The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Do you think she’ll ever wake up on her own?” I’m not sure if this is a dream, or if this is reality, so I keep my eyes closed and try not to move. Silhouette is talking, but not to me. She’s talking to somebody else though. Her voice doesn’t have the rhetorical tone someone gets when they’re only talking to themselves. She’s actually expecting an answer, and hoping for one different than the one she’s dreading.

The voice that responds sounds like laughter given meaning. It sounds soft and nurturing like only a healer’s voice can sound . . . For a second a part of my mind thinks the voice is mine, but I only just woke up and I know that’s silly. “She’ll wake up, trust me. She might not be my Sarah, but . . . She really does love to sleep. Oh, she hates being asleep and not being out there doing something . . . but she loves her sleep. Ask her when she’s awake and she’ll disagree, but don’t ask her when she’s groggy. She’s liable to whine so pitifully that you will want to beg her to get another hour or three.”

Both of their laughs join together, and my lips smile in spite of my desire to keep them still. They just sound too happy. You could almost believe that there wasn’t a demi-witch, witch, psycho writer, whatever, out to take over Midas City.

Midas City . . .

That must have been a dream. Nothing stole the light from the city. Just the thought of someone doing that is absurd! How would you even do that? That dream is full of way too much symbolism for my tastes. Was that really how I think Sylvia will look when she’s seventeen? She was very pretty and . . . she’s not really my niece, even if we have a lot of DNA in common. Besides, by the time she’s seventeen I’ll be forty three.

Ouch. I really need to shift my mind away from this topic before I start feeling really dirty. Besides, I’m not even thirty yet. Hopefully by forty I’ll have regained more of my moral compass. I don’t need incest with a temporally removed half-sister seeming just that tempting of a thought. I’m really not that bad am I?

“Either way, I’m sorry that I was only able to stop whatever the two of you were doing after it shredded all of your clothes. I have no clue how pretty sizzling silver light and purplish mist did that, but well . . . You were across the room from each other. I don’t think you tore apart your own nightgown for the fun of it. It looked pretty too.” Silhouette is talking like she does when she’s not wearing her shadow. It makes me feel a little better to realize I’m not the only one who has a different voice when I’m “in character”.

“Really, don’t worry about it. That’s the first time that my powers have ever been anywhere near that intense! Besides, I’m just glad you got up before we tore apart more than just our clothes! And thanks for letting me get a nap too, by the way. If I was you I would have been insanely paranoid.” Valerie sounds wide awake. She must have gotten to bed early last night.

I probably don’t want to know. Every minute I spent asleep Quillspawn spent . . . Then again, I can imagine that she got some sleep eventually, unless she’s asleep now. I remember when I was younger that I always assumed everyone woke up at six in the morning, and went to bed somewhere from ten at night to two in the morning. If this job has taught me anything, it’s that some people learn to sleep with the sun shining through their blinds.

It was at least an hour off of dawn when I came here. Even if I slept a full eight hours I don’t think there’s any way it could be too much later than noon. There’s still time to stop her, not that I have a deadline. As long as I can think on my own I can stop her. It’s not like she’s waiting for the stars to align. She’s just executing a plan she’s had in mind for quite some time.

Yana said she put it into her own mind. Maybe there’s some way to take it out. Maybe fighting against the ink isn’t the right way to go. Maybe I need to remove it . . .

Someone starts stepping closer to me. My eyes are still closed and the floor is carpet but they’re not trying to hide their approach so its still just audible enough. Why would they? I must have actually saved Amethyst. Silhouette helped – and probably stopped me from sucking the silver right out of my bones – but I’d like to think that was mostly thanks to the timely return of my sparks.

Was that Silver, Silver Girl, Patina, or Argentia who saved her . . .?

No, I am not having this conversation with myself. I did it. Whoever the hell I am, whatever the hell I am . . . A silver rose by any other name would still spark just as brightly, or something to that effect. The thorns would probably feel absolutely delightful in one way or another.

A hand rests on my cheek, and the fingers start to slowly caress in a half circular motion. It feels so nice and soothing . . . There’s a little bit of mist to it, just enough mist to feel relaxing without yanking the sparks out of my face. “It’s sort of strange, seeing her laying here like this. Now that she’s sparkful again she looks almost exactly like my Sarah did . . . She has the same nose, the same cheeks, the same lips . . . even the same eyebrows. Something’s different about her hair but I can’t quite place it . . .”

Slowly I open my eyes, and look right into hers. Valerie stiffens and her lips stay tightly sealed. There’s some understanding in her lightly glowing eyes that wasn’t there before. Are mine the same? I felt her desires, her cravings . . . oh goddess, did she feel mine too? I was too busy being buffeted by her amethyst whirlwind to even think about that . . .

“It’s okay Raine-drop . . . I can say it for you, just once, just quit looking at me like there’s something wrong, something missing? Please?” I keep my voice low as I can. This is something I only want Valerie to hear.

That means something, right? Trying your best even if you fail? I really hope so, because if not then I’m not doing so great at the moment and I think that’s been the case for a while.

Valerie pulls her hand back, and looks away before she lets herself speak. “Thanks, and . . . I’ll try.” She pauses, just for a moment, and then grins before turning away. “Hey Silhouette, she woke up! Told you she’d wake up when she was good and ready. That was only what . . . Four hours, or so?”

“To be fair Valerie, she’d been awake for quite a long time before it caught up with her. Dealing with super villains isn’t something you want to do while you’re trying not to nod off. That goes double for the ones aiming for what’s between your eyes. Considering that you were sucking the juice out of her batteries I think you can give her a break.” Silhouette’s tone is seriousness twined with humor, but she is definitely making a point. It really did feel like that.

My veins feel sore.

It doesn’t feel bad now and for four hours I feel pretty rested. My head feels a little light but I’ve had a lot worse spark induced hangovers. Slowly I reach up for my pendant to give it the squeeze I often do to try and comfort myself . . . shit. I sit up and grab frantically for where my pendant should be but it’s not there. Where is it?!

For just a moment I realize that either the sudden panic or my life experiences have made me not care that getting up to look for the pendant after my little reaction to Valerie’s powers will be exposing me to Valerie and Silhouette. Though, it might also have something to do with the fact that they aren’t just any two women. Silhouette used to sleep with me so she saw a lot that no one ever sees. Valerie used to sleep with The Domina. In a way I don’t want to spend much time thinking about, she’s seen a lot more than I have.

I can’t stop darting my eyes around madly. If my suit got ruined that means . . . my belt . . . but it was really sturdy! So was the body suit . . . Oh goddess I’d just replaced my supplies! Some of those drugs aren’t cheap but . . . the pendant is irreplaceable. Even if my heart manages to hold out, which frankly I’m surprised at but . . .

“Where is it?! Oh goddess where is it?!” It’s the only thing I have of my mother’s. She didn’t leave anything else with Susan, and I don’t think she had anything else nearly as special to leave. That pendant was important to her, very important to her . . . and even more important to me. I don’t care if she called me a bad daughter and ran off- she’s my mother!

“Where is what?” Valerie’s voice sounds worried, but mostly confused. “I might be able to help you find it if you take a second, let yourself breathe and try to—“

Not only is it the only link I have to the LaSilvas side of my family, but what if my sparks don’t last? What if my heart problem comes back? I don’t want that surgery and the risk of ever being trapped eternally as plain Sarah. I want to deal with this rationally, but everything has me so on edge, I don’t have the patience to let people finish sentences much less calm down!

“My pendant! I need my fucking pendant!” I’d be able to calm down easier if I lost the key to Sylvia . . . Oh goddess that was in my belt. If it’s torn to shreds . . .

Silhouette steps into view, or my eyes just finally notice her, but she’s not holding the pendant so I still don’t feel particularly better. She does have a rather incredulous look on her face but it’s not one I particularly blame her for. “Silver, relax, for five seconds. It didn’t get torn up by whatever the two of you were doing. Your suit was ruined, but your belt and your pendant were okay. Where did you put them again, Valerie?”

“They’re in my room, I’ll uhm . . . I’ll be right back with them . . .” Valerie starts to walk towards her bedroom and my panic starts to fade.

“Hey! While you’re in there, uhm . . . if it’s in there . . . I need some clothes. You don’t happen to have my old Silver Girl uniform in there, do you? I feel bad for asking, but it . . . well . . . It is sort of mine, and even if my clothes hadn’t gotten puréed I wouldn’t want Patina to suddenly be driving through the streets with a new paintjob . . .”

Valerie’s eyes lock with mine, and for a moment I can see that I said just the right words. I guess that only one silly silver-skinned girl would call a bright white costume a “uniform”. I’m sure the Domina did too . . . It makes Valerie smile, and that’s what matters to me. “Sure do. I’ll get that for you, too.”

As soon as she’s left the room I let myself collapse back onto the couch and just look up at Silhouette. That outburst . . . I really need to get a handle on myself. So far I’ve avoided one of Quillspawn’s traps, and I turned the other one into an ally. All I have to do is just keep up the good work and I should be able to get through this one with a modicum of sanity left and maybe even without fully losing my mind even once.

At least this time it doesn’t look like I’ll need to get a handle on an alternative version of myself. Oh, my dreams would have me fucking my own teenage self raw, but that’s different.

At least I hope that’s different.

Silhouette looks back down to me, and I haven’t the slightest what I should say. Ideas spring to mind but none of them seem useful. With a sigh I slide a spark out of a fingertip and bounce it atop the others. I didn’t notice it at first, but my sparks feel so much different than they used to. There’s just some part of them, or some part of me that reacts to them differently.

“I think that your tongue is already silver. Do you need to keep doing that?” Silhouette sits down next to me and raises her visible eyebrow.

“No.” My lips curl into a grin before my shoulders shrug. “It’s just something that I haven’t been able to do in a long time so even if it’s entirely pointless and infantile, I want to do it anyway. A part of me is sure that it’s only temporary . . . Good things tend to be transitory, huh?”

She shakes her head in a way that doesn’t convey disagreement, but understanding. Silhouette is probably the woman who understands me the best. We have a shared history and both of us understand what it feels like to love being controlled even after the control is finally gone. A part of me wonders if maybe I shouldn’t do more than just keep her as a kitty after this is over but . . .

Olivia is my lover. We share an apartment and we have our own special bond. I need to stop reconsidering my feelings every time someone new or old enters or reenters my life.

Valerie walks back into the room and drops the pieces of my old costume down in front of me. The boots plunk down with a very satisfying sound against the carpet, and my pendant rests on top of the upper half of the uniform, the skirt cutely fallen down around those familiar white boots. After I quickly clasp the pendant back into place, a pair of panties and a bra fly into my face.

“Thought you could use a pair, and I still have all of . . . her . . . old clothes. If I wasn’t still holding out hope that some day she’d come back . . .” Valerie is actually giving me some of The Domina’s underwear to borrow. This is one of the weirdest feelings ever.

“Thanks . . .” I smile and pull the underwear off of my face before sliding it on over me. Both of the undergarments fit snugly enough to be from my own drawer. A part of me was just waiting for the bra to feel loose or the panties to feel too tight, either for some reason to be jealous or maybe doubt the validity of The Domina’s . . . me-ness . . . but that doesn’t appear to be the case. I slide on the skirt next, and then pull the top over my head before sliding my fingers into those all too familiar gloves.

Sliding my legs into those boots again can wait. A uniform change might not make a person deserve or fit the uniform, but if the uniform fits . . . Well, if people can say it about shoes, I can say it about my uniform.

Not a second after I’m done getting dressed Valerie throws my belt at my lap. There’s definitely some scuff marks, but I’ve done worse to it. Admittedly I’m not much on fashion but I think that the belt actually complements the rest of it rather nicely. “Thought you might want that, too, even if it’s not exactly ‘Silver Girl’.”

“Thanks again . . . And I think it is very Silver Girl, after all . . . that is who I am, right? A part of me might think that taking on the ‘girl’ part when I’m getting close to being in my late twenties feels a little silly but everything about me is a little silly. It’s not going to kill me to take on one more silly aspect. I’m not one of the heroines that terrifies their enemies . . . I’m one of the ones that does her best to do some saving, so . . .” Shrugging I look down over myself and break just enough of a grin across my lips. “Having a disarming name is only for the best . . . right?”

“Definitely.” Valerie smiles and winks. “Now, if the two of you don’t mind, I’m going to go change into my own ‘uniform’. I’m going to go with you, whatever comes next. I’d feel safer not being left alone.” Wiggling her fingers in what feels like a parody of my own wave, she heads for her bedroom and I feel so . . . hopeful. Things can be okay. They really can . . .

Silhouette looks happy, but not nearly as calm as I must. Is a part of her still suspicious? I could have sworn that I felt the ink being torn away from her. Maybe Valerie’s wind and my silver can be used together to bring down Quillspawn.

I’ve suffered whenever I haven’t trusted my instincts, and everything tells me Valerie is clean of the infestation. Something still feels off but I can’t put my finger on what . . .

My shadowy companion holds out her own hand much like I have been to bounce around my sparks, but she just summons shadow to form into a small ball in her hand. It’s not a solid thing, and it looks like it’s in constant motion, but there’s still something somehow impressive about it. Light and dark being on the same team, much less ever being anything close to romantic is almost as bad as Silver and Gold.

If on the outside chance Quillspawn is right and the whole world is a novel then mine is bursting with clichés, puns, and camp.

Valerie steps back into the room, and once she’s in clear view she spins as if to show off and I can hardly blame her. Her flowing violet lab coat has far more style to it than the traditional cape but all of the traditional feeling of movement they accentuate. Underneath her dark purple scrubs cling to her body like they’re a size too small to be sensible or modest, but the right size to be sizzling. Her black boots have modest heels and look quite a bit reminiscent of my own white pair.

She grins, and it’s the first time that I notice while she doesn’t wear a mask, and with that flowing signature purple hair it would be as silly as Silver Girl wearing one, but she does wear purple lipstick and a lovely lighter shade of purple around her eyes.

Silhouette clenches her fingers around the ball of shadow, and it makes a hissing sound like you’d imagine crushed shadow turning to mist to make, and raises that visible eyebrow again before shrouding herself in her shadow again. “So, I hate to say something cliché like ‘I hate to break up this lovely moment, but . . .’ but . . . It needs broken up. Quillspawn must know her link with Valerie has been severed, and she’s known that for a few hours now. We need to make our next move. Any ideas?”

“Yeah, and if I’m going to help . . . Silhouette told me a little, but could you bring me up to speed Sarah? Or well . . . Silver Girl?” She seems uncomfortable with it, but at least when Valerie, well, Amethyst, says it now it doesn’t sound like she’s trying to hold back some comment about The Domina.

So, I tell her everything. I go all the way back to that seemingly unimportant spot of what I thought was oil the night before I met The Poetess. I tell her exactly how I remembered the run in with The Pen . . .

In short, everything between that incident, and when I opened up her door. I leave out the dream.

“All I know is that she plans to take on Midas, and then I don’t know if she’ll stop. She wants vengeance on her mother, but it’s bigger than that. She’s not just some witch. Yanuka, Yanta . . . All of the Nesatealia I ever interacted with, they didn’t care about conquest. So either they have some rule about it or they just don’t care. After all, it’s too much responsibility and responsibility gets in the way of fun. Our little raven haired authoress seems to have different views. All I know is that this is a book to her . . . So she’s left us a clue, even if she didn’t mean to . . .” I stand, and smile a crooked smile. “She needs there to be a final showdown after all, or at least some thrilling climax before her victory.”

“Isn’t that self defeating? Why doesn’t she just leave us a riddle?” Valerie is new to this sort of thing. Even if this is a bit of a special set of circumstances, power corrupts. It doesn’t just stop by making some people into amoral rejects of society. Power twists the people who use it in its own image. Whether it’s silver sparks or abyssal ink . . . You don’t get away unchanged.

The more experienced of the three of us shakes her head and stands too. “Not that defeating. Besides this is obviously a story she’s been working on for years, right? So this clue isn’t something that she’s just going to throw into our laps. We already have it. We just need to realize its importance.”

“So the key is to find things we’ve already dismissed as extraneous details, and reason them out as if this were fiction, or even fact for that matter.” If I smoked I would slide a pipe in my mouth and start to pace. I might be closer to a noir private eye but I can’t just provide a voice over for myself to get into that role.

Valerie speaks up again, and her voice is very hopeful. Either she’s getting the hang of looking on the bright side during situations that shouldn’t be physically possible, or she’s in denial. “We can go backwards through those details. That might help. Like revising for grammar, sometimes it’s better to start from the end and read each sentence on its own. It makes you notice the sentences for themselves and not as a larger part of the story. It was the only way I got through college without my papers being handed back graded by just one big red line.”

I nod, and look to the ceiling before starting to list all of them out loud. There’s the fact that inexplicably Valerie’s and my own powers can break apart her ink and it’s unlikelihood having to either be important or a twist even for our authoring enigma. There’s the fact that my silver can apparently read the ink if I’m careful. There’s the fact that Silhouette’s home is protected from scrying, and she happened to be right there at the right moment.

All of those are loose threads, but none of them feel like anything to explore. We could go and free Aureus, but if we couldn’t manage it then all she needs are three lucky punches. Still, if Silhouette gets put out of commission then no one would be able to stop the chain reaction . . .

We’d end our attempt at heroism shuddering madly on the floor while Aureus waited for the juice to run out so she could drip some in into our ears.

Reading any of the ink is just as dangerous, and only makes sense. I’ll just need to keep it in mind for the future. My powers feel so unstable though that any special effects they have one moment might not be there the next. I’d used a lot of strong sparks before and I never felt connected to someone else . . . I still don’t know why my powers came back and I’m not sure if I want to know the details.

Silhouette being suspicious is something that feels only worth mentioning to not forget any details. There’s no ink in her mind, and my link when I was sparking her only revealed desperate intent. Nothing was malicious and she’s been more than helpful. Her timing is circumspect, but that happens.

There has to be more to this book . . . Book . . . Bookstore . . . The pen! “Quick, Silhouette, Amethyst, which precinct takes care of the territory around Murray and Schocktty?”

“That’s the Eleventh . . . It’s only about three blocks away from that intersection. It’s not too big, but I’ve been there before. Once when I was working at The Midas Touch I was called in to help keep a witness alive. They said they couldn’t risk anyone knowing she was in town and she had some nasty damage done to her chest . . . “ Valerie’s delivery tells me just what I needed to know.

In fiction, coincidences are poor planning and shoddy writing. Valerie had actually been to the place I’m sure we need to go next? It’s even a place I could have found on my own if I’d needed to. This is way too perfect a set up.

I might be getting better at the whole detective part of this job.

“Why the epiphany laced look, Silver?” Silhouette’s voice sounds like she already knows what I’m going to say but not the exact words. That makes me feel even better.

“When Aureus got inked it was because she was trying to help stop a robbery of a book store on Murray and Schocktty. The Pen was trying to steal some large ancient magic-tome like book. We managed to stop her, and the police shoved the book into evidence . . . but the police who were already there had been inked before we even arrived . . .” My lips curve a little more and I can’t hold back the laugh of victory. “So we need to get to their evidence locker before Quillspawn gets it . . . wait . . .”

Purple hair shifts like a painting as Valerie blinks and tilts her head to the side. “Wait? It actually makes a lot of sense. There is too much pointing at it, and if there are police inked then we don’t have any time to waste! We need to get down there, lightly stun some inked police if they get in our way, and get that book out of there, right?”

I shake my head and turn away from both of them just to try and compose my thoughts. So that I don’t have to recap to them after, I speak them out loud. “There’s no reason she wouldn’t already have the book if it was of any importance. Not only could she scry where it was, but it’s been in that evidence locker for way too long. If drug evidence can dry up without a lash batted, and she has the police in her notepad, there’s no reason to be subtle. This is our only lead for how to stop her or find out more . . . but it’s a trap.”

“That is some pretty tempting cheese though. Maybe she wants to draw this out . . . Just send in someone who can make you feel good, but then your allies save you, or you break away? Isn’t there supposed to be more climax than just the big bang? If a story like something you’d be written in only had one climax . . .” Silhouette grins, and I know her mind is in the gutter, but she has a point.

Either we follow the only lead we have, or we take our chances with Aureus, or . . . We can always try confronting her in her mansion right now, but something tells me that breaking the rules of her game will be met with disastrous consequences. Plus, her home is her territory . . .

If someone like Silhouette just has their home warded from outside interference I can only imagine that Quillspawn has pots of thought boiling oil just waiting to dye my hair and my eyes a very deep dark black. Traps are something that you can do better if you’re prepared for them, but sometimes being prepared for something isn’t everything. Some risks aren’t worth it even if you know what you’re getting yourself into.

Do we have a choice?

The only choice, we really have is how. “We’re going – but we’re playing it by our terms. We’ll go to the station house. Silhouette, I know you can follow a bike, so Valerie will ride with me. Once we’re there, I’ll go in and make my way to their evidence locker. The two of you will wait outside. This way, whether the ambush is set for us trying to nab the book or trying to nab the book on the way out we have some chance of both stopping them and getting away with our thoughts intact if we fail.

“Because if I come out of that vault inked to my eyeballs, I want the two of you getting as far the hell away as you can to regroup. I want us to come out on top but our enemy has us at a supreme disadvantage, so . . . I think it’s smarter to plan for the worst than not.”

Both Silhouette and Valerie’s eyes light up. Maybe I really am cut out for this whole leadership thing. The last time I split a group up there really wasn’t any point in it besides desperation. If it had been all three of my last group against Ember and Mourning Frost, well . . . things might have turned out different, maybe even better.

My optimism may be dimmed by realism, but I don’t think that’s the worst thing that could happen. “Unless there’s a better idea . . . because I’m just as happy to be able to blame one of you if we screw this up.”

“Nope, I think we’re both already planning how we’ll explain to you that we managed this all on our own after you caught a nasty case of the ink flu.” Sans the medical reference, and a slight one at that to be honest, I would have pegged something like that coming from Silhouette. The fact that instead it came from Amethyst makes me feel even more hopeful about pulling this off.

“Then let’s go. We don’t have the cover of darkness on our side but if I was an enemy of mine, I would never think I could come up with something like this . . . so let’s hope Quillspawn agrees.”

The ride reminds me of a few very important facts. I can drive a bike with a skirt not going side saddle, but it is not my preferred mode of travel. My uniform is going to gain the addition of some hot pants. Valerie’s body is a very well developed one and it feels lovely to have her quite full chest grinding into my back every time we speed up or vibrate a little too much.

Also, while a car would be more convenient for my tendency to work in threes, it would minimize my ability to swerve in traffic and take advantage of empty sidewalks.

“I would say your erratic driving shocks me, but I imagine that The Domina would be driving the same way!” She clings tighter, but Amethyst’s voice isn’t angry. It’s just observant. Driving erratically while still being in control is a very useful skill.

With a grin I park us in front of the building right after the station. Silhouette’s moving shadow from the rooftops above stops on top of that same building. “Remember, if things go bad, you two get the hell out of here. Steal a car, hail a cab, anything. Also remember, you might not be showing but you’re still pregnant. If The Domina ever comes back and finds out that her lover got inked because her own pitiful past alternative self got inked, I imagine she would be even less happy with me.”

She nods, and I hop off of Sylvia before pocketing the key. Neither of them can drive her so it’s the only smart option. Of course, walking into a police station with ill intent isn’t the smartest idea either.

You have to pick and choose your moments of premeditated stupidity.

The eleventh precinct’s station looks just like all of the others. It’s a building that’s exterior hasn’t changed much in at least fifty years. The interior hasn’t changed much but I’m sure they’ve kept it up to code and continually upgraded all of their technology. Readying a spark in each fingertip I open the door and step in.

I make my way right to the receptionist’s desk and force the most innocent smile to my face that I can manage. “Hello . . . I have some information on a little conspiracy going on here in Midas, and I thought I would do my part.”

She looks away from her computer screen, and raises the most suspicious red eyebrow I’ve ever seen. Her skin is the perfect pale and freckled tone that makes it impossible to find anything but adorable. It makes an expression that should put me on edge only make me a little worried, but at least I realize that. “O-kay . . . Hey . . . You’re Silver Girl! You’re the one who helped them take down that nasty auction that was sellin’ off all of those people . . .”

Only the top brass in the MCPD knows that The Domina had links to The Argentum Project. Luckily they’d already tried to help me take down the Slut Squad once before so there is a record of there being a Domina Argenti . . . and the people that don’t need to know don’t.

Being mistaken for The Domina would be an interesting spin on things. “Yup, I sure am. Who do I need to talk to? There’s some bad things going on and you gals have something in your . . . vault . . .”

My fingers twitch, and I know I don’t have a silver-sense or anything, but when the officer with the black eyes starts to reach for her gun and so does the one on the other side of the room, I know that my paranoia is more than founded. Quillspawn played her cards just right, only making enough of a visible nuisance before letting what seemed like two on the radar coincidences help her get the chess board set up with half of the white pieces dyed black.

“I just want you to know . . . that I have the utmost respect for the law . . .”

“What do you—!” The receptionist’s question is cut off when I spread my arms and fire a volley of sparks into both of the officers. One of them is a man I might have seen before, but the other is a woman I know I haven’t. I would remember curves like that. When they were designing uniforms for female officers they must have known there’s nothing sexier than a woman in a good uniform.

Anyone limited to just looking at her would be disappointed and maybe a little hot from thinking her over a little too much, but I can taste her mind as the five points of shining light sizzle over her body and into her mind. I can taste the faint bit of ink keeping her mind, their minds, from turning off, but when I let the sparks burst they collapse, and that’s all that matters. Their hands are clasped tight around their guns, but luckily they didn’t have time to click off the safety.

My nipples are aching from the feeling of the delightful brunette soaking her uniform in the best of ways, and I’d forgotten or never realized before that this uniform really needs a bra with a lot of padding or that fact is far too obvious. Maybe I’ll get it restyled in a heavier fabric.

Before anything else, I look into the corners of the room. Security cameras are positioned out in the open, and I get the chance to try something I only used a few times compared to the rest of the feats my sparks can accomplish. I arch my hands up higher, and fire another volley at the cameras, and each makes a loud fizzle-POP sound as my sparks burn them out.

The feeling is something so different from anything else . . . For just a moment, a split second before the sparks burst, I can see myself from those different angles and it makes my head spin. Goddess do I look good when I’m in the zone . . . and this skirt really hugs my ass.

I must be getting more exercise than I thought.

“I’m really sorry sweetheart. When you recognized me I hoped that this could go a lot better . . . but if it can’t . . . well . . . this is important.” The receptionist wheels her chair back and hits into the wall behind her sending vibrations all through her body. Taking advantage of the new positioning I boost myself over the counter before firing another quick volley at the doorway behind the other side of her desk.

Another black eyed beauty slumps to the floor with a thud. Her gun fires off and shoots through the front window preceding the thud, but it doesn’t come close to even grazing me.

Freckle faced and brown eyed, the receptionist whimpers, trying to stand up from the chair but her legs, covered by a black skirt and a pair of hose, don’t seem strong enough to hold her up. “What are you doing?! Please . . . please don’t do . . . whatever you did to them . . .!”

“Like I said, I’m trying to stop a conspiracy, just trying to do my part. Sadly, said conspiracy is forcing my hand. After all of this is over, I’ll make it up to you. I promise.” The gun shot is going to rally every officer in the building, and no doubt there’s going to be back up. If I don’t hurry I’m going to just be another super on a rampage. “And if I fail, just remember that I have really soft lips.”

“Why would I remem-MMmph!—mmmm . . .”Her whole body shakes and shudders in her chair as I straddle her, my hands grabbing the back of her neck, and volt after volt of pure silver bliss sizzles through every nerve between her lips and her brain, and every synapse in her sweet cerebellum.

The fear melts out of her body as I can feel time slowing down to let me feel every moment of this sweet moment. I can feel her nipples hardening against me, her legs slowly parting as her entire body tries to press into me, but she can’t. She’s trapped in my electric embrace, and I’m trapped delving as deep into her as I can, deeper than her conscious, deeper than her self, trying to force my silver into her memories.

Remembering how Lida helped me experience her memories, and how she experienced mine, I just force more, and more, and more of myself into her. She’s not inked. It would be too thorough if Quillspawn had wasted time to infect everyone in the first wave. She forgot to dot this “i”.

Remember . . . Let me remember with you . . . Where is the evidence from The Pen’s case . . .? Where would it be . . .? It’s new evidence . . . It’s important . . . The exact memory might not be there, but . . . what’s the best you have . . .? At least where it is, how the inventory system works . . . Unless you’ve never worked here before in your life, you know some of these things . . . let me know too . . . Share . . . Share these thoughts with me, like I’m sharing this bliss with you . . .

It all just comes so natural, and I know it’s not taking as long as it would if I was talking. It’s not happening at the speed of human interaction, of sound . . . It’s happening at the speed of light, the speed of my silver light connecting the dots in her brain, and rubbing the dot between her thighs and her eyes.

Her thoughts sound like her voice, but more idealized . . . it’s such a small thing to notice, but I can barely notice that over the screaming edge to her tone. I’m fucking her body and her mind stealing her ability to make any choices or her restraint to keep herself from cuming all over her chair, and she’s loving every nonconsensual moment.

Mmmm . . . the things I get to do in the name of justice.

Images, words . . . Down the hall . . . third . . . left . . . Oooohmmmm . . . More . . . Mmm . . . Would be . . . far in the back . . .

The details, the specifics, that her mind doesn’t tell me in exact words flashes with images. I can imagine the entire station in my mind, at least between here and there, as if I’d been the one working here for the five years she has. It’s not a place she’s gotten to go more than once, and even then she wasn’t supposed to be there . . . She was in there enjoying tearing off one of those uniforms . . . Mmmm . . . It’s nice to know that even those keeping us safe can have a good time.

Our lips break apart with both a smacking of lips and a loud pop like a fuse burning out as the current breaks. She looks in a day dream . . . so pretty. She won’t be recovering from this one quick. I kiss her forehead and dash down the hallway.

I run right into another police officer, and my luck she fills out her uniform even better than the first of the day. Before she can react to my body almost bowling hers over, I grasp her breasts through that delicious uniform and squeeze hard as I can, filling her with spark after spark, careful not to let a conduit start. Her eyes are black, and quickly, the crotch of her pants are darker too.

Obey. Obey. Obey. . .

Trying something new I shove a single thought into each spark, and once the intelligence has faded from those black eyes, and her nipples feel like they’re going to try and tear their way to my bare skin and more of my sparks, I pull my hands back. “Be a good little police officer, and stay.”

She whimpers a response, but I don’t have time. Before I take the next blind turn I send five sparks down both ways, before heading left. Three more bodies slump, and I can taste them all even through sparks that burst as soon as they touched their victim’s skin. One was a man, middle aged, in good shape, and inked. The second was a redhead with a very tight ass, or at least it tightened hard at the spark. The last was a brunette, inked, and the only thought in her head was stop her.

Two were the way I’m not going. The odds that I’ll get out of here without a bullet wound seem better all the time.

I don’t know if I’ll go cold and pass out from continued volleys, but as soon as they can aim, they can disable me. If I’m going to be stopped, I would honestly prefer ink to a bullet. At least ink won’t leave a scar, and I’ve already escaped it before. If only I’d worked harder to try and expose the possibility of a parasite . . . but I’m sure the people who could have done something about it were already inked by then.

I fire off another two volleys, and I’m not sure how many I hit, but I know that there are slumping bodies, and now there’s a door to an evidence vault. Shit. Of course, I don’t have the key.

Reaching down into my belt I curse at forgetting that one small detail. “Freeze! Put your hands above your head, and I won’t shoot!” The voice is from behind me, and from a rookie cop, or at least a woman who sounds like one to me. Almost as soon as I hear her stepping closer to me an idea congeals in my head and I do just as she asks.

“Of course officer! You’ve got me . . . Just don’t shoot, okay? I might look silver, but I’m still flesh and blood. And I haven’t hurt anybody, honest!” My own words make me want to gag, and this feels like a horribly stupid risk, but if she has a gun trained on me then by the time I could hit her with a spark she could squeeze that trigger. It just takes one bullet to paralyze and that would really put a damper on my whole save-the-city idea.

She starts reading me my Miranda rights, and I can hear the familiar sound of cuffs. Others will come soon. I wait until I can feel the warmth of her hand about to cuff me, and I twist on the ball of my foot, turning enough to see her wrist and using it to pull her in front of me and myself behind her, grinding close as I fill her with spark after spark.

No ink, but she is a rookie, I can taste her inexperience, and her worry. It makes a part of me twist and almost ruin the buzz that I’m still riding from the receptionist, but I don’t let that stop me. I let it help me.

It’s okay sweetie . . . Taste the silver . . . You don’t need to remember any of this when you wake up . . . It was a stressful experience, and you just blanked it out. Oh, you’ll come to, drenched in sweat and your own fluids, but you won’t be hurt, and you’ll know that there are people out there with another way of saving the world . . . and it will thrill you . . . and make you feel .. . safe.

The current breaks with another loud popping sound and the sound of her scream as her hips buck and she falls to the floor. Lucky for me, the shock made her drop the gun, not squeeze. I would worry that the Midas police force was under trained if I didn’t know how melting my sparks can be.

If they were standard electricity she’d have fired at least a shot. I’ll have to keep that in mind for the future the next time I underestimate my sparks.

“Sorry hun, you’ll understand when you’re older.” I grab up her gun, and stand beside the door to the vault before firing a shot into the lock. My whole body rolls with it, and I regret never having learned to fire a gun even if I’ve never wanted to in my life. Of course, it gets the job done and the door slides open like a charm, but it is very loud and my arms are already starting to feel sore from the sparks.

Making conduits might take more out of me, but it’s not the same kind of quick repetitive movement. Apparently my sparks can feel sore just like fingers typing up a smutty and over detailed story about a desperate woman going against a woman with everything to lose but no concept of it.

More officers head my way, and I hear the bullet shots before I see them. My body reacts instinctively and I fall to the floor before firing another volley. If this door wasn’t at the end of the hallway, I’d probably be down by now.

Lucky me.

Before any more officers can come after me, probably with a lot less restraint from the constant gunshots, I dive into the vault and throw my weight back against the door. How I intended to get out of here, I don’t know, but I know I need to find the book. There’s no time to find the light switch, so I snap my fingers and make a spark as I make my way to the spot my receptionist friend was sure it would be.

Wow. She actually guessed it exactly right. Amongst all of the drugs, including a small baggy of powder that is either Icarus or Dust’s, and other things . . . is the tome.

I grab it up, and turn to make a quick escape. Of course, I don’t turn quick enough to escape the black lips that melt into mine, and the black eyes that stare right into my soul. I recognize her. She’s the taller of the women that Yana had in her home, the tall one, she was named . . . she was named . . .

Her hands grab my wrists, and I can feel something wet and malleable and slick, but so strong, wrapping its way up along my arms as she keeps kissing me harder, and harder. The book falls from my hands as the ink clenches its grip on my arms in just the right way to make it impossible to keep my grip and I whimper as I feel her lips parting, and even though I wasn’t thinking of parting them, wasn’t thinking at all, my lips part perfectly with hers.

Something sticky is coating them . . . the ink . . . I can feel it sinking through my lips, through my arms, under my top . . . binding me . . . squeezing me like a snake coiling through me, a liquid snake of black and dirty and wet . . . and it squeezes me in just the right way to open something inside of me . . .

Helena . . . Silver Girl, after a stunning invasion of a police station saturated with ink, is being kissed and bound by Helena, Quillspawn’s ink slave, who has been given more than enough of her Mistress’s powers to neutralize the shining heroine’s attempts to stop her. She can feel the strength being leeched out of her body as the ink tightens around her breasts, and slides under her borrowed underwear to squeeze around her soaking and shining silver clit. The sense that made the invasion so satisfying is not helping Helena’s invasion, and Silver Girl is loving each and every moment of it . . .

“Oooouuh fuu . . .k . . .” I can feel it . . . The ink is diving into me, making me clench, making me spark my own clit as the ink from her lips . . . the ink from her hands . . . I can’t tell where one patch of it stops, the other starts . . . but it’s all squeezing me, all of me, like tentacles, like . . .

Two of the inky tendrils knead my chest, and the ink makes me spark against my will. I try so hard to hold it back, to resist as I feel the ends wrapping around my nipples, but it’s drawing the sparks out just as much as Amethyst’s mist, and redirecting them back into my own breasts, darker, harder, stronger, deeeeper .. . oooh I can feel every squeeze and suckle between my eyes . . . my body is so weak, I can hardly stand . . .

The tendril between my legs starts to thrust, shaping itself to the inside of me as a small part of it does the same thing . . . oooh the higher tendrils are doing to my nipples, sucking the sparks out of my clit, feeding them back into me . . . can’t . . . can’t stop it . . .

Unlike her previous experiences with Quillspawn’s ink, the power Helena used felt different. It didn’t have the same intensity on its own that she had felt in Aureus’s mind, or even in Amethyst’s as their joined powers frayed it all from her misty mind. Instead, it was like a copy, like printer ink compared to the ink from a pen, and little did Silver Girl know until Helena’s lips and grip taught it to her, sweet, aromatic toner is very conductive.

No one is coming . . . someone else must be detaining them, or I can’t see them . . . can’t hear them . . . Her ink is starting to slide over my eyes, but it doesn’t hurt it feels . . . feels like my contacts, but it melts in through my pupil and . . . oh god I can’t force it back, if I spark I’ll just . . . just . . .

Silver Girl only realized at the last possible moment, that Helena had made the choice for her, as the sparks from her entire body’s mindless pleasure were forced into her own mind, and it all went black.