By: shrinktasium
Sunstress floated into the warm night air, grabbing hold of the exposed power line and connecting herself to the City of Torrence’s electrical grid. A thrilling hum of energy coursed into her. To a regular person, instant death. To her? Power in its rawest form.
She hummed, looking down at the darkened beach her, at the white sand and shallow waves lapping against the shore. Beneath the old floorboards of a solitary pier, dim amber torchlight fought fruitlessly against the crawling shadows to reveal her minions hard at work.
Well, “minion” was a generous term. The group of seven black-robed figures were either loners, entirely too infatuated by her charm, or random people she had hired online. Not exactly the devout worshippers of Sunstress’s past, but good help was in short supply these days.
Still, they were competent enough and didn’t complain about the uniforms. They worked diligently, drawing clean geometric shapes into the sand and filling the shallow lines with reflective grey powder. One of them carefully laid a sceptre of gold at the centre of the concentric rings being drawn, handling it like one might handle a one-millimetre-thick lead box filled with plutonium. The sceptre hovered slightly over the fine sand, its power waiting to be coaxed out.
Sunstress released the powerline, reluctantly untapping herself from the flow of power, and lowered herself to the beach, never allowing the earth to stain her feet with contact. She palmed the head of one of her acolytes through their hood, rewarding them with a smile and a gentle caress for a job well done. After a century of poor luck, things were finally going her way; in mere minutes she would be filled with the profane power of an eldritch deity.
“Okay, places everyone!” she chirped, pointing to designated spots around her. “One of you in each circle. This is a very simple ritual; you just need to stay still and wait for me to give you permission to leave. If you fuck this up for me, I will skip you across the ocean like a stone. So, you know, don’t do that.”
Shuffling. Hushed whispers. One by one, her minions took up their designated posts. Sunstress took a deep breath to savour the moment, basking in the cool ocean breeze and the smell of sea salt. A perfect night to become a goddess.
With a snap, she cast a spark of energy from her fingertips, igniting the grey powder. Green flames rose from the sand in complex patterns, curling forth like spectral hands reaching up from the underworld. She took the sceptre in her hands and spoke a short incantation, then – using the tip of the sceptre – cut a gash into the fabric of reality.
White, blinding light poured out of the thin slit in space, illuminating the scene in bright focus: seven hooded figures standing around a darkly radiant woman.
She had long black hair that spilled over her shoulders, tanned skin, and wore a sleeveless black bodysuit over her torso and legs. This flexible matte uniform's practical stealth design was ruined by a large twinkling sun emblem emblazoned over her sternum, its golden metal gleaming greedily in the dim light beneath the pier. On her forearms were a pair of equally gaudy gold bracers. This woman was Sunstress, fated champion of the profane gods.
She reached toward the light, toward her destiny. Through the gap lay power beyond reckoning, more power than any person – hero or villain – had ever wielded before. It was blindingly bright. Too bright, and... flashing in from behind her?
Sunstress whipped around in time to see a painful burst of white light glance over her eyes, followed by an immense force smashing into her. She would remember very little of the proceeding seconds, save for the clap of a sonic boom catching up to her mysterious assailant.
When she next looked up, the careful geometric patterns had been blown away, the curling green flames sputtering out, withdrawing. Her minions were either as stunned as she was or sprinting into the darkness – she made a mental note to toss the latter group into the Pacific when she had the chance. The sceptre lay in the sand beside her, shattered into three distinct pieces. She rose to her feet and watched as the cut in reality snapped shut, taking her destiny with it.
Standing in the ruined ritual centre was a woman, hovering as Sunstress had been hovering. She wore a repulsively vibrant outfit of blue and yellow and white and had an unimpressed smirk on her face. “People are still doing the whole ‘cultist in a black robe’ thing?” she asked, floating higher over her destruction and crossing her arms over her chest. “Where do you guys even buy these?”
“Bitch!” Sunstress screamed. She fed a wealth of energy into her limbs, bursting an explosion of power from behind her. She collided with the heroine faster than human eyes can perceive, sending them both skipping across the white SoCal sand of Torrence beach.
The woman recovered quickly, flying over Sunstress and unleashing a golden bolt of energy from her fist. Sunstress barely felt it. She absorbed the blast and channelled a white-hot beam in return, melting the white sand of the beach into glass and nearly slicing the woman into two pieces.
The hero dove at Sunstress, going for a tackle. Sunstress pooled a swathe of stored power into her right leg and released it, kicking the woman in the stomach and sending her shooting up into the sky. A “woosh!” of displaced air followed in her wake.
Sunstress bolted after her, a streek of white fire igniting the air in her wake. She tackled the woman at the waist, wrapping her legs around her torso and pummelling at her guard. What followed was a not-so-graceful tangle of limbs and light as both women fought for control in the darkened skyscape.
Sunstress conjured twin beams of light from her eyes and lasered into the hero’s clavicle. Much to her dismay, the woman wasn’t incinerated instantly. She seemed heavily resistance to energy-based abilities. Sunstress snarled; she would have to take her frustrations out using her fists.
“You... ruined... everything!” Sunstress hissed.
“Yup, kind of my thing,” the heroine muttered, unwinding Sunstress’s legs from her waist and gripping the gold sun emblem sitting over the raging villain’s chest. She pulled on some invisible torque and spun Sunstress in a quick double-loop before hurling her toward the earth.
Sunstress pulled on her store of energy, wanting to rocket back up and spear her opponent into space, only to find herself dangerously depleted. She realized in that moment that she had lost track of how much power she had been expending, and this mysterious do-gooder was no longer using her energy powers. Clever. Sunstress fell, crashing through the red-shingled roof of a beachfront property and obliterating some unfortunate wealthy socialite’s marble countertop.
She opened her eyes to see the blur of blue boots rocketing through the ruined roof after her, smashing into her ribs with superhuman force. A pained gasp leapt out of her chest as the air was pushed from her lungs. She batted away the grabbing hands of her annoyingly persistent heroine and flopped toward the nearest wall outlet, sensing the thrum of electricity around her, waiting to be tapped.
“Ah, no you don’t!” the heroine called, grabbing Sunstress's ankle and pulling her to the centre of the room, away from any obvious power sources.
Sunstress – not easily daunted – thrashed, grabbing the heroine by her cape and hurling her into the kitchen’s sleek white cupboards, spraying wood shrapnel everywhere. She balled her fists and struggled to her feet.
“I will not be bested by some pathetic upstart like you! I am a goddess!” Sunstress spat, floating up over the crumpled hero. She punched a hole through the ceiling’s light fixture. Electricity hummed around her fist once more. Untapped potential. “People fall to their knees in worship where I deign to tread!”
Just as the first whisps of power began to wind into Sunstress’s skin, a blue fist collided with her temple, sending her crashing to the floor. She attempted to rise once again, to seize the silent electrical current for herself. Too slow, however. The heroine straddled her torso and pinned her wrists to the floor, causing her to writhe uselessly.
“Not anymore, lady...” the woman said, out of breath from their exchange. “My name is Blonde Blazer, hero of SDN, and you are probably going away for a while,” she looked around the shattered kitchen and added, “on property damage alone, I bet.”
Sunstress glared at the hero – Blonde Blazer – sitting astride her stomach. The heroine shrugged in response, an exasperated look that said, “I too have not enjoyed the past few minutes.” She pinned Sunstress’s wrists above her head and rose two fingers to the communicator in her ear. “Hey, dispatch? I need a—oh!”
Sunstress flared the last of her energy – she would not be subdued by this woman! She let out a pulse of power and bucked against Blonde Blazer, attempting to push the heroine off her pelvis.
The brief blast of energy succeeded in shunting Blonde Blazer a few short inches into the air where she lurched upward, caught herself, and corrected for the loss of control – using her mastery of flight to hurl her body back down onto the villain. Unfortunately for both women, Blazer overcorrected and lurched forward, descending directly onto Sunstress’s face.
Sunstress lashed out, screaming into the synthetic material coating Blonde Blazer's ass, thrashing her limbs in the dark – otherwise quiet – kitchen of the wealthy suburbanite. She pushed with her legs, trying to work up enough momentum to escape from under her assailant. But, with the last of her energy stores expended, it was an increasingly pitiful offence.
“Okay, come on. This is embarrassing. Just... stop moving!” Blonde Blazer said, an edge of annoyance in her voice now. She flew a few inches off of Sunstress and slammed back down with a heavy “whumf!”, smashing Sunstress’s head between her ass and the hardwood flooring, splintering the wooden boards.
The move wasn’t painful for Sunstress per se, she had just fallen out of the sky a moment ago, but it was shocking. Her ego certainly felt bruised. She brought her hands to the superhero’s thighs and pushed, trying ineffectively to unseat her.
“Get... off!” Sunstress growled.
Blonde Blazer shunted her hips backward, so her butt wasn’t completely hiding Sunstress’s face. Instead, the gusset of her blue leotard was mashed directly against the captive woman's nose. “Lady, I saw you with the powerline; you're one wall outlet away from becoming a nuclear bomb,” Blonde Blazer said, hooking one of Sunstress’s arms into the crook of her knee. “Just stop moving and I’ll stop... whatever we’re doing here.”
Sunstress paused, looking up at the woman sitting atop her for the first time. She had bright blonde hair, an annoyingly friendly face, and – only known to Sunstress because her nose was pressed directly against the woman’s snatch – had good hygiene for a hero. A white bodysuit was stretched taut over her muscular build, then covered by a more ostentatious blue leotard and yellow cape. Finally, a blue mask covered her face, protecting her identity.
Sunstress considered Blazer's words. Stop. Stopping meant a life inside of California’s most intense containment facility. Stopping meant no possibility of power, of goddesshood, of worshippers and acolyte’s and entertainers and all the wonderous pleasures that a being of her nature deserved. Stopping was weakness, and Sunstress would not be weakened.
Sunstress pushed her feet against the hardwood floor of the kitchen, kicking her legs up and hooking her ankles around Blonde Blazer’s neck. She pulled back with as much force as she could muster and twisted her body, trying to free herself from the hero’s bodyweight pressing into her. The move successfully freed her nose from Blazer’s crotch, although not without consequence.
Blonde Blazer recovered quickly from the momentary imbalance. She untangled Sunstress’s ankles and held the woman’s legs under either arm, then floated up a few inches and let herself drop, eliciting a stunned “ack!” from Sunstress as her bodyweight sank onto the woman's larynx.
Sunstress writhed and wriggled, trying to un-pretzel herself from the increasingly confining position Blonde Blazer held her in.
“Stop squirming!” Blazer yelled, rising again and slamming into Sunstress’s neck. The impact splintered the wooden floor and scattered dust across the dim kitchen. She leaned back and wrapped her legs around Sunstress’s neck, then squeezed hard.
Sunstress could hold her breath for quite a long time – perks of being superhuman – but it grew increasingly difficult to fight against Blonde Blazer’s grip, to assert herself against the hero. Blazer’s thighs held taut, pinching Sunstress’s throat with an iron intensity. She watched, struggling valiantly, for nearly ten minutes, hatefully squirming in the more powerful woman’s hold. Each minute was draining for Sunstress, her body and her mind growing ever more fatigued.
She was forced to look up Blazer’s perfect face and watch as her expression danced through a range of expressions: anger, annoyance, boredom, and – finally – pitying concern.
Blonde Blazer pulsed her thighs once against Sunstress’s neck, grimacing slightly at the wilted woman between her legs. “Are you done now? Can we, like, stop?”
Sunstress replied with a malicious wheeze and a muted wriggle.
Blonde Blazer sighed. “Suit yourself.” She secured Sunstress’s legs more firmly under her armpits and leaned forward, waiting patiently for the woman to tire further.
Sunstress lost the ability to track time entirely; her torso was flush with Blazer’s back, her legs locked into place under her armpits, and her neck fastened firmly between Blazer’s thighs. It was a special sort of torture for Sunstress: her superhuman abilities would not allow her to pass out, but they weren’t powerful enough to unseat Blazer either. She was trapped. Controlled.
She never actually consciously chose to cease struggling – her need for air was only slightly stronger than her desire to kill this strange heroine – but her body gave in at some point. A sea of chromatic stars washed over her vision, followed by a brief flash of darkness.
When Sunstress awoke, Blazer had dropped the scissor hold. Sunstress’s head rested in the dusty crater that had been gouged into the kitchen floor – her striking black hair laced with marble dust and fine hardwood chips – while her body lay prone, her limbs feeling like lead. Blazer had re-positioned her crotch over the villain’s face, letting her warm weight pin Sunstress to the ground once again.
Blonde Blazer sat there for a few minutes as Sunstress returned to consciousness, letting her come to terms with her new position. Blazer held one of Sunstress’s wrists, which Sunstress would later recognize as the heroine monitoring her pulse. Blazer's expression was half concerned and half bored. She seemed somewhere between grateful that she had not seriously injured Sunstress and embarrassed that she had successfully subdued a villain with her thighs.
Convinced that her seat had been successfully beaten into submission, she returned to her call, raising a finger to her earpiece. “Yeah, hey. Sorry about that, had to deal with... something. Uh, I need a team to...” Blonde Blazer’s eyes flicked down to meet Sunstress’s hateful, defeated gaze. She muted her earpiece and sighed again. “I can’t focus with you looking at me like that,” she muttered.
A pause. Blazer shifted, lifting herself off Sunstress’s face. Then, she turned around, facing her captive’s feet and plonking her perky ass down onto the woman's face. She wiggled her hips back and forth, pressing sunstress’s nose between her cheeks and getting comfortable.
Sunstress was met by a humiliating, dominated perspective. The stretchy white material coating Blonde Blazer’s ass cheeks moulded enthusiastically to Sunstress’s face, while Sunstress’s nose and mouth were buried against the denser material of the hero’s leotard. Looking up, Sunstress could see only the curve of Blonde Blazer’s ass, and her yellow cape which hung lazily across her back. Every now and then the bright yellow fabric would tickle against Sunstress’s forehead as Blazer shifted back and forth.
With Sunstress put in her place, Blonde Blazer returned to her duties, the peppy and professional tone entering her voice again. “I need a team to the ritual site down by the beach. Or, well, I guess a house by the ritual site by the beach? I don't know. Just send someone to the house with the big-ass hole in the roof... A flyer should be able to spot it easily enough... Yeah, it was crazy – she's an energy eater, crazy strong... Oh, uh, I think it’s a little too early to tell if the program would be a good fit for her. She’s temperamental, to say the least. But, hey, we’ve had weirder! Maybe if...”
As Blonde Blazer spoke, Sunstress could feel the woman gradually relax, gradually put her out of her mind. She was ignoring her, just talking with a coworker. Sunstress was, for all intents and purposes, the seat of Blonde Blazer. That’s how Blazer seemed to be thinking of her anyway.
Sunstress had never felt so disrespected in her life. She made a last, half-hearted attempt at escape. She coiled up her superhuman strength and lurched toward the nearest source of power. Blonde Blazer was ready for this, however. She caught Sunstress’s hand with lightning-fast reflexes, then administered several punitive, forceful bounces.
Sunstress lay crumpled on the floor of the ruined kitchen, looking up at the perky rear of Blonde Blazer slapping into her face, each impact squeezing a bit more resistance from her spirit. Eventually she stopped squirming. Her super strength was weaker than this hero’s, and her energy stores were completely spent. Sunstress watched helplessly as the woman slammed her ass against her face a half dozen more times, then paused, checking to see if Sunstress had learned her lesson.
She had. Sunstress could not muster up any more resistance.
Blonde Blazer placed Sunstress's palms against her glutes with a gentle insistence, giving each hand a comforting squeeze as she did so. She held her there a moment, silently telling Sunstress that this is where her hands would sit for the remainder of their time together, then continued her conversation.
Sunstress went limp. It was over. She was beaten, bested by the tight glutes of Blonde Blazer. She would never be a goddess. She huffed into the blonde woman’s posterior and clawed her fingers into the springy muscles of Blazer’s booty, a tamed form of protest. Blazer rewarded Sunstress’s pawing with an approving hum and an encouraging wiggle of her hips.
For now, this was Sunstress’s destiny, not to become a goddess, not to bring ruin and destruction to her enemies, not to enrapture the many mortals of the world to her will. No. In this moment, her purpose was simple: be a comfortable, obedient seat for the illustrious hero – Blonde Blazer.