5 comments/ 16899 views/ 17 favorites Tangled Up In Capes By: empty_coffee_cup "Tabitha, honey, how many Tom Collins is that now?" The bar pulsed, but only gently so - it was far too classy an establishment to allow much in the way of raised voices or excitement. Well, at least, it wanted to be classy, but perhaps it was trying a little too hard. Raised voices were replaced by scandalously raised hemlines; and huge plasma screens running news, music, fashion and superhero lifestyle shows on all sides kind of kept the place from being anything more than a pick-up joint for the freshly moneyed and the socially ambitious. "If you're talking numbers Lala," Tabitha slurred, "then I'm afraid I don't recollect. But on a scale from not enough to enough," she held her forefingers inches apart, "I'm still at not enough." "Then I'm buying again," Lana still wasn't (she hoped) displaying how much alcohol she had imbibed, so she made a quick, graceful movement, beckoning one of the bow tied waiters over to their booth. "Madam." Lana licked her lips, if the grey stallion at the bar didn't trot her way soon, she supposed that something like this waist-coated youth would do just fine. She smiled a little as the thought occurred to her that he was probably the same age as her, but the success, the charm and the maturity in those that she had been dating recently made him seem so much younger. "A Tom Collins and another martini," she smiled - all lips and eyelashes. "Of course," the waiter's eyes were on hers until he turned away, then her eyes migrated to his tight little ass. She looked back over at the grey stallion too - he looked pretty well built for his age. She ran her finger around her glass idly, allowing herself to daydream for a moment. What if the grey stallion was on of THEM? One of those spandex clad superheroes who patrolled the skies and streets, day and night, inside and outside of the law, keeping poor, innocent girls like her safe? That would be something. "You're an absolute darling Lala!" Tabitha touched her shoulders. Tabby was always so touchy feely when she got drunk, and on some nights Lana loved to be around her. But tonight Lana was feeling prowly, and it annoyed her that Tabby wasn't feeling the same. "What's with the souse look, honey?" she pried, bluntly, "Not hoping to meet the next man of your dreams tonight?" Tabby was maybe five years older than her, but they could have passed for classmates easily. Not sisters though, what with Tabby's cascade of flaming red hair, scattered freckles and eye-catching curves. Lana's svelte, page-boy, brunette hair style and her almost-frail slender frame were as different as you could get. The difference between them, however, was probably why they did so well when they hit bars like this one. Except tonight Tabby, it seemed, didn't want to play. "Tell you a secret, Lala?" the drunken red-head hissed, "I'm a little sore, if you get my drift." The crude gesture that accompanied this explanation meant that Lana certainly did get her drift. The drift was unmistakable. "Oh!" Lana wrinkled her nose at the crudity, "Well why the hell did you call me to meet you here then, honey? You know that Mister Airline is out of town and I'm all lonely this week." "I have something to tell you - something so fun!" Lana looked intently at her drunken friend. She really was high as a kite, and not just drunk but happy about something else too. "You found a keeper?" she raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh absolutely not!" Tabby giggled wickedly, "Kinda the opposite in fact." "Then why the hell are you...?" "Shhh!" Tabby cut her off and jabbed her perfectly manicured finger at the big screen above the bar. "There he is." "There who..." Lana started, but as her eyes followed her friend's finger her voice faded away. The screen was showing a montage of recent philanthropic and charitable works by various members of the super-community: Laser-Lad visited an orphanage and handed over a comically large cheque; The Human Gun was meeting and greeting the troops in Iraq (midway through his own third tour of duty); The Figure had met the King of France, that kind of thing. But as Lana looked up, the figure that was filling the screen - literally filling it with his rippling, muscled chest and mouth-watering six-pack was Powerjack, the young electricity wielding hero who had burst into the A-List of superheroes last year, putting Terror-Nurse down for good (the authorities had been satisfied that her death had, in the end, had little to do with Powejack's actions during their climatic dust-up). Tabby's finger remained extended, as she watched the shock that her insinuation had caused on Lana's face. "You absolutely, completely and finally fucking didn't!" Lana whispered, when she'd finally let her mind run through the gamut of possible meanings behind Tabby's answers. "When he came," Tabby's voice was low and husky, as she whispered so that only Lana could hear, "inside me..." she waited for that line to have its maximum effect on her wide eyed friend. "He gave me a little shock too, and... ooooh my God, Lala! I've never come so hard in my life. It was like... fwooosh! Fourth of July! Apparently my... he said, my juices..." again Tabby paused after the filth, relishing this opportunity to embellish her story, "... well apparently I get wetter than most girls he's been with, so he thought that probably my juices conducted his charge - and that made it even better for me." "You," Lana was almost too astonished to be sceptical, "fucked Powerjack." "Maybe," Tabby looked up, as if remembering, "'he fucked me' would be better... He was kind of dominant." "I absolutely don't believe it." Lana snatched up her purse from the seat beside her and fumbled for her cigarettes, then remembered that she had quit the week before. She turned back to Tabby, "When?" "Last night," the astonishing revelations that she was hitting Lana with seemed to be sobering Tabby up, and she was grinning and leaning forwards with childish glee. She held out her hand to her brunette friend, and dropped something small and heavy into her palm. Lana picked it up between her thumb and forefinger and scrutinized it: it was a small golden token, much heavier than it looked, and it was in the shape of Powerjack's 'Tri-Lightning' logo. "He gave it to me," Tabby continued, her eyes wide, "he says he can sense them whenever he's within five hundred metres, so if he's passing, he'll know I'm there and we can..." she shrugged "... maybe we can hook up again." "Are you bullshitting me?" Lana handed the token back - it certainly did feel... special somehow. "I swear on my dear grandma's..." "Ok, ok, cut it out honey," Lana grinned, "I guess I buy it." Lana was sore, of course, stinging with jealousy, but she couldn't help but share in her friend's infectious delight a little. "You know there are probably hundreds of girls in this city with this token?" "So?" Tabby scoffed, "I don't want to keep him! But if that super-cock comes my way again, I wouldn't mind!" The girls were silent for a minute, and when their fresh drinks arrived Lana didn't even look up at the cute waiter, she was so deep in thought. "Did he keep his mask on?" she whispered, leaning forward as the waiter left earshot. "The whole time," answered her friend, "But I mean, that's fine by me! Y'know, I wanted to fuck Powerjack, not Powerjack's secret identity." "Mmm," Lana nodded, sipping her martini. "I asked him if he was married y'know..." Tabby teased. "What'd he say?" "He just laughed, and then he said that Powerjack wasn't married, and that the distinction was very important." "Oh my God!" Lana laughed, "Poor wifey!" "I don't know, I wouldn't feel sorry for her if she gets a taste of what he's slinging every now and then!" "So it was good?" Lana pressed, a little coyly. "Like you wouldn't believe, darling. And not just that electric shock thing too - he had size, stamina and then some!" Lana didn't bother to hide her jealousy, she knew that Tabby loved to see her inwardly seething like this. "So come on," she burst out finally, "how the fuck did you meet him?" "You'll never believe me," Tabby's eyes promised that she was going to spill the beans, but she wanted to play around a little longer. "On my honour as a girl scout," Lana raised two fingers in what she thought might be some kind of scout-ish salute, "I'll never doubt a word you say ever again honey." "I threw myself off a building." "You're a fucking liar," Lana snapped coolly, looking again for the cigarettes that she didn't have. "Ok, ok," Tabby giggled, "maybe I exaggerated a little... I didn't actually throw myself off, I just looked like I might and..." she waved her hands in the air, still dizzy with happiness. Lana put her hands flat on the table and looked across it evenly at her friend. No more messing around. "Tell me everything," she demanded. "Ok," Tabby leaned forward again, and this time Lana knew she would be getting the meat of it. "You remember that hideous S&M party Mister Mobile Phone Discount Retailer dragged me to last month?" "Oh," Lana made a disgusted face, "the one that miniature woman runs? The one who got hit by a shrinking ray?" "That's the one." "Joe Stone took me there last year," Lana admitted. "He never did!" "It was the straw that broke the camels back, as they say," why did she ever quit smoking? "Anyway, go on." "So everyone there is positively... ugh, you know," Lana nodded in sympathy, "But I met this one girl, blonde, amazing bone structure," Lana nodded again, "who was at least tolerable, and we were chatting, and she let slip that she had made the beast with two backs with Skyscraper!" "Skyscraper!" Lana whispered. "And I reacted exactly like you just did, but exactly darling. So she showed me a photo she had snapped on her cell and... well, it was him, alright. And her, if you get me." "Good grief." "So I pressed her and... turns out there's something of a secret club of girls who go after..." Tabby's hands opened, implying the answer that she went on to say anyway, "... those with superpowers." "Fascinating," Lana's fingers were drumming on her lips in lieu of toying with her cigarette. "They don't get together or anything, but they share tricks online for bagging them, they keep a list of those heroes that will and those that won't." "That'll put out?" snorted Lana, loving the idea of these everyday girls targeting the godlike heroes that soared over their heads. "Exactly!" Tabby was still almost bursting with excitement. "So she gave me the basic lesson: go up onto the rooftop of a tall building and throw yourself off." "That can't possibly work," Lana waved her hand dismissively, "you'd be pancaked!" "Listen darling," Tabby got serious, probably copying the girl who had told her this, "we live in New York. There are more heroes here than anywhere else in the world. Every major super-team works out of here, and they have powers! They really do! If you scream about falling or jumping from a building - one of them will hear you and you'll be scooped up on the way down. Of course I imagine it must happen rarely that there's a fire at an orphanage, and you don't rank as such a high priority..." "That's quite a risk..." Lana murmured uncertainly. "...Or when they have one of those intergalactic crises and they all fly off into space. You can't do it then, the ones who are left are stretched too thin." "This is crazy." "But anyway, mostly you don't even need to jump off. Do what I did - hang around looking like you're going to jump off and chances are that one of them will stop by and check if you're ok." "Oh my God," Lana started to see how this could actually work. "And sometimes they're one of those straight arrows, they've got a wife they love, they won't mess around, but mostly... they're stopping to do more than just make sure you don't jump." "Oh my God." "They know the rules too!" hissed Tabby, lifting her drink and looking intensely over it at her stunned friend. "They want to play." - - - Well, for one thing Tabby hadn't mentioned anything about how goddamned cold it got on top of a building. Lana had come up here in her lightest, flimsiest, sexiest sundress and had regretted it immediately. It was floating and flipping up in the breeze just as she had hoped (so revealingly, in fact, that she kept having to press it back down with her palms in case someone else came out of the battered brown rooftop entrance and caught her bending over with her tiny thong panties splitting her ass) but as soon as the sun passed behind a cloud she started to shiver uncontrollably. It looked like it was clearing up, but she was losing patience. And she had been up here for so long it seemed like. Leaning over the parapet, striding back and forth as if in emotional turmoil, occasionally crying out to the heavens, faking sobs - she hadn't seen a single caped avenger buzzing by all day. The thing was turning into an absolute bust. The rooftop of her own six-storey apartment building had been a choice made mostly out of laziness. She could have found somewhere a little further from where she lived, for privacy, but - she was looking for superheroes. It was hardly like they wouldn't be able to track her address down! They would probably be able to read it right out of her mind. She did another lap of the roof, her arms wrapped around her so-slender frame, looking without interest at the dead pot-plants and troughs of a long abandoned rooftop gardening project. She stopped at the east edge, where she could look out over the roof-tops of her neighbourhood into the centre of the city. It must have been just lousy with superheroes in there. It used to be a blessing that she'd found an apartment that felt both secluded and central, but now she felt a pulsing, burning desire to be in amongst the action. Surely that was how Tabby did it. She span on her heels, taking in the whole panorama. There weren't many buildings overlooking her here - there weren't many tall buildings in this part of town at all actually. She should have been standing out. Sighing, she leaned again on the ledge and peered over. A narrow street below, a few trees, garbage cans, one or two pedestrians. Hey was that the cute college boy from upstairs? He wasn't with his girlfriend today! She leaned... It was an accident. She had never had any intention of throwing herself off the roof and trusting in a passing cape to catch her. In fact, the longer she had been standing there the more ludicrous that concept seemed - she hadn't seen a single flash of coloured spandex all afternoon! But as she leaned out into the thin, street air, craning her neck for a look at another one of her crush-objects, there was a breeze, or her feet slipped on the rooftop gravel perhaps. All she knew was that suddenly she was tipping, there was nothing to grab onto and then she was falling. Sheer, wild, uncomprehending terror gripped her as she tumbled through the air... For all of three feet. She hadn't even had time to start screaming before she came to a gentle stop, lying almost horizontally in the air, being supported by her shoulders and her waist. She had been caught! The look of abject horror on her pretty face span into an expression of joy. She had been saved! She was being held aloft by the strong hands of... who? She craned her neck and looked over her shoulder, but below her lay the vertiginous drop and the unforgiving grey of the paving slabs far below. She could feel a gentle pressure holding her shoulders, but couldn't see anything. It was the same around her waist (and now she felt the same force supporting her knees too - lifting them so that they didn't dangle awkwardly beneath her). Something was holding her aloft, but... she couldn't see anything. She seemed to be just... floating! In mid air! "Well, that was careless." Lana had twisted as she fell, reaching back for the parapet ledge so she was facing the building in her current, arrested position. The voice, which was rough, educated and faintly amused, came from right behind her. Also in the air. Her breath caught in her throat. "I mean, if you're going to go up on the roof to check out boys you should really be more careful." She knew this voice. Her heart started pounding. "What if there had been no one here to catch you?" "Thank you," she whispered, and felt the pressure that supported her shift, strangely. She was turned, pivoting in mid air to face out into the street - to face her saviour. "Thank you Architect." "You'd be surprised how many people don't say even that." He sat, crosslegged, in the air a few metres in front of her, his short, sandy hair being ruffled by the summer breeze. He looked bigger somehow than on TV, perhaps just more impressive in person? His classy black and white costume (capeless, but she could live with that) looked just as good on his sculpted muscles though. He was resting his wrists casually on his knees and his hands were... glowing. That was how his power - telekinetic, she knew - worked. That was how he was holding her up. He. The Architect. One of the big guns. Was The Architect interested in playing? "My name's Lana." Why was she saying that? Lana tried to bite her tongue, but there was no use. It was one thing planning for this, but another entirely actually coming face to face with someone with this kind of power. And she was floating, for Christ's sake, with only his supernatural abilities preventing her getting pancaked like she had predicted. "Hello Lana," he chuckled, "feeling better?" "Yes. I mean, no... I don't quite know what you..." "You were being very dramatic earlier on, stamping around your rooftop like a petulant little girl," he was smiling, and not that big, beaming, super-hero, save-a-cat-from a tree smile. This was looking good. "Or someone who might do themselves some harm." "I was... upset..." should she lie? Could he read her mind? She had no idea, she really should have boned up on some of those hero fact books that were popular with middle-schoolers. "But you didn't really want to kill yourself - did you?" "N-no..." He was higher in the air than her by some two or three feet, but at that moment a flickering breeze lifted her troublesome dress into the air and she gave a squeak of surprise. It billowed out, zeppelin-like, and she knew that he could see everything - her flat stomach, trim thighs and of course the cute, fuck-me, silk thong she'd bought yesterday especially. It covered her... barely and with her legs splayed like this he must have a wonderful view of how tight it was on her mound. "Oh God!" She actually wanted to push the unruly garment down, but was terrified of moving her arms for fear she would fall. "Why were you up on the roof, Lana?" His face was unchanged, he acted as if he had seen nothing. He rolled his neck slowly, as if working out a crick. "Would you like me to put you back?" "I was..." she was torn - should she keep playing the innocent, or should she just come out and say it? She bit her lip, felt the breeze rush up her dress and tickle her ass. She might never be in this situation again. "I wanted to get your attention." "And why," The Architect paused and his smile became... something else - something a little darker, something she'd certainly never seen on TV, "would you want to do that?" "Because I think you - the heroes - do so very much for our world. And I just wanted terribly to... give you something back." She bit her lip again and made her eyes big - this bit she had prepared. And fuck it, with the wind tousling her hair and this tiny, sexy fucking dress... she must look good enough to eat. "I don't recognise you." "I'm sorry?" "I know that Cape-ette gang. You're not affiliated are you?" The secret society of cape-fuckers! Was it a good or bad thing that she was going this alone? Tangled Up In Capes "I... I don't know anything about any gang, mister... ah... Architect. I was chatting to a girl in a bar and I thought..." "So," he started talking, mercifully cutting her off. She would much rather he take charge here, lest she somehow blow the whole thing. "This is your first time, to meet a powered individual face to face?" "It is." He had the secret smile of a conspirator now. "Lucky me." They rose. His hands glowed a little brighter (a beautiful pastel glow she saw now, but with a colour that was... very hard to describe) and they just moved vertically up in the air another ten metres. She couldn't help but shriek. "Lucky...?" She gasped out the word, confused, terrified. Could he slip? Let her fall? "Lana, forgive me for being forward but sometimes I forget how social interaction works." He had barely moved a muscle from the moment she had laid eyes on him, but he just exuded power and control. How could she look away? Why would she need to forgive him for anything? "I don't have a secret identity like some heroes. I go out in civilian clothes, I go to the market to buy food and I go to the cinema, but when people look at me they know. They know that I have powers." Of course they do. "So it's hard to hold a regular conversation, and occasionally I must come off as awkward." "I don't..." her voice was weak, lost in the wind. She wanted a cigarette. "You're an amazingly beautiful girl Lana." Her heart, which had never really calmed down, started pumping harder still. "I'm lucky because anybody could have chanced upon you - but I did. And I'm the first superhero you've ever met. Are you cold?" "A little." The sun was out, but they were high in the air now, the wind was whipping by and she was - well she was hardly wearing anything. Suddenly the chill breeze died, as if turned off. "How about now?" The sun warmed her skin, she wriggled her fingers and toes. It was lovely. "That's amazing!" She giggled, some of her strength and nerve coming back. "I put up a wind break to the North-West - that's where the breeze is coming from." "Can... can I ask? Can you drop me?" Her muscles were tense, she realised, she was frozen in his mid air supports like she was riding a roller coaster. "No. Relax. There are barriers around you that you can't see. There's no way you can fall." "Oh thank you!" She heaved a huge sigh of relief and let herself relax just a little. Looking up at him now she felt a surge of confidence Powerjack? Fuck Tabby, The Architect was something to really write home about. "So, um... you must be awfully tired, would you like an... ah... a coffee?" Oh fuck, she just offered one of the most powerful people in the world a coffee in her shoebox of an apartment. Would he laugh when he saw it? "I'd rather stay out here. It's such a lovely day." He glanced up at the sky, which had become almost unbelievably blue without her noticing. "Lana, on a scale of one to ten, how adventurous are you?" "I..." she gave him a dirty, crooked smile - matching the crafty smirk that had crept back onto his face. "Maybe an eight. Or a nine." She risked moving in his invisible chair and found that it was almost like a recliner, that it supported her at a shallow, almost horizontal angle, with her knees and shoulders slightly raised. She stretched out on it languorously, testing it. It was hard, but not uncomfortable. She found a comfortable position, her hands beside her, her legs slightly spread. Her skirt lay very, very high up her thighs. "I thought so," he chuckled again, and the glow suffusing his hands flickered. "How's that?" "How's wh-" Lana stopped, tested, gasped. She couldn't move her hands at all. Not even the tiniest millimetre - they seemed to be held in perfect, invisible casts, restraining even her fingers. "Oh fuck..." "Such bad language." The Architect laughed louder. "You know I have to be so careful on TV, in public even, that I can't have sworn for... oh years. I trained myself not to." "How do you stand it?" Of course she couldn't move her feet or her ankles either - they were locked in place by his powers too. She should have been panicking, but she wasn't. This was exactly what she wanted - to get down and dirty with super-powers. "I swear like a fucking sailor, mister." "So I see. But I know some real sailors, I hate to think what they'd do with you on a three month haul." She couldn't move, she really couldn't. Even her elbows and knees seemed to be under his control now. Fuck it, she had her own powers. She licked her lips and looked up at him. "Would they fuck me?" "Oh Lana." He moved his body for the first time, leaning forward to look at her more intensely. "I think you're going to be a lot of fun." And then it started. A brief sensation that at first she thought she had imagined. A pressure so soft and gentle that it could have been the wind running up the hidden cleft of her pussy, pressing against the thin fabric that protected her from the elements. She could have been imagining it, but then it happened again, and firmer. "What..." the third time was firmer still and she knew it was him - stroking her pussy from bottom to top with... with his powers. Oh fuck, her heart was going to burst from her chest. "What are you doing?" "At any time," he said, and she watched colours that weren't colours flicker around his hands, "you can tell me to stop. Do you want me to stop?" She could still move her head. She shook it and he continued. His strokes were amazingly skilful; not demanding, not attacking, just teasing at this point. Something like a ball being rolled over her slit, rolled back and forth and occasionally twisted as it rubbed over her panty-covered, hooded little clit. She lay back, she had no choice. She was entirely in his power. "What if someone... uhn... looks up?" She was breathing more heavily, and though her question was cool, she was actually a little worried about it. What if someone really did look up from the street and see them here, or looked out of their window and... Ah shit, but it was hard to worry when he was rubbing her pussy like that. Up and down, a rolling ball. "They never look up in neighbourhoods like this one. Who ever saw a superhero around here? And that's why I lifted us up, to get out of sight of most of those windows. I suppose someone might see - but that's part of the fun." He raised an eyebrow - so cool. "Oh... you're very good at..." she tailed off. If there had ever been any doubt that he wasn't going to be able to turn her on it was erased now. The ball got smaller, or thinner. It kept rubbing though, up and down, teasing at her clit every now and then, and as it got thinner it got more insistent. She felt warm, safe, as if the sky was her room, and her dress felt... actually it felt too heavy... clinging to her. The pressure on her lips, the secret, private lips between her slim thighs, increased and she... she yielded. With a gasp she felt the thin, finger-like rod press into her through her panties and she felt her lips - tingling from the rolling ball - part for it. And she was already wet - Christ, she had probably been wet from the moment she laid eyes on him, he was just that kind of guy. Her juices soaked into the ethereal silk of her thong, staining it, and she groaned. "Very... good at..." And it kept going, this invisible finger. His finger. It rubbed her, still through her panties, it was like being teased and tormented by the world's finest invisible finger fucker. He wasn't penetrating her just... teasing her. The pressure slid up and came back down, again and again, a little quicker now - he was just making sure she was wet... wet and open and... ready... Not just quick but impossibly, damnably constant. The pressure was gentle and as careful as a human finger, but it was moving with a speed and regularity now that no man could ever manage, no human hand could achieve. She tried to see, could only imagine how it must look - some mysterious dimple in the wet crotch of her thong being dragged up and down and up and down and... "Oh, woah mister... careful... now..." "Am I hurting you?" "You know damn well you're not." "Let me know if I am." She focussed on him for a moment and his smile, utterly confident, utterly in control, made her skin prickle - almost with irritation. "I can do a lot more you know." "You're doing quite enou- ho-o-o-o fuck!" It was vibrating! The air... the air around the front of her panties - that was: the front of her pussy - that was: her clitoris - was vibrating. The invisible finger was still there, tracing only her lips now (and not just between them, but around them, teasing and exploring her labia as much as it could through her panties), but her clit was being... vibrated by the very air itself. "Jesus, I can't... can't..." "I rather think you can, Lana." "Mmmmgh!" She was losing it, so quickly, losing control of her body, of her senses. Where was the cool composure of the nightclub princess now? The buzzing, throbbing air around her pussy was incredibly, impossibly arousing; and the stroking pressure taunted her. This was what you wanted - it said - but now, with your pussy submitting, with your panties soaked, moments from being forced to orgasm... don't you feel a little out of your depth? She moved her head - the only thing she had control over, flicking her short hair. The muscles of her thin bare arms tensed in their transparent restraints. She was making noises now, or rather her pussy was - through her panties even - wet, humiliating sounds of defeat and control. The vibrations seemed to swirl around her crotch, and she gave a little mewling yelp of surprise as they disappeared from her clit and reappeared stimulating her tiny, puckered asshole. In a moment they were back though, the vibrations, shaking her through her clit. Her panties had become sodden beyond anything she had ever experienced before - a product of the worlds greatest magical vibrator and that constant, probing finger, keeping her lips apart behind their silk barricade. So sodden in fact were they that she started to feel an occasional twitch, like maybe she was dripping, dripping her juices through her panties. That was... that couldn't be right... "Oh please, oh please..." "You don't have to ask!" He laughed, and she was happy because she honestly had no idea what she had been asking for. Probably the orgasm that was clearly inevitable, looming over her like a toppling skyscraper or a falling jumbo jet. She was still clothed, just as she had been when she first came out onto the roof, but she had entered a different world. She realised that the reason her dress felt heavy was that it was sticking to her - clinging to her sweat-drenched body. She opened her eyes and saw the sky, infinite and blue above her. Down below she knew there was nothing, nothing but the defiance of physics keeping her up here. The buzzing - it wasn't even focussing on her clit anymore. It was a diffuse thrum that made her final ascent frustrating... torturous. She started itching... her back prickling... why hadn't she come yet? She had been on the edge for what seemed like forever but he had been... She felt her pussy twitch again... felt sweat drip from her cheek - was she dripping cum? Was he catching it? Was it raining down on the street? Oh fuck, he'd been toying with her. He knew exactly when she was going to cum, and he'd backed off, she realised. He was in no rush at all... wasn't there a global crisis or something that he needed to help out with? She felt dizzy and the prickling, itching rash of denial started to spread until it was as if her whole body was crackling with energy that would never be released, that she would have to bottle up forever. She did have to ask. "Please, no more..." "You're not used to denial are you? Postponing the pleasure makes it all the sweeter, Lana." "I'm... hgn... going to lose my mind!" She gasped, the words fat, sticking in her throat as she tried to spit them out. The buzzing, the stroking: never-ending. She imagined her nipples becoming as hard as diamonds, slicing through her thin dress. Her muscles were taught, locked in her perfectly moulded prison. Her neck arched, head thrown back. She was dripping, she was sure, dripping her dirty juices through the ruined silk of her new panties. "Please, God, please I need to come." "As you wish." The vibrations intensified, suddenly and massively. And along with that the stroking gained force, dragging the silk between her lips - forcing the crotch of her thong right up into her cunt. That was more than enough. "Jesus! Sweet fucking Jesus! OH! Hrrnngh!" She would have been thrashing, spasming, losing her mind, had she not been so perfectly and totally restrained. As it was she just lay there in the air completely still, her neck muscles straining and taught, as her mind alone did backflips and the flooded valley between her thighs shuddered, clenched and let out a further, shameful rush of girl-cum. "I'm coming... co... fuck..." "I like you a lot Lana." These words dimly filtered through the fizzing, crackling veil of her violent, sustained climax. She tasted blood, must have bitten her lip, didn't care. "My... my God... that..." The muscles that had been taught and twitching on her neck finally relaxed, and she slumped back. Rather - she felt like she had slumped, but she was so carefully held that she barely moved at all. "That was scary." "You're completely safe with me, Lana. Do you want to leave? To go back inside?" His tone had almost no inflection this time and she had to project her own interpretation onto it. Was he finished with her? Concerned for her? Taunting her? She struggled to open her eyes and raise her head to look at him. "How many? How often do you do this?" "Not as often as you're probably thinking. I'd like you to stay up here with me a little longer, Lana - you really are wonderful company." "You like..." she had to take a huge, shuddering breath to finish her sentence, "... watching girls climax then?" "Oh, did you come? I didn't notice." Oh my God, she thought, he has a sense of humour too. Of some kind. She focused on his shit-eating grin and narrowed her eyes - the only kind of chastisement she had the strength for. She really wasn't sure if she should stay there. The total loss of control, the knowledge that she was fucking floating forty or fifty metres in the air... her climax had honestly been terrifying. "Do you trust me?" he prompted. "I..." she stopped, thought about Tabby again, and who she was talking to. "Did you rescue that ferry last week?" "Yes," he looked away and smiled in a curious way, it was the first time she had seen him anything other than utterly in control, "Yes, that was me." "You saved every life on that boat." "I don't like to..." "I trust you," and that was the first time that she had interrupted him, and it felt like cutting off the President during his State of the Union speech. "Let's play." "Oh, I'm so glad you said that." His hands again - that flickering light - and she felt fingertips brushing her shoulders, running down her slender flanks, stroking her hips and the prominent bones of her pelvis. Then she felt cool, comfortable, free. Oh no. "Hey! Hey wait!" He had carefully and dexterously stripped her stark naked, slicing through the preciously thin cotton of her sundress and through the thin straps of her silk thong. She watched as her sundress reformed itself around some new, voluptuous invisible woman and walked itself away, waiting in the air some ten feet away. And then she blushed and cringed in embarrassment as she felt her thong being peeled off her dripping wet pussy. It came away and he rotated it in the air for her to see the disgraceful condition it had got into. She was suitably mortified, but her skin prickled once again as she felt the small flood that had been held back by the slip of fabric start to drip out of her. "Oh... oh, look at that," he grinned - and then her forced her to. She felt her invisible bonds moving, and she moved with them. It was as if he was controlling her like a puppet, and a cold knot of panic formed for a split second as she thought of all the things he could really do to her... or make her do to herself. For now though he was just sitting her up as though she was in a very deep chair - her back slightly curved, leaning forwards, her knees above her waist, her arms comfortably resting, as if on arm-rests, either side of her. Then he forced her thighs open - wider - and she gasped. In this position she could crane her neck and look up at him but it was much easier to just let her head fall forwards, and when she was in that position she was looking straight at her own sopping wet cunt. She felt like a dog having its nose rubbed in the mess it had just made. And she was a mess, her labia dark and relaxed allowing her to see the vivid pink flesh they were protecting, and her juices dripping. Oh God. A long, sticky, string of cum was hanging from the bottom of her pussy, clinging to the edge of her lips and part of her thigh, but stretching and lengthening and gaining weight as she watched. "You're going to drip on the street in a moment," he said, and she could swear he was just plain taunting her this time. "I hope none of your neighbours are passing by." "You can... you can catch it." "Catch what?" She cursed him, silently. "Catch my... my cum." "Why would I want to do that?" She both felt and saw it fall, plummeting from the soft cleft between her thighs into the abyss below. And almost straight away another fat, juicy-looking string of girl juice started to form. She made a noise, half clearing her throat, that was almost a sob. "What a perfect pussy." He was leaning forwards again, shamelessly examining her. She had no problem with it of course, not really. She would happily give this god amongst men much more than he had already taken, but there was something about the fact that he was still restraining her - that she couldn't have covered herself and protected her modesty even if she had wanted to - that made her cheeks burn once more in spite of herself. Suddenly it hit her that the view she was looking down on - the familiar trees and low buildings of her neighbourhood from a whole new perspective - wasn't special effects. She was really doing this - hovering naked above the city with The Architect, one of the world's most beloved heroes. The man who had brought her to the most terrifying orgasm of her life. The view was really quite something though. "I hope you like this," he said quietly and she saw him flex his fingers as if warming up for a piano recital, "Though I have to admit that I had to practice on some other girls to get this good - you're not the first." "I kind of doubted I was," she managed a smile, but her pulse was pounding and her nerves were jangling too much for her to offer anything more. The finger returned, a sensation she was familiar with, making its way up and down her flushed cleft. But before she had been lying back, and clothed - she hadn't been able to see anything. Now she could see how her lips were parted, how the flesh was being stroked, how he now... oh... pulled her labia out, tugging her lips apart - and yet there was no hand, there were no fingers, nothing. It looked as if her pussy was moving of its own volition, and it fascinated, excited and horrified her all at once. "Oh God, this is crazy." "I've been told it's quite like an out of body experience, watching this happen to yourself." His movements, or rather the movements of the forces under his command were so skilful, so perfect, that she was astonished he could still concentrate enough to talk. "It's... so strange. Oh no!" She exclaimed as another heavy drop of fluid fell from her soft skin and plummeted to earth. Tangled Up In Capes He was done just stroking now, and done just using one finger. As she watched (and felt) he parted her, divided her, tugging gently but firmly with what felt like several fingers on each side of her slit. More cum trickled out and she saw clearly the hot pink walls of her cunt. He bent her more - not uncomfortably, but forcing her to look, forcing her to examine herself. She was dizzy - her field of vision was her own open, dripping pussy and the city, far, far below her. Had they been rising more? She realised with a jolt that they had. How high were they now? This was crazy! She closed her eyes... but the temptation was too great. To see herself - her own pussy - being teased and abused by invisible forces - this was the kind of terror she wanted to embrace. She dripped again, narrowly missing a pigeon passing beneath her. Now the feeling changed. She wasn't being pulled open, but held open by what felt like a solid ring placed at the opening to her body. It wasn't stretching her, but it was holding her open, so she could see inside, and see the shining pink flesh as it undulated and twitched with the movement of her muscles. Then, with a rough, abrasive drag he pulled back the tiny hood of flesh that had still been protecting her clit. "Nyaah!" She yelped and again would have jumped had she been able to move at all (he was holding her head too now). "Jesus!" "Still sensitive there?" "My... my fucking clit you mean?" Her voice dripped sarcasm, just as her pussy was dripping cum. "Yeah, still pretty fucking sensitive." "I like you a lot," he said again. "You know, most girls are pretty incoherent by this point. It's all very unimaginative: begging and panting that I swear they've learned from pornographic films. You've still got a lot of composure." "I don't feel composed," she murmured softly, letting her gaze drift over the tiny buildings below. "I feel like I'm losing my goddamn mind." "You're fine," he seemed confident of that and his confidence gave her strength. "I could make you lose you mind if you wanted though. Or I could just make you come again." Then she was whimpering, sobbing as he started teasing her poor, exposed clitoris in a way that made her think her second climax was just moments away. It was as if it was being sucked, stroked and pulled all at once, just that one, tiny, vital part of her body, by some kind of tiny, expert clitoris technicians. She couldn't find the words to beg him to stop, just wailed and felt her face flushing bright red, burning with heat as she panicked, as she felt her heart trying to crawl up her throat. "Nuh! Nuh! Hnnnngh!" She was going to - going to - It stopped, and she felt as if she had been flung from a car just before it shot off a cliff and into oblivion. Her chest was heaving, her small breasts (that he had admired, but had scarcely paid much attention to yet) were shuddering. She felt her bangs pasted to her brow with sweat. "Watch," he ordered, and then he really split her open. The ring that had been in place at the gateway to her, spreading her wide, lengthened into a kind of tube. She was mesmerised, watching the close walls of her being forced apart leaving a void, a space inside her that she could see right into. She could feel it too of course, but he was right - it was a little like an out of body experience. It was as if she were watching it happen to someone else; she couldn't reconcile what she was seeing with what she was feeling. The mysterious, invisible object he was creating to violate her went to work, and it got harder and harder for her to think much of anything. The 'surface' of it started rippling, undulating inside her, and she saw the hot pink flesh of her insides swaying as it pressed outwards into her. And every time it undulated she groaned, a low, bestial growl that was the only way she could think of to release the pressure that was building up inside her. And as she groaned, he increased the diameter of his tool, his toy, and stretched her wider still. Her eyes were closed as she felt the irresistible pressure pushing out and the thing growing within her. She couldn't open them now, didn't want to think what she must look like. "N-no! Don't! You'll tear... something... I don't..." "You said you trusted me, Lana. I'm not going to hurt you." "But... but it's too much." "It's not. You'll see." It wasn't a shaft, she couldn't think of it like that. It was too fat to be a shaft - it was a tube, a cylinder, a demented tool designed only to stretch her as wide as she could be stretched and leave her young cunt sore and gaping. "Open your eyes." "No, I... I don't want to..." "Open your eyes." The second time he used his superhero voice and she obeyed without thinking. She was staring deep inside herself, seeing glowing pink flesh, so much liquid, a huge, perfectly defined cylindrical absence at the centre of herself. How many inches across? How many deep? So wide that she was sure it was distending her abdomen, pushing it out. When something else dripped from her face she didn't notice at first that it was tears and not sweat. "You'll stretch me..." "Your body is incredibly resilient. I'm not saying you won't be a little sore, but I'm sure you're the kind of girl who's been saddle-sore before." He narrowed it slightly and she gasped, fresh tears of relief flowing. Nothing was over though. It was moving, not growing or undulating now, but pulling out of her. She still had half a brain, could still put some thoughts together. She could guess what was coming. "Watch yourself being fucked now, Lana." He said, soft and potent. She obeyed and he drove his creation, his toy, into her loose, wet, compliant hole. "Oh shit, oh shit," she started a mantra of expletives, shaking her head, attempting to denying the reality of it but unable to tear her eyes away. She watched a space being forced open inside of her - thicker than any human cock could ever be - and then watched it close up as the... the thing slid out. And she felt... like she was being fucked by the cock of God. It stretched her so wide, filled her to perfection, drove in and up to taunt and tease the most sensitive hidden recess inside her, seethed with studs and ridges that constantly stimulated her trembling walls, that constantly tugged and bumped over her lips, pulling them this way and that. It gave her... He gave her everything. She stared down, mesmerised as he penetrated and withdrew. With every stroke she felt a blast of raw sensation tear through her. It was unfiltered, uncut pleasure and she was teetering on the edge of climax in less than thirty seconds. "Nuh... No, I can't take this... hu-huh... for long." "You just keep underestimating yourself!" He wasn't even touching her clit, she realised this time. Everything he was doing, that she was taking from him, was internal. She tried to focus on the quivering, wet tunnel he was forcing open in her, to see how he was doing what he was doing, but her eyes couldn't take it in anymore. She stared through herself to a point far below her, far above the city. Her head was hissing, the blood pounding in her ears and she felt so hot, why couldn't she cool down? Oh God, it was the fucking, the fucking she was receiving, it was breaking her, she should have stayed in the bars, hunting those with money and no powers, what was she thinking when she... fuck, here it came, here she came... She was dimly aware of watching the muscles of her stomach tense and contract, but only dimly. When she came this time her mind was blue and wide and empty like the sky. And when she was aware of herself as a thinking, breathing, fucking person again she felt a whole fresh flush of shame as she drooled, her saliva dripping from her chin onto her tight, flat belly. Huh, this was how easy it was for him to strip away her society gal trappings and reduce her to the shuddering, fuck-crazed animal that was under the surface. What would Tabby think if she could see here now? Was what she had become with Powerjack? He wasn't stopping, and she wanted to ask him to, but her throat hurt. Had she screamed? Would anyone have heard up here? Would it sound like bird's squawking down there on the street, so very far below her? It was like being fucked by some alien, living thing that was writhing and flexing inside her to bring her the maximum amount of pleasure possible. She felt so wet - all over her body were her fluids: sweat, saliva, cum. And they were all dripping off - she was raining on the street down below. And then she rained even more. Something so soft and delicate at first - like a feather - started brushing back and forth over her defenceless clitoris. She whined like a scolded cat, but couldn't use words to express how she felt. Every now and then a feeling swelled up inside like she wanted to get away, just for a moment, just for a breather, but she couldn't move a single muscle. Her struggles were limp and pathetic. The feather become stronger, a tongue flicking back and forth, faster and faster and faster and faster and... He was so good that at the exact moment she came for the third time his fiendish creations all dissipated into nothing. At the exact moment that her cunt went into wild spasms and she screamed again, splintering her already hoarse voice, he abandoned her, and as she squirted her cum out of her savagely climaxing cunt in a glittering spray there were none of his invisible tools to stop it from just arcing out in front of her into the sky and tumbling away, down to earth. "Nnnaah!" It was just a single spurt, but she had been brought to that dizzying extreme so seldom in her young life that she couldn't believe her eyes. She had no trouble focussing this time, watching the tiny wet diamonds tumble away from her, down, down, down to rain on who knew what. And still he wasn't finished. He wasn't bothering to tease and taunt now, just moving - and moving her - quickly and dextrously so she had no time to think, to collect herself. She was turned over in the air, her arms forced behind her back as if she was lying, bound, face down on a bed (it brought back memories). Her legs were, not entirely gently now, spread into a wide V and he span her in a circle too - several times until she was facing away from him. She saw the horizon, the grid of the city laid out below her. And now he took her breasts too, a sweet circular pressure spiralling around them, applying tantalising pressure to the tender, hanging flesh, spinning around and around until it reached her small, pert nipples where it pinched them sharply... and then repeated the movement all over again. Again and again. He was sitting right behind her now, with a clear view of her defenceless pussy, pink and dripping between her spread-eagled thighs. And he drove his creation - the ultimate, impossible sex toy back into her cunt, fast and fierce. Then he started fucking her ass too. Her scream was ultrasonic. It may have interfered with the instruments of passing aircraft. He could do anything, anything he wanted to her. He eased something into the little, dark flower between her perky ass-cheeks - something very thin and very small - and then he widened it, inflated it, and opened up her anus. She felt like a ball of flame, her skin popping and crackling like the surface of the sun. She didn't know if she would survive this anymore, and if she did she wasn't sure that she'd be the same person. Even if her body survived this, she couldn't guarantee that her mind would. She was coming, she felt her sticky, slick girl-juices being almost milked from her poor, shuddering cleft, and it just reinforced her helplessness. She couldn't stop the cum squeezing and squirting and spurting out of her, couldn't stop him from doing exactly what he wanted with her, couldn't stop coming. She just couldn't stop her body from obeying him. He was fucking her ass with a simple, ridged shaft - not the crazy, morphing, twisting thing that was reaming her pussy - but it was still too much. She saw small dark drops fall into space in front of her - blood. She panicked again, but not in a sensible, conscious way, like an animal confronted with fire for the first time. Where was she bleeding? The pain told her - she had bitten her lip again, harder this time, and her mouth was sour with her own blood - drops of that fluid joining the cum, the sweat, the spit... He bent her, arching her back for her and somehow, impossibly, started fucking her faster. She couldn't tell what was an orgasm, she couldn't name the sensations that were ripping her apart anymore, but she knew that something new was coming. Her pulse was a thrumming drumbeat. He seemed to be fucking impossibly far into her. Her ass was his too. Flickering spots started to appear around the edges of her vision. It was like being picked up by a tornado and she only had two words: "I'm coming." - - - She ached. All over. She turned over, felt the stitching of her own familiar quilt and had that cliched thought - 'Wow, that was some dream!' Then her thighs brushed together and she noticed the dull throbbing ache that was suffusing her... well her entire pelvis. And she felt the sticky residue that held her thighs together. She opened her eyes and he was standing by her open window. "Shit." "That's not what I thought you'd say." He frowned. She couldn't work out how he had fit through her small window - he seemed to take up most of the room. "I remember everything." "Of course you do." "What the fuck am I meant to do?" She straightened her legs experimentally. "I don't think I can walk." "I'm afraid you'll have to work that out." He shrugged, the movement looking surreal on his massive physique. She had become so used to the lotus-esque pose he had held in the sky that he looked odd standing up too. They were silent for a moment, watching each other as if each expected the other to suddenly fade from existence. "Thank you." "Ok," he laughed this time, "I can't really follow your thought processes Lana, but you're welcome." "I think you changed my life." "A little dramatic, but yes - it was fun for me too. Do you want to see me again?" "Is that... ah... possible? Do you want to?" She sat up, wincing, supporting herself with a single, slender arm. God, she could move her limbs again, how incredible. "I'd like to see you again, but you can imagine my life." "Really I can't, honey." "I have a schedule in the loosest sense of the word. I'll try and find you again. I'll come by sometime." This was all insane, having The Architect in her tiny bedroom, saying these things to her. "I'd like that. But... maybe not for a week or so..." she slipped a hand between her thighs and winced again. "Would you believe that it's all about training?" He smiled. "I can imagine so." When he moved, when he left, it looked like a movie again - it looked like special effects. He opened the window with his hand, but didn't use his legs to rise up through it. He flew, as she had done in a way, and disappeared without looking back. Her head hit the pillow empty, sated and fifty percent certain that it had all been a dream. When she woke up again she was definitely going to buy some goddamn cigarettes.