She could feel the throbbing of his cock through her lips. He was clearly excited - maybe too excited - and his arousal filled her mouth and her nose with its scent. The aroma, the taste, the texture, and the feel combined in a blissed-out head, and Vivian couldn’t deny this as an astonishingly satisfying chance to suck someone off. Especially someone she’d only just met.

This isn’t me.

The thought was clear, and insistent, and she knew it was true, but it just… didn’t matter. She was on her knees, thighs apart, and she was naked. The motel room was a typical motel room and, Vivian had to imagine, the slickness pooling below her wasn’t making it any nicer. Yet she was high on a borrowed euphoria.

Just as she had been when Master told her to rip her nightwear off while flexing. The man’s muscle kink was obvious. On the other hand, she couldn’t talk. The fetish for being controlled which had become part of her was more embarrassing. Privately, Vivian wasn’t sure it wasn’t humiliating. Except that aside from Master, the only person who could witness her humiliation was the woman whose fetish it was, and she was watching with evident enjoyment.

Vivian was aware she should be fighting this. That this was an affront to her dignity as a supervillain.

But she didn’t feel like a supervillain. She felt like a helpless, obedient slut. And she had accidentally been compelled to enjoy that. Macabre would have smouldered with rage and vowed vengeance…

…But she wasn’t Macabre, was she? The instruction had been very clear, and it had taken in a way she wasn’t comfortable with.

The whole thing was ridiculous, and she should be straining against the order with everything she had. Instead…

…and this was the worst part, most likely…

…she was enjoying herself. It would feel like a betrayal of everything she was if she couldn’t explain it away. She was, after all, under hypnotic control.

Vivian’s head had been going around this loop for a good three or four minutes. Every time seemed to be faster, though, whirling back to her pleasure, her arousal, her hypnotic compulsion faster and faster. It was, she thought, the grunts and gasps that escaped Master as she sucked. They sounded so good, they made her feel so good. Her bursts of resistance, and even of frustration, they were burning out, worn down by the constant reinforcement of her place in the world and the pleasure she was taking in it.

No wonder Ms Miracle’s been caught this way so many times, she thought. If I become a heroine like they want, maybe I can too.

And that could even help me get my old self back.

This seemed like a more hopeful approach than trying to fight Master’s power, and it gave her a great excuse to enjoy herself and let go.

Vivian Dent let go of Macabre and let herself just enjoy being a happy hypno slut.

*

She arrived in Eureka Springs, Missouri in the early afternoon of the next day with Ms Miracle sitting in the passenger seat of her car. Following her phone’s navigator, she drove them to the small suburban street where she’d rented a house.

“This is it?” Amy asked. Vivian nodded, not looking at her. “I figured you’d be renting something bigger.”

Vivian inhaled. “Never do. If it’s a house, it needs to be something nobody notices. I have - had,” and she hesitated long enough that Amy could see a flicker of regret on her face, “a retirement place all picked out. But that’s… well, it’s some way off, if it still happens.”

They got out of the car and Amy began unloading boxes. Vivian stood on the sidewalk, looking up at the house thoughtfully.

“What were you planning to do here?” Amy asked her. Vivian waved the question off.

“This was just about money,” she said. “There are a couple of big targets in town, and there was something fun about…” She broke off, suddenly hesitant.

“About the fact you were going to be practically under my nose?”

Vivian nodded. That had been an especially Macabre element to the plan. One job, nice and quick, and out. One that Ms Miracle would never know about. A win that she could never, ever get back.

Vivian had collected four of those over the past decade, and it was deeply satisfying to her every time, even though she didn’t think her…

Nemesis wasn’t the right word any longer, but Vivian baulked at thinking of her as a colleague. And they certainly weren’t friends.

“I guess that means I can come over if you need help,” Amy said, walking over to her carrying more boxes than a single person should be able to. “Not that I’m expecting you to. You have the power, after all.”

“Not the instincts, though.” Vivian walked up to the house, fishing in her pocket for the keys, suddenly very aware that this conversation shouldn’t be had out where anyone might hear them. “Unless I picked those up along with your damn fetish.”

Ms Miracle laughed, and it was an easy, friendly sound. There was a reason some people thought she was too good to be true; Vivian had been one of them, she reflected as she stood in the rental home hallway. It had taken so many battles, confrontations, and talks for Vivian to understand that Ms Miracle genuinely did like almost everyone. And now she was ready to like Vivian, after everything they’d gone through.

Weak.

“I think in a fight you’ll be fine,” the heroine said thoughtfully as she stacked the first set of boxes in the half-furnished living room. “Say, this place looks cosy.”

“Yeah. I’m glad, considering I’ll be here longer this time.”

“I’m sure your Master will be happy enough to put you up at his any night you need a break.”

Vivian cocked her head to one side. Something in the way Miracle had said that…

“What do you mean, ‘your’ Master?” she asked. “Isn’t he our Master?”

She saw the heroine flush. “I told you it wore off,” she said. “It’s… complicated.”

“Complicated? The way you kissed him on the way out, I thought for sure it was still well in place.”

Amy shrugged. “When I’m around him, I still kind of want to obey any order he gives,” she admitted. “But I don’t have to. And we’ve… sort of come to an agreement because of that. He doesn’t give any order I might disobey.”

“And that’s why you didn’t bring him in?”

The heroine sighed. “No,” she said shortly, and walked out the front door of the house, heading back down to the trailer. “You want to help with this, or am I unloading everything for you?”

Vivian wondered for a moment whether she should let Miracle do all the heavy lifting, make a statement. The problem was she wasn’t sure what that statement would be. Petty spite, possibly.

She’d always considered herself above that. If she had spite for someone, it certainly wasn’t petty. So she followed Miracle out again.

They shifted boxes in silence until the vehicle was empty. At the end of it, Amy shut the front door behind them both, then turned the latch. She turned back to face Vivian.

“I didn’t bring him in because I was… concerned… about you,” she said honestly. “That conversation after the Earthbreaker…”

Vivian stared at her, mouth open. Where the hell was Miracle going with this?

“I had the impression your heart wasn’t in it anymore,” she said. A slight smile. “Mind you, when I listened to your call in to Sadie I thought maybe I’d been wrong.”

Vivian snorted with laughter, but she wasn’t willing to meet Miracle’s eye. She went over to one of the stacks of boxes. Picking up four with one hand, she extracted the box below, then set the others down. She carried her prize into the kitchen. Opening it, she took out her prized, expensive coffee maker and busied herself setting it up.

Amy had followed her into the room. “I don’t know if you caught it on the news,” she said, “but about a year ago now, I got arrested. Bank robbery. Attempted kidnapping.”

Still not looking at the heroine, Vivian nodded. “It turned out to be Mentat, didn’t it?”

“Yeah. We thought it was part of some bigger scheme, the way he always used to put together those complicated plans with about eighty steps.”

Vivian had started rooting through another box now for her ground coffee. “God, yes,” she said, and shook her head, smiling slightly. “I told him once, when one of the M.A.L.I.G.N. plans was falling apart, that if he’d just cut out half the steps we’d have won.”

“He didn’t have a big plan this time,” Amy said. “It was just to discredit me.”

She blinked. Looking over her shoulder, she shot the other woman a glance. “Are you sure?”

“Hundred percent. D.A.N.I.E.L. ran the numbers. We spent a month running anything that looked like a lead to ground, just in case.”

“Can you look in that box by your elbow?” Vivian asked. “Should have mugs in. Get two of them out.”

Amy nodded and turned to the box. “When we confirmed that, we looked at his last couple of headlines before that. And we couldn’t find a big plan for those, either. He’d gone from having major goals and wanting to make changes to the world to just wanting revenge.”

“How do you take your coffee?”

“Brew it strong then half-drown it in milk.”

Vivian nodded. “Sugar?”

“No thanks. I may be invulnerable but I never stopped acting like my teeth aren’t.”

“Right. Anyway. I’m not sure how Mentat relates to me?”

“You obviously still have goals,” Amy agreed, coming up close and setting two mugs down in reach. “But when we talked, I got this sense of… not regret, exactly. Resignation. Like you knew your life wasn’t working out, but you were committed anyway.”

Vivian busied herself with the mugs. Her cheeks burning, she was back to trying to keep her expression hidden from the other woman. “You must think I’m an idiot.”

“No,” Amy replied, and there was nothing but compassion in her voice. “I think you’re proud. It’s hard to back down when you’re that proud.”

Vivian said nothing. Instead she picked up her mug and headed back into the living room, where she perched near the window on one of the larger boxes.

Unfortunately, Miracle had followed her just when she most wanted to be alone with her thoughts. She was sure that, given time, she could find a better reason than pride to stay her course. One which would cool the embarrassed heat of feeling so utterly found out.

“Your way of doing things just isn’t working,” Amy said earnestly. “You’re incredibly capable. Incredibly powerful. But even you can’t go against the whole world on your own.”

That earned a sharp bark of frustrated laughter. “If the world was smarter, I wouldn’t have to.”

Amy let that one pass. “When Mercy’s established, we can look at her for Justice Guard. With your power and me and D.A.N.I.E.L. pulling for you - well, frankly, I think you’ll be a lock. And sure, I’m never going to rule a country for Justice Guard, and I’m never going to earn the kind of money you’ve demanded from some of your stunts.

“But when you take everything I’ve got and everything I’ve managed to bank and you compare it to what you’ve got, I’m prepared to bet I’m coming off better.”

Vivian’s mouth shaped into a silent growl. Couldn’t be denied, much as she hated that.

“On the other hand,” she returned, “I’ve never had to be polite to Sinful Sadie.”

“Seems to me you did.”

“Only when she’d messed with my mind.”

“Well, your mind is messed with. You have an excuse.”

Vivian’s thighs clenched. Just hearing that was enough to set off the control kink she’d inherited from the other woman. Fuck.

“You given any thought to what happens if this wears off?”

“It took some very strange circumstances to save me from it. I think you’re good for a while. But worst comes to the worst? I have to deal with Macabre, and she’s happy to kill me. That doesn’t change as much as you want to claim.” Amy shrugged. “You’re not going to admit it to the world if you can avoid it. Too prideful. And honestly, I think you’ll end up getting into the new role. You’ll be working to keep Macabre away.”

“Mmm.” Vivian didn’t want to think about that too much. The idea of working against her own original mindset was turning her on. She took a gulp of coffee mostly so her expression would be hidden.

“I’m more worried about someone figuring it out,” Amy added.

“Yeah, I’ve been wondering about that too. The costume is going to be a challenge. I’m going to have to look as little like…” Her mouth almost choked on the word Macabre; Master had put in some heavy work to ensure that she was as disconnected from Macabre as possible. Some of his own fear and distaste seemed to have crept into her own new mindset.

Which, given he hadn’t even intended to give her a new fetish, seemed all too plausible. She was clearly very sensitive to the words Master chose to put in her head.

“I had some thoughts on that,” Amy said. “You’re right, though - the reds and oranges are probably out. Those colours on your silhouette is a nightmare for too many people.”

“You don’t think the big problem is going to be my face?”

Amy smiled. “Get settled in, Vivian. I’ll be back tonight.”

*

Mercy debuting with Ms Miracle around was, they’d decided, too much. And she could hardly find enough to do just in Eureka Springs - but then, the city was a pretty nice choice for commuter town, with several larger cities in reach. Easy reach, when your flight speed capped out in the hypersonic range.

Amy had scared up a costume from somewhere. Vivian had told her she hated it, but Amy had just winked. There’d been some debate between the two of them about an emblem. The costume, a full-body suit in a fabric that shimmered and glinted in the light like polished steel, was almost completely featureless - there was even a metallic blue faceplate to clip inside the tight-fitting hood, which hid everything while having its own hints of a face; shallows where her eyes would be, a gentle rise for the tip of her nose, and a sculpted pair of lips - which made an emblem a must or people would assume Mercy was a robot.

And a robot with Vivian’s figure… well, people would speculate about what it had been designed for, and who. Vivian didn’t want that kind of gossip attached to her, although she privately wondered if she could get a slightly-modified version that would give Master access while keeping her his featureless, helpless fuckdrone.

Eventually, Vivian had put her foot down, and the torso of her costume now boasted a stylised blue M, the peaks and bases pointed, the rest curved almost into a circle. She’d added blue stripes along the thighs and on up to her shoulders, too, with another stripe running from shoulder down to middle finger on each hand.

Lastly, on advice from Amy, she’d picked out a tall pair of blue leather boots, rising past her knees to the base of her thighs. Not for the outfit, nor to break up the single colour, but just so she’d have something to wear for Master as he fucked her.

Her old costume had been designed purely to show her power. She knew she’d looked damn good in it, but that had been a side effect of being confident in who she was (plus a little bit of the way that just having superpowers made bodies tend toward certain shapes). Being a sex slave had made the decision harder with this one, as the suit had now to fulfil two different needs; on the other hand, Vivian had confided to Amy that she did love what the new one did for her ass. Amy assured her that Master would feel the same way once she was established well enough to be seen in Memphis.

It had been over a week since the night Vivian’s life changed forever. Modifying the suit had taken a little time, and Vivian had, after it was ready, taken a couple of nights to fly halfway across the continent, practicing her high-speed turns, making sure she knew any limitations from the costume, and getting used to what the tinted blue of her faceplate did to her visibility.

The last thing she wanted was to embarrass Master by slamming into a wall and letting the criminals get away on her first outing.

Now, though, she hovered around forty yards above the tallest building in Springdale, arms folded under her chest, watching the airport and waiting. D.A.N.I.E.L.’s complicity in the scheme meant she’d been given a few tipoffs, and this had been chosen as the best way to debut.

When the speeding car smashed through the chain-link gates, Vivian was already watching. Airport security responded as best they could, but they were slow to catch on and the car was already up to speed, heading across toward a hangar whose doors were opening.

There seemed no danger that security would get close enough to catch a bullet. Mercy judged it would be safer to wait.

The car slewed to a halt and three men ran out of it; one of the men who’d been opening the hangar ran to meet them. A lot of black holdalls were being transferred from the car to a small passenger plane.

Mercy watched security, hoping her guess had been right. She saw nobody with weapons drawn yet, and the last of the men was clambering into the plane.

Mercy waited for the plane to reach the runway, then dropped out of the sky. Out of respect for the fact the plane was being stolen, she didn’t just land by going through the tail or a wing; instead, she touched down on the runway about twenty feet ahead of the accelerating plane.

There were two men in the cockpit; she saw one of them sneer, the other, looking horrified, waved a hand to gesture her out of the way. There wasn’t time for more; the plane was already on her.

She caught hold of the fuselage with one hand and the landing gear with another, then launched herself back into the air, pulling the plane into a fast vertical climb. Mercy heard a thud from inside and winced, realising she’d expected the robbers all to have strapped themselves in. At least there’d only been one impact.

Moments later, she heard the other sound she’d been listening for as the engine, unable to cope with a vertical shift, coughed and stalled.

That was her cue; she tilted the plane again, back to level, and flew it around in a wide loop, ending with a gentle landing back in the hangar.

She’d expected the robbers to have weapons ready and to come out shooting, but instead, as the side door opened, the first one stumbled out before the stairs even touched the ground, tumbling forward and landing shoulder-first on the concrete. The next two emerged sheepishly, hands in the air - one of the the pilot who’d sneered - and then came three more men, two of them supporting the other, evidently the man who hadn’t strapped into his chair. He was holding his head and had a near vacant expression, but all six were alive, and all six seemed ready to surrender before security arrived at the hangar.

First-timers, she diagnosed. Let her run into them again the next time they tried something and they might well fire off a couple of shots in the hope it would do some good, but the first time criminals ran into a superhuman, they often folded out of sheer confusion.

Mercy collected their weapons, just in case they changed their minds, and climbed into the plane to grab the first aid kit. As security watched them over and they all waited for the police to arrive (and wasn’t it strange to voluntarily wait for the police?), she checked first on the man who’d fallen out of the door - fractured collar bone; she did her best to strap the arm in place - then cleaned and checked on the concussed criminal.

When the police finally arrived, they asked the question everyone else had been too cautious to raise.

“Who… who are you?”

She’d been waiting to be asked, but it hadn’t occurred to her until the question arrived just how well her actions fit her new name. Was that Master’s doing? Toward the end of her programming he’d asked her permission to hide some ideas from her “so they’ll activate more effectively” and in her post-blowjob euphoria, she granted permission without even thinking about it.

“I’m Mercy,” she said, and marvelled at her voice. None of the frustration and aggression of her old role remained, but it didn’t sound like Vivian either. This was the voice of someone who assumed the world was her friend and was ready to do anything for that friend.

…It wasn’t actually too far from Ms Miracle’s voice. She decided not to think about the ramifications of that, at least until she met Miracle again.

The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to talk with Amy. She needed a friend to help her navigate this confusing new world.

“Are you… local?”

“I’m new, but I plan to be,” she said, and smiled. “You’ll see me around, I’m sure. If you need any help, Sergeant, just call my name.”

*

She had to leave the costume at home for this, and would until seeing Mercy around the southern states was less remarkable. Standing in front of the wardrobe, she deliberated for a while on how to present herself.

Part of the problem was that she didn’t have many clothes that were just designed to ooze fuckability. All her sexy side had been expressed in her own power and authority, and now she didn’t feel like she had any for Master. She was going to have to improvise…

Before too long she touched down on Master’s balcony. She’d heard enough from Amy to know her adver - her… friend… was somewhere in this block too, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to go looking yet.

She had on the navy blue skirt and blazer of one of her old business suits, a pair of dark nylons, and her bright blue Mercy boots, which clashed a little with the rest of the presentation, but which she knew Master would approve of. Beneath the blazer she’d shrugged into an old red T-shirt, shrunken by time and repeated washing until it was just a little too tight to be comfortable and on the way out.

Master’s muscle and power kink made him so hard, she’d learned. And she wanted Master as hard as she could possibly get him.

The French windows on the balcony were unlocked, the living room only dimly lit. She let herself in. Master was expecting her, after all. Closing the windows behind her, she called “Master?”

“Through here,” came the answer. She followed the voice into a well-appointed bedroom - these apartments were more luxurious than her house - where she found Master sitting in an armchair beside the bed. Standing before him, wearing only a thong and her boots, with feet planted shoulder width apart and arms clasped hand-to-elbow behind her back, was Ms Miracle.

The other heroine almost immediately turned her head to see Vivian and smiled. A stray thought set Vivian’s spine tingling with excitement: She can only do that because he’s lost his hold. I wouldn’t be able to.

“Hi,” she said. “Sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt anything…”

“You’re not,” Amy said. She grinned. “Although I might stay like this long enough that you can join me, if he wants.”

“Our mutual friend thought this would be a good way to make you look forward to your debriefs,” Master said. And then, blessedly, he ordered “You aren’t embarrassed.”

That made everything easier, and the tension went out of her. “Thank you, Master. May I remove my jacket?”

He inclined his head in a nod. For a moment she saw the green glint of power kindling in his eyes, and tensed excitedly - but he didn’t bother to hit her with more. He knew exactly how deeply gone she already was.

She unbuttoned the jacket and shrugged it off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. In the heat of the moment, feeling as needy as she did, it was no longer important, though she might later remember how many hundreds of dollars the suit had cost and feel some guilt over its treatment.

“Hm,” he said, looking her over. “Not at all what I expected.”

Vivian was very grateful he’d ordered her not to be embarrassed. “I… don’t have much that’s appropriate. Ah… I thought you might enjoy-”

Before she could continue he cut across her. “Remove your top,” he ordered.

Vivian’s breath caught; she could feel her arousal spiking. He’d done nothing that should cause that…

Surfing the building wave, she realised she was grateful she had Amy’s fetish, as it made what she had to do so much easier. She’d never admit it to her, of course.

Very conscious now of her body, Vivian lifted her hands. She fought down her first instinct to grasp the base of the top and lift, as she usually would. It would comply with Master’s orders, but she had something she knew he’d like more. She took her grip instead around the shirt’s collar with each hand. She tensed, and then slowly but surely brought her arms apart and up into a flex position. Her eyes were on Master, but she felt the shirt part, heard it rip. Saw the effect it had on him - especially with no bra beneath.

She shifted position, cocking her left leg out to one side, and brought her arms back down so that her hands met in the middle. Holding her arms tense, showing off her biceps, and neatly framing her bare breasts, she switched her grip so that each hand was holding the shirt fragment which had been connected to the other shoulder.

“May I, Master?” she asked, and all three of them in the room could hear the need and the desire in her voice.

“You may.” She saw him swallow. “You will,” he said, but she was already moving to her next muscle pose. With another loud ripping sound, both fragments of her shirt came lose. She held her pose but opened her fingers, letting the rags fall free.

Amy whistled. “I should let you two have your private time,” she said.

“Soon,” Master said. “Don’t leave yet.”

Vivian watched Amy smile and bow her head forward respectfully. Play-acting the slavery Vivian truly enjoyed. She wasn’t sure whether she should be jealous of Amy’s freedom or whether Amy should be jealous of her slavery. Perhaps both were equal in submission.

“How much of the rest of that outfit were you planning to discard, Mercy?” Master asked. Since first dubbing her Mercy, he’d used no other name for her, and it was definitely helping with her acceptance.

“All but the skirt and boots,” she answered.

“Miracle, help her off with her skirt.”

“I obey.” The other heroine moved close to Vivian and the two of them made eye contact. Something like this had happened in thousands of dorks’ minds, Vivian knew, in fanfic. But they weren’t into women, and they had been adversaries. There was no attraction in their eye contact, but there was a shared arousal. And as Vivian’s fetish had mirrored itself from Amy’s, she knew both were amused at how deeply they felt that heat.

She held her pose as Amy unhooked the fastening. She even held her pose as Amy guided the skirt away, revealing to both Amy and her Master that there was no underwear line in the dark tights - but there was a slowly spreading stain of wetness.

“Hold your pose, Mercy,” ordered Master. “Miracle, stand behind her. Hands to her hips.”

“Yes, Master,” Mercy replied, and “I obey,” as Amy had to say. Vivian felt the powerful fingers of her friend hook her tights, tense, then rip. The sound thrilled through her together with Master’s delighted expression.

“Go for now, then, Amy,” Master instructed. “Mercy and I have some fun and reinforcement to do. You can debrief her later - over the dinner you’ll be cooking.”

Amy chuckled, and Vivian knew there must be a world of context to that last comment she just didn’t understand. But that was OK. Mercy was starting to get press attention. Master was ready to fuck his slave. And the two most powerful women on the planet were becoming friends.

The world could only get better.

*

Ms Miracle and Mercy will return.