lose situation, but you’re outvoted.”

Blondwyn looked amused as she watches Cybrelle’s stuggles “Forget it. I tested those straps myself; if I can’t break them you sure as hell can’t.” She grinned. “So now it’s time for you to ‘give yourself up’,” she said, echoing the heroine’s demand when they’d last met.

Doing her best to sound confident, Cybrelle declared, “You don’t want the trouble you’ll get when the other capes find out about this.”

The big blonde looked thoroughly unimpressed.

She thought fast and talked faster. Talking them into backing off probably wouldn’t work, but it was all she had. “I’m not going to cooperate. If you do this, it’ll be less fun than using a blow-up doll.” She turned to Miragenne. “You can play tricks on me, but you can’t make me do anything!”

“Strictly speaking, that’s true.” The psychic drew herself upright and held her hands behind her back, looking more like a lecturing professor than a supervillainess. “I can read your mind, and I can project sensory impressions into it, but I can’t directly control you. However...” She held up a finger to emphasize the point she was making. “...with proper application, those sensory impressions can be extremely persuasive... as you’re about to discover.”

As she spoke, Blondwyn continued to approach. She stood beside the chair and cast a smoldering glance at the bound heroine. The expression carried more affection and interest and promise and lust than anything she’d seen before.... “No!” she told herself. “It’s one of Miragenne’s tricks!”

The villainess then moved out of sight as she stepped behind the chair. Cybrelle felt hands settle onto her shoulders. Just the touch felt like a soothing massage.

“Stop it!” she demanded.

“I don’t think so!” Blondwyn replied.

“You don’t really want her to stop,” the mental manipulator breezily added. “I can sense how pleasant it feels to you, how sensual, how... erotic.”

“No!” She wished she felt as confident as she made herself sound. She understood what was happening. She was being conditioned like Pavlov’s dog to accept this, to want this. She had no idea how long she’d be able to hold out against it. The description in her college psychology textbooks didn’t cover anything like Madame Miragenne’s illusion-casting power.

“Mmmmm...” she heard Big Blondwyn purr. It was the sexiest sound she’d ever heard. “Other women aren’t sexy!” she yelled at herself. “I’m straight, dammit!” The thought was less compelling than the sound.

Sound! Maybe saying it out loud would help. “I’m straight! This won’t work! You can’t—”

She gasped as Blondwyn began kneading her shoulders. Her muscles turned to jelly as powerful fingers applied just the right force to just the right places. Was she that good, or was Miragenne messing with her perceptions again?

“No matter how much you call yourself straight, you can’t deny that you’re enjoying this,” the psychic told her. “Besides, you don’t really have a choice in the matter, so you might as well accept it. What matters is that Blondwyn likes you. You know what she could do to you if she didn’t like you. She owns you now. Admit it to yourself.”

Cybrelle opened her mouth to protest, but thought better of it. It wouldn’t do any good. It would just make her look even more helpless than she was.

“Oh, I know you’re just pretending to give in. I don’t mind. That’s a big step toward actually giving in.”

That... was also probably true. But what could she do about it? She tried to think. It was hard to think about anything as she felt the warm soft relaxation spreading from her shoulders and neck into the rest of her body.

The next thing she knew, the hands were gone. She was torn between trying to refocus her attention and begging for more. Before she could manage to do either one, the tall Valkyrie was in sight, leaning in to kiss her. Her tongue darted into the heroine’s mouth.

It was far more passionate, more intense, more pleasurable than any kiss she could remember. It would be so easy to just let herself be swept away.... “No!” she desperately told herself. She marshaled her will to fight. The way she was feeling, this might be her last chance....

She bit down. It wouldn’t have much effect on the other woman’s super-tough—yet soft and warm—flesh. Maybe it would make her back off....

It did, for a moment. She pulled back and leered. “You’re feisty! I like that!” Blondwyn turned toward her partner in crime. “You were right about not keeping the hood on her.”

“Of course I was,” Miragenne said in a self-satisfied tone. “I want her to see everything. Remember, I’m getting off on this too, in my own way.”

“What way? Do you want to hear me beg? I won’t—” Once again she was interrupted by Blondwyn’s forceful kiss. She didn’t try to block or bite the intruding tongue. It wouldn’t do any good. It would just give them the satisfaction of seeing her fail. Yes, that was why she was just letting this happen... not because this was the smoothest and warmest and hottest and most intense kiss she’d ever felt....

After a while, the burly villainess shifted position, licking a tingling trail across the heroine’s cheek and gently nibbling on her ear, inducing sensations that made her squirm. She reminded herself that most of what she was feeling was being projected into her head. It didn’t dampen her reflexive reactions to it one bit.

“The quicker you give in, the sooner this’ll be a lot more fun for both of us,” Big Blondwyn breathed, in a voice that sounded and felt like a refreshing breeze. “I’ll go as easy on you as I can.”

The implications of that last comment hit her. “As you can?” she whispered. A moment later, she realized that whispering didn’t do any good. Miragenne was reading her mind and knew what she was saying whether she could hear it or not. Even so, whispering felt right under the circumstances, somehow.

Cybrelle shivered again as the villainess’ tongue flicked across her earlobe. “I just wanna fuck. She wants to see me make you my bitch.” Another lick sent little shudders through the heroine’s body. “Not that I’d mind making you my bitch. I like it either way, smooth or rough. Work with me here, and I’ll make it smooth.”

She didn’t need a psychology course to recognize the good-cop-bad-cop ploy. She couldn’t give in! She had to get out of this, somehow. She had to break out of bonds that hadn’t yielded an inch to her best efforts, avoid getting grabbed by Big Blondwyn, and then make it out of here before Madame Miragenne made it impossible to find the exit, all without her powers. It sounded impossible.

“You know you can’t get away. I know you can’t get away. Blondwyn knows you can’t get away.” Miragenne spoke in a deadpan matter-of-fact tone. “You might as well take her up on her offer.” Her mouth curved into a nasty grin. “You’re going to be her bitch either way; you might as well not be all bitchy about it.”

Her expression softened a bit. “I really wish you’d just bow to the inevitable and let yourself be swept away. Do that, let me share your pleasure without resistance, and I’ll ask Blondwyn to be gentle.”

Blondwyn backed away a bit and stood directly in front of the chair. She did a slow spin to show off her body. She paused facing directly away and shimmied her butt, which somehow looked just as attractive as a hot guy’s backside while remaining completely feminine.

“That’s a lot of sex appeal in one package,” Miragenne declared. “Feminine elegance combined with masculine power. I heard one of her bi girlfriends say being bedded by a big burly butch-babe like her is the best of both worlds. Judging from the way you’re staring, I think you’re starting to understand that.”

The blonde held the pose for a few more seconds, then completed the turn to face the bound heroine. Cybrelle felt herself shifting into a new position as the chair reclined and the legs lifted. As she settled into place, she lay flat, looking up into her reflection in a ceiling mirror and seeing eager bedroom eyes. Another trick, she knew, as she deliberately scrunched her actual face into an angry scowl.

“No! Stop!” she murmured. She could still resist, at least during moments like this when she wasn’t actually being touched and stimulated.

The moment was about to end. Big Blondwyn was climbing onto the bed—the chair, she reminded herself, knowing it didn’t really make any difference—and planting her knees between the heroine’s thighs. She reached down, took Cybrelle’s nipples between her thumbs and forefingers, and gently pinched.

Cybrelle moaned and writhed... and gasped as she recognized what Madame Miragenne was doing to her.

“Yes, my dear,” Miragenne purred in a delighted tone. “I’m getting into your head and making you feel like you have clits on your tits.” She brought a fingertip to each breast and teased her own visibly erect nipples through her costume. Both the captive and the psychic shivered as the blonde rubbed and stroked. “You won’t be able to resist that for long. Give in. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Desperately, the heroine gritted her teeth and tried to tune out the sensation. She scrunched her eyes shut to avoid Blondwyn’s excited expression and her own eager-looking reflection. It didn’t work. The tremors running through her body were too intense. The mental projection remained clearly in view, even more impossible to ignore now that it was all she could see. Opening her eyes again was the sensible thing to do, and yet it still felt like a surrender... and didn’t really do much to soften the images of herself and her partner enjoying this.

It went on and on. Wasn’t it supposed to over by now? It felt like she was being pushed to the brink of climax, but never quite getting there.... What the hell was Miragenne doing to her?

“...You bitch....” she finally managed to growl in between gasps and murmurs.

“Don’t you like it?” the illusionist pouted. “If you really don’t want any more, just say the word and Blondwyn will back off—won’t you, Blondwyn?”

“Yes, ma’am!” the hefty blonde replied as she continued to tease the heroine’s nipples. “Just so you remember the bet.”

“Of course.”

The muscular woman grinned in a way that Cybrelle could somehow tell was completely genuine. “We’ve got a deal that if I don’t get you, I get her for the weekend. So don’t feel guilty if you really want to quit.” She gave a little nod. “It’s all up to you. Just say ‘I want you to stop’ and I’ll stop.”

“I... I...” she stammered. She couldn’t make herself do it. Her body liked this, needed this. She couldn’t give it up, not now. Maybe not ever.

Of course she couldn’t. Madame Miragenne was in her head. She knew how thoroughly she’d hooked the heroine, knew that she couldn’t say no. That was why she’d given her the chance, so that she could turn it down... and surrender.

That thought used up her remaining ability to concentrate. She slumped into the cushioning and let herself wriggle and squirm with each jolt that coursed through her body in response to Blondwyn’s relentless attentions.

“Ohhhh... ohh please...” she gasped. She needed to finish so badly....

“Please what?” Another pair of pinches made her gasp. “Please let me cum?” The heroine’s head nodded jerkily.

Big Blondwyn lifted her hands from Cybrelle’s tits, drawing a long loud moan. “The boss lady says you have to be my bitch before you get to cum. Are you ready to be my bitch?”

“Oh, she’s ready.” the psychic villainess said. To the heroine she added, “I can see even deeper into your mind than you can. I can tell that, deep down, you want to be Blondwyn’s bitch.”

Another jerky nod.

“Say, it.”

“Yes, Cybrelle, say it. Say the words.” Miragenne sounded even more eager to hear her surrender than Blondwyn was.

“Yes...” the heroine finally moaned. “Yes, I want to be your bitch.”

“OK.” She lifted herself up onto her hands and stood up. Cutting off the bound woman’s protests, she growled, “You just wait for it until I’m ready to give it to you, bitch!”

Unable to do anything else, Cybrelle watched and impatiently waited. She saw need and desperation in her own reflection, and didn’t think it was an illusion.

Madame Miragenne took something out of a box sitting on a little table, then walked toward the other two women. “Hurry!” Cybrelle thought, but managed to refrain from saying out loud. Finally, the slim brunette handed the massive blonde a bundle that looked like a couple of rods attached to a couple of straps.

“You know what’s coming,” Miragenne cooed as she helped Blondwyn get the harness into position and thread the belts through the buckles. “I can tell how much you’re looking forward to it.”

It was true. She could feel herself getting wet and tingly down below. She was vaguely aware that she ought to try and stop it, but she could neither stop it nor really want to.

“Your chance to say ‘no’ has come and gone. You don’t want to say ‘no’. You know it’s true.” Miragenne shut down what remained of her objections. “You’re a helpless little puddle of lust and need, and that’s just from the foreplay. Becoming Big Blondwyn’s bitch will be an irresistible pleasure.”

Madame Miragenne stepped aside theatrically as Big Blondwyn made a few final adjustments to the straps and the dual wands that projected from her crotch. She then knelt on the floor beside the platform to get a good close view of the action.

The mechanism beneath the heroine hummed to life for a few moments, angling her body to lift her hips. She could see her pussy and asshole in the mirrors, fully presented and readily accessible for the thrusting double penetration that awaited her.

She breathed hard as the hefty blonde climbed on top of her. “I’m gonna try to be gentle as long as you work with me, relax, and push into it.”

Every touch of skin against skin sent another jolt through her. Her entire body was one big sensitive hot button. She knew it was a trick, but she just couldn’t make herself care.

The heroine moaned as Big Blondwyn settled down onto her. Her breath came in gasps, and not just because of the weight on her chest. She shivered from head to toe. The tingling sensation was especially intense in her tits as the other woman’s voluptuous bosom pressed into them. She shuddered as she felt the wands poking at her crotch and rump. She felt herself reflexively shifting her hips to help maneuver them into position.

Her entire body jerked as the wands slid into her... an inch, then an inch and a half, and then two, and then deeper. She rocked her hips in time with Big Blondwyn’s thrusts. It was nothing like any other sex she’d ever had... it made everything she’d ever experienced before feel like her first fumbling experiments in self-fingering. She couldn’t tell and didn’t care how much of it was real and how much was projected illusion. It was like both villainesses were fucking her at once. She held that thought and let herself ride with it.

Their bodies rocked to the rhythm, again and again. She felt her pussy starting to clench the rod as she got closer and closer to the edge....

“OOOHHHHHH! OOHHHH GOD OH GOD!!! OOHHHHH.... uuuhhhhhhhhh....” A long loud scream that sounded like all three of their voices combined faded into a longer soft sigh as she came far harder than ever before and settled into an afterglow warmer than she’d ever even imagined possible.

“Oh... oh... thank you,” she finally whispered as her voice started working again. She gave Blondwyn a kiss. This time, she was the one who started the tongue action.

Madame Miragenne was still kneeling on the floor. She took a deep breath and drew herself upright with a visible effort. “That’s much better than you’ve ever had, isn’t it?” she finally asked.

“You know it is. Why even ask?” Her head was clearing enough that she could think again.

“Yes, but I wanted to hear you say it. Now...” The psychic villainess loomed over the bound heroine. “...wasn’t that much too good to give up? Are you going to let us get sent to some dreary prison or hunted down by outraged capes, and never ever get a chance to do this again?”

“No!” The thought sent a chill through her. “No...” She realized the implications. “We can’t let anybody else know what you did. If they ever find out about us, they have to think I wanted it all along.”

“In a sense, you did.” She shrugged. “The important thing is to avoid complications for you two lovebirds, isn’t that right?”

“Yes.” Cybrelle and Blondwyn said simultaneously.

“Well, then, it’s settled.” Miragenne began unfastening the wrist shackles and collar; Blondwyn did likewise for the ankle bands. Cybrelle stood, a bit shakily, and reached out to give Blondwyn another passionate kiss.

“You’re hot,” the statuesque blonde declared as they finally pulled apart. She turned toward her partner in crime. “And so are you.”

She drew Madame Miragenne close and gave her an even longer and steamier open-mouthed kiss. The psychic stood still as if frozen in shock for a long moment... and then began returning the affection.

Cybrelle stared, wondering what was going on. When they finally came up for air, she blurted out, “I thought you didn’t swing that way.”

“She does now!” Big Blondwyn declared. Turning to the other villainess, she said, “You got into her head a lot deeper for a lot longer than usual this time. I figured it might rub off on you. Looks like it did.”

“You... you... you big musclebound bull-dyke slut! I ought to...” Whatever she thought she “ought to” do, what she actually did was give Blondwyn another kiss.

It took them even longer to break it off this time. “I may be musclebound, but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid. Admit it; I got you!”

“You got me.” Madame Miragenne didn’t seem at all bothered by that. “So why don’t you sweep me up and carry me off to bed and have your wicked way with me?” she cooed.

Big Blondwyn obligingly hefted her into a bridal carry. She turned toward the door—only to stop short at the sound of an indignant cough.

“Excuse me! Are you going to forget about me every time you get an eyeful of another hot lesbian?” Cybrelle folded her arms and glared.

“I... think the bed’s big enough for three,” Big Blondwyn said sheepishly.

“Well, then...” Cybrelle slipped a hand around Big Blondwyn’s waist. “...let’s go!”

The hand slid down and back to squeeze Big Blondwyn’s ass by the time they got to the door.



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