I don't want to make another major move until we've finished fencing the loot and my crown is ready, so after finishing up with Kiera and Delia, I go into the back room and look up what the media are saying about the jewelry store robbery.

Cop driven mad by evil new SuperVillain!

Panic on the streets of Chelmerton! AGAIN!

EXCLUSIVE! Cop tells us she 'dreams of being taken' by the ringleader

"Oh ho..." I say out loud, and take a closer look at that last one. Specifically, the byline. Whoever wrote it can presumably get ahold of the cop in question. But the reporter’s name is given solely as Lizzie R.

Hmmm... Mysterious. I look for an email address or Twitter handle, something I can use to tell her I may have more info on the robbery and try to set up a meeting. It's not too hard to find someone with the handle @LizzieG on most major social networks. Her bio reads Freelance Journo. Find me in the Chelmerton Observer.

I set up a burner account and DM her. I saw your article about the new supervillain. I think I know where she's meeting with her gang. I think I may have witnessed them planning the robbery.

About ten minutes later, I receive a reply. Gimmie the goss. I need to know you've got a story before we meet.

I grin. Got her. There's four. All white, all young. I saw them meet in a dive bar I hang out at sometimes. One of them called another Delia, which is weird because I only know of one criminal Delia and she works alone. Three of them were just falling over the fourth, practically slobbering on her, and she didn't look that special to me? I figured she must have money or something, because they were making plans about jewelry, and that seemed weird for a dive bar? But then I read about the heist and what that lady did to the detective, and I put two and two together. I hit Send and wait.

Where do you want to meet? the reply comes back.

My grin widens, but then I pause. Not the bar... I think. I decide to go for a little coffee shop I know. In this heat we should have some privacy if we sit outside.

OK. 3pm?

That should give me just enough time to get there. I agree, then head out.

Once I arrive at the coffee shop, I notice it's quite busy. A mix of students, businessmen, and mothers. But in a corner of the covered porch, a young woman sits at a two-top, nursing a large mug of coffee, a notepad by her side, tapping her manicured nails on the table, impatiently.

I make my way over and slip into the seat across from her. "Lizzie R.?" I ask. She is impeccably dressed in a red pencil skirt and a sheer cream blouse with a ruffled front, which shows off her long legs, slender waist, and full bust, topped off with a light silk scarf. Her light blonde hair is expertly coiffed, her makeup perfectly applied, and her blue eyes are bright behind glasses in a fashionable frame.

She looks up at me. "That's me! You must be—"

"Call me Jenny," I say. I'd been planning on just getting the info I wanted and getting out, but after getting a look at her, I’m reconsidering that. "To be clear, I want to be anonymous. I don't need any Specials coming after me." I give her just a smidge of attraction and relaxation.

She leans back against her chair, as passersby continue to walk back and forth. "Deal. Have a seat, I'm listening."

I take my seat and smile, upping her attraction a touch more. "So, yeah, like I said. I'm hanging at the bar and I see these four ladies come in, right?" I repeat more or less what I said in my DM, gradually increasing her attraction, arousal, and relaxation as I do. Not a lot, just enough that she’ll feel like she’s enjoying yourself. Her mind has an interesting texture, responding to my pressure: when I push hard, there’s a lot of resistance, but I slip in things a little at a time, gently, there’s none at all. As she listens, she watches my face, and as my foothold in her brain strengthens I can tell that at first, she’s trying to determine whether I’m spinning her a yarn, but as I slip in attraction she’s shifting to simply enjoying looking at me.

Gotcha, I think. I begin to increase her determination and dedication, but maintain the relaxation and attraction. "Listen, Lizzie, you'd protect a source no matter what, right? No matter what I told you, you wouldn't reveal where you got it from?"

"Of course! I have ethics. The journalistic code, and all that." I know she’s saying whatever it takes to keep me talking. Even if I weren’t getting a growing sense of her feelings, I looked her up before I left the bar. She’s a gossip columnist who occasionally writes up a rumor as a news story, not exactly Louise Lang.

"Well then..." I lower my voice and lean in. "The truth is, I've been stretching the truth a little. I am the new supervillain." I suppress the surprise, fear, or anger that arises in response.

"Oh. I see. Then you're here to confess?" She’s tingling, eager, in a mostly nonsexual way—she’s scented a juicier story than she expected.

"Not exactly. I have no interest in getting caught. But I do want to find the good detective again." I increase her arousal and relaxation again. "And after seeing how attractive you are in person, maybe have some fun as well." I smile. "I wouldn't be averse to giving you an exclusive under the right circumstances, though..."

"OK. But, if what the Detective said was true, I want to establish some rules. I'll protect your identity. You can continue to create chaos. But you feed me the stories, right? I keep my sanity, and you get the fame that I bet, just like all supervillains, you want."

"See, that's what I was thinking originally. The problem is, you're hot, and I really want to fuck you." I give her a little burst of pleasure at that, as well as a spike of attraction and arousal.

Her mind is teetering on the precipice. "I—I wouldn't say no, but..." She’s pulling together all her resolve; fascinated, I let her. "Promise me? I'm not going to be your slave."

I smile. "See, the thing is, I can't promise that." I increase her attraction and arousal. "I can promise to try to hold back, keep the sex to only the best you've ever had, but eventually you'll get addicted. And I just don't know if I'll have the strength to deny someone as hot as you." I increase her confidence as well, with a touch of indignation—I want her to see this as a challenge.

"Addicted..." she sighs, her hands starting toward her tits, but then she catches herself. "No! You're making me want this! Show me some damn respect!"

"Lizzie, Lizzie, I'm a supervillain, remember? My respect is earned." I tone the indignation back down and increase the attraction. "Now, I do promise to abide by your express wishes, so: shall we head to your place?"

She’s aware she can't fully trust me. But she can't deny her lust, either. Her mind is putty in my hands, and she’s defenseless to stop me. "All right. Let's do this."

I grin. "Great. Lead the way to your car."

Slightly unsteadily, she packs away her things, stands, and leads me to her car. Several times, I catch her trying to steal a glance at my body, half in lust, half in fear at her predicament.

I slip into the front seat next to her, and lay a teasing hand on her thigh, gently stroking up and down it. "I imagine you're wondering what I'm going to do with you. Besides fuck you, I mean."

"Please.... isn't this enough?"

"Oh, you're also going to give me the detective. She's absolutely going to become my slave. And I'm going to need some assurance, since you've seen my face, that you won't reveal anything I don't want you to. But I do like the idea of having a pet reporter, someone who can tell the world my story."

She whines softly, frustrated. Being under my thumb, betraying her sources, is wrong, yet it feels, in this instant, deliciously evil.

"But no,” I continue. “I think if I can accomplish all that without enslaving you, it might be fun to have you remain independent. So, I don't think I'll make you my slave, at least today."

She sits in silence for the rest of the journey, having scored a win, of sorts. I keep her arousal and attraction high as we go, though not so high as to interfere with her driving. I also start steadily feeding her curiosity, curious myself as to what she’ll do with it. Soon enough, we arrive at her place, and she leads me down the corridor to her apartment.

I take a seat in her living room and beckon her over. "We're going to play a game. You're going to sit in my lap and interview me. Whatever you get out of me, that's your story. But the moment you beg me to fuck you, we switch to that, and the interview is over."

She nods. She hesitates a moment, then walks towards me, slightly unsteadily. She sits delicately in my lap, her breasts almost eye-height with you. "OK. First things first. What's your deal? Money, fame, power?"

I ponder my answer. "Yes," I say finally. "Well, mostly money and power." I stroke a finger down her neck, from the corner of her jaw to the knot of her scarf, amplifying her pleasure and desire.

She places her hands on my shoulders, trying to steady herself. "Easy, tiger… and your special secret superpower? Clearly it's some form of emotional manipulation."

I smile and nibble at her ear, sending little bursts of pleasure and desire through her. "Who says it's a power? Maybe I'm a tech genius who built something," I whisper teasingly.

"Genius..." she hisses, her breath catching. "And the raid on the jewelry store? That was you?"

"Oh yes." I stroke up and down her back, holding her close as I continue to inch her desire upward. "My Birds of Praise and I needed operating funds, and the store was kind enough to make them available to us in readily fungible form."

"Ohhhh... fuck yessss..." she sighs, beginning to lose control, her hips already beginning to gyrate. "The cop, Detective... Welles? They say she's gone crazy."

"I didn't give her the full treatment," I explain. She can no doubt feel my growing hardness against her thigh as I again begin undoing the knot, raising her desire still further. "Based on my past experiments, she should recover fully within a couple of days, if she hasn't already."

"Wh-what... about... meeee..." She desperately wants to rip her top off and ride me.

"I'm keeping my promise," I say. "I am not altering your emotions to make you my slave, and I'm not altering them to make you want to be my slave." Which is true! I raise her desire still higher, eager to see her snap.

Her addled mind is somehow satisfied with that answer, and she grins. "Interview... over... "

"Very nice," I say, stroking my hands up her bare stomach to fondle her breasts through her bra, amplifying the pleasure tremendously.

"Shut the fuck up and take me already!"

"Yes ma'am," I reply. I roll us over on the couch so that she’s pinned beneath me, and kiss her hard. At the same time, I run a hand up her thigh, under her skirt, to feel her pussy through your panties, flooding her with pleasure as I do.

Her eyes roll back, her legs spread. Whatever decorum she had in that coffee shop has long since been washed away. In this moment, she doesn’t care about anything. Nothing except being rammed, hard.

I undo her bra and toss it aside, then start stroking and squeezing her breasts, keeping her desire where it is but adding in just barely sub-orgasmic pleasure with every touch. "I believe our game was that you have to beg, if I recall correctly."

She laughs, almost uncontrollably. "All right then, please. Please. PLEASE!"

I shove her skirt up and pull her panties off, then my own pants. I position my hard cock right at her dripping slit, just barely not touching it. "Hmm, that's a start, but is it enough begging, I wonder?" I tease, pinning her hips down and teasing them with my thumbs.

She growls, and then kisses me hungrily. "Take my mind, take my body, I don't fucking care anymore!"

I thrust into her, hard, triggering orgasmic pleasure but still keeping her desire high. With every thrust, I trigger another orgasm, pumping pleasure into her wet, needy brain just as I'm thrusting my girlcock into her equally wet and needy pussy.

She can barely think straight, her mind leaking out her cunt, dreaming of how good it would feel for everyone in the city to feel like this.

I soon cum myself, and as I do, I give her one last orgasm, even stronger than before, then bring her desire down from boiling over to a steady simmer.

"YYESSSSS!" she screams, and, a few moments later, sated, she throws her arms around me. "Th-thank you…"

I snuggle next to her, idly stroking her body, making little quivers of pleasure each time I do. "You're very welcome, my dear. Now, just to be clear, you will only publish what I said during our "game"—everything else was off the record?"

"Yes, my love." I can feel it from her, intense infatuation that I didn’t put there, at least not deliberately.

I smile. "Ah, I don't think I've ever been anyone's love that I didn't enslave first. I think I like that." I kiss her again, softly. "Well, congratulations, you are now the exclusive reporter for Psyqueen and the Birds of Praise. Any story I'm willing to talk about, I'll come to you first."

"Mmm," she says, feeling strangely proud, another feeling that I didn’t put there, but which seems to be emerging organically from the ones I did. "I'm honored."

"Now, one last thing I need you to do for me, off the record of course. Arrange a meeting with Detective Welles, and don't show up."

"She's under house arrest. I'll try, though."

"Oh, is she? Never mind then, all I need from you is her address."

"Sure....got a pen and paper?" she asks.

I give her a look. "You're a reporter," I tease. I stoke a little bit of pleasure and affection as I do.

Grinning, she rolls off of me, and heads to her dressing table, pulling out a notepad from the drawer. She writes down Detective Welles’ address.

"Good girl," I say, taking it from her. "This never happened, of course." Impulsively, I pull her close for a passionate kiss, curious what will happen if I don't adjust her emotions past what I already have.

She kisses me back, teasingly, ever so gently nibbling on my lip. As far as she’s concerned, we're almost partners in this endeavor.

I’m going to enjoy this game while it lasts.