Author's note:
This story is a sequel to Perfect Little Sub.
*
For what felt like the gazillionth time Darcy let out an extremely undignified little whimper. Of course dignity was something she'd given up long ago, but sadly it was not so long ago that Darcy couldn't remember what it was like. Sometimes she wished she didn't because it made times like this more difficult.
Not that this was the most humiliating situation Darcy had ever found herself in. In fact it didn't even make her top 10. It did however make the list on her most frustrating situations, mostly because it was one of her most frequent positions to find herself in.
That position? Naked except for a massive butt plug buried in her ass, her arms tied securely above her head and her legs kept open to a comfortable degree by a spreader bar firmly attached to her feet. Given that she was in the centre of the room it left Darcy completely exposed if anyone was to barge their way in, a humiliation Darcy had suffered on more than one occasion. Although it was actually a little comforting that she was pretty sure Tony was making a lame excuse to interrupt the second time, although the ego boost meant little in the long run.
As for why the foulmouthed, outspoken, like to think of herself as kind of a badass Darcy Lewis was in this position, that was really quite simple... her mistress was pretty much obsessed with her big tits and would use pretty much any excuse to tie up the busty brunette and spend literally hours mercilessly sucking on Darcy's big boobs. Not that Darcy would dare to complain though, a fact which spoke more volumes than any other perverted thing her mistress could come up with. After all Darcy had always said what she thought, regardless if it was PC or PG or could get her fired, and was proud of her reputation as a loudmouth badass. Then she met Jane Foster and, well, here she was, not saying a damn word as a girl she could probably take in a fight totally had her way with her.
Little did Darcy know her turmoil was not by design. Not all of it anyway. Because sure, Jane had allowed herself a good thirty minutes to suck on Darcy's big tits, but her new sub Natasha Romanov a.k.a. The Black Widow was supposed to have been here by now and in truth Jane was starting to get a little worried. Sadly that was not an unfamiliar feeling as the biggest downside to being involved with superheroes was they were constantly putting themselves in danger, Jane left to worry that something had happened to Thor or Natasha on almost a daily basis. They had both beaten the odds countless times though, so Jane tried not to obsess over what could have happened to one or both of them, in this case her redheaded anal slut.
Fortunately for Jane she had one of her very favourite distractions available to her, that being Darcy's big boobs. Of course if Natasha didn't show up soon Jane would just have to start the 'real' fun without her. For now she contented herself with once again switching to sliding her tongue around Darcy's right nipple, firstly clockwise and then anticlockwise, repeating this process for a little while before she returned to greedily suckling on her lover's teat.
After a few more minutes of this Jane heard the faint sound of her door unlocking in the distance, the fact that someone was allowing themselves to be heard an extremely positive sign, not that Jane didn't inch towards the draw where she kept her gun. Not that she was sure she could actually fire it, even in the increasingly unlikely event that it was an enemy breaking into her home.
Briefly Jane watched the door like a hawk, not removing Darcy's breast from her mouth in the hopes that it would startle any intruder, while away almost hoping it was someone outside of her little harem as there was a certain thrill to getting caught in such a compromising position. Oddly she had yet to be caught by S.H.I.E.L.D. although Jane doubted her extracurricular activities were truly a secret to them.
Suddenly the door to her bedroom opened and there, to Jane's great relief, stood The Black Widow in all her glory.
It was an intimidating sight. Or at least it usually was. But on closer inspection this was not the same Black Widow who walked around nearly everywhere with such confidence, The Black Widow that just about every other S.H.I.E.L.D. agent respected and even feared, or The Black Widow who had intimidated even Jane. No, this woman was barely recognisable as The Black Widow, the mighty Natasha Romanov now more resembling a disobedient child who had been caught red-handed.
That was exactly how Natasha felt, and it was a feeling that was becoming all too familiar to her. Of course it was not the humiliation she was feeling which the spy hated most, or that she was forced to show it by keeping her head down and avoiding anyone's gaze. No, the thing Natasha hated most about it was that it meant she had displeased her mistress, something which had become unbearable.
"You're late." Jane said softly, the hint of anger in her tone unmissable.
"I'm sorry, I-" Natasha began, closing the distance between herself and the other women in a few short strides.
She was rewarded with a slap across her face. Not that she hadn't seen it coming, however displeasing her mistress made her sloppy and prone to mistakes. Or maybe she just wanted to give Jane an excuse to be rough with her. And humiliate her. After all she could have blocked Jane's hand with ease and she had broken bones for less, however instead the feared Black Widow allowed this physically weaker woman to slap her across the face, Jane using all her strength so the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed throughout the room. It even hurt. Not much, but the fact that it did even a little bit was impressive.
There was a long silence and then Darcy murmured, "Holy shit balls!"
Ignoring her tied up pet Jane addressed the pet standing before her, "Did I give you permission to approach me?"
"No, I'm sorry Mistress." Natasha apologised, receiving another slap from Jane for her trouble followed shortly by Darcy swearing in disbelief again.
"Get on your knees!" Jane commanded, trying and failing to stop herself smiling as the mighty Black Widow immediately drop down to her knees in front of her. Jane just admired the sight for a few long moments, then she reached out and began gently stroking Natasha's hair as if she really was a pet. Then Jane almost conversationally murmured, "You want to know something funny Natasha? When I told Darcy about how you're mine now she didn't believe me. She doubted my skills. Said I was a wicked top, but someone like you could never truly be a bottom. Can you believe that?"
"She was wrong to doubt you Mistress." Natasha answered quickly.
Narrowing her eyes Jane pointed out, "You didn't answer my question."
There was a brief pause and then Natasha said, "I, I wouldn't have believed it either Mistress, but I would have been just as wrong. I am a bottom. More importantly I am your bitch, and that's all I want to be."
Cupping Natasha's chin Jane gently pulled the other woman's head upwards and said, "Look at me... why wouldn't you have believed it?"
"Because I would have never imagined enjoying true submission so much." Natasha said truthfully, quickly adding when she realised she hadn't addressed her owner properly, "That's why I'm so grateful to you Mistress, for turning me into your bitch. For opening my eyes to the joys of truly being submissive and not just pretending for the sake of my job. And for making me realise how much I need a true Alpha female to dominate me, and use me as her slut."
The smile on Jane's face caused Natasha's heart to flutter. She had pleased her mistress. Made her happy, and maybe even a little proud.
With that smile still on her face Jane turned to Darcy and asked, "Do you believe me now?"
Darcy just looked back and forth between the other brunette and the kneeling redhead, the usually mouthy brunette rendered speechless. Not that speechlessness was that uncommon when it came to sexy fun time with Jane Foster, because apparently Darcy could shrug off weird creatures from another universe but it seemed Jane would never cease to surprise her.
Really Darcy should have known better than to challenge Jane like she had, but it hadn't been intentional. Honestly! Well, maybe a little. It was... complicated.
Darcy was sure with every fibre of her being that Natasha Romanov, on top of being a woman who could make the straightest of straight girls cream their panties and beg for the privilege of eating her pussy, was the type of top who made other tops want to immediately become bottoms and would totally turn any woman who tried to top her into her submissive bitch. Seriously, when she had first met the infamous Black Widow the woman had scared the pants off her... and had made her panties so wet that Darcy thought she might cum if Natasha just looked at her for more than a second. And from what Darcy could tell at least the first part was true for just about everyone else in an organisation filled with spies and superheroes. She had thought surely not even Jane's powers of persuasion would stand a chance against such a Goddess.
However the second the words were out of her mouth Darcy had known Jane would go after Natasha with everything she had. It did after all give Jane all the excuse she needed... although truthfully Jane would have probably gone after the redhead anyway, and either way it was totally something Darcy wanted to see. Little Jane Foster vs the terrifying Black Widow. Something had to give, and while the smart money would have been on The Widow Darcy had learned long ago you shouldn't bet against the seemingly innocent scientist. Or at least she thought she had.
"Perhaps you need another demonstration." Jane said in annoyance, briefly turning back to Natasha, "Who do you belong too?"
"You Mistress Jane." Natasha quickly replied, "I belong to you. I am your bitch."
"Damn." Darcy murmured.
Darcy didn't know if she had bet against Jane because subconsciously she wanted her friend to succeed just so she could see this, but if she had she was a fucking genius, because whatever 'punishment' she would receive would be totally worth it.
