Welcome back to Auburn Hills, Besties! Here in the states it’s Independence Day weekend, and while I am far far far from the most patriotic gal, I can’t think of a better place to spend the 4th of July, than in quintessential small town America. And I can’t think of a better family to spend it with than those pillars of the Perilverse, the Stewarts. So, without further ado, let’s begin…

Fireworks & Family

The town square of Auburn Hills crackled with the star-spangled energy of their annual 4th of July celebration. Red, white, and blue bunting draped every lamppost and booth, American flags snapping proudly in the humid summer breeze. The air was thick with mouthwatering scents like cooking burgers, smoky BBQ, fresh grilled corn on the cob, and spun sugar. A local band on the makeshift stage blasted out sub-par, but earnest, covers of classic rock and up-beat country songs.  The fiddles and drums drove families to clap along, while children waved sparklers and tiny flags. Even with the sun still lingering above the horizon, the sharp cracks and thunderous booms of early fireworks split the air, occasionally even sending sparkling showers blooming against the fading blue sky.

The Stewarts wandered amid the joyful chaos, Beth and Lacey hand-in-hand as Nikki, their adorable little bundle of chaos, meandered ahead. Her fiery red hair (so like Beth’s) was tied into playful pigtails that bounced with every skip, as she intently devoured a colorful cone of cotton candy. As the family strolled through the crowds, more than a few gazes turned their way, lingering helplessly on the voluptuous swaying curves of the town’s resident MILF.

It wasn’t that Beth liked to be noticed so much as she liked dressing to be noticed. She had been an aspiring model once upon a time, and that proclivity towards fashion and allure had never left her completely. Today her summer ensemble featured a blue pinstriped button-up, worn half-open over a plain white camisole that clung to her ample breasts, offering a tantalizing glimpse of sun-freckled cleavage. Crisp white denim shorts hugged her wide hips and generous ass, the hem riding high enough to reveal the smooth, creamy length of her thighs. A gaudy accent belt with a sleek gold buckle cinched her waist, emphasizing her hourglass curves. Strappy flat sandals completed the look, practical for festival strolling yet stylish enough to highlight her long legs and pedicured toes. Her lustrous scarlet hair, long and thick, was pulled back and held in place by a white bandana, with a few mischievous strands left loose to frame her heart-shaped face, bright green eyes, and lush, painted lips.

Lacey, her wife, was a touch older and more reserved. Her slinky brunette bob framed sharp, attractive features. She tended to dress more practically; today in loose denim shorts, blue, and a simple white tank top that hugged, but didn’t accentuate, her much more modest figure. A pair of comfy tennis shoes completed her ensemble, which -by the way- left her own, long, enticingly toned legs on display. They drew some lingering glances of their own. As the local newspaper’s star (if only) reporter, she scanned the crowd with keen eyes even while relaxing, and keeping a quietly possessive hold on Beth’s hand.

“You know,” Lacey leaned in and whispered, “when we decided to come to Auburn Hills, I knew we were going to get stares…I just assumed it’d be for more bigoted reasons and not because everyone in town wants to fuck my wife.”

“Not everyone,” Beth blushed instantly, as she was prone to, and squeezed Lacey’s hand.

“Everyone!”

“—And not just me,” she pretended to balk, “Let’s not pretend like just as many of them aren’t checking out your legs today.” She made a very blatant show of letting her own gaze drift appreciatively down the length of Lacey’s tempting stems. “Actually, you really should show them off more often.”

Lacey laughed softly and bumped Beth’s hip with her own. “Flirt.”

“Mmm hmm!” Beth smiled brightly. “You have no idea. Makes me want to skip the fireworks and head straight home.”

A particularly loud firecracker went off somewhere in the distance, making both women jump, and then giggle at themselves.

“Mommy! That was a big boom!” Nikki squealed, pointing upward and tugging at Beth’s free hand with sticky fingers, her wide hazel eyes sparkling with delight.

“Yes, it was, baby,” Beth said, even as Nikki tugged them on toward the cluster of game booths.

“I like ‘splosions!” Nikki giggled, pigtails bouncing with every excited skip.

“You are a ‘splosion’ kiddo!” Lacey teased.

Nikki just giggled high and bright, dragging her mothers toward the colorful section of the festival where the booths promised stuffed animals, cheap glowing prizes, and cheaper carnival glory. “Come on, come on! I wanna play the ring toss! I’m gonna win a big wolfie!”

Beth let herself be pulled along, her generous hips switching quickly in the tight shorts. Lacey followed, fishing a string of tickets from her pocket. They reached the ring toss booth, where colorful bottles stood in defiant rows. Nikki bounced on her toes, eyes wide with determination as Lacey handed over tickets and the little girl received a handful of plastic rings.

As Nikki took aim, Beth slipped her arms around Lacey’s waist.

Nikki threw her first ring with all the enthusiasm a preschooler could muster. It bounced off the bottle neck and clattered to the ground. The second and third followed suit, missing by inches. Her little face scrunched up in frustration as the booth attendant shook his head with a sympathetic smile. “Sorry, little lady. Better luck next time.”

Nikki’s lower lip trembled for half a second… then she smiled bright and adorable, “I’ll help clean up!”

Before the attendant could respond, she darted into the booth and “accidentally” bumped the edge of the prize display shelf. The small stack of cheap plush toys and glowing jewelry tumbled forward in a colorful avalanche.

“Oopsie!” she chimed, then backed into the small table holding the bottles and rings, knocking them all over as well.

“That’s enough of that kiddo,” Lacey said, scooping Nikki into her arms and backing carefully out of the booth.

“I’m so sorry!” Beth added, leaning down to actually help pick up, and inadvertently treating the attendant to a luscious view of her deep and tantalizing cleavage.

“Sorry mister!” Nikki chirped, batting her lashes back at the attendant as her mother carried her on.

“It’s okay, kid,” he called, too transfixed by her other mother’s luscious breasts to notice the deliberate satisfied glint in that little girl’s eyes.

“Really, I am sorry,” Beth was saying, trying to straighten the pile of stuffed animals. “She’s just…she gets…”

“Ah, she’s just a kid trying to help,” he replied. “Something tells me she’s not the only one with a mischievous streak in the family…”

Beth looked at him, cheeks paling, oblivious to the obvious come-on, instead perceiving the foreboding silhouette of a shrouded man standing just outside the booth.

Dominion.

Arms crossed, smirking behind his mask and nodding in approval…

Beth shot upright with a sharp inhale, the delusion vanishing before her eyes.

“Don’t worry about this,” the attendant was saying, “I’ll pick it all up. You catch on up with that adorable little thing.”

Beth forced a smile, “Thank you, and I’m sorry again.”

She hurried after Nikki and Lacey, glancing around frantically, as if the supervillain might really be there lurking somewhere amongst the booths. As if he weren’t dead. Beth knew the apparition was just a symptom of her PTSD after retiring from her life as a superheroine…but that knowledge didn’t stop it from feeling viscerally real whenever he appeared. Whenever he spoke to her. Whenever she still felt the urge to call him “Master.”

She blinked hard, shaking off the lingering chill, and tried to stop hurrying after Lacey and Nikki. The hurrying meant she was scared, but the pair had only moved on to another game booth nearby. This one was a colorful dart-throwing stand with balloons pinned to a corkboard. Lacey stood closer this time, one arm loosely around Nikki’s shoulders as she helped the little girl line up her throw.

Beth slipped in beside them. Lacey glanced over, catching her eye, and they shared a quick, knowing smile followed by a mutual eye roll.

Nikki, focused and determined, gripped the dart with both small hands. Her first throw went harmlessly wide, not even sticking in the cork. She growled and winged the second. It bounced off the balloon but nothing happened.

“Almost!” Lacey said. “Here hold it like this, aim with the point…”

Nikki gripped the dart, something fierce lighting her hazel eyes. Beth saw it as a flash of the girl’s father. Lacey saw it as a flash of Beth…or rather, of Starling.

Nikki threw the dart and popped a bright red balloon dead center. “I did it!” she squealed, bouncing in place.

“Awesome possum!” Beth cheered.

“Knew you could!” Lacey squeezed her shoulder as the attendant handed Nikki a small stuffed fox. The success had her beaming with triumph, clutching her new treasure tightly.

“See, Mommy? I’m a winner!” Nikki declared proudly, holding the fox up for Beth to admire.

“You certainly are, honey, I’m so proud!”

They wandered on, the evening sky starting to deepen. The occasional pop of fireworks growing brighter. The scent of fried fair food soon drew them toward a bustling food truck, where Nikki immediately pointed at the golden corn dogs stacked under heat lamps.

“Corn dogs! Corn dogs!” the little girl chanted, again tugging both mothers forward.

Beth wrinkled her nose as they joined the short line, her voluptuous figure drawing fresh glances in the pinstriped shirt and tight white shorts.

“Ugh, there are so many better options here,” she grumbled. “Grilled corn, fresh burgers, those barbecue kabobs. Why settle for mystery meat on a stick?”

“Because eating corn dogs is practically an obligation at these things,” Lacey grinned, bumping her hip against Beth’s again. “Part of the American summer experience. Happy 4^th.”

Beth shook her head, and crossed both arms under her breasts, “Well, I’m not eating one-”

“Oh yes you will.” Lacey put a stern tone into her voice that made Beth’s spine straighten, and her pretty green eyes widen slightly. Then Lacey leaned closer, lowering her voice to a teasing murmur, “if you don’t enjoy every bite of your deep fried delicacy, wife…there will be punishment when we get home.”

Beth nodded, and when they reached the front of the line she accepted her corn dog with exaggerated reluctance. Then, locking eyes with Lacey, she  took one deliberate bite, and made a face. With a sly, bratty smile curving her full lips, she casually tossed the rest into a nearby trash can.

“No thank you!” Beth then sashayed on ahead of them with deliberate, sexy swagger, exaggerating the roll of her curvaceous hips, the bounce of her big, soft ass nearly hypnotic in the snug white shorts, the lowest curves of her luscious cheeks teasing with every step, and her thick scarlet hair swinging beneath the white bandana.

Headless, Nikki followed after with her new stuffed fox tucked under one arm, happily devouring her corndog.

Beth kept up her bratty sashay for a few more steps before Lacey caught her by the waist and pulled her close with a playful growl. “Oh, you’re in so much trouble later.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Beth said, softening into the embrace. “Especially if you want me to behave.”

They made their way toward the edge of the square where the  “Other Worldly – New Age / Metaphysics / Dispensary” booth was set up. The air shifted from fried fair food to the soothing scents of herbs and incense. Mackenzie stood behind her array of crystals, herbal teas, natural sunscreen, and organic bug bite ointments. The dark-skinned woman, as usual, looked effortlessly striking in a fitted velvet top, navy blue, and a pair of burgundy leather pants that accentuated her curves. Her black hair was woven into intricate braids, which were themselves twisted into twin buns at the back of her head.

“Hi Mack!” Nikki cried in excitement, running up to the booth.

“Hey there! Wow, look at your hair, like two little firecrackers.”

The little girl laughed and began bobbling her head, making popping noises.

“Hey, thought you might hungry,” Lacey had bought an extra corn dog and now offered it to their friend with a grin.

“Oh! You’re the best,” the witch replied, accepting it and taking a big bite. “Mmmm. I know you’ll probably think I’m silly, but it just doesn’t feel like summer until I’ve had a corn dog.”

“I know right!” Lacey nodded in agreement and shot her wife a triumphant look, then took a bite of her own.

Beth just raised an eyebrow, and tossed her bouncy scarlet hair dramatically. “How are you not melting in that outfit? It’s got to be ninety-eight degrees out here but you look like you just stepped out of a neo-gothic fashion shoot.”

Mackenzie flashed a mysterious smile, “A girl’s still got to look good peddling potions in this heat. Even if it means casting a little cooling spell over herself.” She hit a sly wink.

“You may have to teach me that one,” Beth said, fanning herself.

“I’m not sure my magic could hold down that heat,” Mackenzie replied. “I mean look at you momma, out here showing off all them curves.”

Beth started to act bashful but Lacey pinched her butt, making her jump and squeak.

Mackenzie had just taken another bite of her corn dog when the low, guttural rumble of engines cut through the patriotic rock and distant fireworks like an approaching storm. Beth’s head turned instinctively, old instincts prickling at the back of her neck.

A dozen or more motorcycles rolled into view along the edge of the square, chrome glinting under the festival lights, their riders clad in black leather and denim, all with matching crimson vests. The emblem on their backs was of crossed battle axes, and the top rocker read: MARAUDERS.

Engines of Ruin

The Marauders didn’t stop at the perimeter. Instead, they cruised slowly along the crowded pathways, between booths, engines revving loudly, exhaust pipes popping. One rider deliberately gunned his throttle near a group of families, sending a cloud of smoke and a deafening roar that made several children cry and adults step back hurriedly. Another leaned over and snatched a glowing sparkler right out of a kid’s hand, waving it mockingly as he rolled on. Laughter, harsh and mocking, rippled through the gang as they clearly enjoyed the way the festive mood curdled around them.

Beth tensed, one hand reaching for Lacey’s. The fabric of her half-open pinstriped shirt suddenly felt too thin against her skin, her ample breasts rising and falling a little quicker beneath the white camisole.

“Who are these assholes?” Mackenzie asked.

“Marauders,” Lacey said, voice low enough for only Lacey and Mackenzie to hear. “This isn’t good.” She pulled Nikki closer against her hip, shifting as she scanned the growing tension. “They’ve been ‘chartered’ in the county for years, but have started causing a lot more trouble lately. Or so I hear. Mostly bar fights and intimidation. But showing up here like this…”

Two Auburn Hills police cruisers were already parked nearby for the festival. Now Chief Harlan, a stocky, no-nonsense man in his fifties, stepped out with a younger officer (if not by much) close behind. The two officers moved purposefully toward the seemingly-lead Marauder, palms open in a clear attempt to de-escalate as the situation.

“Evening, gentlemen,” Chief Harlan called out, voice steady and carrying over the idling motorcycles. He stopped a respectful but firm distance from the burly rider at the front of the pack. “This is a family event. Now, you’re welcome to join us and enjoy the festivities but let’s make sure to keep things civil.”

The lead Marauder was a massive man with a thick braided beard and a nasty scar running down his cheek. He killed his engine with a deliberate twist of the key and swung one heavy leg over his bike. He rose slowly, towering over the chief, a wide, mocking grin splitting his face.

“Civil?” he drawled, cracking his knuckles. “Aw, Chief, we’re just here to celebrate our patriotic spirit! Nothin’ says freedom like a little noise and some good ol’ American horsepower, right?”

His buddies laughed and revved their engines again in agreement, the sound echoing aggressively across the square.

But the tension was already thickening like smoke. Beth could feel it in the air; the way clusters of local men were already straightening up and exchanging hard looks, good ol’ boys and rednecks in trucker hats. Plenty of them with hands resting casually on hips near concealed carries, and many more with rifles racked in the backs of pickup trucks parked along the side streets. Auburn Hills had its own brand of smalltown pride. The Marauders’ rowdy posturing was lighting a fuse in a crowd full of powder kegs.

“Oooo, mommy!” Nikki pulled away from Lacey, “Those loud men have pretty red coats! I want one!”

Beth scooped her daughter up quickly, holding her close against her chest. “I think you have to do some bad things to get a coat like that, baby.”

“I’ll do some bad things!” the little girl growled making faces at her stuffed fox.

Beth’s green eyes flicked to Lacey, then Mackenzie, the three women sharing a silent, wary understanding. The festival’s joyful energy had turned brittle in moments. One wrong word, one shove, and the whole square could explode.

Then, as if on cue, a new engine roar sliced through the growing tension, this one louder and somehow even meaner sounding than the Marauders’ bikes. Heads turned as a custom motorcycle tore into the center of the square, painted blazing flame-orange, with high chrome mufflers coughing actual flames.

The rider was tall and lean, clad in a firefighters’ kelvar coat, but stylized with flame decals licking up the sleeves. His muscular chest was bare under heavy suspenders holding up reinforced pants, and with an absurdly bright orange Mohawk spiking straight up from his otherwise clean-shaven scalp. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of high-tech-looking goggles, the lenses tinted red.

He killed the engine with a dramatic flourish, swinging one long leg over the bike as sparks and smoke belched from the custom exhaust.

Beth’s heart slammed against her ribs as she held Nikki tighter, her voluptuous body tensing. She knew a supervillain when she saw one.

Lacey pressed close, one hand on Beth’s waist, “Should we get out of here?”

“Head for my shop,” Mackenzie said. “If we can get inside it’s warded against-”

The Marauders whooped as their new arrival spread his arms wide and spoke in a voice that carried across the square with an intentional theatricality; “Gentlemen… and ladies! Didn’t you all come to see some fireworks tonight?”

He jerked his head toward the fireworks staging area and a bright spout of flames erupted from his goggles!  Fire washed over the carefully arranged mortars and shells, and for a split second, it looked like part of the show.

Then the entire display ignited at once in a catastrophic chain reaction. Rockets screamed sideways instead of upward, exploding in mid-air with deafening booms. Shells burst too low, raining searing sparks and flaming debris across the booths and crowd. One massive aerial shell detonated prematurely right above the central stage, sending a hellish rain of burning embers cascading down. In an instant the festive night sky turned into a war zone of uncontrolled explosions, thick smoke, and blinding flashes.

Screams erupted everywhere.

The Marauders sprang into action, no longer pretending at mere rowdiness. They dismounted and began proper looting, smashing booths, grabbing cash boxes, ripping jewelry from terrified vendors, and kicking over tables. One rider smashed a beer cooler and started chugging while another flipped a food cart, sending hot oil and half-cooked burgers spilling across the cobblestones. Laughter mixed with the chaos as flames from the rogue fireworks began catching on awnings and wooden stalls.

Beth spun, shielding Nikki’s face against her chest, the little girl’s sticky fingers clutching desperately at her mother’s pinstriped top. Her generous breasts heaved with quick, adrenaline-fueled breaths.

“Inside the shop now!” Mackenzie shouted, already waving them away from the booth.

Lacey grabbed Beth’s arm, pulling her family through the panicking crowd as more explosions rocked the square and the Marauders grew bold and malicious amid the fiery chaos.

At the center of it all, the man with the orange Mohawk, which now seemed almost to glow in the firelight, laughed and spewed more flames from his visor, igniting a nearby craft booth.

“That’s the spirit! Let’s turn up the heat on this patriotic little party, shall we?”

They reached the shop just as all hell had officially broken loose on the square. Mackenzie held the glass door open and waved them urgently inside, the little bell above jingling absurdly amid the screams and explosions outside.

“Quickly! Back room has an alley exit!”

“Thought you said this place was warded or whatever,” Lacey ducked through first, still pulling Beth, who had Nikki still cradled against her chest.

“Yeah, in case of a little trouble,” Mackenzie clarified, “not sure it’ll hold against whatever that is!”

The new age shop smelled of sage, patchouli, and herbs, a fragile bubble of calm that shattered the moment they crossed the threshold.

They didn’t realize one of the Marauders had followed them until it was too late. The hulking biker smashed through the door right on their heels with a booted kick that shattered the glass. He was massive, shaggy head gleaming with sweat, crimson vest open around a barrel chest, a heavy chain dangling from one meaty fist.

Beth spun, setting Nikki down and shouting, “Run to Momma Lacey, baby, now!”

Nikki darted toward Lacey with a frightened cry as the Marauder lunged, his thick hand clamping around Beth’s upper arm like a vice. He yanked her backward with brutal strength, slamming her back against a nearby shelf hard enough to rattle her teeth. Jars of dried herbs and crystals crashed to the floor in a chaotic shatter of glass and fragrant dust.

“No!” Lacey cried.
“Mommy!”

Beth gasped, instinctively twisting and shoving at his barrel chest, her free hand clawing at the thick forearm pinning her. Her voluptuous body arched and strained against him, full breasts heaving, the muscles in her thick thighs flexing as she tried to drive him away with one knee, but the angle was wrong, and the suddenness of the attack had caught her completely off guard.

Apparently, retirement had dulled her combat reflexes just enough. He was too strong, unexpectedly fast, his massive bulk overwhelming her like a freight train.

“Get off me!” she gasped, panic bleeding into her voice as she twisted and bucked against his crushing weight.

Old instincts screamed in the back of her mind—”knee him, elbow the throat, create space”—but his sheer mass pinned her down too effectively. Years of quiet domesticity, of school runs and family dinners instead of rooftop battles, had softened her edge just enough for this brute to exploit.

His meaty hand clamped harder around her upper arm, bruising the soft flesh, while his other fist tore viciously at the front of her blue pinstriped button-up. With a savage rip, buttons scattered across the shop floor. The fabric parted violently, fully exposing the plain white camisole beneath and the generous, heaving swell of her sun-freckled cleavage. Her soft, heavy breasts jiggling with the force of the struggle, straining against the thin camisole as she writhed helplessly.

The Marauder let out a low, hungry growl as his eyes dropped to her chest. “Well fuck me… look at these tits.”

Beth’s stomach twisted with a sick mix of fury, fear, and unwanted heat.

“Small town bitches got the best tits!” he growled, breath hot and sour against her face as his meaty palm groped roughly at her chest through the thin camisole. He squeezed one heavy breast hard, fingers digging in with cruel possession, pinching the nipple beneath the fabric until Beth cried out in shock and pain. She bucked wildly against him, scarlet hair whipping, but his grip only tightened, keeping her trapped as he pawed at her.

Nikki was thrashing almost as wildly in Lacey’s arms. She screamed, face red and furious, tiny fists waving. “You bad man! Leave my Mommy alone or I’ll… I’ll bite you!”

“Let her go!” Lacey cried out, even as she was backing towards the rear exit, their daughter’s safety her obvious priority.

“Don’t worry I’ll get to y’all soon enough!” the Marauder laughed, a wet ugly sound.

He kept Beth pinned hard against the shelving. Both meaty hands grabbed the already torn collar of her blue pinstriped button-up and yanked it roughly down her shoulders, dragging the fabric halfway down her arms and fully trapping them at her sides.

“No! Stop!” she cried, squirming helplessly. The motion pulled her white camisole even lower, the thin straps slipping off one shoulder and exposing even more of her generous breasts as they heaved with each frantic breath.

“Fuck,” the Marauder leered, eyes dark with crude hunger, his hot breath washing over her face. “Gonna have myself a real good time with you, red.”

Mackenzie suddenly lunged forward from the side, swinging a heavy, chunky quartz crystal in her hand. It connected with a sickening thud against the back of the Marauder’s blocky head.

He staggered with a grunt, but recovered fast—too fast—and blindly backhanded Mackenzie hard across the face. The witch cried out as she was knocked backward, landing hard on her ass near the counter.

Beth tried to capitalize, shoving at him again and prying frantically at the arm still pinning her to the wall. But the Marauder snarled and drove a brutal fist deep into her soft stomach. The air exploded from her lungs in a wheezing gasp. Pain and dizziness crashed over her as her legs buckled. Now he let her crumple to the floor, clutching her midsection, and barely able to breathe.

The Marauder shook his head, blood trickling from the back of his skull, and turned with a menacing snarl toward the other women.

Mackenzie scrambled up from the floor with surprising speed, positioning herself firmly between the advancing biker and Lacey, who was still clutching a terrified, screaming Nikki tightly to her chest. The witch’s burgundy leather pants were scuffed, but her stance was defiant, dark eyes blazing.

The Marauder rubbed the back of his head, then thrust his stained fingers toward her. “You fuckin’ bitch,” he snarled, voice thick with rage. “You’re gonna pay for that. I’m gonna make you bleed before I have my fun with the rest of ‘em.”

Mackenzie didn’t flinch. She snatched a larger, jagged crystal from the counter and began chanting rapidly under her breath, the words harsh and ancient sounding. The crystal began to glow with a soft, pulsing light and her eyes turned molten silver in their sockets.

The biker hesitated, eyes widening as he stared at the glowing stone. “How—how the fuck are you doing that? What is that shit?!”

“She’s a witch, dumbass,” Lacey snarled from behind Mackenzie, forcing her voice to be fierce. “You picked the wrong damsels to distress.”

“Fuck that,” the Marauder sneered, raising his bearded chin. “Witch or not, I’m still gonna—”

But Beth was already rising behind him.

She pushed herself up from the floor with a low, determined growl, blue pinstripes torn and hanging off her shoulders, white camisole askew and barely containing her heaving breasts. But her green eyes were blazing with fury and something far more dangerous awakening beneath the torn clothes.

Starling Chase was on her feet.

“You get the hell away from them!” she growled, low and certain.

The biker whirled back to face her, snarling. Starling fixed him with that blazing emerald glare, and lunged forward with sudden, explosive speed. He swung the heavy chain at her head in a vicious arc, but her enhanced reflexes were awake now. She ducked the whistling chain with blinding speed, the links whistling just inches above her scarlet hair. He followed with a wild haymaker punch; she slipped under that too, her voluptuous body moving with lethal grace.

Starling drove a powerful kick into the side of his leg, buckling the joint with a sickening pop. The Marauder dropped to one knee with a roar of pain. She didn’t hesitate, one fist snapping forward in a precise punch to his throat. He gagged, eyes bulging. The chain slipped from his grasp and Starling caught it, looped it around his thick neck, then vaulted over his back in a fluid motion.  Using her momentum, leverage and the weight of her powerful, curvaceous body, she sent the massive biker flipping head-over-heels through the air. He crashed violently into the far wall, smashing through multiple shelves in an explosion of shattering glass, scattered herbs, and tumbling crystals.

Starling landed lightly on her feet, chest heaving, torn shirt fluttering around her torso, camisole riding low on her sweat-glistened cleavage. She watched, breathing heavily, as the Marauder slumped motionless to the floor, unconscious amid the wreckage.

Silence fell inside the shop, broken only by Nikki’s frightened sobs and the distant roar of chaos outside.

After a moment to make sure he was really down, Starling turned back to her stunned little group.

“I’m so sorry, Mack,” she said, looking around at the shattered shelves and scattered merchandise. “I didn’t mean to destroy half your shop…”

Mackenzie blinked, her eyes turning back to normal, “Yeah, well, don’t worry too much. I think I have a spell for that.”

Lacey balked a dry chuckle, “Spell? Don’t you have insurance?”

Starling hurried over and took Nikki into her arms, lifting the frightened little girl and hugging her tight. Nikki immediately buried her face against her shoulder, then peeked out with wide, curious eyes at the fallen biker.

“Is that bad man… dead…mommy?”

“No, baby, he’s just… in time out.”

“For being bad.”

“Exactly.”

“Mommy?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I have the bad man’s pretty red coat?” she asked innocently, pointing at the crimson vest.

Lacey stepped forward and wrapped both Starling and Nikki in a tight hug, her voice soft but trembling with worry. “Are you okay?”

Starling held them close, her expression grim and set, green eyes still sharp with adrenaline. “I’m okay.”

She glanced over at Mackenzie, still catching her breath. “Speaking of spells… what was that trick with the crystal?”

Mackenzie chuckled softly, and turned the crystal to show them the bottom, where she clicked a small button and the glow faded instantly.

“Just a Himalayan salt lamp, actually,” she explained. “Looks impressive though, doesn’t it? Unfortunately, real spells take more time to prepare…kind of like you?”

“Well… she’s a bit out of practice,” Lacey said, turning to check on the witch. “Are you okay by the way? That was a hard hit-”

Screams echoed from the square outside, sharp and terrified, mingling with the crackle of spreading fires. Thick smoke was billowing in through the shattered front door, carrying gusts of intense heat that made the air inside the shop simmer.

Starling froze for a moment, holding Nikki close. Standing just beyond the broken window in the swirling smoke was her younger self, the Scarlet Dove in her prime: white bustier hugging a toned, sleek torso, matching white bikini bottoms clinging to poised hips, and the unforgettable, white feathered mask concealing her face. The hallucination looked straight at her, calm and resolute.

“Your family’s safe… but a lot of others aren’t.”

The words hit Starling like a physical blow. She blinked hard, and the apparition vanished into the smoke. Jaw set, she gently handed Nikki back to Lacey.

“Take her. Get to the alley exit and head for the car. Get somewhere safe. Home.”

Lacey’s eyes widened in panic as Starling began stripping off the shredded remains of her blue button-up. The torn fabric came away easily; Starling ripped it into long strips with quick, determined motions, wrapping them tightly around her fingers and palms like improvised hand wraps.

“Beth, no,” Lacey clutched Nikki tighter, the little girl watching her mom curiously. “You’re not her anymore. You’re supposed to get somewhere safe with us!”

Starling met her wife’s gaze, green eyes steady even as smoke continued to pour in, the orange flicker of flames visible through the clouds.

“I know what I promised, Lace. But people are trapped out there, our neighbors, kids, families. If I can help get them out, I have to. Whether I’m ‘her’ or not.”

Lacey opened her mouth to protest again, but the look on Starling’s face silenced her. The air between them crackled with both unspoken fear and understanding as more screams came from the square.

“I’ll make sure they get out safely,” Mackenzie spoke up, already turning to usher them toward the back of the shop.

Starling nodded gratefully. “Thank you, Mack.” She moved quickly, pulling Nikki into one last fierce hug, pressing a kiss between her fiery pigtails. “I love you, baby. So much.”

Nikki clutched at her tightly, wide hazel eyes shimmering with fear and confusion. “Mommy… are you gonna beat up the rest of the bad men?”

“No, sweetheart,” Starling took the white bandanna out of her scarlet hair, letting the thick, lustrous waves tumble loose around her shoulders. “I’m just going to make sure no one is getting hurt.” She quickly tied it around her nose and mouth as a makeshift mask, the fabric pulling taut across her full lips, then looked at Lacey, green eyes steady and full of promise. “And then I’ll come straight home.”

Lacey huffed, clearly torn between fear and reluctant acceptance, but she finally nodded. “Straight home,” she reiterated firmly, voice thick with emotion. “Promise me.”

“Promise, hon.”

Mackenzie gently pulled Lacey and Nikki toward the back of the shop. “Come on, we have to move.”

Starling watched them go for a heartbeat, then turned toward the broken front of the shop and the burning square beyond.

The Scarlet Dove delusion stepped up beside her and grinned almost giddily, feathered mask tilting with excitement. “Finally! Let’s go to work!”

Starling’s lips curved beneath the bandanna. She took a running step and kicked off the ground, her powerful body lifting into the air. Soaring out through the shattered doorway in just her tight white denim shorts and clinging camisole, scarlet hair streaming behind her like a banner, the Scarlet Dove was back in action.

Back into the Flames

The chaos in the square was absolute.

Starling soared out of the new-age shop, looping upward into the searing, smoke clouded night, the hot air whipping her loose scarlet hair wildly behind her. She’d have been lying to say that taking flight in her tight white shorts and the clinging camisole didn’t bring up some exhilarating, if not strictly pleasant, memories. It wasn’t quite her Scarlet Dove attire but-

Stay focused, she admonished herself, that’s not why I’m doing this!

Covering her nose and mouth, the makeshift bandanna mask did what it could to filter the smoke, while her green eyes sharpened and scanned the inferno below. It was so hard to make anything out.

She swooped lower, channeling her flight to generate a strong downdraft that pushed back some of the thick black smoke, clearing pockets of visibility. The sight that greeted her made her stomach twist. Families were running in every direction, parents clutching screaming children, elderly couples stumbling through the panic, vendors abandoning their stalls.

Marauders moved like wolves through the disorder, smashing displays, laughing as they terrorized anyone who got in their way. Flames from the rogue fireworks licked greedily at awnings and wooden booths, turning the festive 4th of July Spectacular into a blazing nightmare.

Starling resisted the urge to dive straight into the fray and start throwing punches. Evacuate. Help people escape. No fighting, she reminded herself, heart pounding.

Then she saw him. The supervillain leader strode through the drifting smoke like he owned the night, orange mohawk cutting through the haze, ostentatious coat flapping dramatically. His goggles glowed with eerie red light as he casually swept his gaze across the square and unleashed another jet of searing orange flames.

One of the food trucks erupted, triggering even more panicked screams, and he laughed.

Who the hell is this guy? Starling hovered, breasts heaving beneath the thin camisole as she watched. And why would a supervillain with that kind of power bother with a tiny town like Auburn Hills? Why attack a harmless little 4th of July festival?

The Scarlet Dove soared beside her, white bustier and bikini bottoms gleaming, golden boots kicking lazily through the air. The hallucination grinned with fierce excitement. “We should fly down there and make him answer those questions personally.”

Starling’s jaw tightened—when a desperate scream cut through the roar of flames and engines.

“Help! Please! My baby!”

The cry came from near the center of the square. Starling didn’t hesitate. She banked sharply and dove through the smoke, her powerful body cutting the air like a missile. She spotted the source of the scream near a collapsing booth: a young mother trapped under a fallen awning pole, desperately shielding her toddler from the flames licking closer. Embers rained down around them, and thick smoke choking the air.

Starling landed in a crouch beside them, her bare thighs flexing as she caught the heavy pole. Her improvised wraps protected her hands from the heat and embers as she heaved upward with a grunt. The pole lifted just enough for the mother to scramble free, clutching her crying child.

“Go!” Starling ordered, voice firm through the bandanna. “That way, toward the far street!”

The woman nodded tearfully, mouthing a silent “thank you” before stumbling away with her baby. Starling didn’t linger. She leapt back into the air, generating another powerful draft to clear smoke for more fleeing civilians.

Next, she spotted two teenagers cornered by a Marauder near a burning stall. Starling swooped in low and fast, slamming a flying kick into the biker’s back and sending him sprawling into a pile of charred debris.

I’m not fighting…just clearing a path…

The teens stared up at her in wide-eyed shock. Her camisole was beginning to cling with sweat and soot, the white fabric molding to every curve of her voluptuous body. The makeshift bandanna mask and loose scarlet waves made her look every bit the mysterious flying superheroine.

“Run!” she barked, already lifting off again.

Fortunately they didn’t need to be told twice, making a dash for the road.

As Starling climbed back into the sky, the Scarlet Dove kept pace beside her, “This is what we were made for!”

Starling ignored the delusion, scanning for the next person in need. But her eyes kept drifting back toward the man at the center of the inferno, his orange mohawk a beacon, his laughter carrying over the screams as he unleashed more controlled bursts of flame.

Who are you? she thought again. And what the hell do you want with our town?

But another desperate cry pulled her attention: a cluster of people trapped near the bandstand as flames closed in. Starling banked hard once more into the chaos. She landed near where several families and an elderly couple were trapped by smoldering debris. Flames crackled hungrily around them. Without hesitation, she heaved some of the wreckage aside with a powerful grunt.

Thick smoke suddenly billowed in, choking the air and obscuring everything. Starling coughed and staggered, momentarily disoriented. Her eyes stung, now unable to make out much through the malicious black cloud. She shielded her eyes with one arm, waving the other desperately to try and clear the smoke, but it just seemed to swirl and thicken around her.

Then the Scarlet Dove appeared through the smoke and haze, moving beside her, and pointing urgently. “That way, ten steps, then sharp left. Safe corridor opening out to the street.”

“Follow my voice!” Starling called out through the bandanna, following the delusions instructions. “Stay low and move fast!”

The civilians scrambled after her, coughing but alive, murmuring thanks as they fled toward the edge of the square.

Starling made quick and powerful ascent, bursting through the thickest layer of smoke, then swinging out away from the square into clearer air. A cool night wind rushed over her sweat-slicked skin, blessed relief after the choking heat below.

She circled wide, chest heaving as she gulped down fresh breaths, the white camisole now plastered to her voluptuous breasts and the tight denim shorts riding high on her powerful thighs. Tears from smoke irritation and raw emotion stung her eyes; she wiped them away fiercely with the back of one wrapped hand. Steeling herself, she banked sharply and swooped back down toward the chaos, scanning desperately for more trapped civilians.

Suddenly, a beam of searing orange flames lanced through the air inches from her body. The intense heat singed the edge of her camisole and made her gasp.

Starling twisted mid-air and spun to face the source. It was him, of course, the villainous purveyor of this chaos.  He was standing on top of the only food truck not in flames. His orange mohawk blazed in the firelight, goggles glowing as he watched her circle with a fiendish grin.

“Well, well, well! What do we have here?” he called out, voice booming with mock delight. “Didn’t expect a genuine superheroine to be playing guardian angel for a Podunk little town like this? You lost, hot stuff?” His gaze raked shamelessly over her sweat-drenched camisole and shorts.

Starling hovered, fists clenched inside the wraps, green eyes lit by the inferno. “Who the hell are you? And why attack our town festival? These people didn’t do anything to you!”

“Name’s Pyrosight,” he laughed, spreading his arms dramatically, that stylized Kevlar coat billowing around him. “And why? Maybe I just love a good fireworks display!”

He cackled and swept his goggles in a wide arc, unleashing another devastating jet of flames from atop the food truck. More screams rose. More people in danger. Families. Children.

Starling dove.

The Scarlet Dove apparition swooped beside her. “Finally!”

I know I promised Lacey no fighting, but no one will be safe until he’s stopped!

Pyrosight’s grin widened with vicious glee. “Oh yeah, baby, let’s turn up the heat!”

The Battle in the Square

Starling thrust both fists out ahead of her, wrapped tight and aiming straight for Pyrosight’s smug face.

He laughed and fired another searing blast from his goggles. She twisted mid-air, the heat grazing her side. In the next instant she was slamming into him like a torpedo strike (a maneuver which she had perfected in her time as a superheroine).

Pyrosight’s muscular torso jolted under the impact, a shout of pain and surprise bursting from his lungs as he launched backward off the truck. He hit the ground hard. Starling landed close, skidding to halt in the grass, as ash and embers and her fiery red hair swirled around her.

  “Yeah, fuck,” Pyrosight groaned, struggling to sit up. “You got some fire in ya…”

“Stay down,” Starling snarled. “This ends now.”

“Oh no, we’re just getting warmed up!” Pyrosight whipped his head towards her before he was even back on his feet.

Starling leapt into the air, weaving and dodging the searing spout of flames. Then she dove towards him, closing the distance. Pyrosight scrambled up, grinning, orange mohawk flickering like firelight. She landed a sharp right hook to his jaw, snapping his head back with a satisfying crack.

“That’s for the festival, you ass!” she snarled through the bandanna. “Everyone you endangered!”

Pyrosight staggered but laughed, “Ooh, feisty! I like a hot tempered woman!”

He countered with a wild haymaker that Starling ducked under, driving an elbow hard into his ribs. He grunted in pain, and before he could retaliate, she drove her knee up into his midsection. The villain wheezed, doubling over.

Starling immediately grabbed for his high-tech googles, hoping to eliminate the threat of those flames. But he caught her by the wrist and twisted savagely before she could remove them. Beth cried out as pain lanced up her arm and through her shoulder. She tried to jerk away but his free hand slammed across her jaw with shocking force, the brutal impact snapping her head sideways in a spray of sweat and scarlet hair as her voluptuous body crumpled instantly, dropping at his feet.

For several disorienting seconds, she couldn’t even remember where she was, the world spinning violently around her. A high-pitched ringing filled her ears, while sharp pain throbbed through her jaw and radiated into her skull.

Fuck…it’s been a while since I’ve been hit like that…

“Come here, hot stuff,” Pyrosight’s gloved hand shot down and seized the front of Beth’s sweat-soaked camisole, fingers hooking roughly under both the thin fabric and her bra beneath it. With a sharp yank, he hauled her up from the smoldering grass, and onto unsteady legs.

The world still spun around her, knees threatening to buckle as she swayed heavily against his grip. The camisole stretched, and the bra twisted, one ample breast slipping out from under it. Starling blinked hard, green eyes glassy and unfocused as she struggled to plant her feet and clear the ringing in her ears.

“Get… your hands …off me,” she slurred, voice husky and breathless. Her head lolled weakly, thick scarlet hair falling messily across her face and the makeshift mask.

Pyrosight just chuckled darkly, still holding her upright by the bunched fabric. With a gloved finger, he hooked the bandana and yanked it down off her flushed face, exposing those full, painted lips now parted on a dazed gasp. His eyes widened with genuine surprise before narrowing into a sleazy grin.

“Fuck, you’re actually stunning. A little past your prime maybe… but way too pretty to be hiding behind this rag… or hell, in a shithole town like this.”

Starling’s heart lurched with sudden panic as she realized her face was now fully exposed to him. Still reeling, she tried to twist away from his grip, her hands weakly pushing at his chest, desperate to create distance before he could memorize her features.

Then he slapped her, hard, palm cracking across her left cheek with a sharp, resounding smack! Her head snapped violently to the side. Pain exploded across her face, hot and stinging, fresh tears welling instantly in her green eyes.

Then a backhand snapped down on her right cheek with even more force, the meaty impact jolting her entire upper body and making her heavy breasts bounce sharply inside the sweat-drenched, half-twisted camisole. Her vision blurred into spinning fireworks and smoke, a fresh bloom of heat radiating across her skin.

The third slap came back across her left cheek again, harder still, the loud crack echoing over the nearby roar of flames. Her head whipped sideways with a strangled whimper escaping her lips as tears spilled freely down her flushed face and her knees buckled beneath her.

Pyrosight kept his grip on her camisole, holding her upright as she reeled. “Too bad beauty like yours burns just as easy as everything else.”

Starling’s head spun worse than before, the world tilting as the repeated slaps dragged her right to the razor’s edge of unconsciousness. Each sharp, deliberate crack across her face, jolting hard enough to leave her dazed, disoriented, and helplessly limp in his grip. Her vision blurred and doubled, thoughts sluggish, body heavy. Still, through the fog, a spark of defiance flared. She tried to drive her knee up into his groin in one last desperate counterattack.

But Pyrosight sidestepped it with a mocking laugh, and made her pay instantly. Gripping her top in both hands, he jerked her forward, slamming his own knee into her soft midsection. The air left her lungs in a painful whoosh. The pull wrenched her bra further out of shape, allowing her other breast to spill free, both now swinging heavily under the stretched out camisole. Starling doubled over with a choked gasp, and just as quick another punishing open-hand slap cracked across her cheek, snapping her head back.

She let out a hoarse, anguished sob and the fight drained from her limbs and body in one helpless heartbeat. For a dizzying moment Starling hung there in his grip, pain blooming hot across her face and gut, her legs trembling uselessly beneath her. A sharp wave of regret crashed over her—Lacey, Nikki… I should have run with them—leaving her feeling painfully small and vulnerable.

Cackling in disdain, Pyrosight hurled her by the remnants of her camisole back down into the ash-covered grass. Starling landed hard with a pained grunt, her voluptuous body sprawling helplessly to squirm on the ground. She wheezed desperately for air that wouldn’t seem to come. Soot and grass clung to her sweat-slicked skin, her thick scarlet hair draped wildly across her back and shoulders. The white camisole was now little more than a tattered, transparent rag barely covering her heaving breasts.

“Snuffed out pretty easy, super-bitch,” Pyrosight gloated from above, orange mohawk silhouetted against the flames. “Must be why you’re in this place not one of the big cities. Still looked fucken hot though, even sprawled out getting your ass kicked. This is gonna be even more fun than I thought.”

Before Starling could push herself up, he delivered one vicious kick straight into her soft, unprotected stomach. The impact driving the last of the air from her lungs in a sharp cry. Starling curled involuntarily, rolling onto her knees with her face still pressed into the dirty grass, smearing one cheek with soot. She clutched her aching stomach with both hands, gasping and coughing, thick scarlet hair splayed around her, the ruined camisole hanging precariously, her bra now bunched around her clavicle.

Pyrosight circled her slowly now, like a predator savoring its prey. What truly drew his gaze was the way her tight no-longer-entirely-white denim shorts had ridden up, the fabric stretched tight across her generous, heart-shaped ass. The plump, rounded cheeks thrust upward invitingly in that position, the shorts wedged deep between them to create a perfect, mouth-watering cleft that left little to the imagination. The hem had pulled high on her smooth thighs, exposing the soft, pale undersides of her ass and the luscious curves that spoke of both motherhood and god-given allure.

“You are one sizzling piece of ass, look at that ass up in the air like it’s begging to be roasted.” Then his voice dropped, a note of genuine confusion creeping in as he murmured, mostly to himself, “Wait a minute… you look… strangely familiar. That hair, that body… where the hell have I seen you before?”

He stopped behind her, eyes devouring those wide, womanly hips flaring out from her soft but still-narrow waist, perfectly framed by the stained denim, a hint of soft, porcelain skin peeking from where the shorts had wedged up. A low, hungry whistle escaped him.

“Nah… couldn’t be,” he shook his head, dismissing the nagging sense of familiarity with a low chuckle. “Still… fuck, what an ass.”

He dropped into a crouch behind her, gloved hands reaching out to claim her presented rear. Slowly, deliberately, he groped her generous ass, palming the plump, heart-shaped cheeks over the denim, squeezing and kneading the soft, yielding flesh with open hunger. His fingers dug in deep, spreading her cheeks apart through the fabric before letting them jiggle back together, then repeating the lewd process, thumbs tracing the deep cleft where the shorts had ridden uncomfortably high.

“Fuck… if only I had more time,” he murmured, voice thick with lust as he continued to grope her, palming and spanking the soft flesh.

Starling shuddered beneath his hands, too dazed and winded to pull away, her voluptuous body trembling as her shame burned hotter than the flames engulfing the square.

“Wonder if I could just throw you over my bike and take you with me. Oh, the things I’d do with an ass like this… keep you tied up in my hideout for days, riding this fat, juicy thing until you couldn’t even walk straight.”

Starling struggled to catch her breath, panic clawing at her chest, each ragged gasp sending fresh jolts of pain through her bruised stomach and throbbing jaw. I’ve been playing superheroine again for less than ten minutes, she thought in humiliated horror, and I’m already on my knees getting molested by some perverted supervillain in the middle of the town square. Tears of frustration and degradation stung her eyes.

A pair of heavy armored boots crunched through the smoldering grass, stopping right beside her head. A deep, commanding voice she knew all too well rolled over her like thunder.

“How dare you let him touch what belongs to me, slave.”

Starling quivered inside at the voice of her Master. Dominion stood tall in full menacing armor above her, his presence suddenly as real and overwhelming as it had ever been. Her body betrayed her with a shameful little tremble, nipples tightening painfully against the ruined camisole.

Pyrosight’s hands paused on her ass, oblivious to the hallucination tormenting her. Then his gloved hand slid down between her thick thighs from behind, his fingers pressing firmly against the heat of her mound through the tight white denim, stroking her lewdly with slow, possessive rubs as he let out a deep groan.

“What a waste, leaving all this prime heroine pussy in a podunk town like Auburn Hills.”

“On your feet,” Dominion commanded coldly. “He’s not worthy of touching my property.”

Yes, Master.

With a surge of desperation and adrenaline, she pushed up from the grass, her curvaceous hips and thick ass shoving backward hard enough to knock Pyrosight off balance. He stumbled back in surprise as she spun around to face him, breathing hard, chest heaving, the ruined camisole barely containing her heavy breasts as they rose and fell rapidly. Her green eyes burned with fury, the disheveled bandanna hanging around her neck, scarlet hair wild around her flushed face.

Pyrosight recovered quickly, aiming his goggles to fire another blast, but this time Starling was faster. She pivoted sharply and unleashed a powerful roundhouse kick that connected solidly with the side of his head, snapping it sideways with a loud crack. The orange flare went wide, scorching a black arc across the already burning square.

Before he could react, she followed through with a rising knee that smashed brutally under his chin. Pyrosight’s head rocked violently and he pitched backward onto the cobblestones with a heavy thud.

Starling pounced instantly, straddling his waist and pinning him down with her full weight. Her thick thighs clamped around his sides, her generous ass settling firmly onto his stomach as she reared back, ready to rain down blows. The stretched, filthy camisole hung awkwardly, draped and nearly transparent over her free swinging breasts.

“Now I’ll make you stay down!” Starling raised her fist for the finishing blow -or as many as it took –not that she would enjoy every single time she smashed her fist into his smug fucking laughing fucking mouth –when a child’s terrified scream pierced the chaos.

“Mommy! Help!”

Starling’s head snapped toward the sound. Her heart lurched. Across the square, near the collapsing craft pavilion, a small boy was half-buried under burning debris while his mother lay unconscious nearby, flames closing in fast.

Pyrosight felt her distraction instantly. With a savage grin, he unleashed a point-blank blast from his visor. The burst of flames caught Starling full in the chest -or would have if her enhanced reflexes hadn’t flung her back and off him just in time. Still the heat and flames scorched her camisole and twisted bra, even kissing the vulnerable flesh beneath.

Pyrosight scrambled to his feet, laughing breathlessly as he bolted for his flame-painted motorcycle. “You’ve got fire… I like that!” he called over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll be seeing you for round two real soon. Real soon.”

Starling was already in motion as well, but she wasn’t chasing him, instead launching into the air and flying straight toward the collapsing craft pavilion.

She heard his engine roar to life, sending up a burst of sparks as he tore off through the smoke. Starling wanted nothing more than to chase him down and make him pay for every flame, every scream, every bit of destruction he’d unleashed on her town. But there was a small boy half-buried under a burning roof beam, flames creeping dangerously close while his unconscious mother lay nearby.

Starling landed hard, ignoring the pain in her ribs. With her wrapped hands she gripped the smoldering beam and heaved, muscles straining, her voluptuous body glistening in the firelight. The beam lifted just enough for her to pull the sobbing child free.

“I’ve got you,” she murmured, cradling him against her chest for a moment and checking for wounds; a few burns and bruises but miraculously nothing more serious. She then turned to the mother, and with a grunt of effort, scooped the woman into a fireman’s carry.

“Hold on to me!” Starling shouted, her voice steady despite the roar of flames and the thick smoke clawing at her lungs. The terrified little boy, no older than Nikki, wrapped both small arms tightly around her waist, burying his face against the sweat-soaked white camisole.

With a deep growl of raw determination, Starling summoned every ounce of power she had. Normally she couldn’t carry much extra weight, her flight was about speed and agility, not heavy lifting, but tonight she had no choice. Grinding her teeth, she rose unsteadily into the air, the added burden of the boy and his unconscious mother making her ascent slow and labored. The boy’s grip tightened desperately as they lifted off the ground, her voluptuous body trembling with the strain, generous curves glistening with sweat and soot while her scarlet hair swirled in the hot updrafts. Every inch of elevation felt like a battle, but she pushed through, gliding low and fast toward the edge of the square. They landed heavily on the street just beyond the worst of the blaze.

Sirens wailed louder as the first volunteer fire trucks and ambulances roared into view. Firefighters in full gear leaped from the vehicles, uncoiling hoses and shouting orders while paramedics rushed forward with stretchers and oxygen masks. Their arrival brought a fragile wave of hope amid the roaring flames and chaos, even as the inferno continued to rage unchecked.

Two paramedics rushed toward Starling, helping with the mother and the terrified little boy.

“Ma’am are you okay?” asked the older of the two, looking at Starling as they eased the unconscious mother to the ground. “Are you burned or-”

“I’m fine,” Starling coughed. “Just help them.”

The second man was staring at her, dumbfounded. “Did you just… fly…out of… or jump..? I thought I saw—”

Before Starling could even try to formulate an answer the older man was giving directions, “She’s breathing, but we can bet on some bad smoke inhalation, get more oxygen, they’ll all need it. Now!”

“On it,” the second man nodded, prying his wide eyes away from Starling.

“Don’t worry, son, your mom’s going to be just fine.”

Now that kid and his mother were taken care of, Starling turned back toward the burning square. Her green eyes widened in horror. The once-cheerful 4th of July Spectacular had become a raging inferno. Towering walls of orange flame roared like living beasts, devouring booths and stalls in greedy, crackling gulps. Thick black smoke boiled upward in choking columns. The entire square was a hellscape of collapsing structures, flying embers, and screaming shadows… and it was now impossible to see through. She could no longer see if anyone else was trapped inside.

And then a new thought that chilled her to the bone despite the blistering heat: what if the blaze spreads beyond the square into the surrounding homes and neighborhoods… the whole town could go up!

Suddenly, a voice boomed across the square somehow louder than the roar of the flames, it was deep, resonant, and laced with ancient power.

“By earth and sky, by wind and rain, come forth!”

Mackenzie.

A real crack of thunder answered her, shaking the air. Overhead, storm clouds gathered with unnatural swiftness, swirling through the night sky like they were in a rush. A cold wind whipped through the streets, cutting through the heat of the flames and tugging at Starling’s loose scarlet hair.

Lightning flashed with another deafening roll of thunder.

Then the heavens opened.

Torrential rain began to pour down in heavy sheets, soaking everything instantly. Starling shielded her face with one still-wrapped hand, squinting against the sudden downpour as she searched for the source. There, on the roof of her shop, Mackenzie stood tall and commanding, arms raised to the sky, chanting and urging the storm onward with rhythmic gestures. The sight filled Starling with a gratitude and wonder…her friend had just summoned a miracle.

She turned back toward the square, as the deluge intensified, immense relief washing over her as did the rain. The raging flames began to sputter and hiss in protest, great plumes of steam rising as the storm fought down Pyrosight’s inferno. Booths that had been fully engulfed moments ago now smoked and smoldered. For the first time since the chaos erupted, Starling allowed herself a full, if shaky, breath.

Now completely drenched, her tight denim shorts were soaked through, molding to her wide hips and generous ass like a second skin, while her loose scarlet hair hung in heavy, dripping strands down her back. The cold rain hammered down on her voluptuous body, plastering the already translucent white camisole tightly against her heavy breasts and making the thin fabric cling obscenely to every curve and hardened nipple. With a rush of chagrin, she reached under the flimsy top and pulled her bra back into place, tucking her breasts back in.

Then, noticing the younger paramedic returning with an oxygen mask and a determined look, Starling quickly slipped away before they could insist on checking her over…or ask any more questions about how she’d escaped the fire. She darted into a nearby alley, and the moment she was out of sight, kicked off the ground, ascending through the heavy sheets of rain until she landed lightly on the roof of Other Worldly.

Mackenzie had stepped back from the edge, letting the merciful fury of the storm do its work. Both women were thoroughly drenched. Rain streamed down Mackenzie’s face, velvet top plastered to her torso, the navy blue looking almost black, while her burgundy leather pants creaked from the wetness.

Starling pushed wet strands of scarlet hair from her face. “Mack… you’re incredible.”

Mackenzie staggered suddenly, her knees buckling as the toll of the massive spell hit her. Starling lunged forward and caught her friend around the waist, holding her steady as the witch leaned against her rain-slicked body.

“I might have… overdone it,” Mackenzie admitted, voice strained but steady. “That was more than I’ve ever pulled before.” She took a shaky breath, still supported by Starling. “Are the people alright? Did you get everyone out?”

Starling could only shrug. “We did what we could. A lot of people got out… but I don’t know about everyone.”

Mackenzie nodded weakly. “Help me back to the edge.”

Starling guided her carefully back to overlook the square. Mackenzie’s eyes melted to an eerie silver as she scanned the destruction below.

“That’s how you read auras, right?” Starling asked.

“Yes.”

“And are you able to see auras that have…passed?”

The witch was silent for a long moment, swaying slightly in Starling’s supportive embrace. “It’s hard to explain, but…sort of.”

Starling pressed her lips together, not sure that was something she would actually want explained…

“I don’t think anyone’s dead,” Mackenzie finally said, her silver gaze fading. “We may have gotten lucky tonight.”

“Lucky,” the Scarlet Dove scoffed, creeping up behind them, then leaning in close to Starling’s ear with a low and urgent whisper. “We can’t let Pyrosight just get away.”

Mackenzie turned her head, dark eyes narrowing slightly. “What did you say?”

Starling blinked, still focused on the dying fires below, barely registering the delusion now fading back into the rain. “Hmm? I didn’t say anything.”

Mackenzie studied her for a long moment, then let out a heavy sigh. “You’re thinking about going after them, aren’t you?”

Starling’s green eyes hardened with resolve. “I have to, Mack. I need to make sure they don’t get away with it.”

Mackenzie exhaled, rain streaming down her face and the velvet top. “Beth… you’ve already done more than enough tonight. Lacey and Nikki are waiting. This isn’t your fight anymore.”

“They turned a family celebration into a war zone, Mack. People could have died. Kids could have died.” Starling shook her head, scarlet strands whipping in the wind. “If I let those Marauders ride off clean, they’ll just come back or do this somewhere else. I have to.”

She reached down and peeled the soaked, torn camisole up and off in one motion, balling the ruined fabric in her wrapped hands and tossing it aside. The cool rain immediately kissed her bare skin, leaving her in just her slightly scorched white bra. She adjusted the straps and band for a tighter, more secure fit, the wet fabric hugging her full breasts firmly.

The witch glanced out over the rain-lashed square, then back at her friend, “You’re really set on this?”

Starling nodded. “I am.”

Mackenzie gave her a long look, lips quirking. “And you’re going to go chase down a gang of outlaw bikers and a supervillain…dressed like that?”

Starling glanced down at herself, taking in the sight. The once-crisp white denim shorts were now dark and sodden, smeared with ash in some places and molded skintight to the generous swell of her hips and the full, rounded curves of her ass. Her slightly scorched, white bra was plastered transparently to her heavy breasts, the wet lace doing almost nothing to hide the stiff peaks of her nipples or the soft, freckled valley of her cleavage. Below that, her soft, gently rounded belly, no longer as flat and sculpted as it had been in her Scarlet Dove prime—before Nikki — was fully exposed, and that gold accent belt still cinched her waist. Her strappy sandals were drenched and muddy.

“Believe it or not my old Scarlet Dove costume wasn’t much more covering than this,” Starling let out a soft, rueful chuckle and began unwrapping the makeshift strips from her hands. The once blue, pinstriped fabric was now blackened, charred at the edges, and stiff with ash. “Besides, I don’t have time to change. If I wait, Pyrosight will get too far for me to catch up,”

“Lacey will kill me if I let you go.”

“Only after she kills me,” Starling muttered, peeling the last singed strips away. “Listen, I’ll just go see where they end up. Sherrif Harlan didn’t chase them because it just would have gotten him and Deputy Schimdt killed. But if I can see where they’re hiding out, then he can call in state troopers or whatever reinforcements.”

Mackenzie sighed but gave a reluctant nod. “That sounds like a real good plan. You gonna be able to stick to it?”

“Of course.”

It wasn’t as convincing as either woman would have liked.

Starling gave the witch a quick, grateful squeeze on the shoulder, then stepped to the edge of the roof. She did her best to ignore the Scarlet Dove apparition hovering just ahead of her, grinning with anticipation.

That’s not what this is about…just going to see where they end up!

With a powerful kick, Starling launched herself into the stormy sky, the cold rain still pouring over her glistening curves, and veered away chasing the distant roar of motorcycle engines.

In the Weeds

As Starling reached the edge of town, the storm ended abruptly. One moment she was flying through torrential sheets of rain, the next the clouds simply…ended, leaving clear night air and distant stars. The deluge remained perfectly localized over Auburn Hills, a shimmering curtain of rain still hammering the square in the distance. Starling shook her head in awe.

I thought I was supposed to be the super-one, Mack…

Her expression hardened. She locked onto the faint glow of taillights in the distance, all thoughts of wonder vanishing as her focus narrowed.

Starling pushed forward, slicing through the cool, clean air. For the first time in a while she felt sleek and fast again, her body remembering the old rhythm of flight, the effortless glide, the surge of speed, the pure freedom of cutting through the night. A dangerous thrill hummed in her veins, sharper and sweeter than she wanted to admit even to herself. She leaned into it, accelerating harder, scarlet hair streaming behind her as the town lights faded and the open road stretched out ahead.

Pyrosight wasn’t getting away. Not tonight.

She caught up to the Marauders’ convoy as it turned, roaring down a back road well off the beaten path. Pyrosight’s flame-orange motorcycle led the pack. Starling kept her distance, staying high and wide, using the dark for cover.

She reminded herself this was only reconnaissance. Just find out where they’re holing up, then call the state police or the sheriff. No fighting. No more broken promises.

The rational part of her mind repeated it like a mantra. Guilt twisted in her chest every time she pictured Lacey’s worried face and Nikki’s frightened eyes, but she just couldn’t let Pyrosight slip away. He could hurt so many other people!

The miles passed in a blur, but they ended up a long way from Auburn Hills. She watched from afar as the convoy turned off the back roads onto an overgrown lane leading to an abandoned farmstead: rusted silos, a sagging barn, and long untended fields.

Starling slowed, hovering among the treetops at the edge of the property. She lowered into the shadows of a large oak, the leaves rustling more than she’d like. Her heart pounded as she watched the bikers park haphazardly in front of the main barn, engines cutting out one by one.

This is it, she told herself firmly, wiping rain from her eyes. Get the location. Then leave. Call it in. Go home.

But even as the words formed, she crept closer through the wet grass, drawn by the low murmur of voices and flickering light spilling from the barn windows. She peered inside to watch as Pyrosight sauntered to the center, slinging his coat and goggles onto a rickety wooden table. Starling was a little surprised by what a lean, dangerous figure he cut without it. His torso was well-built and solidly muscled. Thick black suspenders framed meaty pecs and ran down over sharp-lined abs before hooking to his reinforced pants, accentuating the narrow waist and the suggestive V disappearing beneath the waistband. Without the goggles, his face was more handsome than expected too: piercing eyes, a strong jaw, and that cocky smirk that somehow made the ridiculous spikey, orange mohawk work. Almost, anyway.

Starling felt a sudden, unwelcome flicker of heat low in her belly as she watched him. Gawd, he’s actually… attractive. She caught herself immediately, a flush of embarrassment flooding her cheeks. What the hell is wrong with you, Beth? She shook her head, dismissing the traitorous thought as nothing more than adrenaline.

Inside, Pyrosight’s voice rang out, loud and triumphant. “Hell of a show tonight, boys!” He slapped a burly Marauder on the back hard enough to make the man stagger, then accepted a cold beer from another. Laughter echoed through the barn as bottles clinked.

“Fuck yeah!” one of the bikers bellowed. “Did you see that fat fuck’s face when his booth went up? Ran like a bitch!”

Another laughed raucously. “I grabbed that little slut’s tits when she tried to run. Had a nice rack on her. Almost worth the trip just for that.”

“I smashed some old cunt in the mouth when she wouldn’t hand over her cash box,” a third added, grinning. “Went down like a sack of shit. Whole damn town was crying and pissing themselves.”

Pyrosight leaned against a support beam, orange mohawk still perfectly spiked, a satisfied grin on his face. “The whole square’s a goddamn bonfire. And once my developer friend shows up with the fat stack of cash he owes us… we’re all gonna have a good weekend.”

The Marauders cheered, bottles clinking again.

“Fuckin’ finally,” one growled. “Gonna get some real pussy and so much blow with that cash.”

Starling’s stomach dropped. This wasn’t just random violence or sick kicks after all. Someone had hired them. Her jaw tightened as she stayed hidden in the shadows, breathing shallow. Now she needed to—had to wait. She needed to see who this “developer friend” was.

Starling pressed closer to the cracked barn window, heart pounding as she strained to hear every word of the crude celebration inside. In fact, she was listening so closely to them…that she never heard the footsteps creeping up through the tall grass and taller weeds behind her.

A rough, calloused hand suddenly clamped over her mouth, yanking her backward with brutal strength. Starling screamed in shock and panic—but her shriek died, muffled against the greasy palm covering her face. Another arm snaked around her waist, dragging her away from the barn wall as her sandaled feet kicked and scraped uselessly through the mud.

She briefly caught a stench like motor oil and B.O. as the attacker pinned her back hard against his chest. Then, in the same motion, he removed his hand and pressed a foul, chemical-soaked rag tightly over her nose and mouth.

“Mmmph—!” Starling’s desperate cry was muffled again as sharp, sickly-sweet fumes flooded her lungs. Ether!

Unfortunately, it was not her first time with the insidious chemical. No! No please no!

Thrashing wildly, Starling slammed her elbow back into his ribs, trying to twist free. The attacker grunted, but didn’t lose his grip. Her curvaceous body bucked and fought, sliding against his as she attempted to lift off the ground with a surge of flight. But the man’s arm locked around her waist like a steel band, even managing to pin one of her arms to her side while he kept the rag crushed firmly over her face.

“Hold still now, ya big-titted whore,” he hooted against her ear, “Ain’t no gettin’ away from Cletus.”

Starling’s struggles grew more frantic, her thick thighs kicking, her generous ass bucking back against his crotch as she fought for air. The ether was already working, fast! Her head grew fuzzy, her limbs starting to feel heavy and uncoordinated. She screamed again into the rag, the sound coming out as another desperate “MMMMPH!” that only made him chuckle.

“That’s it, sugar… keep squirmin’. Feels real nice against my cock,” he murmured, his free hand starting to roam greedily over her weakening body.

He squeezed one heavy breast through the soaked bra, his thick fingers sinking deep into the soft, yielding flesh and rolling the heavy globe roughly. The thin, damp lace offered no protection as he kneaded and mauled it, pinching and tugging at her stiffened nipple until a helpless whimper escaped her. Not satisfied, he switched to the other breast, palming its full weight and bouncing it crudely in his grip, thumbs dragging across the sensitive peak while the ether continued to drag her deeper into fog.

Then his hand slid lower, groping the plump, rounded curve of her ass cheek, fingers digging into the generous flesh, squeezing and slapping the denim-covered globe, making her body jolt weakly against him even as her limbs grew heavier and her mind slipped further away.

Starling’s vision was tunneling, the world tilting as the chemical sapped her strength. She tried one last desperate surge, but her body did not answer, only going sagging in his arms.

Cletus laughed low and nasty. “Fuck these is some big ol’ titties, bouncin’ while you fight it.”

He gripped the front of her bra, fingers curling between the cups. Then with a rough yank, he ripped down hard, tearing the flimsy undergarment. Both heavy breasts spilled free, soft and full, nipples stiff from the cool air, and fear. He immediately filled his dirty hand with one, kneading and pinching and jiggling, all while keeping the ether rag clamped mercilessly over her face.

“Mmmph—! N-nooo…!” Starling’s voice came out weak and broken against the rag as her body sagged heavier against him. Tears welled, slipping down her cheeks.

Cletus’s hand slid lower, shoving roughly between her thighs and rubbing her pussy over the denim shorts. His thick fingers pressed the wet fabric against her folds, rubbing crudely up and down.

Starling’s eyes fluttered, the ether making everything feel distant and heavy. She could still feel every vulgar rub of his fingers grinding the drenched denim against her clit, the heat of his palm cupping her most intimate place possessively. A weak, muffled whimper vibrated against his greasy palm as unwanted heat sparked between her legs from the rough, invasive touch. Her powerful thighs trembled, trying instinctively to close, but his hand was already deep between them. Every crude rub sent blurs of unwanted sensation through her fogging mind, the shame burning hotter than the chemical haze

“Fuck, you’re gettin’ warm down here already. This pussy feelin’ neglected, huh? Don’t worry, darlin’… Cletus is gonna take real good care of it.”

Starling’s struggles had turned into weak, helpless twitches. Her voluptuous body trembled in his grip, heavy breasts heaving with shallow breaths, thick thighs quivering as his fingers kept rubbing her most intimate place. The ether dragged her deeper into darkness, her mind screaming even as her body grew limp and compliant.

“Shhh… that’s a good girl,” he crooned, grinding his hard cock against her full, luscious ass. “Just go to sleep now. Cletus got all kinds of fun planned for a fine piece like you…”

Starling’s eyes fluttered, a final muffled sob breaking against the rag as the world finally went black. Her drugged, half-naked body going completely limp in the arms of her assailant.

Jump to alternate Villain Ending.

Cousin Cletus

Cletus felt her go completely limp, her curvy body slumping against his chest like a sexy ragdoll. Her head lolled back on his shoulder, thick hair sweeping messily across her flushed face, perty painted lips parted in unconscious surrender. Damn, she was a fine piece—big tits, wide hips, and that fiery red hair.

Should probably drag her ass in to cousin Dwayne and the boys right now… but shit, look at her. A greedy little grin split his face. Or… maybe I could have a little fun with her first. Ain’t nobody gotta know. A low, satisfied chuckle rumbled deep in his throat.

“Atta girl… all nice and quiet now,” he muttered, his voice thick with lust as one rough hand gave her heavy breast another rough squeeze.

He kept one arm locked tight around her soft waist, holding her limp, lush body upright against his chest while his other hand worked fast and greedy. Fuck, this redheaded bitch is a goddamn jackpot. Rough fingers hooked into the waistband of her shorts and the thin panties underneath, yanking them down her wide hips and thick thighs in one hungry pull. The wet fabric bunched and twisted around her upper thighs, trapping those curvy legs together real nice and leaving her bare pussy and fat, juicy ass completely exposed.

Cletus grinned like a wolf, unclipping the front of his greasy overalls with his free hand and wiggling them down just enough to free his cock. He was already rock-hard, throbbing and veiny, the head flushed dark. Look at that perty pink slit… all mine for a minute. With a low grunt he pushed his erection between her trapped thighs, sliding it along the warm, silky channel made by her pressed-together legs and the soft, puffy lips of her pussy.

“Fuuuuck… that’s good,” he groaned, both hands now mauling her bare, heavy tits. He filled his dirty palms with all that soft, overflowing flesh, squeezing and kneading them hard, pinching and rolling her stiff nipples between his calloused fingers as he started thrusting.

His hips rocked back and forth with wet, obscene sounds, stroking his cock between her thighs like he was fucking her proper. Every thrust made her unconscious body jolt and bounce, those big tits jiggling heavy in his groping hands. The fat head of his dick kept rubbing right through her neckid pussy lips, smearing her slickness all over himself. Just a little fun before I take her in… ain’t hurting nobody.

Starling remained utterly limp and unconscious, head lolling, mouth slack, completely unaware of the molestation. Her voluptuous body was nothing more than a warm, helpless toy in the hillbilly’s arms; breasts mauled, thighs used, pussy rubbed and teased as he humped her with increasing greed.

“Got-damn… best pair of tits I ever felt,” Cletus panted, squeezing her breasts hard enough she whimpered, even unconscious, as fingers sunk deep into the soft flesh. “Don’t worry, darlin’… when you wake up, the real fun’s just startin’.”

He kept thrusting between her trapped thighs, groaning with pleasure, hands greedily molesting her big squishy tits.

Got-damn, this redheaded slut feels even better than she looks. Cletus was lost in his pleasure, grunting like a rutting animal as he pumped his thick cock between Starling’s slick, trapped thighs and mauled her luscious titties with both dirty hands. Her unconscious body jiggled helplessly with every rough thrust, her head lolling back and forth on his shoulder, full lips parted in a slack, vulnerable expression that made his dick throb even harder.

In fact, he was throbbing so hard while molesting her…that he never heard the footsteps stomping up through the tall grass and taller weeds behind him.

“What the fuck, Cletus?!” a rough voice snarled.

It was cousin Dwayne, a stocky Marauder with a shaved head, marching towards him, already mighty angry. “I told you to guard the damn perimeter, you dumb hillbilly fuck! Not to be out here jerkin’ off on some random bitch!”

Cletus didn’t stop immediately, still lazily humping between Starling’s thighs, hands squeezing her tits. “I wuz watchin’ the perimeter, Dwayne, caught her snoopin’, see! Look at these fat tits…I was just havin’ a little fun before bringin’ her in.”

Dwayne’s face twisted in disgust. “Put your nasty prick away and go finish cookin’ that meth before Uncle Del gets back and skins your ass! I’ll take her.”

Cletus grumbled but reluctantly pulled his cock from between her thighs and yanked his overalls back up. Dwayne shoved him aside, then grabbed Starling’s limp body. With casual strength, he threw her over his broad shoulder like a sack of grain, her bare breasts pressing against his back, with her thick ass and exposed pussy right beside his face. Her white-ish denim shorts were still twisted around her upper thighs, keeping her legs trapped together.

Dwayne gave her plump ass a hard slap that made the soft flesh jiggle. “Nice catch, cousin. This one’s gonna be real popular inside.”

As Dwayne turned and carried the unconscious woman toward the barn door, Cletus scurried away like a kicked dog, muttering angrily under his breath. That greedy fucker always gets the prime pussy first. Shoulda just dragged her on back to my room…he’d a never knowed it!

Instead of heading back to the farm house, Cletus crept to the cracked side window she’d been watching through when he caught her. He pressed his greasy face close to the dirty glass while one hand shoved back into his overalls. He started stroking his still-hard cock furiously, eyes glued to the mostly naked redhead being carried in and shown off to that flashy dude with the spikey orange hair.

“Fuckin’ Dwayne… always takin’ the good ones,” Cletus grumbled, breathing heavy and ragged as he jerked himself raw, trying to keep a good view of Starling’s big o’l dangling tits and that fat, juicy ass slung over Dwayne’s shoulder and jiggling with every step.

Bound & Displayed

Starling’s consciousness returned in hazy, painful fragments. The first thing she felt was the bite of rope gnawing around her wrists and ankles. Her eyes fluttered open, vision blurry. The sharp tang of ether still lingered on her tongue and in her throat. Some acrid chemical smells and that of damp, rotting hay filled her nose.

She was completely naked now.

Her voluptuous body was stretched spread-eagle against a rusting metal bed frame that had been propped upright against the barn wall like a makeshift torture rack. Thick ropes bound her wrists high and wide to the top corners, pulling her arms taut. Her ankles were lashed just as tightly to the bottom corners, forcing her shapely legs wide apart. The position arched her back slightly, thrusting her heavy breasts forward and putting her shaved pussy on obscene display.

Starling’s green eyes widened in pure horror as full awareness crashed over her. A frightened whimper escaped her throat. She immediately began to struggle, twisting and yanking hard against the ropes. Her generous breasts bounced and swayed heavily with every desperate jerk of her body, nipples stiff from the chill air. Her wide hips bucked and rolled, thick thighs flexing and straining as she tried to pull her legs free, but the ropes held mercilessly, keeping her spread open and completely helpless.

“No… oh gawd, no…” she gasped, voice hoarse and trembling. Humiliation burned through her like fire.

Pyrosight stood a few feet away, arms crossed, orange mohawk almost seeming to flicker in the lantern light. Several Marauders stood nearby, grinning and openly staring at her naked body with hungry eyes. The realization that these men had stripped her while she was unconscious made her stomach churn.

“Well, well, look who finally decided to join the party,” Pyrosight drawled, his voice dripping with something gleeful. “The mysterious flying redhead of Auburn fucken Hills. Or should I say… the naked flying redhead. Damn, boys, look at those tits. And that pretty pink pussy—”

“Let me go you bastards,” Starling hissed, voice cracking, still twisting futilely against her bonds.

She yanked harder on the ropes, her breasts jiggling wildly with the effort. It only made the men laugh. Tears of shame and fear stung her eyes as she felt their gazes crawling all over her exposed body. It had been a while since she felt so vulnerable, so helpless, so utterly objectified. Starling’s face burned as red as her hair.  But deep down, terror gripped her heart, she was completely at their mercy.

“Alright, boys, show’s over for now,” Pyrosight waved a gloved hand dismissively at the leering Marauders. “Get back outside and keep your eyes peeled in case she told anyone we’re here. Hopefully that slimy fuck shows with our money soon enough so it won’t matter. Let me know soon as he does!”

The bikers grumbled but obeyed, filing out of the barn with a few last lingering stares at Starling’s spread, naked body. The heavy barn door creaked shut behind them, leaving her alone with Pyrosight.

He turned back to her slowly, a predatory smile spreading across his face as he began to circle the upright bed frame. His boots crunched on the hay-strewn floor, eyes devouring every inch of her.

Starling’s mind spiraled into a storm of shame, terror, and crushing guilt. Oh gawd… this can’t be happening. Not like this.

Her heart hammered wildly against her ribs, each frantic beat a painful reminder of how completely helpless she was. It flooded her in cold, sickening waves. She wasn’t supposed to be this anymore—she was Lacey’s devoted wife, Nikki’s protective mother, Auburn Hills’ resident MILF (that’s right, she knew it), but now she was reduced to a naked, bound prisoner on display for a sadistic supervillain and his motorcycle gang. Tears slipped freely down her cheeks as the weight of her failure crushed her.

What would Lacey think if she saw me right now? Spread open, tits out, pussy on full display for this monster? The image of her wife’s hurt, betrayed face made Starling want to vomit. And Nikki — my sweet baby girl — waiting at home for Mommy to come back safe. The guilt was suffocating. She had promised. She had promised no fighting, no risks, just get home. Yet here she was, captured and stripped because she couldn’t let go of the superheroine instincts hiding inside her.

Beneath the shame, a darker, deeper, more terrifying whisper stirred. Every futile tug against the ropes, every helpless shift of her spread, naked body, was starting to echo memories she had fought to bury years ago…memories of her home in—time in—her time as Dominion’s prisoner.

She hated herself for even thinking of it. Her nipples were traitorously stiff, her pussy shamefully warm despite the terror, her body remembering lessons her mind desperately wanted to forget.

No. Stop it. You’re not her anymore. You’re Beth Stewart. You have a family. You’re not supposed to be here…

Starling’s breath hitched, fresh tears spilling down her flushed cheeks as she twisted against the ropes. The position left nothing to the imagination — her full, heavy breasts rose and fell rapidly with each panicked breath, the soft, pale undersides quivering, nipples stiff and traitorously peaked in the cool, rank air. Her narrow waist flared dramatically into wide, womanly hips and a thick, heart-shaped ass pressed back against the rusty frame. Between her forcibly spread thighs, her smooth pussy lips were completely exposed. Long, soft legs strained uselessly against the ankle ropes, the muscles in her calves and thighs flexing in a futile attempt to close them.

“Just look at you,” Pyrosight murmured appreciatively, moving around to her left side. “All soft and ripe and tied up nice and tight. Those fat, juicy tits… that wide, breedable ass… and this pretty little cunt just begging for attention.” He reached out and trailed a gloved finger slowly along the underside of her soft belly, and across the spread of her naked hips. “You’ve got the body of a fucking fertility goddess, sweetheart. Way too good to be hiding in a shithole town like Auburn Hills.”

“Let me go,” Starling whimpered, yanking desperately at her wrists until the rough fibers bit deeper into her porcelain skin. Her generous breasts bounced and bobbed with the motion, drawing his gaze like magnets. “Y-you can’t …can’t do this!”

Pyrosight just laughed, continuing his slow, deliberate circle, drinking her in from every angle. Humiliation scorched through her, every curve, every soft, feminine swell on full display for this sadistic stranger. She squeezed her eyes shut, a broken sob catching in her throat.

Finally, he stopped directly in front of her, eyes gleaming. “I still say you look mighty familiar. Where do I know you from?” He reached out with both gloved hands, cupping the heavy, hanging weight of Starling’s breasts. “That hair, these tits…”

“No! Keep your hands off me,” she cried, completely unable to even try pulling away from him. “I’m not anybody! Please just let me go.”

He lifted the luscious orbs, squeezing firmly, feeling their soft, yielding fullness overflow his palms. His thumbs brushed across her stiff nipples, circling and flicking them deliberately as he watched her face.

Starling gasped sharply, her body jerking against the ropes. “Don’t—ah!” A humiliated whimper escaped her as he kneaded her sensitive tits harder, rolling the stiff peaks between his fingers and pinching just enough to send jolts of unwanted sensation through her.

“Think I’d remember tits like this…gawddam,” Pyrosight hissed, still toying with her breasts. He gave them a firm, possessive shake, watching them jiggle heavily.

“I’m just… Just a mom…” Starling said. “Just from a small town…”

“I seen you fly, bitch, I ain’t dumb. What small town mom can fucken fly?”

Starling bit her lip and looked away. Pyrosight grinned, then leaned in suddenly, capturing her right nipple between his teeth. The heat of his mouth was shocking against her exposure-chilled skin. He sucked hard, pulling the sensitive bud deep into his mouth while his tongue lashed across it. Starling yelped, her back arching involuntarily as electric-but-unwanted pleasure shot straight to her core.

“Stop… please…” she whimpered, tears streaming down her face.

The suction was relentless, almost painful, making her nipple throb and swell in his mouth. Then his teeth sank in —hard enough to make her scream. The bite sent a white-hot flash through her breast, her whole body convulsing against the ropes.

Pyrosight pulled back with a cruel smile on his lips, “What’s a flying piece of ass like you doing playing housewife in the middle of rural fucken nowhere?”

He didn’t really give her a chance to answer before switching to her left breast. He bit down even harder this time, teeth sinking into the soft, tender flesh of her areola while his gloved hand roughly mauled the other breast, fingers digging deep into the plush meat.

Starling’s head thrashed from side to side, thick scarlet hair whipping across her tear-streaked face. “Ahh! Fuck! It hurts!” The pain mingled with traitorous sparks of unwanted heat low in her belly. Her pussy clenched shamefully despite the humiliation, a fresh wave of slickness betrayed her body’s response.

An insidious arousal was creeping in, slow and treacherous, twisting deep inside her. The utter helplessness, the deliberate pain, the way her curvaceous body was completely immobilized and offered up like a toy — it continued waking something she had buried for years. The old slave training. The submissive, conditioned responses Dominion had beaten and fucked into her long ago.

Her nipples throbbed harder under Pyrosight’s teeth, her pussy growing wetter with every cruel pinch and bite. She hated it. And hated herself for it.

No… not again… I’m not that anymore…

In the shadows behind Pyrosight, the apparition of Dominion was pacing slowly, with his arms crossed, his cruel mouth twisted in arrogant disdain. He scoffed loudly, though only Starling could hear him.

“Look at this amateur,” Dominion sneered, gesturing to Pyrosight. “This pathetic firebug thinks he can break you? Don’t you dare tell him a fucking thing, slave. You belong to me.”

Yes, Master…

The Edge of Submission

Starling squeezed her eyes shut, a broken sob catching in her throat as Pyrosight continued his relentless torment. His hot tongue swirled around the stiff nipple before he sucked it deep between his lips, biting and tugging hard enough to make her whine and shake. He moved back to the other breast, sucking and licking with wet, obscene sounds, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh as he kneaded the heavy globe roughly in his gloved hand. Starling’s body arched involuntarily, a choked moan escaping her as sharp jolts of unwanted pleasure shot through her, mixing with the pain.

Then he bit down hard on the soft swell of her right breast — a vicious, deliberately cruel clamp of teeth that made her scream again. When he pulled back, deep red teeth marks were clearly imprinted on the pale, quivering flesh, already starting to bruise.

“You pig! You bastard!” Starling sniveled, unable to meet his eyes as she quivered in the bonds.

Pyrosight groaned in pleasure against her breast, clearly getting off on her suffering. He pulled back, strings of saliva connecting his lips to her swollen, reddened nipples.

“Mmm, listen to those pretty sounds you make. These fat fucking tits…”

Then, without warning, he drew his hand back and delivered a vicious, open-palmed slap across her right breast.

SMACK!

The loud, fleshy impact echoed through the barn. Starling’s heavy tit erupted in stinging pain, the soft flesh rippling from the force of the blow. She cried out sharply, fresh tears spilling as the sting spread across her skin. Pyrosight laughed, low and delighted, and slapped the other breast just as hard.

SMACK!

Then again, and again, and again, alternating between them with growing enthusiasm. Each brutal titty slap made her full, heavy breasts bounce and wobble, the pale skin rapidly turning a bright, angry pink. Starling’s yelps and sobs grew louder, her voluptuous body writhing helplessly in the ropes as pain and humiliation overwhelmed her. The stinging heat only fed the unwanted arousal pooling between her spread thighs.

“Fuck, I love how they bounce,” Pyrosight growled, a bulge now visibly straining under his reinforced firefighter pants. He groped the reddened, stinging flesh roughly, digging his fingers in, then slapped them again—harder still—clearly savoring every flinch, every sharp cry, every jiggle of her abused tits.

Starling was bucking, gasping for air between sobs, her nipples throbbing and her breasts burning with the sting. The shame was unbearable. She felt utterly broken already, naked and spread-eagled, now her most sensitive parts tormented for his amusement… and the worst was yet to come, she had no doubt.

Pyrosight’s hands finally left her stinging, reddened breasts. He stepped back slightly, eyes dropping lower between her forcibly spread thighs. A slow, wicked grin spread across his face as he noticed the undeniable evidence of her body’s betrayal.

“Well, well, well…” he purred, voice thick with dark delight. “Would you look at that. Your fat tits get slapped and bitten and you’re fucking soaked!”

He slowly peeled off both gloves, tossing them aside, revealing his long, strong fingers. He stepped in close, so close that Starling could feel the heat radiating from his body against her bound, trembling form. His bare chest nearly brushed her heavy breasts as he leaned in, one hand sliding between her spread thighs.

His fingers traced slowly along her smooth, puffy pussy lips, parting them. Starling shuddered at the intimate violation, the cool barn air kissing her exposed sex as he spread her supple lips apart, holding her open so the slick inner petals were fully displayed, then dragged his fingertips through the abundant wetness, smearing it over her swollen clit and along her slit in unhurried, humiliating strokes. Every press and prod sent unwanted sparks of sensation racing through her core, her hips twitching helplessly against the ropes as more of her shameful arousal coated his exploring fingers. He played with her like a toy, gently pinching and kneading her slick folds between his digits, reveling in how her body continued to weep for him no matter how hard she tried to resist.

“Look at this pretty cunt dripping all over itself. You really do like the pain, don’t you, fly-mom?”

Starling whimpered brokenly, shaking her head in desperate denial even as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. “No… please… I don’t—”

Her words cut off in a sharp cry as Pyrosight brought his hand upwards in a firm, wet slap directly against her pussy.

SPLACK!

The impact sent a shockwave of stinging pain and unwanted pleasure exploding through her core. Starling’s whole body jolted violently in the ropes, her heavy breasts bouncing, hips bucking uselessly as the ropes held her legs spread wide open for him.

Pyrosight laughed, clearly thrilled. “Oh yes you do. Listen to that wet sound. Your pussy is literally dripping for more.” He slapped her again, harder this time, the flat of his fingers striking her swollen clit and sensitive lips with another loud, obscene SPLACK!

Starling cried out shrilly, head thrown back, scarlet hair flying. The pain was sharp and immediate, but the throbbing heat that followed made her clit pulse with dark pleasure. Tears streamed down her face as her mind fractured a little further.

Lacey’s gentle, loving attempts at BDSM — soft silk ties, teasing feathers, tender spanks, the occasion whap with a crop — had always felt nice. Safe. Oh gawd… Lacey… I’m so sorry… But it had always left Starling quietly craving more. Craving this. The cruelty. The helplessness. The overwhelming pleasure-pain that Dominion had used to program her submissive, libidinous psyche all those years ago.

Another vicious slap landed, even harder. SPLACK! Her pussy burned, lips swelling and turning pink as slick arousal coated her thighs.

“Stop lying to yourself,” Pyrosight taunted, slapping her pussy again and again in a steady, punishing rhythm. Each impact made her voluptuous body convulse, breasts jiggling wildly, thick thighs straining against the ankle ropes. “You’re dripping down your legs like a desperate whore. This cunt knows what it wants even if you don’t.”

Starling was mewling now, broken, animalistic sounds escaping her throat with every brutal slap. The pain was full-body agony, radiating from her abused pussy through her core, but each strike sent devastating pulses straight to her clit.

I shouldn’t want this… I have a wife… a daughter… I’m not supposed to be this…

Pyrosight suddenly reached behind her head and grabbed a thick handful of her wet scarlet hair. He wrenched on it hard, forcing her neck to crane back sharply. The new position arched and strained every muscle in her body. Her reddened, abused breasts thrust out even more obscenely, while her hips and dripping pussy tilted out into a more exposed position.

“I could do this all night,” he snarled, “but I ain’t got all night, tell me who the fuck you are!”

He resumed slapping her pussy with renewed vigor — harder, faster, wetter sounds filling the barn as her juices splattered with every strike. Starling’s eyes rolled back, broken sobs mixing with desperate, needy yelps and cries.

“Please… please…” she gasped, voice cracking and trembling. The hair-pulling arch added an exquisite new layer of strain and vulnerability to the pleasure-pain cocktail flooding her body. She had no chance now. No resistance left.

Pyrosight leaned in close, still gripping her hair brutally, still slapping her swollen, sopping pussy with sharp, stinging blows.

“Say it, bitch! Tell me everything, who the fuck are you? Why the fuck you’re in that sleepy little shithole! And don’t you dare stop begging while you do it.”

Starling was shaking uncontrollably, tears pouring down her face, her pussy throbbing and dripping, every nerve on fire.

“I’ll tell you… I’ll tell you everything!” she mewled desperately, voice hoarse and broken with need. “Just… please… don’t—d-don’t-” Her whole body shuddered, now straining against the ropes to pull herself taught, to present her body for more abuse. “—stop…don’t stop… I need more… please!”

Pyrosight’s grin widened in surprised delight, and then in dark triumph. He kept his iron grip on her thick scarlet locks, wrenching her head back even harder so that her spine arched painfully away from the rusted frame. Starling’s mouth fell open in a desperate, broken moan as he leaned down and sank his teeth viciously into the soft, tender flesh of her left breast, right on the upper curve this time, hard enough to leave more deep marks.

“Ahhh—!” Starling screamed, the sharp, burning pain exploding through her chest. Her whole body convulsed in the ropes, but the hair-pulling kept her perfectly arched and helpless for him.

While his teeth stayed locked on her breast meat, Pyrosight’s other hand moved between her spread thighs. Two fingers found her slick, swollen clit and began rubbing firm, relentless circles. The combination was devastating — the vicious bite on her tit sending waves of pain radiating outward while his fingers worked her clit with cruel precision, pushing her right to the razor’s edge of orgasm in seconds.

Starling’s eyes rolled back, her mewls turning into high, needy whines. Her pussy clenched around nothing, dripping shamelessly down her thighs as the pleasure-pain overstimulated her. The old slave training surged to the surface, flooding her body with conditioned need. She was so close — right there, trembling on the brink.

Then Pyrosight suddenly stopped.

He pulled his mouth off her breast with a wet pop, leaving a deep, angry bite mark blooming on her soft flesh, and slowed his fingers to the lightest, most torturous teasing of her throbbing clit.

Starling’s green eyes snapped open, wide and soft, almost glassy with overwhelming need. She stared deep into Pyrosight’s gloating face, pupils blown wide to the max, dark and bottomless, turning her gaze into something utterly submissive and broken. The fierce, defiant heroine who had fought him in the square was gone, even the last fragments of Beth Stewart, devoted wife and mother, had slipped away — in her place was a submissive, nymphomaniacal, masochistic, sex-slave. Her gaze held nothing but raw, animal submission, silently begging him to use her, to hurt her, to own her.

In the flickering shadows just behind Pyrosight, the delusion of Dominion appeared once more. He stood with his arms crossed, a cruel, satisfied smirk twisting his masked features as he watched Starling’s complete breakdown.

“There may be hope for you yet, slave,” he murmured, his voice slithering through her mind like smoke. “Look how beautifully this amateur has you breaking. Pathetic… but effective. You may serve him for now. Tell him everything he wants to know.”

Yes, Master.

Pyrosight’s grin was pure evil, sharp and triumphant. “Fuck… that’s a good look on you,” he growled, clearly savoring every second of her fall. “Ready to tell me who the fuck you are, fly-mom?”

“Yes…yes…yes…” Starling’s lips quivered, tears streaming down her flushed face. “My name… my name is S-Starling Chase. I live in Auburn Hills with my w-wife and daughter. But—but I used to be… the Scarlet Dove.”

Burning Confessions

Pyrosight froze, consternation washing over his face. “You’re the Scarlet Dove…”

Starling gave a tense, strained nod. “Yes.”

“No…The Scarlet Dove?” He released her fully and stepped back, eyes roaming, devouring her now with a mix of incredulity and recognition. “That flying redhead from Warden City? The one who disappeared years ago?”

“Yes.”

Starling hung limply in the ropes, her voluptuous body trembling uncontrollably. Her heavy breasts still burned bright pink from the vicious slaps, nipples swollen and throbbing. Between her spread thighs, her pussy was an aching, glistening mess, clit pulsing with desperate, denied need. Every breath came out as a broken, needy whimper. The edge of orgasm loomed terrifyingly close, but lingered deliciously just out of reach.

“Holy shit.” He laughed, low and delighted. “You’re supposed to be dead, not retired in some shithole town. I hear they’re building a statue to you or some shit… And here you are, tied up and leaking all over my floor like the perfect little pain slut.”

Starling looked away in utter shame, fresh tears spilling as her spread pussy clenched visibly around nothing. The humiliation was crushing.

“This is too good!” Pyrosight’s voice turned gleeful. “You know what’s even better? You’re not even my first. I already fucked that super-cunt Hyper Star back in Regent City. You heard a her?”

Starling shook her head.

“Redhead too come to think of it,” Pyrosight went on. “That bitch put up one hell of a fight at first… but by the end she was begging for my cock like a desperate whore too.” He tilted his head, studying Starling’s trembling, dripping body. “So tell me, Scarlet Dove… are all you superheroines secret submissive pain sluts deep down? Is that why you fly around in slutty little costumes? Just waiting for someone strong enough to put you in your place and fuck you silly?”

Starling’s breath hitched, a broken sob escaping her. “I… I don’t know about Hyper Star…” she began hoarsely, “I was captured once…Trained. My Master taught me how to serve…how to crave…how to love the pain.”

Her voice cracked as another wave of desperate arousal rolled through her helpless body, as if the admission dragged her deeper.

“That’s fucked up,” Pyrosight’s grin widened into something feral, “and so fuckin’ hot. Turning a superheroine into a fucktoy-slave, now that’s something to think about. Shit, I gotta up my game!”

He threw his head back and laughed as Starling hung there, teetering precariously on the razor’s edge of orgasm, mind fracturing under the weight of her confession and the unbearable tension between her thighs.

Pyrosight reached for the suspenders holding up his reinforced pants. With a slow, deliberate motion, he unclipped them, letting the thick straps fall loose over his shoulders. The pants dropped to his ankles with a heavy thud, revealing his long, thick, rock-hard erection. It was veiny, flushed dark, and already leaking at the tip.

“Before we get to the main event,” he purred, wrapping one hand around his shaft and giving it a lazy stroke, “I need to know something, Scarlet Dove. Did you tell anyone else where we are? Is anyone coming for you? Your –you said, wife? Heh, that’s even hotter. What about the cops? Some other hero friends?”

Starling shook her head frantically, eyes wide, soft and locked on his throbbing manhood. “N-no… I didn’t tell anyone. I came alone. No one’s coming… please…”

Pyrosight’s grin widened, his cock twitching in his grip as he drank in her broken, desperate expression. “Good girl. That means we’ve got all the time in the world.”

Not that he was about to waste another second of it…

He stepped between her bound and spread thighs, once more gripping a fistful of her scarlet hair, yanking her head back so her spine arched in a perfect, painful bow. With the other hand he guided the fat, leaking head of his cock to her dripping pussy, dragging it up and down her slick folds once, twice, coating himself in her shamefully abundant wetness.

Then he thrust in hard.

Starling’s mouth fell open in a tight, broken cry as his thick cock split her open in one brutal stroke, burying himself to the hilt. Her pussy clenched down around him involuntarily, slick walls fluttering and gripping the invading length. The sudden, deep stretch was almost too much after the teasing slaps and denial, and her bound body jerked hard against the ropes.

“Fuuuuck, that’s tight,” Pyrosight groaned, his voice rough with pleasure. He didn’t give her any time to adjust. He pulled back and slammed in again, setting a hard, punishing rhythm right from the start.

Starling strained against the ropes with everything she had, instinctively trying to lift and angle her hips higher for him, offering herself up even as the coarse fibers bit deep into her wrists and ankles. Every powerful thrust rocked her voluptuous body, making her heavy, reddened breasts bounce and slap together with wet, obscene sounds. The motion forced her back to arch even more sharply against the rusted frame, straining the muscles in her stomach and thighs, pulling the ropes tighter until they rubbed raw against her skin.

The pain was constant — the scouring burn at her wrists and ankles, the aching stretch in her shoulders and hips, the way each thrust jolted her abused breasts — but it only made everything sharper, hotter, more overwhelming. Her slave-trained mind drank it in greedily, the suffering feeding the conditioned hunger that Dominion had carved into her those years ago. Every sting, every jolt of pain blended with the brutal pleasure of his cock pounding into her, until her broken brain could barely tell where one ended and the other began.

Pyrosight fucked her like he owned her, hips snapping forward with wet, filthy sounds as her soaked pussy took him over and over. Her thick thighs trembled violently in their bonds, toes curling hard as she fought to keep her hips tilted just right for him, to give him the deepest, best angle even while the ropes burned deeper into her flesh. Her heavy tits bounced wildly with every thrust, the pale undersides flashing, nipples stiff and aching from earlier abuse. Pyrosight reached up and grabbed one, squeezing hard, using it like a handle as he drove into her.

Starling was teetering right on the edge, her clit throbbing with every slap of his body against hers. She was so close it hurt. The pressure built inside her, coiling tighter with every brutal stroke, but she didn’t cum. She wouldn’t. She knew better. The good little slave buried inside her knew she wasn’t allowed to cum without permission. Her body shook with the effort of holding it back, tears streaming down her face as she whimpered and mewled helplessly.

“Please…” she gasped, voice hoarse and wrecked. “Please… can I… I need—”

“You begging to cum?”the villain asked, eyes widening even as his pace kept.

“Y-y-yes…please…may I?”

Pyrosight just laughed, fucking her harder, the head of his cock slamming against her cervix with every thrust. “Not yet, slave-milf. You don’t get to cum until I say so. And right now I want to feel this tight little cunt milk me while I fill you up.”

He leaned in closer, still yanking her hair, his mouth brushing her ear as he pounded into her without mercy.

“You’re gonna take every drop, aren’t you? Like a good little pain-slut.”

Starling could only sob and nod frantically, her body straining harder against the ropes, the pain and pleasure crashing together until she was nothing but a trembling, dripping, broken mess — hovering right on the edge, denied, suffering, and loving every second of it.

Pyrosight’s hips kept slamming into her with brutal force, his thick cock stretching and pounding her soaked pussy without mercy. Starling’s head was still wrenched back by the fist in her hair, spine arched painfully as she gasped and whimpered.

“You… you can hurt me…” she mewled brokenly, voice hoarse and trembling with desperate need. “As long as you want… please… hurt me…”

Pyrosight’s eyes flashed with dark triumph. “That’s what I like to hear.”

He leaned down without missing a thrust, his mouth latching onto her already abused left nipple. His teeth sank in with fresh, savage hunger — not just biting the peak this time, but clamping down on the tender, swollen areola itself, grinding the sensitive flesh between his molars in a crushing vise. The pain was white-hot and exquisite, a deep, grinding burn that radiated outward through her entire breast like fire spreading under her skin.

Starling convulsed violently in the ropes, a raw, agonized scream tearing from her throat as her whole body seized. Her pussy clamped down around his thrusting cock like a velvet fist, rippling and squeezing him with rhythmic spasms so tight and wet that Pyrosight’s rhythm faltered. He groaned loudly, hips stuttering as he felt her inner walls milking him desperately.

“Fuuuuck— ” He pulled out abruptly with an obscenely wet pop1 His thick cock slid free of her clenching heat in a messy rush. A long, glistening string of her creamy juices and his precum stretched between the fat head of his cock and her gaping, pulsing pussy before finally snapping, dripping down onto the hay-strewn floor.

“Almost had me there, you greedy little slut,” he laughed, breathless and surprised. “That thirsty little cunt just tried to milk me dry.”

Starling’s well-fucked hole continued to flutter and pulse, contracting greedily, a fresh trickle of her arousal leaking out and running down her trembling inner thighs.

“S- suh…sorry,” she managed with a brat’s grin.

He quickly reached up and began undoing her binding with impatient tugs. The coarse fibers gave way, and Starling’s arms dropped heavily to her sides, numb and tingling as blood rushed back into her aching limbs. Her legs wobbled unsteadily as the ankle ropes came loose, her luscious thighs trembling from the sudden release of the brutal strain that had kept them forced wide apart for so long. For a dizzying moment her body felt strangely light and heavy all at once; the constant tension and support of the ropes was gone, leaving her muscles weak and quivering, swaying as the full weight of her voluptuous figure settled without restraint.

The moment she was free, Pyrosight grabbed her by the hair and threw her down roughly onto the rough, hay-strewn floor. Starling crashed down in a sprawl, a sharp groan of pain escaping her lips as her heavy breasts took the brunt of the impact. The sudden rough landing sent fresh aches radiating through her already abused body, the coarse hay and splintered wood scraping against her naked curves.

Weak and desperately on edge, her arms and legs were tingling and numb from the prolonged bondage, but the slave in her knew what to do. She forced herself up onto all fours almost immediately, lifting her naked ass high and presenting like a bitch in heat. Her thick, quivering thighs were spread wide, the soft inner flesh glistening with sweat and her own slick arousal. Between them, her used pussy was a puffy, swollen, dripping mess — lips reddened and parted, clit visibly throbbing, a steady trickle of her juices running down either thigh and dripping onto the dirty hay below. Her fat, heart-shaped ass was raised obscenely, cheeks slightly spread to show everything, the tight little pucker above her cunt winking as her body trembled with denied need.

Starling leaned forward on all fours, pressing her tear-streaked cheek against the rough wooden beams. The new position arched her back deeply, thrusting her fat, heart-shaped ass even higher into the air and presenting her used, dripping pussy like an offering. Without a word, she reached one trembling hand back between her spread thighs, using two fingers to part her swollen, glistening, pink lips in a wordless, shameless invitation.

Pyrosight stared, eyes wide with hunger, and a bit of awe. “Holy fuck… look at you. The mighty Scarlet Dove, reduced to this. Spreading your cunt for me like a desperate fucking whore.”

He pounced.

Grabbing her wide hips with both hands, he slammed into her from behind in one savage thrust. Starling screamed — raw, broken, and loud — as his thick cock speared her soaked pussy to the hilt. He didn’t hold back. He fucked her with brutal, animalistic speed and power, hips slamming against her ass with wet, fleshy slaps that echoed through the barn. Each punishing stroke drove her forward on the dirty floor, her heavy breasts swinging wildly beneath her, nipples brushing the rough hay.

Starling’s screams quickly dissolved into continuous, desperate wails that echoed off the barn walls, her voice cracking and raw. Her voluptuous body jolted violently forward with every deep, punishing thrust, the force of Pyrosight’s hips driving her knees across the rotten hay and dirt. The angle was absolutely devastating, his thick cock slamming straight into her cervix with every brutal stroke while the thick ridge of his shaft ground mercilessly against her g-spot, sending white-hot sparks of sensation shooting through her core.

Her fingers slipped from her spread pussy lips as she clawed desperately at the filthy floor, nails scraping through straw and mud. But she never let her ass drop. She kept it raised high and presented, pushing back greedily to meet every savage thrust like the well-trained slave she was, her thick thighs trembling and spreading wider to take him deeper.

The fucking turned sloppy and obscene fast. Wet, squelching sounds filled the barn with every thrust as Pyrosight’s cock pistoned in and out of her soaked, puffy cunt. her juices splashed and dripped down her quivering thighs in messy rivulets and gooey strings. His heavy balls slapped wetly against her swollen clit with every impact, and creamy strands of her arousal clung to his shaft, stretching and snapping with each withdrawal before he buried himself to the hilt again.

Starling’s heavy tits swung and slapped beneath her in a steady, hypnotic rhythm, nipples dragging across the rough floor with every forward jolt. She was openly sobbing now — broken, needy sounds mixing with the wet, filthy noises of her cunt being used. Her inner walls fluttered and clenched greedily around him, sucking and rippling along his length like her body was trying to milk his dry even as her mind floated in a haze of pain, pleasure, and utter, conditioned submission.

Pyrosight growled above her, gripping her wide hips hard enough to bruise as he fucked her with animalistic force. “That’s it… take that cock like the broken little pain-slut you are. Fuck, you’re gushing all over me.”

He drove into her harder, faster, the wet slapping of skin on skin growing louder and more frantic. Starling’s ass rippled with every impact, her pussy making lewd, squelching sounds as it stretched and swallowed him over and over, creamy slick coating his cock and running down in sticky trails between her spread thighs. She kept pushing back, meeting every brutal thrust, offering her body up completely even as tears streamed down her face and her clit throbbed with overwhelming, denied need.

She was lost in it; the relentless pounding, the wet mess between her legs, the way her body surrendered so completely to the pain and pleasure. A good little slave. His good little slave.

Pyrosight suddenly jerked back and out of her with a hoarse, eager groan, his thick cock sliding free of her clenching, dripping pussy with an obscene slurp. A thick rush of her creamy juices splatted out, leaving her gaping hole visibly pulsing and empty.

He grabbed her hips and roughly shoved her over onto her back on the dirty hay-strewn floor. Starling landed with a gasp, legs falling open wide as he loomed over her, stroking his glistening, throbbing cock frantically with one fist.

“Cum for me, you broken little pain-slut,” he growled, voice rough with his own impending release. “Cum right now while I paint you.”

One of Starling’s hands flew immediately between her spread thighs, two fingers rubbing frantic circles over her swollen, aching clit. The other hand flew to her sore, bitten breast, pinching and twisting the reddened, sensitive nipple hard. The sharp mix of pleasure and pain was perfect, exquisite — her clit throbbing under her fingers while the stinging bite marks on her tit sent fresh sparks shooting through her.

Starling came with a shattered cry, her whole body convulsing violently on the floor. Her pussy clenched and gushed, juices squirting messily over her fingers as powerful waves of orgasm ripped through her. Her heavy breasts jiggled wildly, back arching as she thrashed in helpless ecstasy.

At the same moment, Pyrosight groaned loudly and erupted. Thick, hot ropes of his cum sprayed across her body in powerful jets — painting her heaving tits, splattering across her stomach, and landing in sticky white streaks over her twitching, dripping pussy. He kept stroking himself through it, milking every drop onto her quivering, well-used form.

Starling lay there on the dirty barn floor, chest heaving, her voluptuous body glistening with sweat and thick ropes of Pyrosight’s cum. It dripped slowly down the heavy curves of her breasts, pooled in the valley between them, and ran in sticky trails over her soft belly and down to her still-twitching, well-fucked pussy. The warm, degrading mess only made the slave inside her purr with dark satisfaction.

Almost without thinking, her trembling hand moved to her chest. She scooped up a thick glob of his cum with two fingers, stirring it slowly across her nipple, watching it glisten before bringing it to her lips. She licked it off with a soft, broken moan, savoring the salty, bitter taste as it slid down her throat. Another fingerful from her belly, then from her thigh — she wiped and gathered it greedily, eating every drop she could reach like the well-trained cum-slut she had become under Dominion’s conditioning.

This… this is what I was made for, the broken part of her whispered, the old training surging stronger than ever. The pain in her bitten breasts, the raw ache between her spread thighs, the humiliating way her body had betrayed her so completely — it all felt right. She had served. She had suffered beautifully. And it felt so much better than the gentle, safe love Lacey gave her.

Poor Lacey… The thought slipped in, laced with something shamefully resentful. She tries so hard to please me with her soft little spanks and silk ties… but she could never make me feel like this. Never break me open and use me the way I need to be used. Never cover me in hot cum and watch me eat it like a desperate whore. A fresh wave of guilty heat rolled through her at the betrayal of it, but the slave-mind didn’t care. It only craved more.

Haphazardous

The barn door creaked open and Dwayne stepped in, freezing at the sight: Pyrosight was slumped back against that propped up bed frame, sated and breathing hard—his long, thick, slowly drooping penis still dripping a milky string of cum onto the dirty floor. And the naked redhead laying sprawled at his feet, covered in his load, breathing heavy and trembling.

Dwayne’s face twisted, eyes darting away from Pyrosight’s exposed dick. “Geezus fuck, boss… you serious…” he muttered, voice tight and uneasy. “Didn’t need to see all that, man.”

Pyrosight just chuckled lazily, not bothering to move. “You ain’t gonna believe who this bitch is…”

 “Car coming up the road,” Dwayne said quickly, turning his back. “Looks like that developer fucker finally showed.”

“Reggie fucken Beaumont,” Pyrosight’s eyes lit up. “Bout gawddam time.”

He pushed himself up with a satisfied groan and started pulling his pants and suspenders back on. “Tie the bitch up so she can’t get away. I don’t want any surprises while I handle this business.”

Dwayne turned to look at Starling’s cum-covered body, lip curling in revulsion. “You serious? She’s fucking covered in… all that. I ain’t into that shit.”

“Grow up,” Pyrosight snapped, “Just fucken do it, Dwayne. I ain’t got time for your whining.”

Dwayne grumbled, “Nasty ass Cletus, now I gotta see this shit,”—grabbing rope from the bedframe. He yanked Starling’s arms behind her back and wrapped the coarse fibers back around her already raw wrists, knotting them with impatient jerks. She whimpered at squirmed, feeling the binding dig in, but she didn’t resist. Too sluggish and spent, her voluptuous body was exhausted and overstimulated.

Starling watched with hazy, defeated eyes as Pyrosight finished dressing and strode out the barn door without a backward glance, leaving her alone with the disgruntled biker.

Dwayne then grabbed her ankles, yanking her legs together and binding them just as quickly. Her heavy breasts swayed as he manhandled her. Giving the ropes one last rough tug, he stood up, wiping his hands on his jeans like he was trying to clean off the very idea of touching her cum-covered body.

“Gawddamn… covered in another guy’s jizz like that. Just ain’t right to have to deal with this shit…” he muttered, heading for the door. “Fuckin’ disgusting…”

The heavy barn door creaked shut behind him, leaving Starling bound, naked, and alone in the dim lantern light, Pyrosight’s load still cooling on her skin.

The sharp click of golden high-heeled boots approached through the shadows. Starling’s hazy eyes lifted to see the Scarlet Dove standing over her — tall, proud, and striking in her classic white bustier and bikini bottoms, the golden boots gleaming. She crossed her arms under pert, young breasts, green eyes judging from behind the white feathered mask.

“Pathetic,” the hallucination sneered. “Look at you. One real man slaps your tits and fucks you stupid and you’re right back to being the eager little slave girl? Snap out of it, Beth. Lacey and Nikki are waiting for you at home. You have a family. You’re better than this.”

Starling whimpered, struggling helplessly in her new bonds. Her arms were twisted awkwardly behind her back, the ropes biting into her wrists as she tugged and twisted, her heavy breasts scraping the floor with the futile effort. Her ankles were bound tight enough to keep her from standing, her calves writhing uselessly against the rope. Even if she had been more than a pathetic slave in that moment, she was bound, helpless, naked, and covered in a supervillain’s cum. The familiar feeling of defeat made fresh tears sting her eyes.

The Scarlet Dove crouched down, her feathered mask tilting as she studied Starling’s pathetic form. “Focus. You of all people should be able to tell, these bonds are loose. That homophobic prick did a lousy job because he was too squeamish to risk touching another man’s load. These bonds are sloppy. You can get out of them if you actually try.”

Starling bit her lip, fresh determination cutting through the fog. She began wiggling and working the ropes, twisting her wrists against the clumsy knots. The coarse fibers scraped her already-raw skin, but the bindings were indeed loose and uneven, nothing like the expert, merciless ties Dominion had once used on her.

From the other side of the barn, the Dominion apparition approached, his dark presence looming tall and commanding. “She’s right, slave,” he said coolly, gloved fists clenching as he watched her struggle. “The binding is shoddy. Now that the amateur has had his fun—get up! Get loose. You’ve got my daughter to protect—”

“My… Daughter…” Starling growled, pulling her wrists free with shaking arms.

Dominion grinned.

“That’s right,” the Scarlet Dove snarled at him. “Get out. We don’t need you here.”

Starling turned over and began unknotting the rope around her ankles. Her body ached, but she was regaining some strength. Her head was clearing too, the fog of orgasm and humiliation lifting as she forced herself to remember who she was, Beth Stewart—and her wife and daughter were waiting.

As she finally rose unsteadily to her feet — naked, cum-streaked, but standing — both hallucinations retreated into the shadows.

Starling stood there for a moment, breathing hard, wiping tears and cum from her face. She was in no shape to take on Pyrosight again—much less—and—the entire motorcylce gang right now. Her body was still trembling, weak from the brutal fucking.

I just have to get out of here, fighting them—this—was never the plan… I just want to get back to Lacey and Nikki…

She moved as quietly as she could on shaky legs, scanning the dim barn for any possible escape. Her eyes finally landed on the back wall; a few old boards looked loose, warped from years of weather and neglect. She crept toward them, heart pounding, and began carefully working one free, the wood creaking softly under her shaky fingers.

Just then, the heavy barn door creaked open again. Starling froze, pressing herself into the shadows as Pyrosight and another man stepped inside. The newcomer was middle-aged, wearing an expensive but rumpled suit. He had slicked-back hair that was thinning on top, a gaudy, gold watch glinting on his wrist. He looked like a “Reggie Beaumont.”

“What the hell were you thinking?” Reggie snapped, voice tight with barely contained panic. “I told you to make it look like a fireworks mishap! A controlled little fire so we could collect on the insurance and scare off some holdouts. Not turn the whole goddamn square into a war zone! People could’ve died, you lunatic!”

Pyrosight just laughed, unconcerned, still adjusting his suspenders. “Relax, Reggie. Big fire means big payout. The bigger the damage, the fatter the check. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Starling’s heart nearly stopped as recognition slammed into her. Reggie Beaumont—wait!—Lacey had interviewed him just a couple weeks before the festival. Beaumont Enterprises had been the majority donor for the Auburn Hills 4th of July Spectacular this year! Supposedly out of civic pride, but according to Lacey, mostly to head off some growing bad publicity about them trying to quietly buy up all the businesses on the town square for a big redevelopment project.

Starling stayed perfectly still in the shadows, barely breathing as she listened, one hand still gripping the loose board behind her.

Reggie threw his hands up. “This wasn’t the plan! Cops, insurance investigators, hell maybe the FBI, are all going to be crawling all over this now. If they suspect—”

“I don’t give a shit about all that,” Pyrosight’s tone turned cold. “You wanted the square burned, you wanted people scared. I did that. Now pay up and we got nothing else to talk about.”

The developer took a step forward, puffing up with false bravado. “I won’t stand for this. I’m not paying until—”

Pyrosight slid his goggles back onto his face. An orange glow lighting the lenses. “Until what?” he asked softly. “Until I turn you into a charcoal briquette? Greasy little shit like you’ll go up real easy. All the shit I burned tonight, happy to add you to that list, Reg.”

The developer’s bravado collapsed immediately. “Okay… okay. No need to get hot… I brought your damn money anyway.”

He handed over a leather satchel. Pyrosight snatched it away, opening the zipper in almost the same motion.

This was her moment, while he was distracted counting cash. Starling gripped the loose boards and ripped them free with a burst of desperate strength, the old wood splintered and cracked. She didn’t waste time cringing or checking to see if they heard—but scrambled through the narrow gap, naked skin scraping against rough edges as she squeezed out into the cool night air behind the barn.

“What was that?”

“This old piece of shit barn, who knows…”

The second Starling was clear, she summoned the last of her strength and kicked off the ground. Her body lifted into the air, naked and cum-streaked, scarlet hair streaming behind her as she soared upward into the night sky. The wind whipped over her bare skin, chilling the mess Pyrosight had painted her in. She flew fast and low at first, skimming treetops to avoid being spotted, then climbed higher once she was far enough away. The rickety barn, the aging farmstead shrank steadily behind her as she angled toward home, heart still racing, body aching, but alive.

She was going home to Lacey and Nikki.

Wings of Guilt

The wind stung her wrists and ankles, whipping over the angry red marks from the ropes. Every muscle trembled. The shame was a living thing inside Starling’s chest, coiling tighter with every heartbeat. The fear and pain, the violation, the knowledge that Pyrosight now held her secret, the memory of how her body and mind had betrayed her— was all that for nothing?

Guilt gnawed deeper with every mile. Lacey… Nikki… what have I done, and why? The thought of her wife’s worried face and her daughter’s innocent trust made fresh tears sting her eyes. She had promised to come straight home. Instead she had let herself be used, broken, and covered in a man’s cum.

As she reached their quiet neighborhood back in Auburn Hills, the distant smell of smoke from the burned out square still hung heavy in the air, a bitter reminder of the chaos. Most of the houses were dark, families tucked safely in bed after the nightmare of the festival. But one house on the block, her house, still had lights on.

Starling’s heart leaped at the sight of it, overwhelming joy and relief washing through her. Home. Lacey. Nikki. They were safe. They were waiting for her.

Then the shame crashed down like a wave, heavy and suffocating. She couldn’t face them like this — naked, her body still marked with Pyrosight’s dried cum streaking across her breasts, belly, and thighs, her pussy still tender and leaking. The thought of Lacey seeing her like this, or worse, Nikki catching a glimpse of Mommy looking like a used whore, made her stomach twist sickeningly.

Starling circled the house once, then swooped silently toward their second-story bedroom window. She eased it open as quietly as she could, slipping inside just as silent. Hopefully.

The familiar scent of their home nearly brought fresh tears to her eyes. Starling closed the window behind her, then padded quickly toward the en-suite bathroom, desperate to get into the shower before Lacey or Nikki saw her like this. She turned the water on as hot as it would go, steam already billowing as she stepped under the spray, hoping it would wash away at least some of the evidence before she had to face her family.

Stepping under the scalding water, her hands immediately began frantic scrubbing, moving over her heavy breasts, soft belly, and between her thighs, trying to wash away every trace of Pyrosight’s cum, the crusty streaks, the smell of him. Her fingers raked over her skin, nails scraping as if she could erase the memory of his hands, his teeth, his cock.

As the steam filled the small bathroom and the heat sank deep into her aching muscles, something began to shift. The frantic scrubbing slowed. The hot water and thick clouds of steam were therapeutic, just like they had always been for her—after a big test in college, after surviving a runway show or a long photo shoot with her mother (back when she was modelling)…and especially in her active Scarlet Dove days.

The ritual, the steam, the scalding water had always helped her come back to herself no matter what perils she’d faced. She tilted her head back, letting the water pound against her face, soak into her thick scarlet locks, and cascade down her body, washing away the tears along with the evidence.

Her mind began to clear. I was beaten. Captured. Humiliated. The thought stung, but she pushed through it. But I got away. I have information, the location of that farm, and I know about Beaumont, the insurance scam, everything. I can pass it to the authorities. To Lacey. Maybe some good can still come of what I suffered—

The bathroom door banged open!

Starling barely had time to startle before Lacey threw back the shower curtain, eyes wide with a mixture of fury and terror.

“Beth! Oh my God—”

Starling stood frozen under the scalding spray, water streaming over her naked body, steam swirling around them. The hot water had washed away most of the visible evidence, but bruises were already blooming on her breasts and hips, rope burns circled her wrists and ankles, and her eyes were red-rimmed from tears and smoke.

Lacey stepped fully clothed into the shower, water soaking her instantly as she threw her arms around her wife, hugging tight, face buried against her wet shoulder.

Starling stiffened for half a heartbeat — ashamed, filthy, unworthy — then melted into the embrace. She wrapped her arms around Lacey, holding on as if she might disappear.

Lacey kissed her fiercely on the cheek, her jaw, then her mouth — tasting rain and soap and tears. “Where the hell have you been?” she whispered, voice cracking. “I’ve been worried sick. You said you were just helping evacuate. Then hours passed. Mackenzie said you left to go after them… I thought—I thought—”

“I’m okay,” Starling murmured, stroking Lacey’s wet hair. “I’m here. I’m okay.”

Lacey pulled back just enough to look at her, hands framing Starling’s face, thumbs brushing away the water and tears. Her eyes scanning, seeing the bruises, the bite marks on her breasts, the raw rope burns on her wrists.

“You’re not okay. Look at you. What happened? Tell me.”

Starling swallowed hard, the steam thick around them. She wanted to lie. She wanted to protect Lacey from the worst of it. But the weight of it all was too heavy to carry alone.

“I followed them to an old farm, way out in the sticks,” she said quietly, voice low and afraid. “It wasn’t just random, Lace, it was that developer, Beaumont. He hired the Marauders. It was all for insurance money and to clear the square for his project…”

“Reggie,” Lacey hissed. “That son of a bitch, I told you—”

“But…” Starling went on. “I got too close. Too distracted and they caught me. Pyrosight… he…he—” She couldn’t finish. The words stuck in her throat as fresh tears spilled.

Lacey’s expression darkened with fury and pain, but she pulled Starling back into her arms, holding her tighter under the scalding spray.

“You’re home. That’s what matters right now. We’ll deal with the rest later. Just… I got you.”

Starling clung to her wife, the hot water and Lacey’s embrace the only things keeping her from falling apart completely.

After a moment, Lacey peeled off her soaked tank top and denim shorts, letting them drop to the shower floor with a wet slap. Her slender, athletic body was revealed, modest breasts with soft pink nipples, toned legs, and the quiet strength Starling had always loved. Even now, in the middle of fear and worry, there was something quietly beautiful and grounding about her.

Lacey’s fingers moved with careful tenderness over Starling’s skin, soaping away whatever lingered, her fingers delicately tracing the bite marks and bruises with concern but no judgment. They washed with quiet care, rinsing everything away under the hot water until Starling finally felt like herself. Like Lacey’s wife. Like Nikki’s mother.

When they both felt cleaner, Lacey turned off the water and wrapped her wife in a large, fluffy towel, drying her with slow, comforting strokes before drying herself. Starling let herself be small, and need, and cared for in that moment. Lacey helped her into a soft cream-colored robe and they headed back into the bedroom.

Lacey was pulling on a tank top and sleep shorts for herself, when the bedroom door creaked open. Nikki stood there in her unicorn pajamas, rubbing sleepy eyes with one fist, her red hair an absolute rats’ nest.

“Mommy? Momma? Is everything okay?”

Starling’s heart squeezed. She crossed the room and scooped her daughter up, holding her close despite the lingering aches in her body. Nikki curled instinctively into her arms.

“Everything’s okay, baby. Mommy’s home.”

She carried the little girl to their bed, Lacey joining. Starling settled Nikki between them, pulling the covers up. The three of them cuddled together, Nikki’s small body warm and snuggly and comforting. Lacey reached over their daughter to lace her fingers with Starling’s, squeezing once, hard.

Starling squeezed back and shut her eyes, listening to the soft, even rhythm of Nikki’s breathing as it slowed into sleep, then Lacey’s quieter sighs as exhaustion finally claimed her as well.

She was home.

But as the house settled into quiet, Starling opened her eyes in the dark and stared out the window.

Somewhere out there, Pyrosight knew the Scarlet Dove was still alive. And he knew she was hiding in Aurburn Hills.

He knew her name.

Starling turned her head slightly, watching Nikki’s and Lacey’s peaceful faces in the faint moonlight slipping through the curtains. She loved the quiet, ordinary, beautiful life they’d built here in Auburn Hills. She loved being a mother and a wife so much more than she had ever loved being a superheroine.

But the knowledge sat heavy in her chest, cold and certain: The past wasn’t done with her.

The Scarlet Dove needed to be ready to protect her family.

Starling closed her eyes again.

Still sleep did not come easily.

Flames of Triumph

The sun rose pale and thin over the flat Midwestern horizon, painting the endless ribbon of highway in shades of gold and rose. A lone motorcycle blazed through the morning quiet, flame-orange paint gleaming in the dawn light. Pyrosight rode hard and fast, trench coat flapping behind him, orange mohawk spiked and blazing in the wind.

Reggie had paid out. The Auburn Hills job banking Pyrosight enough to live comfortably for while, if he was smart. Not that he was planning on being smart. He had a boat load of cash, and the neon lights of Sin City in his eyes.

The roar of the engine complemented the smug grin stretching across his face. He laughed into the wind, loud and triumphant, the sound swallowed by the road.

Two superheroines? Are you fucken serious!

Hyper Star in Regent City, and now the Scarlet Dove—in fucken Auburn Hills of all places. Retired, hidden, living that quiet life in the middle of nowhere with a wife and kid. Who’d a fucken thought?

He shifted on the seat, feeling the pleasant ache in his groin, the memory of her luscious curves still vivid; creamy white skin, scarlet hair, the way she’d fought and then surrendered, ashamed and hungry. Fucken pain slut too? Fuuuuuuuck—

But the bigger question was: Who else would pay to know the Scarlet Dove was still alive?

Plenty of people, probably. Old enemies from Warden City. Any number of mid-tier villains looking to make a name for themselves. And what was the name of those ruskie traffickers? The Red Ring or some shit? Bet they’d pay a premium for a bonafide superheroine legend…

Warden City wasn’t that far. A day or two’s ride northwest? Make some contacts there. Plenty of whispers. He could poke around, see if anyone was still looking for her, still mourning the loss of their pretty red-haired flyer. See if the trail was really as cold as everyone thought.

And hey—there was that new heroine bopping around Warden City lately. Some fresh face in spandex, making a name on the interwebs, right? Probably confident. Maybe cocky. Nice legs and a rack if he remembered right… Pyrosight licked his lips at the thought of adding a third notch to his belt.

But was anyone even going to believe him? Everyone knew the story, even the underground: The Scarlet Dove, the Summit hotel, Chief of Police masquerading as a supervillain. That explosion, and no sign of the heroine or Dominion afterwards. No survivors, presumed.

“I fucked the Scarlet Dove.”

“Oh yeah, was bigfoot there? Filming and jerking off…”

He could hear it already.

Fuck it.

He’d keep the secret for now. Let it ripen. She poked her head up last night, how long before she did it again. These fucken superheroines can’t seem to help themselves. Wait until more people were talking. Wait until the price was right. Auction the information to the highest bidder when the timing was perfect.

Or maybe blackmail her directly. There’s a  fucken thought…get another crack at that sweet heroine pussy—hell she said she’s married to a woman, maybe…

Pyrosight’s grin widened, tilting his head back into the wind. Oh the possibilities!

For now, Sin City was calling. Neon lights, high-stakes tables, blow, and plenty of prime pussy he wouldn’t have to fight with for a taste…unless he wanted to. He’d blow all this cash on poker, blackjack, maybe a private suite with a view and a few expensive companions.

Then he’d figured out how best to exploit that particular piece of information.

He twisted the throttle.

The bike surged forward, engine roaring louder, drowning out everything but the road and the rush.

Westward.

The Scarlet Dove might have flown home to her quiet life tonight.

But Pyrosight was still flying high.

And he wasn’t done burning things down.

Epilogue

A few nights later, under the cover of darkness, Beth and Lacey slipped through the quiet streets of Monument City in a middling business district, heading toward the Beaumont Enterprises building. The area was mostly deserted at this hour, the streetlights casting long shadows across the pavement.

Beth, now dressed in all black leggings and hoodie, moved with the practice grace her body still remembered from years of slipping across rooftops, and sneaking around dark alleys. She tried to hide how her heart was thrumming with a familiar thrill despite the lingering aches from her more recent ordeal.

Lacey, dressed in dark jeans and a fitted black jacket, kept pace beside her, a small messenger bag slung across her body. She looked calm, almost relaxed, which only made Beth more anxious.

“Stay close to the walls,” Beth whispered as they approached the service entrance at the back of the building. “There’s probably a camera above the door. We should hug the shadows until we’re right under it.”

Lacey gave her a sideways glance, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Relax, babe. Not my first time.”

Beth shot her a look. “I know but…but it’s been a while since you’ve had to—”

Lacey chuckled softly, keeping her voice low. “Honey, don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t tell you everything I do for my stories…even in sleepy Auburn Hills.”

Beth exhaled, trying to hide her smile as they reached for the service door. “You sneak! What does that mean?”

Lacey bumped her shoulder lightly, not actually replying as she pulled out a borrowed keycard, acquired through one of her contacts. They slipped inside, moving quickly down a dimly lit hallway toward the stairwell. Beth took the lead, checking corners and watching for cameras, while Lacey followed close behind, occasionally rolling her eyes at Beth’s overly cautious instructions.

“Left here,” Beth whispered. “Elevators are probably monitored. Stairs are safer.”

Lacey smirked in the dark. “You know, I think you might be having a little too much fun with this.”

Now it was Beth’s turn not to answer, but the faint smile on her face said enough. They climbed the stairs in silence, moving quickly and quietly, their footsteps muffled on the concrete steps. Beth checked each landing before waving Lacey forward. When they reached the top floor, they slipped out into the dimly lit hallway, hugging the wall and staying low. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting long, eerie shadows as they crept toward the end of the corridor.

Lacey paused outside Reginald Beaumont’s corner office door, pulling the keycard from her bag. With practiced ease she slid it into the gap between the door and frame, working the simple lock with a few careful jiggles.

“Last chance to turn back,” Beth teased quietly. “We could just go home, get into bed, and pretend none of this happened.”

Lacey leaned back and kissed her quickly on the cheek. “Not a chance. Let’s nail this bastard.”

The lock clicked open.

They slipped inside. Beth went straight for the filing cabinets along the far wall, quietly sliding open the heavy drawers one by one. They were mostly empty, just a few generic contracts and old expense reports.

“There’s almost nothing here.” She frowned, disappointment flickering across her face. “He must keep everything on the computer.”

“If he keeps it at all,” Lacey was already seated at the large mahogany desk, fingers dancing across the keyboard. “Shady business men tend to make real goo use of their shredders.” She tried a few common passwords, then smirked as she typed something simple. “B-E-A-U-M-O-N-T-1-2-3-4,” she muttered under her breath. The login screen accepted it instantly. “What a fucking idiot.”

Beth abandoned the cabinets and moved behind Lacey, leaning over her shoulder as the screen filled with folders and thumbnails. Lacey clicked into one labeled “Project Auburn Cleanup” and opened the most recent thread.

“Look at this,” Lacey said, her voice low but triumphant. She read aloud from the screen: “‘P, make sure the fireworks display looks like the cause. Nothing too obvious. R.B.’”

She scrolled down. “And he kept the reply: ‘Done. Square will look like a war zone by morning. P.’ Then, R.B. ‘Just need enough to justify insurance payout. A little damage to scare locals.’ It’s not even in code or anything.”

Beth’s green eyes narrowed, reading over her wife’s shoulder. “Just cause they’re criminals doesn’t mean they’re smart.”

“There’s more,” Lacey went on. “Wire transfer confirmations, dates, amounts… everything. He tried to gather the money without leaving a trail…while documenting the trail so he didn’t lose track himself. This is ironclad shit.”

Beth felt a fierce rush of satisfaction wash over her. “We’ve got him.”

“Oh we’ve fucking got ‘im, baby!” Lacey copied the entire folder onto a thumb drive, her expression a mix of disbelief and excitement. “Tomorrow morning, this goes to the state attorney general, the insurance commission, and my editor. Beaumont Enterprises is finished and I’m going to get a Pulitzer.”

They slipped back out of the office the same way they had entered, moving like shadows through the empty building. As they reached the service exit and stepped into the cool night air, Beth felt lighter than she had since the night of the 4th.

It wasn’t all for nothing. The pain, the violation, the mental turmoil… Beaumont would pay for what he’d done. The Marauders would be implicated. Pyrosight too…for whoever delt with supervillains like him these days.

Beth reached for Lacey’s hand as they moved quickly through the shadows toward their car. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “For dragging you into this. For making you worry. For…for everything that happened. But thank you for helping me get closure. I promise… I’m done. No more Scarlet Dove. I’m leaving all of this behind us.”

Lacey squeezed her hand, pulling her closer as they walked. She was quiet for a moment, but when she spoke it was with certainty.

“I’d love nothing more than for you to settle into this life,” she said. “To not just leave the mask and the danger behind, but to forget it. Entirely. And just be my wife, Beth, our daughter’s mother, the woman every man in Auburn Hills secretly wants…”

“Some not-so-secretly,” Beth murmured with a blush and a grin.

Chuckling, nodding, Lacey stopped under a streetlight, turning to face her fully. “But I know who you are, Starling. I’ve always known. I want you safe more than anything. I want you happy with me and Nikki—”

“I am happy! You two are the most important thing to me!”

“I know that,” Lacey continued. “Just like I know you can never just stand by when people need help, or when someone is doing something wrong. And I love that about you too—Now, I am not saying it’s okay to get back into that life… But I am saying, I knew exactly who I was marrying when I married the Scarlet Dove. And I wouldn’t change that.”

Beth had no more words. Her eyes stung with fresh tears as she pulled Lacey into a deep, grateful kiss under the quiet streetlight.

The Scarlet Dove will return.

Author’s Note:

Did I get you? I was really trying to be sneaky, making it seem like this was another sexy easy “Hot Heroine Summer” installment -then BAM- stealth SHIP. I mean…it definitely fits with the “hot” motif, at least. And the summer theme…

Anyway, this is what happens when the muse really gets ahold of an idea. After Rost’s War, I thought I’d be periled out for a bit, but then I just got this spark. I wanted to write for Starling, I wanted to finally have a villain make the crossover, and I guess I wanted to be able to give you guys kind of a “proof of concept” for the shorter novella length heroine peril I’ve been saying I want to focus on writing.

This story just poured out of me, and I had a total blast with it, so hopefully you did too.

But also, many of you have asked that I start creating Villain Endings for the novella’s too, and so I have. The Scarlet Dove: Inferno is available now on Smashwords for $3.99 usd, including an ebook exclusive Villain Ending.

I never want anyone to feel obligated to buy my ebooks, I have obviously shared the entire story right here for free. I really do care that all of my Besties are able to share in the fun regardless of their financial situation. However, if you are able and would like to support what I do here, buying my ebooks is the best way. I’ve considered Patreon, but I don’t know if I could keep that up to be worth it. I’ve also looked into some tipping services (like buy me a coffee), and they don’t seem too fetish content friendly. So, I am going to start publishing more of my works on Smashwords, to be the way to show your monetary appreciation if you feel so inclined.

And if you can’t or just don’t want to, still know I’m you bff as much as ever.

Now, head on down to the comments, and let me know if my little ruse got you or not, and how excited you were when this story took a perilous turn!

Wherever you are, and whatever it may or may not mean to you, I hope you have a great 4th day in this month of July.

As for me, I’m gonna get an ice cold beer, and an grill-charred hot dog.

Take Care, Talk Soon,

Your bff, L J