"Much more comfortable this way, isn’t it?" Alice said, giving her captive’s leash a tug. The naked heroine whimpered and hurried to keep up. Her elastic body’s limits had never been found, no matter how much the villains toyed with her, but having her clitoris pulled out four feet and wrapped around Alice’s super-strong hand felt like it was going to pop right off. Even though Hellkitten had stretched it across a football stadium once, it didn’t make these lesser torments any easier for her to bear. Beyond a foot or so, Rubber Mouse couldn’t even tell if it was pain or pleasure she was feeling from her clit anymore; it was just sensation, intense beyond bearing either way.
Now when Hellkitten used her hellfire to melt-pierce her, that had, appropriately enough, hurt like Hell. Since the controls for Rubber Mouse’s implants had recently been melted into uselessness (again) leaving her unable to mute her sense of pain, even healing the holes later had hurt. Heating the area with a candle until it ‘melted’ shut once more had almost been worse than the original torture. At least Alice wasn’t doing that to her.
This wasn’t how she’d planned tonight’s events. She was supposed to sneak into Alice’s lair, retrieve a certain vital bit of evidence that had vanished from the court’s evidence lockers, and get back out. She was not supposed to have a super-strong hand grip her around the neck and another super-strong hand use her face for a speed bag. Her rubbery nature meant that even those truck-smashing punches didn’t so much as bloody her nose, but that durability did nothing to keep her from becoming very thoroughly dazed. By the time she came to her senses, the bottom half of her outfit had been torn free and pulled halfway down her thighs, and her tender little nub had been pulled out to its current length, coiled around Alice Bakk’s fist.
"Choice time, pet," Alice told her as she pulled out a smart phone and waggled it at her. "Either you tell me your current override code for your implants and agree to come along quietly tonight, no escape attempts, or else you’re not coming home from the party with me.” Because of course Alice would already have a means of controlling her implants. ”You are going to attend, either way. If you don’t come home with me, that means someone else picks you up, and you spend the next three months as someone’s squeaky toy.”
"Who’s at the party?" Rubber Mouse half-whispered, half-whimpered.
Alice smirked. “Ever heard of a guy named String Theory? Specialist sort. He goes after musical instruments. He’s got a Stradivarius he stole. Or rather she has a Stradivarius; seems it was cursed. Why that sort of curse would be on an instrument is anyone’s guess. Point is she thinks she can string a cello with your bits. And make you scream the trumpet piece at the same time. Live on pay-per-view as soon as someone catches you. Which…oh look…someone has. Now. Either you give me the code and follow my lead, or I strip you and carry you. You cooperate, you get to walk home with me and maybe when I’m done I’ll call your friend to untie your clit from my porch railing - again. You make me strip you, and I put you on stage for the auction. Maybe String Theory will buy you and you’ll get to go on tour with her for several months before someone rescues you. Got it?”
Rubber Mouse whimpered pitifully at her predicament. Oh no. Not again. Bad enough that it would be the fourth time this month. Worse still, she knew exactly who Alice meant, and it was a particularly cruel joke. She was another young superheroine, technically her mentor, and at least nominally her friend. In truth the secretly sadistic heroine was more a friend in the sense of “With friends like these…” and about as much of a mentor as a slave master is to a slave. She had already threatened that if this happened again, she would push her over the railing and leave her hanging by her clit until morning, and maybe then she’d learn to not get herself caught. Rubber Mouse couldn’t help that the villains loved playing with her nigh-invulnerable body! Or that her masochistic tendencies were entirely too well known…
She bit down on her lip a moment then muttered, “Sierra Hotel Three Mark Zero Lust,” which earned her a raised eyebrow. ”Hey, I didn’t come up with it! My friend did,” she said with a blush that only worsened as Alice tore more of her outfit away to reveal her small breasts. Sure, she’d been broadcast buck-naked and crying before. Or buck-naked and cumming. Even buck-naked, crying, and cumming really hard. That didn’t mean she’d gotten used to it though, and she certainly didn’t like it…in any way she’d admit to.
Alice reached down and artfully tore a bit more of her costume, leaving a piece sticking out of her boot. “Looks better if people can tell I ripped it off of you,” she commented casually. “Just relax and enjoy it. Nothing wrong with showing off the goods every now and then. Maybe you’ll finally come to your senses start fighting in the outfit I gave you. It’s not like your costume survives most of your fights anyhow, right?”
"Ri- I mean, what? No! I’m not fighting in pasties!" she squealed indignantly. Even if it weren’t utterly undignified for one of the Daughters of Justice to willingly be seen like that, without her costume, she was no hero, just ordinary and unimpressive Arle. Ears and gaze drooping at the thought, she was caught off guard and gasped as Alice firmly ran a thumb over the tip of her superextended clitoris.
"Oh, relax!" said the sometime-supervillain with a smirk. "Sheesh. You’d think you’d appreciate knowing you’re not gonna get worked over too hard. Not like you’re the Iron Dragon - that one gets caught, you know she’s in for a wild few months, with everyone under the sun wanting to get some revenge in. There’s upsides to not getting any respect. You’re everyone’s favorite toy. You get broken, you’re gonna have both super communities out to get whoever did it. Think positive!”
Arle wailed out again as Alice stroked the tip of her clit once more. And then… then the walk. Her own ears tied into her mouth for a gag, arms tied around her torso for breast bondage, walking all but naked on her clit-leash, whimpering and squirming with every step, and beside her Alice seemingly wearing even less thanks to her sheer suit was marching right along, enjoying the stares and camera flashes.
To think, this was the good part of the night. She whimpered again at the idea of being put up on stage, nipples and clit all stretched out into some kind of framework, her own screams being used as a musical instrument…
Arle’s eyes widened and her face went scarlet as, between that fantasy, the tug on her clit, and the ongoing humiliation, she orgasmed mid-stride. Alice turned, laughed…and kept walking while Arle whimpered into her ears-gag and tried to not fall down. Being pulled along by her clit while bouncing on the ground would be even more humiliating. And with her luck make her climax again before she cleared the block.
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Art commissioned from Mune Sol by Catherine Puce
Alice Bakk © \r\n\t\t\t\t\t
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Rubber Mouse a.k.a. Arle Dorei © \r\n\t\t\t\t\t
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