Author's Note:
Time for a change.
This is a series, and a lot of the rules are already established, so please read the first three first. This will probably still stand on its merits, but will be less confusing.
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Selena stood stock still, only her eyes moving as she frantically scanned the room searching for any clues, opportunities, risks, threats - the whole College spiel.
College. Her mouth twisted at the sudden bitter taste in it, and she clenched her fists and her resolve.
"Step forwards," the resonant, velvety, completely directionless voice repeated.
Forcing herself to overcome every natural and inculcated instinct to run away, she took a step, then another, finding it easier to keep walking until the voice said "Stop!"
This time the voice had an origin, but it was swooping and spinning around her, moving impossibly fast and, as far as she could tell as her eyes darted about trying to find it, with no visible origin.
"Why have you come here?"
She swallowed, cleared her throat then had to swallow again. "Is this the Villains League?" She asked, trying to put challenge in her voice. "I want to join."
There was silence for a second, before the voice returned with an amused tone to it. "Do you now? And why would you think such a thing exists?"
She squared her shoulders. This could go badly, but she didn't think she had any alternative. "Because I'm a second-year student at the College," she said with almost no tremor to her voice. "I left because ... because the fucking do-gooder hypocrites refuse to acknowledge the superiority of parahumans!" She finished on a genuinely angry outburst.
The voice was silent for another moment, before saying "A College student? That would make you our enemy, wouldn't it?"
"Former," she spat out. "I want revenge on them!"
"Nonetheless," the voice said, with a musing tone to it, "they do have very potent ways of implanting suggestions, and they do apparently train people very well."
"Test me, then," she grated out. "Fucking test me! You must have ways of doing it, I know I'm not the first student to escape the College!"
"Oh, this one is clever," the voice said, suddenly right in her ear, so close her body thought it could sense breath. She kept herself staring rigidly straight ahead, knowing full well that if she turned her head to look, there would be nothing there.
"You're right, you're not the first. But some of your predecessors are no longer with us or anyone else. Strip."
She froze for a second, before silently laughing bitterly at herself. These are the Villains, why would they be less obsessed with sex? But in case she hadn't heard correctly ...
"You want me to undress?"
"Must I repeat myself? Were you not paying attention?" The voice sounded cold, now.
She swallowed, gone nearly as cold as the voice. "All of my clothes?" She asked, carefully.
"All of them. And jewellery, and anything else on, in or about your person."
She deliberately ignored the "in or about" bit and bent down, untying the complicated laces on her walking boots first, then pulling them off, then her socks, then undoing her belt and pushing her jeans down legs she knew could turn heads fast enough to cause whiplash.
Her thick jumper was next, revealing the tight shirt she wore for strategic, rather than comfortable, reasons.
The voice gave an audibly demeaning whistle as the shape of her torso was revealed. She did not flinch, blush or respond at all. She was used to this. They had trained her well, after all.
The shirt revealed her bra, as comfortable and supportive as her panties.
"Such practical underwear," the voice said, putting a sarcastic, derogatory spin on the adjective. She ignored it.
With her bra off, she pushed her panties down her legs. She had developed late but vigorously and knew her breasts were very nearly a fetishist's delight, too large to be perky but still young enough to be firm. She had also stopped shaving as soon as she had left the College, and was secretly hoping the owner of the voice would be shocked.
"Now," the voice said in her ear again. "Are you sure you still want to go through with this?"
"I am a parahuman," she said flatly. "That makes me superior to humans. Villains seem to be the only ones who understand that. I belong with you. I am fucking one of you, cock-sucker."
There was silence for another few seconds as she sweated on the result of her calculated insolence. The floor was cold and the air nearly as cold, making goosebumps spring out all over her body, her nipples ache and her legs nearly start to shiver, but she clamped down on her muscles and refused to let them move at all.
"Well," the voice breathed right in her other ear, which did not make her flinch. "We shall have to see about that. And insults, just so you know, are paid in full. Now, enter if you really think you have what it takes."
Her gut clenched almost before her brain fully understood what her eyes were telling her. The space in front of her had warped, splitting, not revealing black or other colours or even fully hiding what was behind it, but twisting light in a way that made her want to vomit. She forced her eyes to stay open, took a deep breath to settle her stomach, and took one very controlled step forwards.
Her body accelerated forwards and backwards at the same time, her mind shot up and her ears recoiled from a sulfurous stench as her nose gave her crystal-clear vision of the room she had just left.
It lasted either half a second, or half an hour.
She retched, dry-heaving, desperately settling her stomach, running through the previously hated College mantras to control, settle and focus herself.
Then she opened her eyes as she started paying attention to her limbs again, and froze.
She recognised the overtly feminine figure standing in front of her in a catsuit covered with elaborate, aggressive, sharp-edged designs. She did not recognise the seemingly male figure swathed in eye-confusing layers of grey to her left, or the ripplingly muscled man in dungeon-domme leather to her right.
So the fact she was, still naked, restrained in a stretched cross shape by what seemed to be silk wrapped around her limbs, her torso and even her breasts, binding them tightly and pushing them up and forwards, would be because of ...
"Mistress Web," she said, in the most even voice she could conjure. "I've admired you for a while now."
"Is that so? Admired?"
The Villain's eyes were so wide and bright they almost shone, and the smile on her black-painted lips made Selena flash back to her mind-control challenges, making her swallow convulsively.
"I'm afraid I don't know your colleagues, though," Selena gasped over her suddenly hammering heartbeat and the adrenaline flooding her body.
"Oh, why are they important? Let's ignore them and focus on just the two of us." Mistress Web stepped close enough to reach out and run the back of one gloved hand gently down the bulging sphere of one bound breast. The sensation made Selena shiver, but whether from fear or arousal she wasn't sure and, despite her training, couldn't quite work out.
"Only if this is my entrance exam," she said defiantly.
"Entrance?" Mistress Web's fingers began softly, maddeningly, running over Selena's nipple, which was already puckered from the cold and from fear. "We can talk about entrance, if you like."
She felt a tingle between her legs, and silently thought: Here we go again. Go with it. Remember what those bastards taught you. Aloud, she said "I came here to join you, to become a Villain."
"And now you're in my web." The Villain's other hand joined in, lightly stroking the other nipple.
Selena refused to let herself be distracted, although she had to bite back a moan. Focus! She raged at herself. By training you to fight back against this, they conditioned you to respond to it! Remember how much you hate them!"
"Couldn't you be a Villain all by yourself?" Mistress Web asked, the pressure she was exerting on Selena's nipples increasing slowly. "Why do you need our help, hmmm?"
"I want to destroy the College," Selena gasped out, feeing her face flush and the tingling between her legs growing demanding. "I know you want to do that! I want to be a part of it!"
"You can certainly help us relax. I'm not sure how useful you could be in an actual fight." Mistress Web began rolling Selena's nipples gently between her fingertips, while the bound teenager clamped down on a moan and fought to keep herself from begging for more.
Instead she gritted her teeth, remembered her training, and slipped through the fog of arousal to clear thinking on the other side. They were challenging her - Mistress Web had as much as asked her what she could do.
"I mean, we only have your word for it that you even are a student."
Were! Selena thought furiously. Were a student!
Then Mistress Web closed her fingers over Selena's swollen nipples and gently squeezed, pulling outwards in a milking motion, letting the nipples slide slowly back until they popped out.
The sensation speared through Selena like a simultaneous kick to her groin and to her mind.
On the verge of losing all initiative she rolled the dice, let go of her self control and, as her body arched and screamed with lust, used the brief moment of mental freedom to focus, make a quick mental adjustment, breath in ...
Mistress Web felt the rush of the naive teenager's breath on her face but ignored it as she grabbed the girl's plush nipples and squeezed them again, revelling in how helplessly responsive and slutty College students always seemed to be.
Then she reared back in shock as her vision lurched and warped sickeningly. The slut in her web seemed to bulge out and rush at her. She lifted her hands in defence and tumbled over backwards, her feet no longer working properly and leaving her sprawled on the ground with an ear-ringing thump.
The ceiling span so fast she couldn't focus on it, she couldn't seem to shut her eyes and her scrabbling hands weren't sure if they were feeling the floor, her web, or empty air.
Then she noticed the way her breasts were oh, so sensitive inside her skin-tight bodysuit, and moaned, helpless to do anything to appease, satisfy or avoid her own growing arousal.
Selena gasped for air, trying to suck oxygen into her body to help her recover. She could put any emotion or perception into her breath, but whatever she was feeling was easiest. The only problem was, if she used her own emotions, it had a feedback effect.
She was squirming in the web, moaning helplessly, the sudden spike of arousal from Mistress Web's enforced arousal feeding into hers far too much too endure.