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Super College Ch. 01

By: Falcinator



Author's note: I really have no idea where my fascination with super-hero and super-heroine fiction comes from, but there was an itch that needed to be scratched after the Sable series.

#

01: First humiliation

Kimberly grinned and put her hands up, open, fingers curled loosely, and shifted her weight lightly on her feet, poised and ready, her boxing shorts revealing her luscious 18-year-old legs as they plunged down into her boxing shoes, and her sports bra barely containing her firm breasts.

She flickered through some basic boxing foot-work, almost too fast to see, then returned to normal, but highly trained, human speed. 

Her friend Megan opposite her, a slightly taller version of teenage womanhood, olive skin to Kimberely's tanned Nordic flesh, grinned back at her and jogged up and down on the balls of her feet. For a second there were three of her, all of the images ghostly, side by side, until they resolved into one solid human again, the one not in the middle but on the left.

"Ready for a pasting, kitty-cat?"

"Ready to hand one out, light-show."

"DISCIPLINE!" 

They had both been expecting the bark of their trainer, Tornado, whose jet-black skin floated within his pure-white karate uniform like a ball of muscular energy. Neither of them did more than grin more, not taking their eyes off each other.

"Remember! This is free sparring, to submission! This is not patty-cake, patty-cake! I want to see bruising! And no powers! Any use of powers will be punished! If you can not learn discipline here, I will not pass you and if I do not pass you, you will not get licensed, and you all know what happens to those who are not licensed!"

Both girls swallowed at that, and so did most of the rest of the 14 girls and boys, all aged 18, lined up in two lines in the middle of the dojo. The only exceptions were those whose faces wore the serious, etched concentration of the committed martial artist.

"FIGHT!"

Parahumans can be divided into those who need to concentrate to express their power, and those who need to concentrate to suppress it. Kimberley was the latter, Megan was the former.

So Megan struck first, as Kimberley clamped down on her body's reflexes. But Kimberley had been expecting that, and slid backwards so Megan's leading right-hand straight punch, lashing out in an attempt to finish the fight with a pre-emptive strike, was deflected at the last moment.

Megan followed Kimberley's retreat, trying to press her advantage, as the shorter girl crouched slightly more, bringing her arms in and using her hands in the slipping Chinese style, deflecting rather than blocking, going for a grapple so she could trap Megan's longer arms and retaliate with a strike or joint-lock.

Her friend, knowing her style well, broke sideways, trying to jab her under the ribs with a savagely uplifted knee that Kimberley blocked with dropped elbow after twisting the same way to bleed the strike of power.

Megan's triumphant elbow strike, swinging high and sideways over the blocking arm, found itself blocked at her folded-back wrist as Kimberley slipped inwards, catching the longer-limbed girl off-balance with striking leg only just returning to the floor, carrying her backwards to the floor.

They landed hard, harder bodies absorbing the impact with only an out-rushing of breath, an extra grunt from Megan on the bottom as Kimberley pressed a forearm across her throat.

Megan's long legs wrapped around Kimberley's bare waist, trying to squeeze her into submission as they lay flattened with youthfully firm breasts squashed together, but with one arm pinned and the other flailing desperately for a strike, she was choked out quickly, legs weakening a split-second before Kimberley had to submit herself.

Megan tapped out frantically as greyness began to descend.

Kimberley collapsed to the side, rolling to her feet almost in an instant, Megan taking a little longer as she got oxygen back into her blood.

"Sloppy!" Their trainer barked, behind Kimberley's ear, "both of you! Megan, you were overconfident, sloppy, didn't have a back-up plan, and weren't prepared to fight dirty. Kimberley, you made an opportunity and only won by luck! Fail! Get to it again!"

When they faced off again, there was less grinning.

#

"Do you think he'll ever let up on us?" Megan was trying to dry her ears with a towel, her hair damp and tangled after her shower and the rest of the towel held coyly in front of her naked breasts as she sat on the bench next to her dry clothes.

Kimberley shook her head. "Not likely. He wouldn't be a good instructor if he did. He wants us to improve, and as quickly as possible. It's not like villains or henchmen will let up on us when we get our licenses."

Megan pulled the towel away from her ear, looking at her friend. "I keep forgetting how seriously you take this. You were training before you came to the College, weren't you?"

"Seven years of Wing Chun," Kimberley said as she bent over, one towel tied loosely over her breasts and just covering her muscular bottom, using another one to finish drying her calves, where a livid bruise was rapidly fading. All parahumans have rapid healing abilities, so even Megan's swollen eye was now fully functioning again.

"But I could never get the hang of kicking. Guess I've learnt something, then," Kimberley continued as she straightened up and tied her spare towel around her head to dry her hair before digging her panties out of her bag.

Megan shook her head. All she had known about fighting before the Para Police came knocking on her door and terrified her parents had been how to claw someone's eyes out or kick them in the shins. Now she could kick someone in the head without losing her balance, or use five different types of arm-lock automatically, and several more if she had time to think.

Now, she knew what it felt like to hurt all over and count her bruises and be happy about it. She shook her head again as she quickly dropped her towel and reached for her bra, her panties already on.

Then she stopped abruptly when she couldn't find them. 

"Ummm ... Kimmy?"

Kimberley was staring into her bag. She had her panties on, and her bag was empty.

"Fucking pranks!" Kimberley exploded. "When I find the fucking telekinetic who ..."

"ATTENTION!"

Five girls, in various stages of undress, none with more than panties to put on, jumped. Two squealed, three tried to cover themselves with towels and one just froze like a frightened rabbit. One slowly straightened up, her whipcord body bearing small and high conical breasts not with pride but with alert indifference.

Tornado, very real and very male, stalked through the middle of the change-room.

"You all learnt, yesterday, that you will be studying how to withstand humiliation, degradation, and basic behavioural mental conditioning."

Kimberley and Megan, who had dodged that class, swallowed nervously. Of the remaining three girls, two swallowed in shame and came to attention with cheeks flushed scarlet, only the tall Stacey, wiry and alert and always the most serious, already at proper attention.

"You learned that you will have to learn to deal with the most basic kind of humiliation - public forced nudity. You were warned this could happen at any time, including in the middle of a fight.

"You will now be tested. 

"Your clothes have been removed. You keep your panties. 

"For now.

"You will now walk across the campus, in file, in proper marching discipline, while the entire senior student body watches.

"NOW FORM UP, SINGLE FILE!"

One girl stepped to the front of the line, poker-faced. Two stepped up shamed but resigned. Two thought of panicking, breaking and trying to escape, only the sure knowledge of what would happen to them if they tried to avoid a direct order keeping them in line, upright but unconsciously trying to scrunch their shoulders together, faces beet-red and the flush spreading down to their ample and buoyant breasts.

Their trainer prowled down the line, savage gaze raking them from head to toe, finding only one girl to be satisfied with, and came to Kimberley, then Megan.

"BACK STRAIGHT! HEAD UP! SHOULDERS BACK! CHEST OUT! DO I HAVE TO FAIL YOU RIGHT NOW STUDENTS?!"

The two stood to bolt-upright attention instantly, terrified of not doing so.

"I will be following behind you," he hissed between them, low and dangerous. "And if you so much as look sideways or think about not marching properly, I will keep you back a year and make you do punching-bag duty, do you understand?"

"Yes Sifu!" the two yelped, fast enough to be simultaneous.

"March!"

Stacey stepped forward, right-foot first, everyone else following her with varying degrees of accuracy as she marched for the door, not breaking stride as their trainer held the door open for them.

As they exited the change rooms, the nine male students, all completely naked, lead by poker-faced Alex staring straight ahead, filed out of their change-rooms, followed by the female trainer, muscles built unnaturally on a lean body.

Stacey and Alex wheeled towards the doors almost simultaneously, marching shoulder-to-shoulder out into the grounds, where the college's senior student body was leaning against walls, sitting on fences and in the branches of trees, and grinning their heads off.

The first wolf-whistle started as they appeared. Two of the boys found themselves unable to control nervous erections, which ended up bobbing embarrassingly close to the arses of the boys in front of them, which got them half-mocking laughter from all the girls who could see. 

The air, not cold but colder than the exercising students, made the girl's nipples harden to instant shouts of "Headlights on!"

Only the two students in front, still stony-faced, avoided blushing, and Kimberley felt her face burning through her tan. The girl in front of her started sobbing before they had taken 50 steps. 

Two of the boys started grinning, a swagger creeping into their marching, before hooted laughter and derisive shouts from older girls made them crumple visibly, their growing erections withering to nothing.

Megan's hands curled into fists as anger override humiliation.

"Hey mister! How much for the two tarts at the back?"

Hoots of laughter drowned out the sound of Megan's breath leaving her body as though she had been punched in the solar plexus, and Kimberley nearly tripped and fell into the girl in front of her.

"Nah, I only like tall girls, how much for the slag in front?"

Stacey didn't even react. 

"They should do this walk more often, some of them still have tan lines!"

"That boy in the back is kind of cute, think he can take a strap-on?"

For the first time, one of the boys blushed redder than any of the girls.

"Aw, the girl in the middle is crying, how do you think her tears taste?"

"I'm wondering if any of them are just as wet in their cunts as well!"

"Look! It's almost an erection! I wonder if he'd manage that with a urethra probe in?"

"I'll take the two tall boys in the middle, I bet they'd look really hot fucking each other!"

"I reckon they'd look even hotter fucking that girl on the end!"

"Yeah, spit-roast!"

"I was thinkin' DP, but hey, that's hot too."

All of the marchers were struggling to restrain their powers, even the two in front having to focus, eight months in the College ensuring that the fear of punishment was even stronger than the shame they were feeling.

"In my year, we got stopped just up there, lined up and caned."

Megan missed a step before laughter told her the boy was probably joking.

It was the longest half hour of any of their lives before they all entered the Maintenance Services building. Megan had a few seconds through the haze of humiliation to wonder why they were there before Stacey and Alex crumpled and hit the ground in a dead heap, followed almost instantly by everyone else. She tried to put her arm out to break her fall, but not even that obeyed her.

#

Parahumans wake up quickly.

Megan was fully alert a heartbeat after her eyelids flickered open.

So she knew within that heartbeat that she was fully naked and restrained in an X shape, with ankles spread and shackled in soft but unyielding leather, wrists stretched above her head the same way and every limb stretched tight.

Half her brain tried to get her free, the other half leapt to her studies on Villain Perversions. Both halves returned bad news at the same time.

She violently wrenched at her bonds to try and pull herself free, meeting with complete failure as her torso writhed between her stretched hips and shoulders with more give in her tendons than in her shackles. 

There was a bright light shining at her face, forcing her to squeeze her eyes shut. She twisted her head to the side to try and see past the light, but her eyes could not adjust to see anything in the shadows.

"Oh good, you're finally awake. I was afraid for a moment you were damaged goods."

Fear and outrage both flared inside her.

"Now perhaps we can finally begin."

"I'm a licensed student at the College!" She gasped, knowing it was a stupid thing to say the instant she had said it.

"Stupid little girl! Don't you remember you were on College grounds? And besides," hands instantly seized her head in a vise-like grip, twisting it upright, forcing her to look straight at the light and making her squeeze her eyes shut in a desperate attempt to not be blinded. "What makes you think I care?"

After a lifetime of looking after herself, her complete helplessness threatened to squeeze out more tears than the spotlight could.

"The thing is," the voice continued - her training told her it was deep, masculine, aggresive, implaccable, dominant - "that now all three cameras know how foolish and weak you are. You really should have thought that through more carefully."

Cameras! She really did have to choke back a sob then.

"Now, smile for the cameras while I prepare you for your big performance."

"What are doing to me?" she managed to gasp out.

"No, no, no! You're directing my attention to what I'm doing, as you so correctly pointed out, to you, instead of trying to distract me! Haven't you learned anything, child?

"What I'm doing is taking advantage of the fact that your hopelessly immature brain is living in a fully mature woman's body!"

Every woman's instinctive terror of rape welled up and threatened to overwhelm her.

"Tsk, tsk! You clearly hadn't considered what a Villain might want to do with a very naked and very restrained nubile young woman, and you're letting it distract you! You really haven't been paying attention in class, have you? You're powerless, deal with it! Find out what you can do, what options you have open to you! Deary deary me, that College is slipping in its teaching standards, I do think."

While the voice had been talking it had been moving around the room, approaching and receding. She could tell from its movement how big the room had to be, she could tell that the table - not a bed, a table - she was strapped to was in the middle with space around it, and she could tell from echoes roughly how big the space could be. The roof didn't seem to be any higher than the light, and the walls probably described a square.

She could tell all this, but only when she consciously forced herself to think about it. Years of training in combat, and another year at the College, meant she should have been thinking about that from the very start. She should have been able to process and use that information while losing a fight against multiple opponents. For fuck's sake, he hadn't even done anything to her yet, and she was losing it!

She struggled to pull herself together, trying to ignore her fears, put them to one side and process only what she could do something about.

That didn't stop her shriek of violated terror when he unexpectedly pressed a cold metal ring onto her right breast, surrounding her nipple and covering most of her aureola.

"Still trying to worry about things you can't change?" he mocked her.

She tried to get a grip on her mind, but the ring, sitting heavy on her firm young breast and apparently glued there, seemed to have her locked into futilely trying to flinch away from it. 

Focus! Ignore it! Deep breaths. Focus. 

She suddenly realised she was taking advice from the Villain holding her captive, and nearly vomited. 

She heard him move around behind her, and for the first time felt a flicker of pride and hope when she predicted, seconds early, a ring being pressed firmly down around her left nipple. A chain, that seemed to be attached to both, fell between breasts onto her sternum.

She couldn't stop it, so she should ignore it. What could she change? Her reactions, and ... her voice. She could talk. She should try to be more intelligent about it, but she had already convinced him she was helpless, foolish, and terrified. She couldn't afford to recover too quickly.

"What ... what are you going to do?" she sniffed.

"Aha! Finally! What I am doing, little slut, is preparing to manipulate your central nervous system so I can take possession of it and completely control your body. It's what I do."

Kimberley made a violent mental effort to wrest control from the stark terror that washed over her. Think, girl! He said body, not mind, and he said "slut". That's never good, it means he intends to use you for sexual purposes. Stop thinking it's gross! If you can't cope, if you can't find a way out, you'll have enough time to be squeamish when you're under his control!

She gulped down the lump in her throat while she heard him move away to the side, heard the clinking of metal, and heard him move back.

"That's possible?" she asked, not having to work at keeping a painful tremor in her voice. Get them talking! Find out their interests, and feed it! A Villain's greatest weakness is their ego and their obsession!

He chuckled, an amused rather than malicious sound.

"Trying to distract me? You're finally thinking, but unfortunately for you I can work while talking.

"Yes, my little puppet, it is possible. I've done it to normal women and I've done it to parahumans and now I will be doing it to you."

Shit! Shit! Shit! Think, girl! Change tack! 

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because I enjoy it, try and think ahead, girl."

No amount of self-discipline or preparation could prevent her squealing and jerking back when she felt him pull her vaginal lips apart and, without ceremony, quickly and surely push a thin and cold metal shaft deep inside her.

It was slick with lube so there was no friction, and her instinctive clench to try and prevent him pushing it any deeper was helpless against his strength. 

"Get used to it now, you'll be feeling a lot more of that," he said as he held her down with one hand pressing down irresistibly on her hips, finger and thumb drilling into the pressure points at the junction of each leg, while he wriggled the shaft until it was settled right inside her. "I'm so glad to feel you're not a virgin, maybe I'll have less to teach you."

She almost responded to that, almost broke her control and abused him for suggesting that anyone as good looking as she was would still be a virgin!

"The question is, how much experience do you have?"

She didn't manage to predict him pushing a sharply tapered, wide plug into her anus. 

She shrieked, clenched and tried to jerk backwards and twist sideways out of the way, with just as much success. 

She desperately clamped her jaws shut, but she couldn't stop him deciphering her whimpers as "No, please, no, please, no!"

"Virgin in the ass, are you? Well, I'm glad to see I'll be able to teach you something about how to enjoy that luscious young flesh of yours."


Super College Ch. 01



She twisted her head to one side, instinctively and futilely trying to stop him seeing her start crying as he settled the plug inside her. 

"Oh, I'm glad you've started crying. Crying means emotions, and emotions make my job easier. Now, to make sure you don't lose these little toys while you're still enjoying them."

A cold, curved plate was pressed over her from her ass to above her lips, and held in place with straps like a G-string. 

She desperately choked back her tears, wrenching her head back upright, gulping down the tears and snot running down the back of her throat.

Her analytical brain told her the plate had a hole in it, right over her clitoris, just before he pressed cold metal into her flesh on either side of the nub.

"What do you expect to do to me with those?" she asked bitterly, giving up on controlling the situation, struggling too hard to control herself to even attempt to out-think someone so completely in control.

"Giving up, my young tart? My, what do they teach you at that College these days? What I expect to do to you, fuck-bucket, is this."

She felt one hand cup the plate over her groin and the other lift the chain between her breasts.

She gasped involuntarily as her nipples, her anus, her clitoris and every inch of her vagina inside and out began tingling. It started off feeling like a vague shiver, then grew to something between being covered in ants and being tickled continuously by downy feathers.

It made her nipples and her clitoris instantly harden, swelling to full size shockingly fast.

"Now, I don't really need the metal," he said in a conversational tone of voice as she gasped for breath and shuddered under the tactile assault, "but it's conductive, and so instead of just ripping control away from you, it allows me to have much more fun by doing this."

She arched in her bonds as the tickling became multiple tongues, rubbing her nipples and clitoris, stroking up and down her lips and swirling around her arsehole and over the entire inner surface of her vagina.

"That's it, tart, moan for the cameras."

She squeezed her eyes and her lips even tighter shut, struggling mentally as her body responded sexually, breasts swelling and vagina tightening and adding its own lubrication.

"You really are responsive, aren't you? You'll be a fun toy to have around. I may keep you for a few years. At least the College has made you fit and flexible."

Years? No! She tried to snatch back control of her body, but she couldn't escape his touch over the metal conductors glued to her skin, she couldn't battle what he was doing to her and she just didn't have the experience to avoid the way her body was reacting.

The sensations assaulting her grew until she shivered involuntarily, a gasp forced from her, tapering off into a despairing moan of "Nooooo ..."

"Ah, the lips say 'No,' but the engorged pussy and erect nipples say 'Oh god, yes please, fuck me harder!' Who am I to ignore a request like that from such a succulent, supine supplicant?"

Her nipples and clitoris felt as though there was a mouth attached to each, sucking hard. Her body twisted, trying to lift her breasts and her hips up towards the invisible lips and tongues. A wail of mingled dismay and ecstasy was torn from her and the pressure inside her groin became not just irresistible but agonising.

Then she felt the dildo inside her began impossibly pulsing, pumping in and out and twisting around, nodules suddenly appearing and rubbing over and around her walls, and her hips violently jerked to meet it, her lust-crazed body trying desperately to fuck a cock that was not even physically fucking her.

"The thing I love so much about teenagers," he said cheerfully through the fog of her arousal and the depths of her humiliation, "is how easy you are. Your ripe young bodies are just so virile, sensitive and reactive, I hardly have to do anything and you're begging me to violate you and take control of every one of your nerve endings. 

"Just cum when you want to submit to me, slut."

The sensations on her nipples and clitoris changed to multiple tongues swirling and rubbing and pressing, while the stationary dildo inside her felt as though it was driving in and out of her harder and faster and, sobbing helplessly, she started cumming. 

"Did I hear a 'Yes, please, make me your sex-puppet!'? I think I did!"

She felt a massive psychic jolt, a wrench through her whole body, in every muscle, every nerve ending, a violent heave that seemed to catapult her out of her body while trapping her inside it.

It felt like and unlike the most explosive orgasm of her life, but while her body continued to orgasm, her mind lost the ability to control her eyelids.

"That was almost too easy."

The stimulation suddenly stopped, her flesh cruelly abandoned and left sweaty, heaving and aching for more. 

Her body slumped, rapid and continuous orgasms falling into nothing, but she had no control over it. She tried to turn her head, even to blink, but nothing responded.

From within the prison of her own body she heard him move away. The light above her suddenly dimmed, lights elsewhere came up, and slowly a bare concrete room came into view while spots danced on the edges of her vision.

"Blink, swallow and breath as you need to," he said. 

Suddenly her eyes blinked rapidly, clearing away tears that had built up while her head was turned to the side, and she heaved in a breath she hadn't realised she needed.

When her vision cleared, she saw, off-centre but unable to focus on it, a camera with a blinking red light on it. He had not been lying.

She felt the bonds at her wrists and ankles release, and her limbs contracted slightly, aching from the continuous stretch. But she could not move them to relieve the agony.

"Sit up."

Her body robotically but competently brought its legs together, folded its arms down and sat upright on the table.

"Here's how it works. Your body is now slave to me. It will do what I tell it. Anything much beyond your heart beating needs permission from me, which is why I had to tell you to blink and breathe.

"You're now my puppet."

The relish he used in that last sentence made her cringe deep inside her mind.

"Sit on the edge."

She threw everything she had into taking back control of her muscles, but none of it made any difference at all as she swivelled sideways, slid forwards and folded her knees over the edge of the table.

She was expecting to feel disembodied, but she felt every sensation from her skin and the view from her eyes and the sounds from her ears were the same as they always were. It made the situation, if possible, even more horrible - she wasn't watching her body at one remove, she was intimately involved in everything it was forced to do.

"Look at me."

He was dressed in simple black pants and a T-shirt that moulded over a solid, chiselled chest and meaty arms, with a leather executioner's hood that left his eyes in shadow and had no opening for his mouth, sound escaping out the loose bottom edge. There was no insignia, and no usual Villain style or attempt at flamboyance, which bothered the part of her brain that was still functioning.

"Spread your legs and masturbate to orgasm, it'll make good television later."

Her body obediently spread her legs at 90 degrees, making her shuffle forwards on the table, and dipped both hands between them.

She was so sensitive her body shuddered as soon as her fingers slid over her still hard clit.

To her horror, her hands, instead of doing basic, mechanical masturbation, began using her techniques. Was his control over part of her brain, not her body? Or was her body simply remembering habits?

"Ooh, you're a nasty one!" he said with gleeful appreciation in his voice as she slid two fingers into her still sopping cunt while using her upper arms and her shoulders to squeeze her breasts together and massaging her clit with the sides of two fingers holding her lips apart. "You've practised that a lot, I see. I'm not surprised, from the way your body responded so very well. You're a whore, aren't you? I bet you make yourself cum three times a day if you can't get someone else to do it for you."

Kimberley, who had enjoyed two short-term boyfriends but only three times had one-night stands, wailed in the silence of her head. 

She was soon shuddering, her face flushed and sweating once more, as her over-sensitive cunt pushed her rapidly back to the edge and, unbidden, she pushed a third finger inside herself.

"You know, I think you could look even sluttier. How about going into a full split?"

Her legs, shuddering from the almost painful stimulation she was giving herself, straightened and bent backwards as she seamlessly moved into a complete 180-degree splits, rolling her hips forward to hold it, which crushed her cunt onto the hand fingering her, sparking a quake that shook her torso violently. She felt the white fog descending again, and her fingers began rubbing her clit faster.

"Oh, I knew there was something I forgot! Vocalise at will, slut."

A dam was released. "Oh, god, yes, yes, OH, fuck yes, oh ..."

She twisted her hyper-flexible shoulders until she could press her elbows into the sides of her breasts, squeezing them harder together, three fingers jammed as far inside her as she could get them and leaning her full weight on them, the fingers rubbing her clit squeezing it frantically but not, she didn't even notice herself, at her power speed.

"I almost forgot: Don't fall over when you cum."

"What? No!" She could barely walk after cumming, staying balanced in that position was beyond her.

The realisation she had been in control of her voice, and sounding like the sex-crazed slut he wanted her to be, hit her at the same time as her orgasm.

"AAAAAAAH!" Her head jerked backwards as her torso shook violently, her hips twisting hard enough to jolt her spine and her legs, stretched to 180 degrees but not as far as she could go, jerking nearly hard enough to lift her off the table.

Her body, still under his control, did not fall over.

"You ..." she gasped, when the quakes subsided. "You ... you ..." 

"And, stop talking." 

Her mouth closed. Not clamping shut or choking her, just no longer talking.

He knelt down in front of her. "Tsk, you can't move your face and I can still tell you're glaring at me. Look at me, performing like a $2 whore, sitting on your fingers and still grabbing your clit.

"Pull your fingers out and lick all of them clean."

Her body did not remember her aversion to her own fluids, and she did not retch at the taste and the feel as she thoroughly cleaned her own fingers as though she was lubricating a cock.

He leaned forwards, getting close enough she could see his eyes inside the hood for the first time. "Be very, very thankful, little fuck-puppet, I am not allowed to fuck you this time. You're as delicious a naive little sperm sponge it's ever been my considerable pleasure to introduce to her inner helpless slut."

He stood up and stepped backwards, while she struggled with the phrase "not allowed."

He held up his hand, making a "turn-around" motion with his index finger. "Now stand up, turn around and walk out the door before I decide to break my promise and make you suck me 'til you swallow."

What the fuck? Her mind struggled to work out what had just happened as her body, weakly, obeyed him.

When she stepped out the door, control returned to her. 

Her legs went limp while she was stepping forwards, pitching her towards the ground. She realised she had control again a second before she sprawled on her face, and managed a graceless save that jarred both her wrists.

She finally vomited, not noticing that she was in a circular room with 20 doors off it, or that her classmates had come through 13 of them, stumbling, collapsing or, in one case, landing full-length, cracking his nose on the floor, while in the middle of the room Tornado stood and watched them with contempt on his face.

"Stand in a circle!"

14 naked parahumans, all showing the signs of sexual exertion, all showing varying degrees of shame and humiliation, some with heads lowered, shuffled into a circle, all trying to keep as far away from their comrades as they could.

"Pick your feet up! Posture! Close ranks!"

Heads snapped up, frightened students remembered how to stand and walk properly, and, staring resolutely between their comrades on the opposite side of the circle, stepped inwards without anybody not being precisely halfway between the student on either side of them.

"Shoulder to shoulder!" Tornado barked. 

They did so, as faces flushed scarlet and postures became rigid.

"There are many routes to mind control!" Tornado lectured as he prowled around the middle of the ring of students. "At least 14! You have all just spent time with a different practitioner, using different techniques. Some of them, as you would have discovered, not affecting your free will at all. Some of them coercing, some of them traditional mind-control techniques.

"Some of the practitioners are members of staff here on campus. Some are outside consultants. Two of them," he paused, "are Villains here under strict monitoring and security.

"We will be reviewing all your tapes. You will be graded. You will continue!" he shouted, "continue to be abducted, at unexpected times, until you pass! Preventing abduction is part of the assessment! Turning the tables on your captor is a pass!"

Kimberly went weak at the knees with dread. She couldn't help herself looking around, seeing the same helpless dread in the eyes of her fellow students. Only Stacey and Alex looked grimly determined.

"Do not think you can avoid this, do not think you can escape campus, do not think you can do anything except fight by our rules, unless you want to be denied accreditation and put on the Villain list. None of you would survive a week, let me assure you.

"I suggest you ATTEND CLASSES and read ALL SET TEXTS!"

Kimberley and Megan both jumped, cringing with shame before, panicked, straightening their postures again a split second before his gaze raked over them both.

Two of the girls and one of the boys started sobbing, quietly. 

"Dismissed! Showers! If you have any complaints, feel free to realise how stupid they are."



Super College Ch. 02



Author's note:

Hey presto, the sequel. Yes, sequel. Please read the first, if you haven't already, or you'll have no idea of what's going on or what the setup is or the rules, or why anything is happening. 

Some may find this darker and less erotic. This is intentional and integral to the story.

############

There was a seriousness to the girls' study that had not been there before.

Where before they had only really thrown themselves into the subjects they enjoyed (combat and tactics for Kimberley, law and human/parahuman relations for Megan) they now dug grimly into anti-villain studies, counter-villainism and mind-control resistance.

The entire class were avoiding each other, although Kimberley and Megan had cautiously grown together again over the four days until classes resumed again.

On the first lecture after the test, there had only been 14 chairs, arranged in a tight semi-circle, and they all tried to avoid meeting each other's eyes. 

Their lecturer was a wiry-thin psychology professor whose lack of parahuman abilities did not make students respect or fear her any less.

When she spoke, they followed her every word for fear of missing one, and they could hear inverted commas dropping neatly into place whenever she introduced new terms.

"There are three basic types of what we refer to as 'mind-control'. Name one - Kimberley!"

Kimberley swallowed, her cheeks already burning. Answering would reveal to everyone what had happened to her, but not answering was not an option. Trying to come up with a novel answer was not, she suspected, going to be a good idea at all.

"Controlling the body," she said, trying but failing not to mumble. 

"Speak up!"

"Controlling the body!"

Professor Wittger turned to write on the board. "Known as puppetry - not control or dominance of the mind at all, puppetry involves controlling the body through hijacking of the nervous system or relevant areas of the brain.

"Puppetry can involve actual puppetry, where individual limbs must be moved individually, referred to as 'catatonic puppetry' after the psychiatric disorder of catatonic schizophrenia, in which some patients can exhibit lack of conscious movement combined with 'waxy flexibility', which enables the patient to be placed into poses which they will maintain, and 'controlling puppetry,' the type most people assume, which involves giving orders that are carried out to the letter but with full ability by the puppet. 

"Controlling puppetry obviously makes it easier for the puppeteer to use the puppet as a slave, but can involve the old 'agreement with the devil' difficulty of having to be very precise in commands, because the puppet may only respond to what is said, not what is implied - known as robotic puppetry.

"On the other hand, the puppet may interpret commands based upon their unconscious desires and prejudices and there is a forensic usage for this, to determine true habits and attitudes. This is referred to as guided controlling puppetry and has an obvious overlap with more commonly understood conceptions of mind control."

Kimberley sincerely wished the floor would open up and swallow her.

"In either type of puppetry, the puppet may be fully unconscious, in an altered state of consciousness, which is often used in the puppet-making process, or fully conscious and in a locked-in state. If you wish to know more about that, research 'locked-in syndrome.'

"What is the next type of mind control, Jules?"

Jules, a slight and introspective boy turning reluctantly wiry at the College and struggling to master his parahuman powers of teleportation, swallowed convulsively. "Brainwashing," he said in a low but carrying voice.

"Which means?"

"Changing how you think," he said at the floor, but loudly enough to be heard.

"Correct. This technique, which can and has been accomplished using simple and well-understood behavioural conditioning techniques, is also not mind-control per se, but involves changing the subject's attitudes and beliefs until they will choose to follow and obey the conditioner. Prisoners of war who are released expressing full support for their captor's ideology, and the much more common instance of fiercely and unquestioningly loyal cult members, are both instances of what the public came to understand, in the late fifties, as 'brainwashing'. 

"There are two categories, but they are so closely related some taxonomists question the distinction. For the purposes of clarity, we will use it. Type one is 'adoration', where brainwashing focuses on the subject desiring to make a person or group happy - through adoration, love, doting, or fear of them not being happy. 

"Type two is 'disciple brainwashing,' where the subject quite simply believes that whatever a person or group says, is absolutely true, right, correct and desirable. 

"Contrary to popular misconception, neither gender of parahuman is more likely to employ one or other of these types, and neither gender is more susceptible in any way.

"The Stockholm Syndrome, wherein a hostage comes to fixate on their captor, is an accidental form of brainwashing resulting from the unintended application of some brainwashing techniques combined with certain psychological traits in the captive.

"As a psychological technique, brain-washing is easily reversible and, in someone who has not made a conscious commitment to the process, expires on its own. Parahumans can make it almost permanent, and against the subject's will, but it is always reversible.

"What is the third technique of mind-control, Stacey?"

"Subversion of consciousness." Stacey answered clearly and levelly, but even her self-discipline could not prevent the rigidity of her posture being evident to anyone who dared look at her.

"Known as 'psychic hijacking', the third technique is the only true instance of mind-control. It involves subverting, destroying or suppressing conscious will and replacing it with an artificial obedience to everything the controller orders. There is a continuum from simple robots who need precise instruction, as in robotic puppetry, referred to as 'roboticisation' or 'robotic dominance,' up to drones who have some or all of their original memories or skills, can reason through simple or quite complex tasks, and may even be able to pass for original. This much more sophisticated and dangerous form is referred to as 'drone dominance' and the best mind-controllers can create sleepers who pass for unchanged for years or decades at a time but are instantly and supremely loyal when required. Obviously, only drones have an identifiable personality.

"Subjects may have varying levels of consciousness but, unlike robot puppetry, if they possess consciousness they are fully and wholly committed to their master and therefore there is no risk of them fighting back.

"Obviously, there are many shades of grey and overlaps, and taxonomical researchers are still arguing over where some famous cases fit, and whether some old cults are evidence of early cases of parahumanism, not just manipulative charisma."

The Professor drew a line under the three numbered labels on the board.

"These three represent increasing levels of difficulty and danger. Puppetry is easy to do, but exhausting to maintain and requires constant attention, and puppets require constant supervision.

"Brain-washing is difficult and either energy- or labour-intensive, the subjects are still acting as autonomous beings, albeit loyal autonomous beings, and even from the most powerful parahuman, there is a risk of spontaneous or gradual recovery. 

"True mind-control, psychic hijacking, is extremely difficult or requires immense power, is dangerous to the psyche under assault and can be quite difficult to undo. The success rate for healing the victims of some Villains, without the Villains' cooperation, is as low as 5%."

Several students swallowed convulsively, looking briefly, starkly, terrified.

"It is official policy, official policy! That if you are facing a confirmed, registered psychic hijacker, you are allowed to disable first. They are placed in maximum security when captured, and kept under constant observation while studying at the College. They are taken to the College immediately upon identification, not allowed to mature in age or powers first. Many lives have been ruined by hijackers before they are aware of their powers."

The Professor turned around. 

"You have the readings, you have all the additional learning resources. Read and study them all. I am quite serious about that. In one week, at this lecture, you will hand me a full assessment of the mind-control episode you experienced last week. Analyse the full taxonomy, describe the experience in detail, analyse your reactions and outline a brief list of ways you could have responded more efficaciously following capture and disablement. 

"Eight to 10,000 words, no deadlines, no exceptions, failure to hand it in will result in expulsion from the College. I suggest you begin now."

She walked briskly out of the room, leaving 14 students too stunned to move.

#

In the week since, a week without lectures, the year-group had been uncharacteristically quiet and studious, an annual event the College staff looked forward to with wry amusement.

Stacey was no longer the only one regularly seen lying in the quad with a book. Alex was no longer the only one regularly seen in the library, head bent over a book and note-taking hand poised.

The gym and other sporting facilities became the most popular spots to unwind, or at least distract, but there was a careful, unplanned but studiously maintained roster so there was never an overlap between the group. Everyone else in the College, save the first-years, had seen every inch of them, but none of the 14 hid, although heads were down and walks rapid. Gradually the air of support and empathy from the older students wore through the shame and returned relations to at least a state of working cordiality.

Towards the end of the week, Megan began joining Kimberley for her spare-time workouts in the gym, entirely without comment or words exchanged, exchanging her preferred swimming for work on the bags or sparring dummies.

After the first two sessions, still without comment, they moved onto the sparring mats.

Their combat was fierce, brutal, no holding back, no powers but no restraints. They fought silently, only grunts of exertion or of pain heard over the thuds of flesh on flesh and the occasional deeper thump as one or both hit the mat.

Within minutes they each had an eye swelling shut, and there was blood from noses, cuts and abrasions before they finished.

As they staggered off, both limping, Megan gritting her teeth and cradling her right arm, blood oozing into Kimberly's sports bra from a deep scratch on the exposed upper slope of her left boob, the steriliser robots rushing out to clean the mats behind them. 

They showered, eyes healing, bleeding stopped and Megan's elbow moving freely, got dressed without meeting each other's eyes and then spontaneously hugged, fiercely, crushing each other for a long, long time.

They left the gym laughing, finally, a giddy, high feeling of release making them giggle and lean on each other like first-time drunks.

The evening they handed in their essays, the entire year-group went to the campus bar and, quietly and diligently, inhaled five shots each of their favourite spirit.

The next day, normal classes resumed. 

In the afternoon, Megan found a copy of the Parahuman Legal Primer and retreated into the furthest recesses of the library to prepare for an in-class exam in two weeks' time.

Despite the reconciliation with Kimberley, despite the cathartic process of writing the essay, she was not feeling healed or restored inside herself.

She opened the text, found her place by memory, opened her notebook to place because she had a marker between the pages, clicked her pen and checked it.

She was trying to drown herself in subjects she knew well, driving herself to get top marks on this upcoming exam as she had dominated the subject to date. It was very important to her self-esteem that she do well on this exam.

She took a deep breath and then closed her eyes with a sudden flash of psychic pain she felt referring to the pit of her stomach.

She shook her head violently, opened her eyes to look at the page again, focusing on the formal typography.

Last year's course had been about the legal history of parahumans. Now, they had to learn the current legal situation in-depth, with knowledge of how each law made its tortuous way to reality

"There are detailed and explicit distinctions in liability law," she read, "between the scenarios where a parahuman Hero is seeking to defeat a Villain, or; seeking to save civilians from the actions of a Villain directly, or; seeking to save civilians from the actions of a Villain indirectly, or; seeking to save civilians in a situation not affected or effected by a Villain."

Save from a Villain ...

Fuck! She swore at herself. Pull yourself together!

She angrily unscrewed the top off her water bottle, took a swig, conscientiously replaced the top, scribbled down the four distinct categories in her notebook.

The memories of that day continued to haunt her. She had not asked Kimberley about her experience, and neither had volunteered. 

"Brainwashing," she had written in that essay, "subtype: adoration." At first, she had barely been able to get herself to continue writing, but once the shivering had passed she had poured it all out onto the page.

She shuddered, sitting in the dry and sterile library, remembering how she had felt so completely and utterly in love with the most beautiful boy in the whole world, who had just been there when she woke up, lying on a bed, somehow dressed again in a loose blouse and short skirt, making her, briefly, confident, secure, dropping her guard - a boy whose existence she had not even questioned, who she had not questioned, a pretty, delicate, shy boy who had been interested in her - her! - although he could have won the hearts of any girl at the College, he was so wonderful, a boy who had, shyly, blushingly, asked if he could - perhaps - just this once - see her, her, her breasts?

She had been so ecstatically, overwhelmingly happy to hear his request, so overjoyed he asked her, so eager to undo her blouse, suddenly shy when the last button parted, suddenly fearful he wouldn't like her enough but emboldened by his rabbit-like timidity.

She had ...

Argh! She hammered her fingertips into her temples, shook her head again, took another swig of water, strove to banish those memories from her mind, closed her eyes and recited, in a whisper calculated to not carry beyond the confines of her cubicle, the four categories of action. 

Good. She remembered.

She read through the historical precedents for the categories, their evolution and how the distinctions had been fought through after years of court cases.

The structures and the distinctions were neatly falling into place in her mind.

She had a sense where it was going, could see ...

Could see herself pulling her blouse open happily, proudly, almost defiantly, exposing her braless breasts, rolling her shoulders back and pushing her chest forwards to accentuate them, standing in front of his eager, still shy, gaze, so happy to see his eyes light up, her nipples puckering in response.

She had taken a step forwards, softly said "Touch them," her skin tingling deliciously in anticipation, suddenly craving his hand on her flesh.

He had shaken his head, said with barely restrained eagerness "Let me see ..."

She had pre-empted him, dropped her blouse behind her, reached back to unzip her skirt, feeling a sense of smugness at the way it pulled her breasts tighter, higher and apart, then pushed it off her hips, the movement giving her confidence, making her bolder, letting her stand for a moment striking a pose in her white panties before hooking her thumbs in the waistband and slowly sliding them down, uncovering her pussy a millimetre at a time ...

No! She almost shouted it, every muscle in her body clenching in denial. 

She felt flushed, hot. Almost as hot as she had felt when he had, blushing, asked her to masturbate, said he had not wanted to touch her until he knew what she liked, what ...

She needed air. 

She packed up, moving quickly to try and still the trembling in her whole body, working methodically and, at the end, picking up the textbook and cradling it protectively as she headed straight for the stairs, hurrying down to ground level staring fixedly in front of her, stopping only to check out the textbook at a self-service booth, avoiding any interaction with librarians, barely noticing when it beeped at her a reminder this was a priority text, 2 hours maximum.

She moved with purpose when she left the library, eyes flicking from side to side, still cradling the textbook in front of her, at one point ducking behind a tree and taking several deep breaths as she saw a year-mate, then headed to the edge of the College, around the back of the service buildings, not deviating or slowing down until she opened a door marked "Maintenance only," stepped through, and a pleasant-seeming man in overalls and leather gloves lowered the book he was reading, said "Ah, good, my bait has caught a fish," stood up, held his book in front of her, said "Read this," and all remaining personality drained out of her face.

The man gently retrieved the law text, closed it fondly, and moved behind her to lock the door. 

She did not move even to blink, staring fixedly at the book he had handed her, in the time it took him, leisurely, to strip off his overalls and sit back down in his seat, in jeans and a black T-shirt. He did not take his gloves off.

"Slave," he said softly. 

For two minutes she did respond, while he waited patiently, then she lowered the book and said, tonelessly, "Yes, master."

"Close the book, and put it on the table next to you."

She did so.

"Put your bag on the floor."

She did so.

"Take two steps forwards."

She did that, as well, moving with a stiffness born of exact and absolute obedience.

He leant back in his chair, folded his hands in his lap, one leg crossed over the other, his ankle resting just above his knee, and contemplated her.

She stood upright, poised but slightly lifeless, in dark slacks, a loose blouse and, quite clearly even under loose fabric, a bra. She was dressed like someone who was used to being sexy, to flaunting her sexuality proudly, but was struggling with the consequences of being unable to protect herself while doing so.

He felt saddened by this, but also unsurprised.

"It's a good bit of bait, this," he said softly, lifting up the law text.

"It was a normal book, once, an unremarkable product of the publishing run.

"It can be read by thousands of students without effect. It only has any effect at all upon someone who is tormented by inner demons, and isn't entirely concentrating, but is susceptible to thoughts of weakness, subjugation - many variations upon that theme."

He put the book down on a shelf next to his chair, tenderly, almost lovingly.

"It appears to have served its purpose rather well. It simply hijacks its victim's sense of purpose, of intent, and redirects them while diverting any self-questioning into self-reflection and self-criticism. It works, I have found, astoundingly well."

He folded his hands in his lap, steepling his fingers.

"You see," he continued, softly, "the easiest prey are always the weak-willed. The distracted, the fearful, the insecure, and the meek. And here, in the College, finding them is always so much more fun." 

He smiled, a nostalgic look flickering across his face.




Super College Ch. 02



"So I lay traps, here in the hallowed - brand new, actually, but nevermind - grounds of this College for the strong and the dedicated and the highly trained, and I wait until someone blunders into one of them.

"Now that book I handed you, that one is special. That one never saw a bulk printing press.

"That one completes the job. If you're so weak you fall prey to the trap, that one will strip all conscious will from you and leave you with only the psyche necessary to function, to obey me.

"Let's see if you're good for anything. Take your clothes off."

Megan began mechanically unbuttoning her blouse, from top to button, moving competently but without passion or attempt at flirtation.

The watching man only saw a young woman slowly exposing herself as her hands peeled back the loose but entirely opaque fabric of her blouse to reveal a sensible, modest and flattening full-cup bra in the same tones as the blouse.

The woman's skin was a uniform light olive tone over arms and shoulders and belly, which the man found aesthetically satisfying. The bra, however, was disappointingly un-sexy.

Megan stepped out of her shoes, flats that were strapped well enough to need levering off at the back, then undid her pants and pushed them off her hips. They were loose enough to fall to the ground once past her pelvis, exposing boy-leg panties the same colour as her bra.

The man snarled. "When will you tarts learn to be sexy? It's all you're good for, so flaunt it! It's why you're on this earth, after all. Take those granny-rags off!"

Megan stopped moving, her hands, which had been reaching for her bra clasp, frozen in mid-air.

The man swore in frustration. "Your underwear! Take your underwear off! You don't even know what you're wearing! You may as well still have your blouse on, with that covering your tits!"

When Megan undid the clasp on her bra, her chest expanded as the pressure was released, mollifying the man slightly. When she pulled the straps off her shoulders and then the cups off her breasts, he sighed happily, gazing in appreciation at her ripe, plump, swollen 18-year-old breasts and fleshy nipples. He was disappointed at the tan lines, as soft as they were on her naturally olive skin, but appreciated the thought of the skimpy bikini top they outlined.

He was even happier when she peeled her panties down her legs and revealed a shaven pussy, but was annoyed at the stubble, more than a day's growth.

"Your grooming," he snarled, "is not up to standard! I should make you shave here and now, but I don't have time."

Megan straightened up, hands by her side, still expressionless, still moving only with robotic efficiency.

The man leant forwards in his chair, put his hands on the arms and used them to push himself upright. 

"It's such a shame I haven't managed to tune this well enough to keep you alive in here," he said, stepping forwards and lightly rapping Megan on the forehead with his knuckles. "But living dolls are fun, too."

He stared into her eyes, from centimetres away. She didn't focus on him.

"Be aroused," he whispered.

Her pupils immediately dilated, swelling even further than they already were in the dim light.

His gaze idly travelled down her body, seeing her aureolae pucker and her nipples grow out of them, and marking a slight swelling in her breasts.

He had to step back to look further down, to where there was a slight but definite swelling and change to her smooth, young pussy lips.

"Given enough time with me," he said softly into her face, "you would respond that quickly even without my control. All good sluts should."

He reached down, traced the outsides of her lips with his gloved fingers, then used thumb and little finger to spread her lips and pushed the other three inside her.

She was so wet there was almost no friction as he slid inside her, and despite her youthful tightness and his thick fingers he pushed hard and without stopping until he was buried as far as he could go, stretching her remorselessly.

"Now the best part about this," he said, still soft, "is that although your body can be controlled by your mind, it will also continue to respond normally.

"So if I continue to fuck you," he began pushing his fingers in and out of her, no hint of pain, discomfort, arousal or lust on her slack face, "your flesh, which is all I'm really interested in, will continue to get happy.

"If I cared about tarts like you, I'd think it was a pity you weren't still conscious in there, because you would really be enjoying this."

The subtle signs of arousal - the clenching in her pussy, the swelling of her breasts and nipples, the flush slowly growing on her face, upper chest and breasts - were slowly growing. Her hands started to twitch, and her hips began to push back against his fingers.

He laughed, rolling his thumb sideways to press against her swollen clit, which made her body, beneath her impassive face, shudder.

"It's a shame I'm not allowed to use my cock yet, it's even thicker than my fingers are!"

With his free hand he seized one nipple, squeezed it cruelly, twisted and yanked it outwards. Her face showed no sign of pain, but her body twitched harder and there was an extra spasm around his fingers. 

He laughed again, gave the same treatment to the other nipple.

"I could train you to cum on command, or not cum no matter what. That really would destroy what little was left of your weak, pathetic mind!

"But let's see how quickly you cum with no com..."

Her body shuddered, face flushed but still impassive, hips jerking four times quickly and her cunt shuddering as often around his fingers, which felt a spurt of increased wetness.

"Is that it?" he asked, incredulously. "Already? Well, you really are a slut, aren't you, if you're that easy!"

He pulled his fingers out of her, ordered her to lick them clean, then, with a final sneer and a slightly disappointed, angry look at her breasts, picked up his books and walked out the door she had come in by.

When the door closed, reality returned.

It was like waking up with a start, realising you had been day-dreaming. The last thing she remembered was taking notes.

The first thing that returned was the throbbing pain from her nipples, the soreness and post-orgasm sensitivity and glow between her legs, and the post-orgasmic weakness in her limbs.

Her knees buckled, her brain not realising it had to try and hold her up. She landed on the floor with a violent sense of shock more severe than being thrown into ice water, and she screamed with all-consuming rage as realisation came, her power making the air about her flicker with nightmarish images of burning faces twisted in hate.

She almost launched herself at the figure sitting in the chair before realising it was Professor Wittger, who was observing her with mild, dispassionate interest.

Later on, she would write "Robotic puppetry, with unconsciousness and complete retrograde amnesia."

They had made her sit through the whole video, and pay attention, so she would know what had happened to her. She had watched her abuse with a feeling of isolated detachment from proceedings, but with a smouldering rage and an absolute vow that she would fight back and would never again be an easy target.



Super College Ch. 03



Author's note: I thought it was time to move things along a bit.

Enjoy.

PS: In case that didn't cue you in: Please read the first two of these first. Otherwise the sex will still be hot (confident, much?) but it won't make the slightest bit of sense. 

#

Megan stopped on her way back to her dorm room, took a deep breath, clenched her fists and headed resolutely for Kimberly's door.

She had endured a long and analytical debriefing with Professor Wittger, during which she had not been allowed to dress and she had been forced to watch the video, starting with when she had walked through the door of the maintenance hut with a slightly robotic expression already on her face.

When she had been allowed to dress and leave, she had gone directly to the library, written her report, emailed it in, and then headed back to the dorms. 

She had to stop trying to cope by herself. Had to start asking for help.

Her hand shook when she knocked on Kimberly's door, but she managed it.

"Who is it?"

Megan felt her guts twist. Kimberly never asked, and never sounded like that unless something was wrong.

"It's Megan," she began, and didn't get any further before Kimberly yanked the door open, moving super-fast, stared at her for a heart-beat and then jerked her inside.

They sat side-by-side on Kimberly's bed.

"It was a woman this time," Kimberly started, almost tonelessly. "Thought I'd be safe in the girl's toilets, huh! Got me with gas, sprayed something in my face. Didn't recognise her, turned to look at her better, psssss, I was out before I could punch her. Before *I* could punch her!

"Woke up strapped to a table - again. Naked - again. She injected me with something, told me it would make me hers but feel free to fight it. It took about 30 seconds, I think. I just believed everything she said. She told me I was her slave, she was my Mistress, I adored her - lots of that stuff. Then she untied me, made me pose for her, then made me get on hands and knees on the table and she fucked me with a dildo. 

"Then she injected me with something else and walked off. Must have been the antidote. 

"I had to go through a full debriefing with Dr Summers, the tactical lecturer, before she let me dress. I had to watch the full video, too."

Megan waited a heart-beat, but it was obvious Kimberly had finished, so she told her story. How she had been caught by a book in the library, couldn't remember anything after that until she woke up, then had to watch herself finger-fucked to orgasm.

Kimberly had also already finished and submitted her analysis.

"They're escalating," Megan said.

"The first one, they didn't touch us. Now they did. What next, fucking us?"

"I'm wondering if the sessions will get longer," Kimberly said, tonelessly.

"Kim, we can't let them get to us. We have to fight back."

"I know, Me. I've been thinking about it. It's all I've been thinking about since I got back here. Are we in this together?"

A week before, Megan would have hugged her at that point, but now that seemed like a childish response. "Always, Kim."

"We treat this like combat. We treat everything we do, here, like combat. I don't think we can get a shared room, but we bunk in the same one, if we have to. We watch each other's backs, and we take nothing for granted. We don't even separate for a minute without knowing there are people around we can trust and I'm thinking we can't trust anyone, not now, not with real mind-control an option."

Kimberly was nodding, her face as sober as it had ever been. "Do you think everyone has been targeted at the same time? Are we the only two to get taken twice now?"

Megan shook her head. "Don't know, but I doubt it. We have to assume they're going to keep up the pressure until we pass. We know they're capable of it."

Kimberly took a deep breath and nodded. The coming weeks stretched out in front of her, longer than any time had ever been in her entire life.

#

A week later, they entered Kimberly's room together, moving in the now effortless, unconscious scan, with just enough space between them to allow rapid movement but not wasting any time to get a second pair of eyes inside. 

Nothing was out of place, nothing was odd. 

Megan dropped her bag on the bed and twisted to sit on it.

Kimberly swung hers off her shoulder and reached for her closet door handle. "Hey Me, if you want a beer, there's a six-pack at the back of the frGNNNNG!"

Megan was on her feet in an instant, horrified, as Kimberly jerked upright, went rigid, convulsed and dropped to the floor like a stone. Megan leapt towards her, crying "Kim!" before, after moving barely half a step, sudden realisation hit her, she twisted sideways, ducking, not halting her forward momentum but drastically changing it.

She felt rather than saw or heard the kick aimed at her kidneys as it whistled safely past.

She twisted, forearms protecting her from groin to neck, suddenly multiplied, one of her leaping on to the bed, one the desk, one jumping sideways and forwards, one crouching defensively. Each one moved perfectly realistically, each one had a different facial expression.

The woman in the figure-hugging black catsuit merely grinned as, ignoring the two outside figures, followed up her first kick with a second one aimed at the leading knee of the figure striking at right of her centreline.

Her kick went sailing straight through the apparently solid girl without resistance.

The attacker froze for one split second, her judgement proven false, attacks coming from both sides, no way of knowing which was the genuine one, and the figure that had only crouched defensively struck with its leading leg, the side of one hard shoe slamming into the knee of the kicking leg as it returned to the ground, scraping viciously down the shin and stomping onto the foot. 

The woman howled, instinctively trying to retreat but with one foot now jammed into the floor, ducking her head and bringing her arms up but misjudging completely once more as Megan, without letting go of the three illusions that buffeted her opponent's vision, swung herself forward and down and punched with the full force of her body at the woman's floating ribs.

The punch connected, doubling the woman up, a second before a long metal staff tapped Megan's spine from behind and she too jerked upright, stiffened, convulsed and collapsed into a limp heap.

#

Kimberly had been out first, but the adrenaline coursing through Megan's body meant they recovered at almost the same instant, going from unconscious to groggy to confused to alert to enraged in parahuman time.

They were both naked, strapped into chairs side by side and, across from them, a man and a woman in black gowns lounged on a bed.

"Oh look, they're awake!" the woman said, clapping her hands. 

"What excellent timing, I was getting bored with waiting," the man drawled.

Neither girl said anything, suppressing their natural retorts and flicking their eyes around the large, dimly lit room they were in, finding nothing to feel hopeful about.

The woman stood up and undid the tie on her robe while the man unlaced his without getting up. 

"So nice of you to be together," she purred. "Annoying that one of you fought back, but that just gives me another reason to enjoy what we're about to do to you, really."

She dropped the gown off her shoulders, leaving her completely naked, her body hard but curvacious, with full breasts and no hint of sag or lines despite the maturity and experience reflected in her eyes and face.

"Now, as far as you are concerned: Our names are Mistress and Master. Got that? Don't worry, you'll remember them without prompting in a very little while.

"So the question is," she continued as she slid a hand between her legs and began idly stroking the edges of her nether lips, "how do we go about this? I will have revenge on any little bitchslut who has the audacity to try and hurt me!"

To Megan's considerable disappointment, there was no hint of bruising on the woman's chest or shin.

The man stood up, also naked, every muscle on his body defined and the cock slowly growing between his legs thicker and more substantial than either girl had ever seen, which shook both of them for a second.

"Well then, I guess we turn her cute little friend first, and make her watch." He moved behind the woman, pressing his groin into her hard buttocks, one hand coming up to lift and squeeze a full breast, the other one sliding around to displace her hand between her legs, wriggling between her lips and sliding up and down between them.

She sighed happily, lifting both hands behind her head to slide through his hair and pull him forward as she twisted her neck around to kiss him, hungrily, for a second as he began pushing one fingertip in and out of her.

The two girls glanced at each other quickly, finding nothing in the other's faces to engender hope.

"Oh, what an excellent idea!" she purred as he began pinching and rolling her nipple between his fingers and working a second finger inside her. "Am I wet enough yet?"

He pushed his fingers hard inside her, making her gasp, eyelids fluttering closed and her fingers clutching at his head briefly.

"Oh, I don't think you are yet," he drawled, his hips pushing harder against her buttocks and his hand on her breast sliding to the other one, his arm pulling her tighter against his chest, and first kneading the breast aggressively then capturing her nipple between forefinger and thumb and pinching it savagely.

She groaned, a shudder running through her whole body. "That was just an excuse!" she gasped. "Don't try and fucking tell me I'm not gushing now!"

He grinned, fiercely, over her shoulder at the two shaken and increasingly desperate girls.

"I think you are," he breathed in her ear. His fingers began pushing hard and deep inside her, working around. "Have to collect enough."

She leaned back against him, letting him toy with her body as his fingers continued abusing, stretching and twisting and pinching her nipple.

He pulled his fingers from her with a wet sound the girls heard clearly with a growing sense of dread.

Mistress opened her eyes and straightened up reluctantly, stepped forwards and, at the last moment, stepped in front of Megan.

"What you are about to witness," she said right into the student's rigidly expressionless face, "is your own fault, you stupid cunt."

She grabbed Megan's chin and pulled her into a kiss, Megan fighting back for half a second before reminding herself not to fight, not to give any satisfaction until she could be sure of victory. Mistress' tongue forced its way between her lips but didn't try to get between her teeth, and ran around her gums.

When Mistress pulled back, Megan had to gasp for air.

Master, standing idly watching this, his erection well established and thrust hugely in front of him, was rubbing his slimy fingers together slowly. "You know, I think my fingers are drying out, here."

"Then," Mistress said, stepping towards him and dropping her wrists onto his shoulders, "you must get mor... AHH!" She ended in a blissful gasp as he shoved three fingers straight into her, pushing in until she groaned with pleasure and his knuckles stopped him going any further. He twisted his hand around while she gasped and pushed her hips back at him, then pulled his fingers out glistening richly wet in the dim light.

Mistress swung around, eyes bright, and seized Kimberly's head, bending her neck back and forcing her jaw wide open with unexpected and irresistible skill and strength. Master shoved his wet fingers into her mouth, rubbing them against the insides of her cheeks and pressing them against her tongue.

Kimberly fought not to vomit, her revulsion at having a woman's juices in her mouth overcoming her self-control.

Master pulled out and Mistress slammed Kimberly's jaw shut, holding it tight while whispering "That's it, swallow, let my juices soak into your blood. You'll be gagging for more of them in just a minute!"

Kimberly finally realised what Megan already had - Mistress was a mind controller through her bodily fluids, and they were both doomed. She took a deep breath through her nose, closing her eyes, willing her stomach to settle as Mistress held her head upright, mouth closed, in a vise-like grip.

Megan wrenched at her bonds, but they didn't give any more than they had when she had carefully and methodically investigated them while their captors had been talking.

Finally, convulsively, Kimberly swallowed, accepting it was that or drowning.

"Good slut!" Mistress let go, stood back while Kimberly panted and swallowed again, mouth full of saliva, realising that at this point vomiting would not help - not if they weren't worried about her trying.

She took a deep breath, trying to get some oxygen into her blood to combat the light-headedness she was feeling.

She took a deep breath again, conscious of the way it made her breasts lift, and tried desperately not to focus on the raging and giant erection just in front of her as Master stood and watched her with idle-seeming interest.

"I'm glad you're fighting it," Mistress purred as she strutted behind Master, one hand running over his chest until she swung around behind him and wrapped her arms around him possessively, "it's so much more entertaining when you fight it.

"You see you can't win. Nobody has." Mistress ran her hands lovingly, lasciviously, over Master's sculpted chest and ridged abdomen. "Master here was a colleague once, weren't you, pet? An equal, even. I worked with him until he got cocky and forgot to find out who I was and made his play for me and I let him fuck me. He even offered to go down on me, which was terribly generous of him since it was the quickest way for him to become mine."

Master's face did not change as he watched Kimberly's nipples pucker and her face flush as she began to gasp for breath, her breasts shaking and her skin beginning to tingle and burn.

"It's so easy sometimes," Mistress continued as her hands began to tweak and massage Master's nipples until they stood out on his chest much smaller than hers but no less hard. "And now he's my willing and loyal bitch-boy, aren't you? I let him behave like my equal still, but he's mine, don't doubt that." She nibbled his ear lobe, pulling on it gently as she pinched both his nipples, making his cock twitch.

Kimberly closed her eyes again, the room beginning to spin, as she recognised herself gazing lustfully at both her captors. Her body was restlessly aroused, the change shockingly fast. So this was it, then.

Megan was watching with hopeless dismay, shock or fear making her faintly light-headed. She saw Kimberly close her eyes, but something less open them, an adoring smile curling her friend's lips, the eyes full of lust and submission and adoration but empty of personality.

Megan groaned silently, willing herself to think harder, but all she could think of was how helpless they were, how inevitable this was, and how it might feel to be like ... Shit!

Saliva! That's why Mistress kissed her! It was already working in her blood!

If Megan gave any outward sign of awareness, or if Mistress noticed, the Villainess made no sign of it as she laughed in glee at the look on Kimberly's face.

She bent down to kiss Kimberly hotly, the student returning the kiss passionately, their wide-open lips mashing together as Master walked round behind the chair to quickly and easily undo the straps.

Megan breathed in deeply, simultaneously fighting down horror, nausea, anguish and fear.

She renewed her attack on the straps on her wrists, squirming her hands around to find any purchase or give, as Mistress stood up and stepped back, her hand on Kimberly's chin pulling the student after her without breaking their kiss.

Megan fought desperately to free herself while keeping a rigid posture and poker face as Mistress pulled Kimberly back towards the bed. Her body was still feeling the effects of Mistress' saliva, her nipples and pussy both tingling, but instead of fighting them she was simply ignoring them, and the distracting desires had become a mere background to her attempts to free herself.

Mistress sat down on the bed, breaking her kiss with Kimberly, and then pushed herself backwards until her head was lying on the other end.

"Now, little slut," Mistress purred, "You are going to go down on me until I cum, and then you are going to swallow, and then you will be mine forever."

With a dopey grin on her face, Kimberly crawled onto the bed, between the spread legs of her Mistress, and lowered her head to the Villain's shaved pussy.

Mistress sighed happily as Kimberly's tongue pushed between her nether lips. "Inexperienced, but eager and not untalented," she murmured, propped up on her elbows and with her head lolling back. "Oh, you'll learn well, my dear, yes you will."

Master, his erection a solid lance in front of his hips, stepped casually up behind Kimberly, where her arse lifted up at the edge of the bed, and pushed one hand between the student's thighs.

"She's wet, the little fuck-toy," he said mildly. 

Mistress opened her eyes. "Well, you should take advantage of that, then."

Master grabbed his cock with one hand, the other still between Kimberly's thighs, and pushed forward, needing to manoeuvre his massive girth inside her carefully.

Kimberly groaned, a sound heavy with lust and almost pained ecstasy even though it was muffled between Mistress' legs. 

The sound pulled an answering quiver between Megan's legs, Mistress' saliva still active in her body, but she was resigned to her body's reactions and continued working on the straps around her wrists, beginning to feel the slick warmth of blood as the leather cut into her flesh. Maybe she could pull her hands free if they were lubricated?

Master pushed himself balls-deep in Kimberly, the young girl shuddering. Mistress laughed, rolling onto one elbow so she could push Kimberly's face harder against her pussy, saying "Don't get distracted, keep licking!"

Master leaned forwards, captured Kimberly's wrists in his and pulled them behind her back, crossing them over and wrapping one hand around them so he could use the other on her hips to brace himself as began fucking her with full and hard strokes.

"Use that tongue properly," Mistress said, beginning to pant. "Come on, show me how fast you can gOH! Oh yes! OOOH! Oh, I'm keeping you! OH fuck yes! You're going to make me cum in record time! OH FUCK, faster! FASTER! OH FUCK YESSSSSS!

She lifted her hips off the bed, jamming them into Kimberly's face as she came, jerking violently five, six, seven times, her hand still thrusting the student's head against her.

"Swallow! Swallow everything and lick me clean!" 

Megan felt her head grow dizzy, the sounds and smells and sights of sex working on the faint submissiveness and arousal induced by Mistress' saliva and making her head spin, face flushed and panting with need.

Mistress' legs were flat on the bed so Megan could see Kimberly's mouth and throat work as she thoroughly cleaned up every last drop of psychoactive juices. Master was still fucking her, the hard slap at the finish of every stroke making Megan's nipples tingle. 

"Cum, little bitch," Mistress said, breathing heavily, a bright and dangerous light in her eyes. "Cum and seal yourself to me."

Kimberly's body jerked, instantly, a muffled squeal from her mouth as she jerked again and again, four times before her back sagged, exhausted.

Mistress unceremoniously pushed her off, rolling to sit upright, staring vindictively at Megan. Master pulled out of Kimberly, letting her collapse bonelessly to one side, her face blissful but vacant.

"Your turn, you fucking little bitch," Mistress spat. "Hurt me, would you? I'm going to make Master rape you after covering his cock in my cum. You'll be begging for it by the time he gushes inside you."




Super College Ch. 03



Megan had to close her eyes, the dominant part of her that was not yet subservient wanting to vomit. She heard Master step towards her and opened her eyes in time to see him in front of her, his cock still hard and now glistening with Kimberly's juices, as he reached out and seized her left breast. 

She screamed as a shock slammed into her, not enough to knock her out this time but, when it stopped, her entire body slumped, no muscle obeying her.

Master chuckled, released her aching breast and stepped around behind her while she desperately tried to make any skeletal muscle obey. She could breath, but that was it.

"She's been trying to escape, the straps are all bloody."

Mistress laughed, harshly. "Well we won't have to worry about that for long, and these sluts will heal quickly."

Megan felt herself grabbed by the arms, lifted, moved towards the bed and then unceremoniously hurled onto it, landing as limp as a rag doll before she was roughly turned onto her back, her limbs thrown out to her sides.

Mistress rolled on top of her, teeth bared in a feral grin, and lay on top of her with their hips bumping and breasts squashed together.

The Villainess lifted one hand to wipe Megan's hair out of her eyes with mock tenderness, relishing her helplessness.

"I want you to experience every moment until you're mine," she whispered. "I want you to know what my body feels like before you start enjoying it, and I want you to know just how helpless you really are, you little cum-slut bitch. You're about to become my whore, and I want you to know that."

Inside her head, Megan raged, struggling to get any reaction from her body, to find any pathway to fighting back, to try and work out any possible way of using her power to her advantage but, right now, visual tricks weren't going to be all that useful.

She could sense movement behind Mistress' head, felt the bed shift as Master got on it, and mentally gritted her teeth, unable even to close her eyes, against the rape to come. She felt her legs lifted and folded up, Mistress pulling her own legs up and wrapping them around Megan's, locking her open. But instead of feeling him, she saw Mistress' face contort in ecstasy as he pushed inside her.

Megan felt Mistress' hands claw into the sheets beside her head as the Villainess gasped with pleasure, jerking with each thrust from Master behind her, Megan's slack body twitching in response as they lay locked together, legs entwined and skin pressed together from hips to breasts.

Her body still refused to respond to her, leaving her helpless as Mistress gasped, sweated and jerked above her. She was helpless to even flinch away as a drop of sweat fell onto her nose, and she was helpless to respond when Mistress grabbed her head with both hands and gave her a bruising kiss, tongue forcing into her mouth.

Her body, already tingling with arousal and background, distracting need, felt a burst of lust as Mistress' saliva invaded her mouth and coated her tongue.

She could tell when Mistress got closer to her orgasm, as the body on top of her began moving more urgently, no longer taking the violent thrusts of Master but pushing back, wriggling on top of her, using Megan's limp body for stimulation, breasts rubbing together forcefully.

Megan was torn between her body's forced arousal and her mind's repulsion, half wanting to swallow the tongue invading her mouth and half wanting to vomit it out, but Mistress' mound was rubbing against hers and her head spun, her traitor flesh aching for more.

When Mistress came, she shouted in Megan's face, body jerking, hips pushing bruisingly down, and Megan's body wanted to jerk in sympathy, eager for its own release. She knew she would welcome it when Master began raping her, she knew no muscle in her body was prepared to obey her yet, and she knew she would cum screaming in ecstasy inside her head and be Mistress' absolute slave.

There was nothing she could do. 

Mistress kissed her again, sloppily, then used fingers bruisingly on her jaw to twist her head to the side so she could see Kimberly sprawled on the bed.

"This is what you're about to look like," the Villain hissed wetly in her ear.

"Get ready for it."

Master was so wet from Mistress he didn't need to try hard to get inside Megan, even with his girth and her youthful tightness. She felt him touch her entrance, then she felt him push inside, then her whole body screamed in joy unalloyed by the pain her flesh also felt.

He bottomed out inside her, a hard punch deep inside her that, even then, didn't make her feel the pain as pain.

Her vision blurred but her eyes stayed slackly open, staring at Kimberly staring flushed and slack-faced back at her, as her body burned and cried for more - harder and faster hammering from Master, more movement from Mistress lying slickly erotic on top of her and slowly starting to lick the side of her face.

A tiny part of her still thought rationally as it was pushed to the back of her mind by the rising tide of her lust and the rushing tsunami of complete obedience as Mistress' juices soaked into her and all thoughts of fighting back, of struggle, of resisting, of doing anything except adoring and obeying, were obliterated. 

A tiny part of her saw something of personality in Kimberly's blissful face, something in her eyes - horror? Regret? Shame? 

A tiny part of Megan was left to notice Kimberly moving weakly and with martial intent, twisting to her side, and that rapidly buried part concentrated as hard as Megan ever had in her entire life.

"You're mine, bitch," Mistress hissed in her ear. "I'm going to make you lick my feet. I'm going to give you to my other slaves and my contractors, I'm going to make you pay with your flesh for hurting me until you're powers can't help you heal and you're as slack as a geriatric whore. You are going to PAY, dog!"

What was left of Megan let it go past, unimportant right now. The rest of her mind, rushing towards total submission, cried with happiness that Mistress was paying attention to her at all.

Megan didn't even notice her own body begin to twitch, weak, uncoordinated and faint movements as it began to recover from being stunned and tried to push back at Master.

The last thing Megan noticed was the final brutal, hammering, blow from Master's cock that made her whole body explode, her mind shredded so not even an atom of herself was left to hear a hard crack of bone against bone and feel Master jerk and fall, pulling out of her abruptly. 

Megan didn't even notice as Mistress looked puzzled, twisted her head around, started saying "Wha.." before a blur of movement, another hard crack, and Mistress' head slammed onto Megan's shoulder, hard enough to bruise even a parahuman.

Kimberly, whose ever bit of self-control had gone into moving, stumbling behind Megan's shielding holograms reeling with drunken light-headeness, getting behind Master and then delivered a top-speed knockout blow to first him, then the utterly desirable, all-consumingly gorgeous centre of her universe, slumped, completely drained, trying to catch herself but failing as she dropped across Mistress' body, driving the breath out of the unconscious Villain and her barely conscious friend.

When Mistress was knocked unconscious, the control she exerted over both girls began to fade. Kimberly's body was drained by sex and by the mental and physical struggle of overcoming the driving demand to obey Mistress, and Megan had been fucked into near comatose sub-space, Mistress' juices still soaking into her flesh.

Being parahumans made them both able to recover quickly, both physically and mentally, but Kimberly's exhausted mind was well aware that so too would both their captors.

She moved first, Megan underneath both women barely able to breath, struggling to slide off Mistress and stay upright, struggling not to let her used body remember the all-consuming erotic appeal of flesh against Mistress' flesh. 

She made it, swaying dangerously but propped on one arm, as Megan's eyes regained their personality even as she began regaining use of her body.

"Kim," she croaked. "You did it."

Kimberly nearly laughed, but could not spare the energy as, with a desperate heave, she pushed Mistress off her friend, sending the Villain rolling just far enough to slide off the bed and fall to the floor with a crash that made them both sadistically glad.

"So did you," the shorter girl whispered when she had her breath back again. "Can you move?"

Megan, her knees still folded up beside her rib-cage, her juices and Mistress' combined slowly oozing out of her now gaping slit, struggled to get her legs down and could only make them twitch. Her face grimaced with pain. 

"Don't force it," Kimberly said weakly, her voice cracking from her dry throat. She managed to get off the bed and stay upright, strength returning faster and faster, and peered around for water, clothes, or anything she could use to easily restrain both Villains.

With a heave, Megan got one foot halfway down the bed, then had to close her eyes as her vision swam from the exertion.

She too felt strength returning quickly, but not so quickly she could ignore the rushing need of her flesh, and was spending half her concentration on not begging her friend to come back on the bed and fall upon her.

Kimberly, whose body had a head-start on disposing of Mistress' toxins, was finding it easier, the need to protect her friend driving her on to ignore the sweet aches in her breasts and between her legs.

When the door opened, Kimberly got new life, a burst of energy letting her move with blurring speed halfway to the door before recognising the outline of Sifu Tornado.

"I think that's enough," the instructor said as Kimberly halted, almost appearing from mid-air, swaying on her feet, naked, dishevelled, coated in sex and breathing hard just to concentrate. 

Behind Tornado, Dr Summers appeared in the doorway.

Tornado handed Kimberly a robe and Dr Summers walked past to drop another one on Megan, who had managed to straighten that leg. 

"Sit, recover. We'll take care of these two," the tactical lecturer said.

When Tornado walked out, Master slung easily over his shoulder, Kimberly just stared after him. She watched Dr Summers carry out Mistress before, very deliberately, she dropped the robe on the bed and sat on it naked, turning her attention to Megan, who was wriggling her fingers and weakly pushing her other leg straight.

Megan, who was still digesting the appearance of the instructor and his unexpectedly benign tone, smiled weakly up at her friend.

"You didn't resist," she said.

"Neither did you. 'Don't fight what you can't defeat,'" Kimberly replied , quoting from a strategy text every student was required to read. "'A strategic withdrawal is better than certain defeat, and a strategic surrender may lead to opportunities not available to the beaten.'"

"'Mind control in any form relies upon destroying opposition in the subject,'" Megan picked up, from a text they had shared only the previous day. "'Willing submission may be the surest way to ensure control is effective, but conversely a lack of resistance may only result in shallow domination, leaving deeper areas of the mind untouched. Accepting defeat leads to short-term humiliation but may allow the subject to fight back in the future.'"

"How are you feeling, Me?"

"Like every muscle in my body has pins and needles and is screaming at me. Could you get dressed, Kim? You're a bit distracting." 

Kimberly raised an eyebrow. "Still feeling under the influence, Me?" she asked, a trace of friendly mockery in her exhausted tones.

"You know how much I wanted you to kiss me, when Mistress made me look at you?"

Kimberly looked at Megan for a second, then twisted on the bed and bent down, pulling the robe down to reveal her friend's breasts, looking her steadily in the eye. "They want us to not get ashamed, and to not fear sex. So I say let's give them a show."

Megan looked up at her, very still, while Kimberly's slowly circling middle finger made her left nipple stand to aching attention. "It's her poison talking, Kim."

Kimberly captured the hard nipple between thumb and forefinger, holding it lightly. "Do you care, Me?"

Megan looked at her friend's deeply serious face, greasy with sweat, and found she had enough strength to reach up and find and pinch one hanging nipple, pulling it down to touch hers. "Kim," she said quietly. "Fuck me like he did."



Super College Ch. 04



Author's Note:

Time for a change. 

This is a series, and a lot of the rules are already established, so please read the first three first. This will probably still stand on its merits, but will be less confusing. 

#

Selena stood stock still, only her eyes moving as she frantically scanned the room searching for any clues, opportunities, risks, threats - the whole College spiel.

College. Her mouth twisted at the sudden bitter taste in it, and she clenched her fists and her resolve.

"Step forwards," the resonant, velvety, completely directionless voice repeated.

Forcing herself to overcome every natural and inculcated instinct to run away, she took a step, then another, finding it easier to keep walking until the voice said "Stop!"

This time the voice had an origin, but it was swooping and spinning around her, moving impossibly fast and, as far as she could tell as her eyes darted about trying to find it, with no visible origin.

"Why have you come here?"

She swallowed, cleared her throat then had to swallow again. "Is this the Villains League?" She asked, trying to put challenge in her voice. "I want to join."

There was silence for a second, before the voice returned with an amused tone to it. "Do you now? And why would you think such a thing exists?"

She squared her shoulders. This could go badly, but she didn't think she had any alternative. "Because I'm a second-year student at the College," she said with almost no tremor to her voice. "I left because ... because the fucking do-gooder hypocrites refuse to acknowledge the superiority of parahumans!" She finished on a genuinely angry outburst.

The voice was silent for another moment, before saying "A College student? That would make you our enemy, wouldn't it?"

"Former," she spat out. "I want revenge on them!"

"Nonetheless," the voice said, with a musing tone to it, "they do have very potent ways of implanting suggestions, and they do apparently train people very well."

"Test me, then," she grated out. "Fucking test me! You must have ways of doing it, I know I'm not the first student to escape the College!"

"Oh, this one is clever," the voice said, suddenly right in her ear, so close her body thought it could sense breath. She kept herself staring rigidly straight ahead, knowing full well that if she turned her head to look, there would be nothing there.

"You're right, you're not the first. But some of your predecessors are no longer with us or anyone else. Strip."

She froze for a second, before silently laughing bitterly at herself. These are the Villains, why would they be less obsessed with sex? But in case she hadn't heard correctly ...

"You want me to undress?"

"Must I repeat myself? Were you not paying attention?" The voice sounded cold, now.

She swallowed, gone nearly as cold as the voice. "All of my clothes?" She asked, carefully.

"All of them. And jewellery, and anything else on, in or about your person."

She deliberately ignored the "in or about" bit and bent down, untying the complicated laces on her walking boots first, then pulling them off, then her socks, then undoing her belt and pushing her jeans down legs she knew could turn heads fast enough to cause whiplash.

Her thick jumper was next, revealing the tight shirt she wore for strategic, rather than comfortable, reasons.

The voice gave an audibly demeaning whistle as the shape of her torso was revealed. She did not flinch, blush or respond at all. She was used to this. They had trained her well, after all.

The shirt revealed her bra, as comfortable and supportive as her panties.

"Such practical underwear," the voice said, putting a sarcastic, derogatory spin on the adjective. She ignored it.

With her bra off, she pushed her panties down her legs. She had developed late but vigorously and knew her breasts were very nearly a fetishist's delight, too large to be perky but still young enough to be firm. She had also stopped shaving as soon as she had left the College, and was secretly hoping the owner of the voice would be shocked.

"Now," the voice said in her ear again. "Are you sure you still want to go through with this?"

"I am a parahuman," she said flatly. "That makes me superior to humans. Villains seem to be the only ones who understand that. I belong with you. I am fucking one of you, cock-sucker."

There was silence for another few seconds as she sweated on the result of her calculated insolence. The floor was cold and the air nearly as cold, making goosebumps spring out all over her body, her nipples ache and her legs nearly start to shiver, but she clamped down on her muscles and refused to let them move at all.

"Well," the voice breathed right in her other ear, which did not make her flinch. "We shall have to see about that. And insults, just so you know, are paid in full. Now, enter if you really think you have what it takes."

Her gut clenched almost before her brain fully understood what her eyes were telling her. The space in front of her had warped, splitting, not revealing black or other colours or even fully hiding what was behind it, but twisting light in a way that made her want to vomit. She forced her eyes to stay open, took a deep breath to settle her stomach, and took one very controlled step forwards.

Her body accelerated forwards and backwards at the same time, her mind shot up and her ears recoiled from a sulfurous stench as her nose gave her crystal-clear vision of the room she had just left.

It lasted either half a second, or half an hour. 

She retched, dry-heaving, desperately settling her stomach, running through the previously hated College mantras to control, settle and focus herself. 

Then she opened her eyes as she started paying attention to her limbs again, and froze. 

She recognised the overtly feminine figure standing in front of her in a catsuit covered with elaborate, aggressive, sharp-edged designs. She did not recognise the seemingly male figure swathed in eye-confusing layers of grey to her left, or the ripplingly muscled man in dungeon-domme leather to her right. 

So the fact she was, still naked, restrained in a stretched cross shape by what seemed to be silk wrapped around her limbs, her torso and even her breasts, binding them tightly and pushing them up and forwards, would be because of ...

"Mistress Web," she said, in the most even voice she could conjure. "I've admired you for a while now."

"Is that so? Admired?"

The Villain's eyes were so wide and bright they almost shone, and the smile on her black-painted lips made Selena flash back to her mind-control challenges, making her swallow convulsively.

"I'm afraid I don't know your colleagues, though," Selena gasped over her suddenly hammering heartbeat and the adrenaline flooding her body.

"Oh, why are they important? Let's ignore them and focus on just the two of us." Mistress Web stepped close enough to reach out and run the back of one gloved hand gently down the bulging sphere of one bound breast. The sensation made Selena shiver, but whether from fear or arousal she wasn't sure and, despite her training, couldn't quite work out.

"Only if this is my entrance exam," she said defiantly. 

"Entrance?" Mistress Web's fingers began softly, maddeningly, running over Selena's nipple, which was already puckered from the cold and from fear. "We can talk about entrance, if you like."

She felt a tingle between her legs, and silently thought: Here we go again. Go with it. Remember what those bastards taught you. Aloud, she said "I came here to join you, to become a Villain."

"And now you're in my web." The Villain's other hand joined in, lightly stroking the other nipple.

Selena refused to let herself be distracted, although she had to bite back a moan. Focus! She raged at herself. By training you to fight back against this, they conditioned you to respond to it! Remember how much you hate them!"

"Couldn't you be a Villain all by yourself?" Mistress Web asked, the pressure she was exerting on Selena's nipples increasing slowly. "Why do you need our help, hmmm?"

"I want to destroy the College," Selena gasped out, feeing her face flush and the tingling between her legs growing demanding. "I know you want to do that! I want to be a part of it!"

"You can certainly help us relax. I'm not sure how useful you could be in an actual fight." Mistress Web began rolling Selena's nipples gently between her fingertips, while the bound teenager clamped down on a moan and fought to keep herself from begging for more.

Instead she gritted her teeth, remembered her training, and slipped through the fog of arousal to clear thinking on the other side. They were challenging her - Mistress Web had as much as asked her what she could do.

"I mean, we only have your word for it that you even are a student."

Were! Selena thought furiously. Were a student!

Then Mistress Web closed her fingers over Selena's swollen nipples and gently squeezed, pulling outwards in a milking motion, letting the nipples slide slowly back until they popped out.

The sensation speared through Selena like a simultaneous kick to her groin and to her mind. 

On the verge of losing all initiative she rolled the dice, let go of her self control and, as her body arched and screamed with lust, used the brief moment of mental freedom to focus, make a quick mental adjustment, breath in ...

Mistress Web felt the rush of the naive teenager's breath on her face but ignored it as she grabbed the girl's plush nipples and squeezed them again, revelling in how helplessly responsive and slutty College students always seemed to be.

Then she reared back in shock as her vision lurched and warped sickeningly. The slut in her web seemed to bulge out and rush at her. She lifted her hands in defence and tumbled over backwards, her feet no longer working properly and leaving her sprawled on the ground with an ear-ringing thump.

The ceiling span so fast she couldn't focus on it, she couldn't seem to shut her eyes and her scrabbling hands weren't sure if they were feeling the floor, her web, or empty air.

Then she noticed the way her breasts were oh, so sensitive inside her skin-tight bodysuit, and moaned, helpless to do anything to appease, satisfy or avoid her own growing arousal.

Selena gasped for air, trying to suck oxygen into her body to help her recover. She could put any emotion or perception into her breath, but whatever she was feeling was easiest. The only problem was, if she used her own emotions, it had a feedback effect. 

She was squirming in the web, moaning helplessly, the sudden spike of arousal from Mistress Web's enforced arousal feeding into hers far too much too endure.

Then she felt, on the edge of consciousness, two enormous hands grab her hips, and the thickest cock she had ever felt barged straight into her, splitting her oozing lips with no trouble and even less regard for her pain. 

The first thrust made her scream in pain even as her body erupted in ecstasy. The second thrust hurt less and threatened to make her explode with pleasure. The third thrust had her begging for more.

Struggling inside her nightmare, Mistress Web heard Selena's screams and they fed her own arousal, making her convulse, her legs spreading wide and her hands clutching desperately at her groin, her mind not recognising the touch but only the effect as she began screaming in time with Selena. 

Selena barely heard the voice in her ear again, saying "release her, or my friend Turnkey will keep fucking you until you can't walk for a week."

She shuddered, on the verge of cumming for the first time, as the threat of such physical abuse only fed her lust.

"In fact," the voice in her ear continued, "I may let him take your arse, next. Can you fit something that big in your arse?"

Selena screamed as an orgasm tore through her, every cell in her body on the verge of exploding but only the heat between her legs reaching climax.

Mistress Web, writhing in a delusion that threatened to overcome her sanity, lifted off the ground, eyes wide open in shock, and echoed Selena's scream for a second, caught in an unsatisfying explosion, before the shock of the orgasm and the accelerated metabolism it gave her finally cleared her head.

Turnkey did not slow down as Selena came, his improbably thick shaft continuing to split her, so her orgasm drew out until it was past painful and became the climb to the next.

"This will continue ..." the voice began, before it was interrupted.

"THAT FUCKING BITCH!"

Mistress Web lurched to her feet, the uncovered parts of her face white with fury. "Get out of her, Turnkey!"

The giant shrugged, pulled out without ceremony and stepped back, leaving Selena gasping in the web, feeling a gaping hole inside her and the shock of stimulation suddenly withdrawn.

Then her vision was full of Mistress Web's incandescent rage. "Think that was funny, do you, you little bitch?" the Villain ground out. "Think that was smart?"

Fight back, Selena told herself through the fog of arousal. Engage. You've got to stand up for yourself now. "You asked me what I could do," she managed to force out.

Mistress Web shrieked with rage and then lunged forward, her mouth open wide to reveal fangs more terrifying than any vampire's. She sank them into Selena's shoulder as the teen's eyes opened wide with shock and horror, no memory of ever reading of that ability, no knowledge of what would happen.

"Now try and pull your tricks again with my venom in your system," the Villain hissed.

Selena tried to focus on the hate-twisted face in front of her, but there was an itching, burning sensation spreading from the throbbing bite mark along her neck and up towards her brain, and when it got there, she found it hard to concentrate on anything at all.

Then the itching started spreading downwards, one line going towards each breast and then over the surface of the breast towards each nipple. She tried to think about it, but she was too light-headed, the room swimming about her. The explosion when the lines of fire reached her nipples shattered any remaining sense of time and space.

Then Mistress Web pushed three fingers inside her and she lost any sense of her body as well, only lust remaining.

Neither of Mistress Web's colleagues moved to stop her as she pushed her whole hand inside the teen, finding little resistance after Turnkey's brutal assault, and began fucking the student remorselessly, not slowing down through five explosive and rapid orgasms.

Mistress Web's face was unreadable as she pulled her hand out with a wet sucking sound, stood up and stepped back, beginning to lick her glove clean.

"So does she pass? Can she be one of our students?" The man in grey asked, not throwing his voice this time. 

Mistress Web shrugged. "Sure, why not."

"Turnkey?"

The giant man just nodded, his erection still throbbing in front of him.

"Then so be it. When she wakes up, induct her."

Mistress Web said nothing but turned and began walking out, still licking her glove. 

"Are you going to leave her strung up?"

"Yep."

The man in grey looked back at Selena, hanging slackly and unconsciously in the web, and then shrugged, turned on his heel and walked out. 

Turnkey gave the unconscious student a contemplative look then shrugged himself and left after the others, grabbing his erection and tucking it inside his latex briefs, where it made an obscenely obvious bulge.

#

It took Selena a long time to fight her way back to consciousness. Her pussy was throbbing with pain, her joints were sore and her breasts were aching from the bondage, which let blood flow but only just.

She shook her head, groaned as the world spun, took a deep breath and tried again, her parahuman healing abilities slowly asserting themselves.

"So, you're awake."

She froze, then swivelled her whole head towards the sound. It didn't remotely surprise her that the voice had belonged to Turnkey. It had been deep enough to vibrate in her gut.

"Come back for more?" She asked, flatly.

The giant man did not move. "You passed."

"What?"

"You're in. You're one of our students, now."

The webbing around Selena crumbled to dust, letting her fall to the ground. She just managed to land on her feet without sprawling embarrassingly, but did collapse to hands and knees. She looked around quickly, and found Mistress Web behind her.

"You're one of us, but if you do that again, all bets will be off," the Villainess said flatly.

Selena stood up slowly, looking at Mistress Web, then very deliberately turned her attention back to Turnkey. 

"Now what?"

"Now you follow me," he said impassively. He turned around and walked out the door. Selena followed, flashing back to her first naked humiliation walk through the College.

"Do I get clothes?"

"Not yet."

Behind her, Selena heard Mistress Web's mocking laughter, and ignored it.

There was a short corridor on the other side of the door, with another door at the end of it.

On the other side of that were the grounds of another college.

Selena wasn't surprised. She knew that some parahumans were found by Villains first, and she knew there were very few truly inexperienced Villains. Logic dictated there had to be a training system in place. It was why she had tracked them down after all.  

The path Turnkey lead her along was lined with students and older Villains, and they were all grinning nastily and lewdly.

She could remember the walk through the College, and although they had been grinning, and had shouted lewd things, ultimately they had been kind and considerate and they had remembered their own walks and they had not been cruel.

Selena kept her face absolutely still, but her insides roiled and her hands itched to punch every grinning face as they leered at her and shouted things they wanted to do to her which, she was absolutely certain, they were not kidding about. Some of them would have caused lasting injury to a normal human, and would have taken even a parahuman a while to recover from.

The air was cool enough for Selena's nipples to stand out sharply, but she knew it was the cold doing it, and she knew exactly how the other students would respond, and the intellectual knowledge went most of the way towards letting her shrug off what they were shouting.

But only most of what they were saying. By the time they had crossed the entire huge quad and were entering another building, she was full of seething rage and was stalking behind Turnkey, her hands nearly shaking with her attempt to keep control of herself.

When the door closed behind them, cutting off the shouts, taunts, promises, threats and catcalls, Selena had to force herself to not vent her anger. She wasn't safe yet.

There were four doors opening off the foyer they were now in. Turnkey walked straight towards one of them, and through it. Selena followed, reminding herself to relax.

The room looked horribly familiar. It had a bare floor and bare walls, a single bulb hanging from the ceiling, and a metal table with a neat assortment of tools on it against one wall. There was a St Andrews' Cross against the other wall and a metal table in the middle.

Selena had a brief, sinking feeling of "here we go again" before she realised there was already a body strapped down to the table.

"What the hell is this?" she asked, her patience wearing thin.

"So you've got powers," Mistress Web said behind her with unnecessary smugness. "Prove you're a Villain."

Selena twisted around to eyeball the Villainess, and the two traded stares assertive enough to make the air crackle between them.

Selena turned away first, dismissing her opponent and turning to Turnkey instead.

"So how far do you want me to go?" she asked.




Super College Ch. 04



"You're asking?" Turnkey asked, his face turning grim.

"Yeah, that figures," she replied as sarcastically as she could before striding up to the table.

The lighting in the room, from one bright bulb directly above the table, was too bright for Selena to work out any details of the captive until she stepped closer and her eyes adjusted to see the figure stretched out in a narrow X-shape. Then she had to laugh.

"What, don't want me to admit to being a lesbian, as well?"

"Oh, I think Mistress Web already did that," Turnkey replied calmly. "He is just one we had available. A junior Hero we were going to give to the students to practice on. You may as well be the first."

A Hero? Selena stared at the unconscious, hard-muscled body with growing anger, her hands curling into fists. "What's his name?" She asked flatly.

"Leopard."

"What can he do?"

"Find out for yourself."

Right, then. For a second she looked for clues, then remembered where she was. She couldn't trust them to leave her any. No blindfold? Didn't mean his powers weren't related to his eyes. Only wrist and ankle restraints? Didn't mean anything. 

His name, though. His name - speed? Strength? Stealth? Claws? Strength could be an issue in those bonds, but the rest shouldn't be, unless he could cut his wrist straps.

She mentally shook her head. None of this was getting her anywhere.

There was a hypodermic syringe lying next to his head. She grabbed it and punched it straight through his chest into his heart.

The stimulant, or antidote, worked instantly. The Hero jerked up, wrenching at the thick straps over his wrists as he tried to go from horizontal to vertical in one movement. He was jerked to a stop and bounced back. 

He sucked in air with a gasp, then did it again, more violently, when Selena jerked the syringe out of his chest and tossed it onto the table behind her.

He had to squeeze his eyes shut against the light, but Selena could almost see his mind working as his whole body went still for a second before he quietly said "I see."

"Open your eyes and you might see better," she purred.

He kept his eyes shut and she cursed herself for a fool. Of course he would expect that to be a trap. There were plenty of parahumans who had powers relating to visual hypnosis.

Instead, she swung herself onto the table and sat on his chest. He would feel that she was naked. A quick glance behind her confirmed a sudden swelling from his previously flaccid prick.

"So you're already naked. Predictable," he said, tiredly. "So you're going to try and turn me into a slave? Humiliate me? One of those? Can I know who my torturer will be today?"

She had to give him credit for chutzpah, and regaining his bearings quickly, but then she had sat through the same training. Anything less, and he wouldn't have graduated.

"My name is Phantasm," she purred. "You won't have heard of me." It was a name she had decided upon after escaping the College. Before leaving, she had not been allowed to pick a costume name and had only used Selena. 

"Oh, do open your eyes, I give you my word as an evil bitch that I have no optical powers. Besides," she added, almost as an afterthought," if I did I could just pull open your eyelids with my fingers."

Warily, but pragmatically, he did. His eyes were flecked with yellow, which was intriguing given his cat name. She saw him take her in at a glance, and flick a quick look at her large and firm breasts, jutting in profile from her slender chest, before locking his gaze resolutely on her face.

She didn't stop her smugness showing. No matter how sexy parahumans stayed as they aged, she had youth as well.

"You're right. I will be your torturer today. I won't be keeping you, that would be selfish and although I am a Villain, my mummy did teach me to share. So there'll be lots of others lining up to break that conformist, narrow little mind of yours. Some of them will even be boys like you.

"I know you'll resist. I know you'll try and go along with it because it means I won't have as much hold over you, I know you'll be looking for any way to turn the tables on me, and I'm pretty sure nobody will be rushing to my aid if you do, so good luck with that.

"I know exactly how you've been trained, and I know how effective the training was, because I've been there. I've done it myself. But none of it will matter."

She reached behind herself to his groin and began lightly stroking his semi-erect cock, which responded by swelling further and jumping up his belly towards her. He swallowed, but controlled himself.

"I know what it means to be captured, and sexually used, and humiliated, and dominated, and controlled, time after time," she said as she kept stroking him and he kept growing. There was an extra rigidity to his jaw and he couldn't stop his eyes darting about looking for opportunities.

"It means you can't help but get horny when you're tied up and someone starts playing with you." He was fully hard now, and she slid her hand down his shaft - as long and as thick as any parahuman man - and stroked his balls lightly before twisting her fingers around the base of his sac and pulling up to squeeze them firmly together. 

"It's okay," she whispered as he strangled a gasp at the sickening pain from his squashed testicles. "You can't help it. You've been conditioned now. You don't have any choice. Your body knows what's coming no matter how much your mind tries to fight it. I haven't heard of anyone yet who has complete control over their glands. You certainly don't."

She leaned down towards his face, still squeezing his testicles. "I'm going to make you my bitch, just because I can."

"Is that it?" he gasped. "You're just going to talk to me?"

"Oh no," she said brightly. "I can do other things, too."

She let go of his balls, slid off him, twisted around and engulfed his cock in her mouth in one smooth movement, sliding right down onto him.

Any lack of ability she may have had before joining the College had quickly been corrected as a string of casual flings across the year groups had given her ample opportunity to practice the techniques she had been forced to learn in five humiliating, degrading and depraved sessions of kidnapped, mind-controlled slavery. Since at least one of those sessions had ended up with her having a wide and varied repertoire of submissive and servile techniques implanted directly into her long-term memory, she had about a decade's unfair advantage on anyone else. 

She knew she was extremely good, now, and she knew she could play with any man. She stroked him a few times to make absolutely sure he was throbbingly hard, then lightly toyed with him, brushing just over the sensitive patch under his head to make him ache to cum but without the pleasure of stroking his entire shaft.

She waited until he was shuddering and twitching in her mouth before pulling off, sliding cat-like up his body with the lightest of touches from her hand and her breast on his torso, and saying "Oh look, I've got your your precum on my tongue," before grabbing his jaw and his forehead, forcing his mouth open and kissing him deeply, sliding her tongue all around the inside of his mouth.

As expected, he nearly gagged, so she waited for him to start taking his next deep, sucking breath before plugging her lips over his again, pinching his nose shut and breathing out hard.

His eyes bugged open, guessing at what was probably her powers play while he was helpless to do anything about it.

She poured her power into his lungs, then let go, stood up and swung her leg over him, settling down so she was sitting on top of his hips and his rock-hard cock, settling into place and rubbing her lips along his shaft while humming brightly and waiting for her breath to take hold.

She couldn't control people through her breath, she could only control their perceptions, but she had found out how powerful that could be. It had taken a lot of covert and delicate practice that the College would not have been happy about if they had discovered, and then even more practice after escaping and she could be considerably more adventurous, but she had finally developed the subtlety she had always hoped she could.

His eyes bulged open and he tried to lurch up again, jerking violently against his bonds and falling back onto the table with a thud.

She had fed him the feelings of her body aroused, to stimulate him, and, when he consciously or unconsciously realised he was feeling breasts and a pussy, confuse him. She had fed him funhouse-mirror vision, so the room would lurch around him as though he were drugged, and so she would stretch and distort and grow enormous breasts whenever he looked at her.

She purred with satisfaction when she saw his reaction, and curled her fingers into his chest, pressing her pussy harder against his cock. When the pressure sent a spike of sweet lust through her, she gathered it into her lungs and breathed it into his face. 

He had closed his eyes against the dizzying, nauseating spinning of the room, but he couldn't shut out the disorienting ecstasy as the second-hand feeling from her aching pussy clashed with the immediate sensations from his aching cock.

She lifted herself, pulled his cock upright, and had just enough room on one knee to get her pussy over his engorged head. When she pushed herself down onto him, the surge of ecstasy from her stretched flesh fuelled her gloating sense of dominance and power. 

They groaned in unison, her with the rush of satisfaction and him uncontrollably and tinged with despair.

She pushed herself all the way over him in one steady movement, stopping only when she felt him pushing right against her limit, just the hint of pain giving an extra bite to the pleasure.

She settled herself, getting comfortable, then leaned forwards, squashing her generous breasts against his rock-hard chest, and tenderly wiped off the sweat that was beading on his forehead. 

She smiled into his glaring eyes and clenched teeth and said, in soft, loving tones that could carry to a camera microphone, "Isn't this nice? Don't I feel good? Aren't you glad we had this little ..." she clenched her inner muscles and ground her hips against his, making him gasp again "... get-together?"

She grabbed his head between both her hands, twisted it sideways towards the wall and laid her head on his, saying "Smile for the camera, darling," as she grounded around him again, drawing out a longer, more despairing moan.

It had been a calculated guess, and she was quite prepared for there to be no camera at all - the important thing was his humiliation - but sure enough there was a small circle of differently textured darkness right where she thought there would be, with a clear line of sight past all the room's furniture and equipment.

She let the satisfaction show on her face as she lifted her head up, holding his turned to the side, and licked slowly up the side of his face, relishing the sharp, tangy taste of his sweat. Then she began a slow rocking back and forwards, sliding on and off his cock by a few inches, just enough to be maddening for both of them. 

He was still struggling, which intrigued her. College training said once defeat was inevitable, roll with it. Relax, let your mind concentrate on tactics while your body gives in easily. There's no sense in wasting mental resources on trying to win an uneven fight, and the easier the loss, the weaker the physical, physiological and psychic hold upon you. 

So why was he still struggling?

She dipped her tongue into his ear, tickling in and around it, while slowly increasing her fucking movements and bringing in a twisting, rolling motion. He was close, but not so close she had to worry about holding off. He was still struggling for self-control, in violation of a passing grade.

The only thing she could think of was: his powers. He was trying to prevent himself losing control of his powers. But if his powers were an advantage, he would be reaching for him, so they were either an embarrassment, gave her an advantage, reduced his self-control even further, or ... or were secret!

Now that was interesting!

She lifted herself up on her elbows, pushed herself fully onto him again and shifted her breasts out of the way to get access to his nipples, sitting small and hard on his bulging pectorals. 

Making sure the camera had line of sight, she began lightly tickling them.

And saw a brief flash of tawny fur flit across his chest and be gone. She grinned with delight, and shoved her hips back onto him while pinching his nipples savagely. He howled with pain, jerking up while pulsing inside her, and she felt rather than saw a creak in his bonds and in his body as he shifted unnaturally underneath her and thick, hard, black-dotted tawny fur erupted over his entire chest for a second before retreating as his body returned to normal.

"So that's it!" she said, not trying to keep the gloating out of her voice. "You're a were-leopard! Cool, I've never raped a cat before!"

From the gritting of his teeth, she knew she had scored a solid hit.

"The question is," she said gloatingly, "how much you'll transform." She let go of his nipples and massaged them gently, rubbing her palms over them to ease the return of blood while keeping up a maddening stimulation his cock would feel more than his brain would.

She lifted her torso up again and rolled his head back, giving him an unimpeded look at her breasts. He swallowed as his affected vision made her body distort unnaturally.

"Let's explore this, shall we?"

She savagely tweaked his nipples again, and held on as he howled with pain, the howl turned into a feline yowl and his body shifted again, distorting but not greatly as fur sprang out all over it, then he tried to curl up, his shoulders shifted and the bones in his arms twisted eye-wateringly before she let up and he collapsed back, moaning in pain again.

She grinned, delightedly. "Ooh, that looked like catman followed by an attempt at an actual cat! So if I forced you to transform while strapped down like this, that would really hurt, wouldn't it? Ooh, I bet it would!"

She clenched around his cock and ground her hips again, wringing another shudder out of him while his eyes were still squeezing out tears of pain.

"Do you ever sneak into the zoo after dark and try and seduce the lady big cats? I bet you do, you look like that sort of pervert to me."

She shifted on him again, slowly and luxuriantly this time, but felt the beginning shiver of an unstoppable orgasm.

She jerked upright, pulling off him as that sensation make him jump again, and reached down to grab his cock in one hand, yelled "BAD KITTY!" and gave the engorged head a backhand slap that made his whole body spasm in pain and try to curl up around his groin while his cock betrayed him by cumming, the first milky spurt sailing over his head, the second hitting his forehead, the third hitting him full in the face and the fourth splashing over his chest as he reflexively choked from some of his cum landing in his mouth, twisting his head to one side and trying not to vomit as his cock spent itself on his belly.

A nauseating flicker out of the corner of her eye made Selena turn her head sharply, to see the grey man drop her clothes on the floor before stepping back into his eye-watering portal.

The new student Villain looked down at the sweating, shivering, cum-covered Hero in triumph, and leant forwards, still holding his cock and beginning to crulely masturbate the over-sensitive head to cause him more pain. "All your College training really helped you, didn't it, you useless fury fuck?"



Super College Ch. 05



Author's Note:

I'm not writing a lot for Literotica lately (clearly...) but I discovered I had this, unfinished. So here it is. 

This is a series, and a lot of the rules are already established, so please read the first four first. This will probably still stand on its merits, but will be less confusing.

#

Kimberly crouched, her entire body still but for her eyes.

She was wearing lightweight, figure-hugging kevlar mesh with expanding pleated leather knee and elbow pads and rigid forearm, shin and outer thigh pads. It looked like a cross between a motorbike suit and a SWAT outfit, but lighter and more flexible than either. 

She had a helmet with clear wrap-around goggles and a rigid microphone boom that ended next to her mouth. 

Her gloves looked like light motorbike gauntlets but with spikier knuckle pads, and her boots had tough but flexible soles and ankle protection.

Everything she wore was in light-absorbing matte black.

It was the College intern armour, with no insignia except textured College logos on the shoulders and back, and with more attention paid to protection than style. 

Many graduates based their uniform on the armour, because it worked so well. Those who did not need armour because of their invulnerability (or confidence) were free to dress how they pleased. Some of the more famous examples had multiple fan sights in the seedier parts of the internet - or a nice line in autographed photos.

But Kimberly, whose speed meant she could dodge almost anyone but did not mean she could not be hurt, had been practicing heavily in the armour and intended to stay in it. The extra weight wasn't enough to slow her down, while any protection at all upped her chances of surviving a close fight. There was a small click in her ear. "Clear from up top. Kim, go."

That was Jules, on the roof, able to teleport in and out of trouble and not dependent on stairs.

They were hunting a petty crook who had taken refuge in a train siding. The College had sent in the students on their first mission. The police were outside enjoying both their break and, mostly to annoy the students, doughnuts.

Kimberly erupted from the shadows of the flat car she was crouching next to, streaked across open space, then flattened herself against a freight car. To normal eyes, she was a blur. Her eyes flicked over Jules' blind spot. 

"Clear," she said curtly.

"Alex, go."

On Jules' signal, the chamaeleonic male stopped looking like the edge of a pile of scrap and flowed easily and almost silently across the railyard cinders.

"Stacey, go."

"Megan, go."

Bit by bit, quartering the ground, they pushed forwards. Jules had already seen movement going into a freight car, but they knew the thief was armed and they did not know whether or not he had friends.

By they time they reached the target car, nobody had seen, heard or, in one case, felt, any other human or parahuman presence.

The open door of the car - the only door on the car - was facing a small gap between rails. There was little visibility and little room to manoeuvre. 

After a long, weighted silence, Jules whispered "Megan, go."

Wearing identical armour, the tall girl slid out from between two cars. Step by cautious step, she moved obliquely towards the open door.

Five shots ran out, almost as fast as a semi-automatic. Megan jerked, thrown backwards, landing heavy and limp on the cinders. Those with the keenest ears heard a frantic clicking before the robber's brain realised that his finger had already emptied his clip.

There was deathly silence.

The shadows inside the freight car moved. The robber's head poked out. He glanced around, terrified, before jumping down, landing awkwardly but without falling. He took one step, fumbling with his pistol to eject the clip, before Kimberly had him face-down in an arm-lock before he had a chance to cry out.

Megan's body disappeared and the real Megan stepped out from hiding, to a spontaneous round of applause from her fellow students.

The police came in to collect the robber, grudgingly congratulating the interns.

Tornado, in identical armour, and Dr Summers, waiting in a remote monitoring van, did not immediately berate them for anything.

Kimberly was still buzzing after everyone had hugged her, and was almost skipping as the students were detailed to do a final sweep of the grounds. 

She was walking past a car, all senses alert but her brain not fully committed to the job, when something struck her on the side of the neck and she blacked out.

#

When she awoke, she was berating herself for her own stupidity before she was even aware of her surroundings.

Restrained - check. Bright lights directed at her - check. Naked - check.

She gritted her teeth before she reminded herself to be perfectly neutral.

She was lying on a table - fairly standard - with firm cuffs over her ankles and wrists and around her neck. She was comfortable, but everything was tight enough that she knew there would be little hope of extricating herself. 

She flicked her eyes around, but couldn't see anything beyond a white-walled room with computer monitors and medical equipment just visible at the edge of her vision.

She started carefully turning her head, but bumped into a padded and quite firm pad against her temple. There was one just like it on the other side.

"You're awake. Good. I was beginning to think we had got the dose wrong."

It was a tribute to Kimberly's training that she didn't jerk in surprise at the voice behind her head. She was well past blushing, or panicking that she was naked. 

She also didn't say anything.

"Quiet? Don't blame you, really. I suppose you can guess what is going to happen to you now. I'm not sure why Heroes," the unseen speaker said, spitting out the capital H, "and Villains," again, enforcing the capital bitterly, "get so hung-up with mind-control and reprogramming and perversions. Villains turn Heroes into slaves, Heroes try to forcibly rehabilitate Villains with reprogramming and only ever turn out docile drones that eventually return to form anyway."

What?! Kimberly couldn't help her eyes bugging open at that. That couldn't be true!

"Oh, I saw your little reaction, don't try and hide it. I know you're trained to not resist when appropriate, and I must complement the College on that, but really, you don't have anything to lose by chatting with me. It might even delay the inevitable. You know, give you a chance to change my mind or something.

"Yes, my dear, that really does happen. You know as well as I do that there are Heroes with mind-control capabilities. What did you think they did, apart from training? They're 'Counsellors'." The bitterness in his voice as he slotted in the capital "C" was even stronger.

"Never does anyone any good in the long run. Everyone knows - I'm sure you've been taught this, and taught it well - that no mind-control is long-term. Everything reverts. Villains just hope to drag it out for enjoyment, Heroes hope to suppress instincts as long as possible. That really just means that Villains try to produce wanton sluts with unbuckled self-control and unleashed primal desires, or," he enunciated the alternative clearly, "docile but with no behaviour limits.

"While Heroes try to ratchet up the morality and empathy, and internal behaviour auditors, while diminishing any form of self-fulfilment drive, but it turns out you can't increase the urge for social approval separate to the urge for physical gratification or violence. Odd, that, but not something we've been able to get around, yet."

The owner of the voice finally moved around to where Kimberly could see him, looming over her from the right of what seemed to be a standard-height surgical table.

He looked nothing like a normal Villain. He wasn't muscular or handsome. In fact, he had no sex appeal at all. He looked old, but more mature than aged. He looked like an experienced craftsman. 

He was sharp enough to see Kimberly's eyes flick over him.

"Don't look like much, do I?" he said, conversationally. 

"Let me tell you - I was one of the first. My genius is not flashy, not great in a fight and not likely to be noticed if I'm not careful. My ability is with human-machine interfaces."

He caressed a monitor, lovingly. "X-ray machines, ECGs, MRIs, even standard computers - I can make machines read and respond to people like nobody else. I have several patents registered through untraceable secondaries."

He turned around to face her again. "Obviously, you would have worked out by now that I can make it happen the other way, as well."

She had worked that out. She was not happy about it at all.

He leaned over her. "And yes, I'm telling you this because it gives me immense satisfaction, and because wiping memories is something that can be made to stick."

He straightened up again.

"So what is your name? At least tell me that," he said, glancing down at the tablet computer he was carrying.

She said nothing. Name, rank and serial number were the worst things you could give, when mind-control was an option. It gave them an immediate input into quite important parts of your mentality. 

He sighed. "Well, I will have to just call you Kimberly, then," 

She silently cursed.

"Powers: Speed, strength, skilled at martial arts. Can't fly, can jump from a great height."

She cursed even harder, but still silently.

"If you don't say anything at all, I'll get started immediately," he said casually.

"You use machines for mind-control," she said flatly, then cursed herself for responding too quickly.

"Of course I do! Those pads either side of your head will control your brain waves. They work very, very well."

"You'll turn me into a brainless slut," she said, still flatly, determined to use this conversation to any advantage she could get - admitting your fate meant it had less hold over you.

"Oh, no!" he said, delightedly. "Well, sure, I'll fuck you senseless to test the efficacy of the programming - and let me tell you, bare-backing hot, tight young bodies like yours is a considerable perk of being a Villain - but really, what we want you for is a brain-washed soldier to capture, one by one, all of your colleagues, so we can turn them into mindless sluts! Starting, of course, with Megan."

"No!" she burst out, and bit it off even as the short syllable was flying out of her mouth.

He chuckled, then stabbed at the on button.

Physically, all she felt was a small pinch between her eyes.

Psychically, she felt a sledge-hammer blow to her frontal cortex.

She had enough experience, now, to know when the self-control, self-auditing part of her brain had been short-circuited and shut down. But she didn't move, or say anything, because her entire body locked rigid.

"Now I have to tune some of the parameters."

She felt her body relax slightly, and was able to say "Ghhhhhhh."

She relaxed slightly more. "Fuuuuck youuuuuu."

Her body went limp, suddenly, flopping onto the table, but her jaw was still locked and her eyes still wide open, helplessly staring and beginning to dry out.

"Hmmm," he said, quietly. 

Her eyelids unexpectedly closed, then opened, blinking rapidly as tears flooded her eyes then had to be cleared, but her jaw was still locked.

Impulses streamed through her mind without any inhibitions at all. She wanted to kill this Villain. She wanted to rip his head off. She wanted to beat him to death with the stupid tablet. She wanted to fuck him. She wanted to kiss him while tearing his heart out with her bare hands. She was going to just ignore him and walk out. She was going to hunt down a properly studly young Villain and get fucked in the arse until she couldn't walk. 

"How about now?"

"Fuck you, you cock-sucking arsehole," she burst out, before her jaw clamped shut again.

"Got it. Right, let's begin, shall we?"

She knew that she usually tried to fight back at this point, by not fighting back, but she felt no real compulsion to do that, or not do that, or just ignore him.

"Are you currently strapped to a table?"

Her jaw suddenly worked again. "Fuck you."

"Are you currently strapped to a table?"

"No."

"Useful. Are you currently strapped to a table?"

"Yes."

"Thank you. Bound to happen eventually."

"Let me go and I'll suck your dick," she said, spontaneously. 

"You'll do that anyway. Are you naked?"

"Can't you see, limp-prick?"

"Are you naked?"

"Yes, I'm fucking naked, fucking do something to me!"

"Good!"

Suddenly, her mouth wouldn't work again. 

He hummed to himself for a while, then reached out to cruelly tweak one nipple. She tried to shriek, but her mouth just didn't cooperate.

He hummed to himself some more, then roughly rubbed her pussy lips for a second. 

This time, she spontaneously tried to hump back against him, but her body wouldn't even acknowledge the command.

He hummed some more, then said, quite brightly, "I think I've got all I need. It's time we began this properly."

He disappeared from her peripheral vision. She heard a scraping sound and a thump. He reappeared, lower. 

A stool, she told herself. Wonder if he'll bend me over it when he takes me, later. Wonder if I could fuck myself with one of the legs. Bet I can use it to take his head clean off: Just blood everywhere.

"Right," he said brightly. "I'm going to ask you a series of questions. The ones you answer, we can use."

"Why the fuck are you doing that?" It occurred to Kimberly that she was swearing a lot more than normal. She realised that was because she didn't have any inhibitions at the moment, and enjoyed the fact.

"Do you enjoy sex?"

"Yeah!"

She felt something happen in her mind, but so faintly and so vaguely that she didn't understand what it was. 

"Do you enjoy being dominated during sex?"

"Well, sometimes, I mean, if I ..."

"Have you ever enjoyed being dominated during sex?"

An image of that one time she had been fooling around with a College senior flashed through her mind, and how they had been roleplaying her getting caught and brainwashed ... "Fuck, yeah!"

Again, that thing in her mind, too faint to comprehend.

"Can you enjoy being dominated during sex?"

"Well, yeah."

There it was again.

"Do you enjoy being dominated during sex?"

This time, there was no hesitation or qualification in her reply. There it was again - the faint thing in her brain, and this time she recognised it as a locking sensation - a definite, assertive, forceful behavioural switch in a mind full of uninhibited, roving impulses. 

Then she realised what he was doing with his general-to-specific questioning.

"Do you enjoy being handled roughly during sex?"

"Sometimes."

"Have you ever enjoyed being handled roughly during sex?"

The same memory flashed through her mind. "Yeah."

Click.

"Can you enjoy being handled roughly during sex?"

"No, fuck you," she said promptly, on a whim, wondering what he would do with that.

There was a mental click, and his chuckle. "I can use wrong answers, you know," he said, an amused tone in his voice. "Do you enjoy being handled roughly during sex?"

"Nah," she said, still trying to lie.

Click.

"Do you enjoy being ordered about during sex?"

This time, all the fixed attitudes - dominance, roughness, sexuality - combined to one unequivocal response. "Yes," she said, forgetting for a moment her impulse to try and confound him by lying.

Click.

"Are you naturally submissive during sex?"

"No way, dude, I can ..."

"Thought this would be the difficult one," he said, overriding her. "Have you ever enjoyed being submissive during sex?"

"Well, yeah, but ..."

Click.

"Can you enjoy being a submissive slut who does what she is told?"

That was close enough to the truth, for a given definition of "can you ever."

Click.

"Do you enjoy ..."

Click.

Click.

Click.

She became not only submissive, but turned on by being submissive. Not only turned on, but needing to submit. Not only needing to submit, but helpless to resist submitting. She became a submissive woman whose whole sexual identity was tied to being a slave, a subslut, a cum-dumpster, a whore, an unresisting

- no, eagerly complicit - slave to every whim of everybody who took her.

Then the questioning changed, while the newly inhibited parts of her mind told her that it was good to answer truthfully, it was good to be helpful, it felt so good to comply with this degradation, this reprogramming of what it most fundamentally felt like to be her, because the reward was to feel that delicious burn between her legs and, if she was a good girl, to feel him between her legs, which was all, at the moment, that she wanted.

"Do you do what you're told?"

"Yes, Master."

"Do you do everything you're told?"

"Yes, Master."

"Do you faithfully obey every command I give you?"

"Yes, Master."

"Are you willing to be my soldier?"

"Yes, Master."

"Are you willing to be my soldier, even if it means fighting your former fellow students?"

"Yes, Master." She felt an extra delicious thrill at that, as her submissive mind overruled the screaming of that part of her that had still not been overwritten, and damped it down and shut it out.

"Are you willing to be my soldier, even if it means defeating and capturing your closest friend?"

"Yes, Master."

"Are you willing to beat, hurt, and rape your closest friend if I order it, and deliver her here to me for reprogramming?"

"Yes, Master."

She felt the approval in his voice and shivered deliciously as he continued. 

"Is it your dearest wish to capture your closest friend and bring her here to me so she can be reprogrammed and turned into a fellow adoring slut?"

"Yes, Master." She was dripping between her legs, now.

"Do you want to fuck your dearest friend for me?"

"Yes, Master."

He sighed happily, a sound that induced a small, tremulous orgasm in the strapped-down slave-flesh.

"I think we're finished, for now," he said, and suddenly she felt another pinch between her eyes, but this time associated with a feeling of lightness and freedom. 

The bonds relaxed and then retracted into the table, but she didn't move. She hadn't been ordered to.

Master stood up, put his tablet down on a table, then undid his white coat, revealing no shirt or trousers, or underwear. His erection was practically throbbing.

"You have been strapped here, naked, for far too long while I had to reprogram you to behave properly," he said. "I think you need to make amends for how long it took you to give in."

Shivering with shame, she rolled off the table, knelt down, then took him in her mouth.

It really did not take him long. 

"I want to cum on your tits," he grunted as he began to pulse in her mouth. 

She quickly pulled back, aimed him, then pumped him with one hand. He came almost immediately, his cum splashing over her breasts.

"Lick up what you can," he ordered. She eagerly lifted her firm breasts up to your mouth, bending down enough to get not just each nipple but a fair amount of the tip of each breast between her lips. She scooped up what her mouth couldn't reach, licking and sucking it off her hands.

"Turn around," he ordered, "and lie on the table."

She eagerly scrambled to her feet, turned and lay across the table, holding on to the other edge and spreading her legs for him, her still sticky breasts squelching down onto the table's surface. It was the table that had remade her. She was so grateful it would play such a role as he fucked her for the first of what she hoped was many times.

#

Only the effectiveness of College training let Megan function well enough to be part of the search team.

Several Heroes had joined the College, some flying in (under their own power in every case) from interstate, and all the College's parahuman instructors and attached staff or colleagues were in uniform. All senior students were in teams directed by staff. Regular police, understanding the situation, stepped back and kept a low profile as the Heroes searched for one of their own.




Super College Ch. 05



The city had never seen such a targeted, intensive operation. It was almost a state of martial law. 

Small-scale battles were started as non-parahuman criminals reacted to the rush of law enforcement. Students found themselves facing serious gunfire for the first time. Already angry about the loss of their friend, they reacted with cold discipline, training, but slightly too much ruthlessness. 

Police formed teams of secure wagons, collecting those who made the mistake of confronting the searching Heroes. 

But nobody, even under mind control from the few licensed Heroes who possessed those abilities, were able to give any clues to Kimberly's disappearance or location.

Known Villains who had been keeping a low profile suddenly found themselves the target of unprecedented attempts to hunt them down. Most fled for the duration. Two even tried to cut deals, only to find that nobody was in a mood to bargain.

After three days, Megan's unit had just finished clearing a shopping centre when they were granted a break. Helmets came off, coffee or shakes were bought, and toilets were sought out. 

Megan came out of a stall adjusting her torso armour. She stopped dead, mouth hanging open a split second before Kimberly's blurred strike snapped her head around, taking her body with it so she bounced off the back wall before slumping down onto the toilet.

"Sorry, Me," Kimberly said, almost with emotion. "You shouldn't have been wearing so much armour."

#

When Megan awoke, with the speed of the parahuman, her training ignored the shock of Kimberly attacking her and sent her mind leaping to assess her situation.

Restrained - check. Bright lights directed at her - check. Naked - check.

She was lying on a table - fairly standard - with firm cuffs over her ankles, wrists, and neck. She was comfortable, but everything was too tight to give her any hope of getting out.

She flicked her eyes sideways, immediately seeing Kimberly standing stark naked to the side of the table.

She twisted her head sideways, bumping into a padded but quite firm pad against her temple. There was one like it on the other side, as well.

"I'm sorry I had to hit you," Kimberly said, "You need to be taught your true self."

"Oh Kim," Megan said, softly. "I'm so sorry." She ignored what her friend had said. It sounded like a basic script, so focussing on it was not going to help.

"Be sorry for yourself," a breezy male voice said, before the owner stepped into view, looking astonishingly unlike any Villain Megan had ever seen.

He was also naked. He was firmly muscled and well shaped but clearly not in the bulging, pin-up, body-builder league of most parahumans.

"I am going to brainwash you now," he said cheerfully as Megan failed to respond. "Apart from the convenience of having your super-fast friend here pick you up, I think I can make use of your little holograms. And," his gaze very obviously roamed all over her body, dwelling on the thrust of her firm tits and the bare lips between her legs, "obviously your body as well."

Megan still said nothing, staring at him steadily and evenly.

He tsked, without any real annoyance in his voice. "They train you so well you're no fun any more," he said mildly. "Oh well, I may as well have some fun while I'm working. Kimberly, suck me and make it noisy."

Megan didn't want to look at the expression of adoration and delight that passed over her friend's face before the shorter girl sank to her knees, out of Megan's line of sight. But she didn't want to give her captor the satisfaction of seeing her reaction. 

"Tsk. Not even then? Oh, well."

Megan felt a pinch between her eyes, and a psychic hammer blow to her frontal cortex.

She recognised the rush of impulses and unrestrained desires that flooded her consciousness, realising that her self-control circuits had been shut down.

Her body went rigid, then relaxed slightly as her captor kept humming over the wet, sloppy sounds of Kimberly at his groin.

"Say something, please," he said, a faint trace of annoyance in his voice.

"Gnnnnggggg," she didn't stop herself saying.

She relaxed slightly more. "Fucking arsehole."

Then she went totally limp, no muscle in her body moving or able to move except her heart. She felt suffocation reflexes beginning before her lungs spontaneously began pumping again.

"Okay," he said quietly and thoughtfully. Her eyelids spontaneously blinked.

"Are you currently strapped to a table?" He asked.

"Yes," she said, for no other reason than impulse.

"Good. Are you naked?"

"As a jaybird, want to fuck me?"

"Later." 

Suddenly, her mouth wouldn't work.

He reached out to squeeze one nipple, then reached down to pull her pussy lips apart with two fingers and press against her opening.

Then he said, while impulses sleeted through her mind, "I think we can begin. That's enough, Kimberly, go and stand in the corner. I'll call you back when I need you."

Kimberly moved away as Megan heard the sound of a stool scraping across the floor before her captor sat down. Her friend licked her lips, then brought her hands up to her face, a dreamy expression set into her features, to breathe in the smell on her fingers.

"Right," Megan's captor said brightly. "I'm going to ask you a series of questions. Do you enjoy sex?"

She spontaneously decided to see what would happen if she didn't answer at all.

"Do you enjoy sex?" He asked again, patiently. 

Not answering was boring. "No!" She said, defiantly.

"A clear lie is also helpful," he said cheerfully. "Do you enjoy sex?"

"Yes." This time, honesty felt easier. She felt something shift in her mind.

"Do you enjoy being submissive during sex?"

"I did once."

She felt something shift inside her mind again.

"Do you enjoy being submissive during sex?"

"Yes?"

"Do you enjoy being submissive during sex?"

"Yes."

"Good!"

Suddenly, she couldn't imagine ever giving any other answer.

"Do you like having a Master during sex?"

"Yes." Well, it followed, didn't it?

She felt the truth of that with utter certainty.

"Do you like having a Master?"

"Yes." Well, he hadn't specified only 'during sex' but ...

She felt that preference firm inside her mind.

"Are you a slave?"

She had to think about that for a minute. But if she liked having a Master, she must be, mustn't she? "Um, yes?"

"Are you a slave?"

"Yes." She was sure, now.

"Good! Are you a good slave?"

"Yes, Master." All slaves must be good slaves.

The flesh that had been Kimberly watched this exchange with delight. She remembered the times she had spent with Megan, and it was astonishing to her, seeing her friend naked and spread like this, that they had never played together. Obviously they had, I mean, those times they had been caught, but like, why hadn't they don't it all the time? 

Master had said she was going to get to fuck Megan. It was another thing she had to thank Master for. Just the sight of Megan's firm breasts sitting on her slender chest was making Kimberly's mouth water. She began unconsciously sucking on her fingers. The sensation in her mouth made her pulse between her legs.

She pushed one hand down her body, running over one breast and shivering in delight, so she could slide her wet fingers between her even wetter lips. They slipped easily inside her. She began to to fuck herself as she listened to Master, his questions and Megan's answers reinforcing her own programming.

"Are you willing to kidnap, help reprogram, and fuck your fellow students?"

"Yes, Master," Megan said, honestly.

Oh! Kimberly shivered as she came quietly. She hoped she would be sent out for Alex next. He had such a nice body. She had never seen his cock, but she bet it was fantastic!

"Do you want me to fuck you?"

"Yes, Master."

Kimberly answered at the same time, automatically, then flushed and felt terribly embarrassed she had intruded on Master's work.

Master heard her, and chuckled. "Kimberly, how about you start kissing Megan's pussy, and don't stop when she cums."

Megan knew she was a slave and that this man was her Master, but wasn't sure what she felt about having Kimberly go down on her. She hadn't ever liked girls - well, apart from when she didn't have a choice, when she had been captured, and that hardly counted - and Kimberly was her friend. Fucking friends felt a bit odd. 

Kimberly climbed onto the table eagerly, her mouth watering. Megan's lips were beginning to get puffy after all the questioning about sex, and a hint of dew was glistening on them. Kimberly soon made them wetter.

Megan arched up, knowing she should respond to whatever Master wanted, and gave a genuine gasp of pleasure.

"Are you liking this, slave?" Master asked her.

"Oh yes, Master!" Megan said breathily. 

Kimberly's tongue wriggled inside Megan, who arched up even harder, willing the questing tongue deep inside her.

"Do you like fucking girls?"

"Yes, Master!" There was no longer any doubt about that. Kimberly replaced her tongue with two fingers. Megan came with a shout.

"Do you like whatever I order Kimberly to do to you?"

"Yes, Master!" Megan was already close to another orgasm. There was no way she could deny what Kimberly was doing to her, not with such a strong tongue on her clitoris.

"Do you like whatever I order anyone to do to you?"

"Yes, Master!" Megan came again.

"Do you like whatever I wish?"

"Yes, Master!" Megan was almost cumming continuously.

Master chuckled. "Are you my complete slave, willing to obey any command I give, in any situation?"

"YES, MASTER!" Megan shouted as she came, again, Kimberly still finger-fucking her and still vigorously lashing at her clit.

"Good! Kimberly, stop." 

Megan felt another pinch between her eyes, but this time associated with a feeling of lightness and freedom. Her bonds retracted.

"Grab your ankles, slave."

Megan lifted her legs up, keeping them dead straight, easily bending them far enough backwards for her to grab her ankles and pull them even further back, towards her ears.

Master climbed onto the table. Megan was so dripping wet, and so eager after Kimberly's relentless assault, that he pushed straight in even though her pussy was clenching in a desperate search for stimulation.

She groaned helplessly as he filled her, her whole mind delirious with ecstasy that Master was finally inside her, and came again as soon he began fucking.

Kimberly, standing at the foot of the table, began fingering herself again. She started cumming every time Megan did.

She was so glad that she had pleased Master and that Megan (oh!) was now a slave just like her, and that she had been able to make Megan cum (oh!) while Master was teaching her, and that now they were both able to fuck (oh!) Master. She was glad (oh!) they weren't being such silly Heroes any more (OH!)

Cumming so much was making Kimberly's head spin. Megan, lying on her back and being pummelled relentlessly by Master, wasn't even aware of where she was, who she was, or who was fucking her, just that this was the absolute best thing that could be happening to her.

Kimberly came again. Her knees buckled, hitting the edge of the table. Her head was spinning so much that thoughts of Master became hazy and uncertain. She knew she was a slave, and she knew that she was a Hero.

That meant that she had to be the best possible Hero she could, didn't it? After all, if she was a slave Hero, then she owed it to Master to be the best possible Hero, didn't she?

And Master was a Villain.

That made her head hurt, so she stopped thinking about it.

Smiling beatifically, but barely able to stand up, she swayed forward until she had enough reach to knock Master unconscious.

Master collapsed onto Megan, who came again.

Kimberley stared at the two bodies, unsure what to do next. She needed somebody to tell her what to do, but Master was unconscious. Which meant she was a good Hero, because she was a good slave, because ... She clutched her head and moaned.

Megan was still lying on her back holding onto her ankles, her legs straight, as Master lay unconscious on top of her. She felt his cock begin to soften, so she clenched her pussy around it to try and make it hard again. It didn't work.

She was desperate for Master to keep fucking her, but Master had stopped, so did that mean she shouldn't want more? He hadn't told her she could let go of her ankles, either.

Kimberley's head still hurt but she had remembered something that Heroes should do. She should restrain the Villain. She pulled Master off Megan - there was a wet sound that made Kimberley's pussy clench - then tied his hands behind his back with some cords she pulled out of the computer. She wasn't sure why, but she gagged him thoroughly as well. She stared at him uncertainly, then found a pile of rope. When she had finishecan you ever.d, Master could barely even move individual fingers.

Then she stood up and stared uncertainly at Megan.

Master had said she would get to fuck Megan, hadn't he? And going down while fingering her didn't really count. She climbed onto the table. 

Megan stared up at her longingly. "Are you going to fuck me, Kim?" 

Kimberley pushed three fingers inside Megan, who screamed in pleasure, then began working the rest of her hand in as she bent down to kiss her aggressively. 

Kimberley's wrist was between Megan's pussy lips when she broke the kiss. "Master said I could fuck you, Me," she whispered. "So I'm going to fuck you until you accept me as your Master."

Megan barely had time to look at Kim adoringly before she began screaming in ecstasy.

#

Their College armour was nowhere to be found and wasn't appropriate for their new roles anyway, so Kimberley and Megan dressed in the new costumes that Master had made ready for them. 

If they hadn't obviously been parahumans, they might have been arrested for public indecency.

They turned up to the College proudly carrying Master, who they had drugged so they wouldn't feel so upset about doing their jobs as good little slave Heroes. 

Debriefing took a while, and felt unpleasant.

They were finally left alone together, both huddling inside their bulkiest clothes.

"Failsafes," Kimberley said eventually.

Megan just nodded.

"I didn't even know they could implant failsafes."

"Makes sense, though."

It was Kimberley's turn to nod. "That was for real."

Megan shivered. "Yes."

"Not a training exercise. Really for real. A wild Villain, genuinely capturing us and genuinely wanting to keep us, even if he wasn't expecting to be able to hold on to us."

Megan shivered again. "But we got out."

"Yes. I'm sorry if you're still sore."

The ghost of a smile flickered across Megan's lips. "Don't worry, I'm sure I'll be made to get you back one day."