The Gatherer and the Blue Super Sentai Character
The Lock's Echo
Terror coursed through his veins as the lock above him snapped, scattering its resonating sound into the shallow pit he lay in. His eyes fell on his captor and imminent torturer. She was Blue, the one he was after when he was captured, but perhaps... just perhaps, she didn't know who "he" was.
When his vision blacked out, Blue still donned street clothes, suggesting a possible chance that he could be a random target for The Collector, but given the current circumstances...
"Oh, who am I kidding? The odds of that happening are nearly non-existent... but I need to play my part. The others are looking up to me since Red vanished, and she might know what happened to him."
Being stripped naked, he couldn't transform, but maybe if he held out long enough and lay his cards right, he could turn this into his favor. Not only escape but capture the infamous villainess!
However, the figure looming over him was a curvaceous woman in tight latex red. She was clearly indifferent to hiding her beauty, playing a game of showing off for the prisoners and satisfying her ego.
Her nylon-clad legs showed into shiny black stiletto heels, and a red peplum latex skirt clung tightly to her waist, exposing a matching zipped bodice that vanished under a cropped rubber circus owner jacket. The Collector had red hair and an amused smile as she beamed down at him with sadistic pleasure. Not only did her physical might command respect, but her aura did as well.
Her riding crop swung before her, and with a wave of her hand, she commanded Blue to exit the hole. Instead, he attempted to argue, playing the part of a scared, confused man.
"Please! I haven't done anything wrong, you have the wrong person!" He pleaded, whimpering. He knew he had to do this. If she was aware of his identity, this could potentially become much worse.
To avoid letting his pride get in the way, he imagined a large, empty iron room and locked it, key and all, as deep within his soul as possible. No one–not even The Collector–could crack it open.
"Out, I said.♪" The Collector's voice was astonishingly pleasant, unexpected to the depths of Blue's heart.
"O-out?" Blue stammered, his whimpering on the verge of sounding audibly fake.
"Blue."
"W-what?"
"Blue. You are Super Sentai Blue. Are you going to pretend to be the unknowing victim here?" She asked, a mischievous glint permeating her eyes.
Crap!
"I... I honestly have no idea what you're talking about!" Blue lied through his teeth, mustering up a fake whimper to go with it. "I was returning from work when... when... when everything went dark!"
Even he marvelled at how easily his false tears flowed.
Maybe I should've pursued my career in acting.
Her fingertips grazed his cheek lightly, before she suddenly grabbed his hair. Instinctively, his arms flailed, reaching for hers, but he encountered the sting of her riding crop. It touched his back for the first time; an unusual combination of pleasure and pain, a challenging sensation to describe as he let out an inhuman whimper.
He had fought off plenty of villains during his heroic career, but never this unique feeling.
"The next time you speak, it'll be when I say you can." The Collector warned, almost gravely. She produced a leather collar seemingly from thin air, around Blue's neck, then hooked a chained leash to it. "Now crawl after me. You can even eye me from behind if that's what you want.级别：ismsгар恒进出口的停用 否则，你会往我的跟�ล����动."
With a hard yank, he obeyed, hoping she perceived his obedience as a shared fear of her strength. He understood that if he rebuffed now, in his exposed state, he couldn't hope to resist. So he feigned fear and submitted to her direction. Or so he convinced himself of that.
She was after Super Sentai Blue because Red had vanished, and she was the chosen successor. Unsure of her true intentions for him, Blue chose to obey her demands for the present, biting his tongue on his secret identity.
As indulgent thoughts of disobedience and canvassing breached his psyche, Blue felt the hot yearnings for the female dressed in latex flush his core. He shuddered and followed after her, silently enduring her as he subconsciously took in her latex-covered posterior and her nylon-cocooned lower extremities. Yet, the lady's heel-stiletto footsteps echoed in the back of his mind, tantalizing and provoking his innate libido, amplifying the weight of the mental vault he had walled himself within.
The large chamber, shadowed by obscurity, held additional poles scattered around, captives bound to them with desperation evident in each gagged subject. The group expressed defeat and submission to their lordess with dampened groans. A gleaming pole glimmered as they approached and The Collector asked him to crawl towards it. Upon reaching it, she commenced to restraining him with a mix of thick, leather straps and etched steel.
Stringent leather bracers were wrapped around his elbows and the stiff, metallic trunk of the column, the combination tugging his limbs akimbo while stretching wound sends a shudder down his spine. Constricting ropes rubbed against his skin, forming a scandalous interjoining bind that connected his wrists to his waist. Sliding into position, his body ground against the pole in a quasi-frantic manner, escaping sounds of pain or pleasure were snuffed.
A heartless grin shivered across her face, betraying her readiness for the coming chastisement.
"I've had enough of your "innocence", Blue, don't you think?" The Collector remarked, eyes locked on him. Briefly glancing towards his costume, her shout pierced him. "Insolent pup! You're going to endure my beatings and accept your rightful position at my feet. You are nothing more than chattel. And I own you!"
Performing a stringent stinging lashing, the woman's crop carved a path of carnage across his torso, blood left in its' wake. Involuntarily, he arched his back, crying out in agony, intermingled with a degree of pleasure he couldn't dismiss. Flagellation heaved his broken body into a mass of pain.
"Back to your place.", The Collector offered in a gracious tone, breaking the trance created by the woman's song-like voice bouncing around in an empty room.
She fastened a distinctively textured latex mask over his eyes, his raven hair dangling down with ease courtesy of her fingers, pausing to revel in the facade. Finally, Blue perceived her hybrid latex-nylon form, their ruthless beauty burning into his mind. Leaning back as his eyes adjusted, she was glamorous with a terrifying prescience.
Handing him a length of latex string, she directed him to place it in his mouth and bite down on it, a strategic position to buoy his obedience, and form impressions at his wretched state. The coercive she-devil slowed down as he bit onto the ribbon then adjusted it fittingly.
In her next, eyes and lips known only to him, she similarly sized up the bindings. Tugging topics back and forth, tightening the reins to control his agitation. Arching her eyebrows, she said,
"So, Mr Blue, last time you failed me. Can't have you roaming around." Using a battery she devoured his will to fight, replacing it with adulation towards her. "But I have many ways to ensure your heart is captivated by me." She announced, tone all mush and buttery sweet.
Three circles dotting his circlet highlighted his panic, pulled together by her tardy captivity Mouth gag and eyes wrapped, The Collector smiled with relish as he was roped within her SMC.
And while her voice was still there, engrossing him in her words, a plain, pale barefoot figure at The Collector's side stirred Blue, his heart started to thump with a knot of alarm. His mistress was using past experiences as a vicious tool of mental torture.
He was a slave and he knew he had to change. This was only the beginning of affliction. There was no more choice. He'd be broken.
The metallic tune infiltrated the latex over the hood as he noticed an iron helmet closing around his head. It fitted snugly on his head, visibly made for human proportions. The Collector locked the iron helmet securely at the back of his skull and snickered melodically.
The helmet was not heavy, yet it was robust enough to make him feel suffocated and suppressed. In contrast to his helmet as Blue, which felt uplifting and heroic, this helmet felt oppressing and demeaning. However, it was only then that he realized the actual motive of this tainted artifact.
It was as if his own mind was speaking to him, his self pummeling his self-esteem. The voices emanated from the soft speakers embedded into the helmet. They were melodic. Velvety. But, and this sent a shiver down his spine, the fact that the voices demanded him to submit to this goddess of latex was what truly horrified him. Not to admit that he was Blue, to yield like the hero he was. No. It was addressing him as if he were an ordinary person from the street.
I am not just anyone. I am not just a random person from the street! I am Blue!
Nevertheless, the voices didn't listen. They desired his unconditional devotion to The Collector.
"I know your ardor flares when you gaze upon me slave.♪" Her melodic voice rang inside the helmet, nevertheless, it was The Collector who was speaking. "I adore how attractive I appear darling, yet you slaves cannot have enough of me. You will do anything to prostrate before my heels, to humiliate yourself and lick the fabric that encases my body. Endure everything, for your goddess and you might receive minute favor from me. Before I send you away that is.♪"
Her laughter reverberated both outside and within his mind, gradually invading every thought. Blue felt chills of unfamiliar delight running down his spine as his breathing became more labored and his shackles tighter.
"The mere fact that I am bestowing my attention upon you, slave, shall become gospel to you. Soon you will obey without hesitation and never, ever question your admiration for-"
Blue roared into his muzzle to quiet the woman. He bit into it, almost breaching the flesh but the fact that she ceased her chatter in response was worth the effort. She replied with just the faintest chuckle. It was almost like a whisper in the backdrop, a seductive weapon that haunted his unconsciousness.
A whimper escaped his lips as The Collector mounted his penis for a brief moment. Then, just as suddenly as it had happened, she removed her foot. He let out a moan of dissatisfaction, also learning how much he had liked that simple touch.
With equal alacrity and warning as with the previous touch of his penis, he felt hard metal clamps securely grasp his exposed nipples. It was a shock that erotically surpassed expectation.
Sobbing under the gag to regain his freedom, Blue felt the futility of struggling against his constraints for the first time.
At this stage, everything the woman had done to him had morphed into a subtle blaze, a dull thermometer, that burned somewhere in the recesses of his mind. Yet that low fire threatened to blaze into an all-consuming blaze. He was blind, mute, almost deaf and completely and utterly at her mercy.
Then, once again, the woman positioned her boot on his penis. Cringing and suffering beneath her boot, his thoughts were set on enduring this ordeal and then gathering the energy for the next encounter. Where he intended to escape.
I am Blue! Of the Super Sentai!
His mind persisted, albeit pointless. When she removed her gleaming boot from his penis, Blue nearly voiced a sigh of gratitude to the villainess. He could hear the click of her heels as she now stood beside him. He felt her perfume tickle his nostrils even through the hood and helmet. She placed her boot on his back and began speaking. Blue, trembled with anticipation of what was to come.
"I have deprived you of movement, sight and ability to voice your thoughts. You're practically deaf. But now, I will deprive you of breath as well." She enticed with her melodic voice as she shifted the boot from his back.
Suddenly, he sensed two small tubes permeate his nostrils, venturing too deep for comfort. Blue discovered he had to breathe considerably harder to inhale any air into his lungs. Then, he felt her boot next to his face... and the breath ceased flowing. His brain was on edge not only because of lack of oxygen, but also because it was her boot residing so near his face which made him ecstatic.
His body shuddered and his legs thrashed for air and emancipation. Yet his penis was as hard as it had ever been. Erect and eager for exploitation. [End of paraphrase]
Listen to me, you're no match for me. Remember that, okay? The Collector purred, her boot still on his airways/tubes. She towered over him, her legs on both sides of his body, making him feel weak and powerless. She would occasionally let him breathe a little, just to show off her control. All he could think of was for this to end, especially as he was being hit repeatedly with her crop. Each stroke made him want to free himself even more but he needed to breathe for that, and she was in charge of giving it to him.
She was precise and methodical, the same with her hits as with the air she gave him.
Finally, she stopped and he could breathe normally again, but she didn't remove the tubes. She loosened some of the restraints and guided him out of them. As he fell to the floor in a heap, he could feel his muscles ache and his mind filled with defeat. She laughed and tied up his arms behind his back.
A moment of silence, almost sounding like a blessing to his tired mind, was broken by The Collector's voice.
"Do you think that was the only session for today, slave? No, no, no.♪" She chuckled.
The sound of heels echoed throughout the room, reminding him of his Bondage lifestyle. He could hear others being tortured and broken just like him. He'd often hope the feet would stop at his cell, hoping for his mistress to release him, but it never happened.
His lonely and enclosed cell made him feel trapped beneath his domme, no matter how much he dreamed otherwise. She filled his mind all the time, even when he slept. She'd shown him new ways to fantasize and crave, making denial even harder.
The day finally came where he heard her heels approach his cell, accompanied by the sound of locks being unfastened.
"Come out, Blue. It's time for more obedience training." Her voice was soothing.
The bondage stretching behind his legs loosened, causing him to groan in satisfaction. He could hear his gag deflate and his hood fall off, revealing The Collector.
She stood over him, a divine presence. He stared at her, her latex attire making him weak at the knees. His eyes wondered from her high leather boots, to the shiny nylon worn underneath her skirt to the tough yet compassionate expression on her face. Even with his face uncovered, he could feel her powerful gaze.
In one gloved hand she held the familiar crop, but in her other, there was food!
Real food? Surprising but... it was still food!
His ears rang with excitement, emotions collided and desires raged as hunger and erotic pleasure mixed. The hunger won over. His hunger-stricken face was too known and she laughed at the sight.
"You really want to eat? Let's see how bad you want it, okay?♪" She growled with the hint of sadistic glee.
Then came silence, a temporary relief for his tormented mind, until her words broke it.
"This is not the end, my pet.♪" The Collector smiled.
Once again, the click of heels filled the air. He'd heard this sound for so long that it no longer frightened him. He could only hope that this time, the sound would stop in front of his cell, and the keys would open it. The voices in his earphones were insidious but he'd learned to live with them.
Despite being bound by strong s obeyever restraints, he wished, deep in his heart, that his captor would visit him. He could picture her as he imagined her every day - a strong, empowered woman cloaked in latex.
The time at last came where he heard the heels above his cell again. As if on cue, the lock turned and the door clicked open.
"You want it, Blue? It's time for our next lesson in submission." The music in his ears stopped and he saw her, a vision to behold in her royal latex. From her thigh-high leather boots to her face, he was stymied.
He spent most of his life in darkness but this woman was worthy of his fantasies. His mind raced as he took her in: the shining leather boots, the tight onyx pantyhose under her skirts. Her face melted into a beautiful expression of dominance.
He saw in her hand his crop and shuddered. But there was something more. Food. Actual food.
His mind whirled with hunger, pleasure, and obedience - all vying for control. His mistress noticed his obvious hunger and threw her head back, laughing in glee.
The Mistress commanded, "Lick my legs, servant, and you'll be given some food." In her joyful voice. Anxious for both, Blue started licking the leather-clad legs of his mistress. He licked the smooth surface of her high-heeled boot. To his astonishment and discomfort, he felt aroused by the licks and the kisses he was bestowing on the tip of her boot. While he worshiped and licked her boots, lingering on the heel, begging at her feet, he felt unexpected pleasure from his task.
The last time she had humiliated him, he was enraged and opposed to being tamed, but after so many days, his punishment felt more like a reward. He enjoyed it, he savoured being under such a glorious woman, submissively licking her heel.
"Enough, slave." The Mistress ordered, and he stopped immediately. She placed a bowl in front of him, and Blue ate the porridge hungrily as he had at her boots. His oppressor placed a collar around his neck and leashed him. Despite loving the sensation of it around his neck, by the time he had licked the bowl clean, Blue's stomach tightened again as he lifted his head. The gag was once again in her hand, ready for another session of torture and humiliation.
It was a reward...
He realized.
Licking her boots was a reward for obeying, not the torturous plan she had intended. And if I wanted to do it again... I had to...
Despite the dread that filled him at the prospect of what was to come, he remained silent when she handed him the gag. He simply opened his mouth and accepted the device without protest or disapproval. Blue couldn't quite pinpoint why he was being so obedient, but one idea was the close proximity of his mistress. Having her directly in front of him grew chills down his spine and blood within his penis.
Fixating on her cleavage and admiring the shiny materials adorning the mistress was infuriatingly enticing.
She inflated the gag once more to its agonizing limit and yanked on the leash.
"Follow me, servant, I have unforgiving bondage in store for you." The Mistress snickered as he crawled after her, mesmerized by the latex-clad woman. "It pleases me to see you suffer servant, so that's how it will be, right?"
He nodded fervently to please her.
"Good dog." She praised him, and a sudden jolt of raw pleasure ran through his body.
Finally, after several dark hallways, they came to a stop under two dangling hooks. His breathing intensified at the sight of the torture device, but before he could even feel true fear, he was already held suspended by his restraints from the ceiling.
The Mistress had made a hammock of his bound body with tight leather straps, ropes, and chains, keeping his body between the hooks. He yelled in pain into his gag as he was held firmly in place by the sadistic bondage she had placed on him. His breathing was almost impossible, and the bondage was so tight it hurt his muscles and joints. But he couldn't do anything to alleviate his sadness but stare up at the ceiling.
"What a relaxing cushion you are, servant." The Mistress purred and sat on his chest. The murmur of latex announced the crossing of her legs as the servant sung songs of agony. But the pain soon mixed with pleasure. The feeling of the rubber on his skin, even through the tight bondage that held him, was indescribably sensual. "Do you like being my couch, servant?"
The mistress said indifferently while sporting a sinister smile. In spite of the pain and the suffering she was inflicting, he couldn't help but gaze longingly at his mistress. She was cruel, merciless, and sadistic, but her beauty was simply too much for his brain to withstand. He wished to lick her boots again, to touch her latex and nylon-covered body. He wanted to wallow in her power and lick every part of her attire while being tormented by the sadistic mistress. To lose control beneath her sadism and enjoy his submission to her dominance. The image of her glossy outfit and the power of The Mistress was as torturous as the bondage.
Blue longed to be a servant again, to crawl and lick every inch of her attire while being abused by the cruel Mistress. To surrender to his captor and pleasure her in any way she saw fit. The mere sight of her glossy outfit and the power of The Mistress was a form of torment when compared to the bondage.
But he couldn't even move, and the frustration of his denial was becoming just as burdensome as everything else she inflicted upon him. [He had no qualms/He had no idea/He didn't care] if it was all part of her plan.
"Well, you can be useful as a couch." The Mistress bragged demeaningly.
The chains were unfastened, and his legs crumpled to the ground. Blue gasped through his gag, barely managing to catch his breath. This was the torment The Collector had subjected him to.
Stinging pain persisted in his body as he tried to concentrate on his thoughts. However, it wasn't the physical aspect of her torture that left the deepest scar on his mind. The fact that she so easily and casually won their struggle was what hurt his ego the most. Instead of a rebel with defiant glares, fighting thoughts, and spiteful words, he found himself fawning over her. His eyes followed her every move, his mind racing with anticipation of what she would do next. Instead of spewing curses when ungagged, he whimpered and babbled.
Finally, his hands were released, and he collapsed onto the floor. With a yank on his leash and collar, The Collector guided him towards his cell beneath the floor. The lid rose, and the latex-clad woman stood close by it. She didn't need to say a word; her smile exuded evil.
In his eyes, The Collector appeared more and more like a goddess of latex and fetishism, one to be admired and served. Not just by him, but by everyone. Clad in thigh-high, red latex boots and a red catsuit made of the same material, she looked unreal.
His body trembled as he heeded her wordless command and slithered into his cramped quarters. The situation had beaten down his spirit so much that he couldn't decide which battles to fight. And fighting this one wasn't an option.
The Collector nudged the lid with her stiletto heel, and it slammed shut, trapping him above him once more.
The moment the lid closed, the earphones blasted with her voice. Wave after wave of pleasure shattered any other thoughts. His body was limp, and his mind was exhausted from the mere sound of her melodic voice. The fact that her voice also spoke of endless slavery and eternal bondage made his trapped cock scream in agony.
His teeth gritted into the ball gag as he fought the conditioning. He begged for strength against this abuse, followed by pleas into the void. Blue knew she had left.
With his hands tied behind his back, he had to use his legs to find some semblance of comfort in the claustrophobic cell. The entire situation was designed to break him down, making him feel like nothing more than a plaything. The Collector wanted absolute control over his body and to remold him into a licentious slave who craved her every word.
She succeeded. All her tortures up until now chipped away at his spirit, obliterating his sense of self-worth. However, he still held a sliver of hope. If he were conscious of her efforts, he could potentially survive and keep his sanity.
As if knowing his thoughts, the voice through the speakers grew even more soothing and hypnotic. He tried with all his might to remove this device of his corruption but without success. Blue grazed his head against the wall of the cell and even banged it in frustration, but the machine didn't budge. It held him prisoner in his own mind just like every other night.
You're my little, slavering beast. A pitiful creature that's becoming increasingly infatuated with gaining my favor and being abused. ♩
Her voice sang.
How long will it take before you beg for me? To be whipped and tortured only to be rewarded with licking my heels? All my slaves have done so before, and so will you... Blue. ♩
♪
He settled against the cold wall of the cell and surrendered to self-pity and masochistic ecstasy.
This night, like all others, sleep evaded him. There was no sanctuary in unconsciousness. At times, he would wake up, unsure if the sounds were coming from the headphones or if he heard them in reality. When these thoughts existed, his desire for her heightened. He yearned for freedom from his cramped quarters to see her again and receive her touch. Then, reality would wash over him...and he would feel heartbroken. Instead of hatred and rebellion, he craved her in a primal urge.
Blue fantasized about her with unquenchable desire, imagining himself kissing her latex-clad leg. The allure of her beauty and her fetishistic outfit held a newfound hunger within him. ♩
No matter how much his conscious mind tried to resist, his subconscious mind continued to absorb everything his master offered him. Particularly when he was alone at night, her voice would haunt him, indoctrinating him into becoming a depraved creature.
He was being transformed from the ground up, and it was only a matter of time before his depraved thoughts emerged. This realization scared him, yet he couldn't help but crave more.
There was nothing he could do to stop his metamorphosis. Slowly, Blue was being transformed into a rubber slave, longing to be enveloped in the material or lick it at his master's command. He couldn't help but question why this was happening to him, and to others.
While he dreaded those questions, he also yearned to find out. He was desperate to discover what other horrors his master had in store for him.
Yet, as the sound of high heels echoed through the dungeon, his mind was once again distracted. Time and time again, he fought the urge to become the next victim being whipped and tamed. It disgusted him, but the fear of his master's punishment only rekindled his desire to be punished.
His obsession grew even more when his master's presence filled his mind. In an instant, erotic fantasies took over his thoughts, forcing him to crave the pain of her whip.
Suddenly, the familiar sound of a lock revealing itself filled his ears. He was free to follow her once again, his mind falling silent whenever he looked upon his master's gorgeous face.
"Come, my slave. It's time for your next lesson on obedience and pleasure." Her voice cooed, and he couldn't help but feel his body ache in ecstasy. The Collector removed his chastity device, and Blue could feel his soul longing for his master's torture.
The shackles around his wrists tightened as he knelt before her. His fetishized heart burned for her, despite the pain she would inflict. She knew how to control her slaves, having taught them to put their desire for pleasure entirely in her hands, and Blue now craved the pain she offered.
As she withdrew a large whip, she laughed to herself. "Come, my pet. Let me show you what your punishment will be."
A new door opened, leading the way. Blue had no sense of time anymore, but he knew he had suffered countless times at her mercy. Today was just another day where his only thought was to please his master.
With her signature heels and glittering nylon stockings, his master's dominance was apparent. The latex shorts she wore left nothing to the imagination, and her white, button-up shirt hugged all the right curves. She radiated power, and he was helpless to resist.
Following her through room after room, Blue lost himself in the beauty of his master's every move. Her latex gloves and coat shimmered in the dim dungeon light. In the humid room, he could see her sweat through her clothing.
"You will enjoy today, won't you, Blue?" She inquired, a wicked grin playing on her lips. "Because you know I love watching you suffer."
He nodded, desperate to show just how obedient he was. He could be obedient, endure her torture, or fight her, only to become obedient in the end. She always got what she wanted.
Upon entering a chamber with large shackles attached to the walls, nervousness coursed through Blue's veins. But he knew there was no escape from his master's clutches. She, the true collector, had claimed him forever.
"Good job." She purred, and Blue felt his erection shoot up instantaneously. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach from her praise as he gawked at the toys she had placed on the table beside the restraints. He was excited to see what she had planned for him today.
First, his already bound wrists were tied to the restraints above his back. Next, leather straps were secured over his chest and attached to the ceiling shackles, along with his arms stretched out fully. His breathing quickened, both from excitement and fear, and more straps were added around his ankles before they were connected to the hanging rings. With a tight tug of the straps, Blue was pulled upward, hanging a meter or so from the floor.
This all seemed vaguely familiar to him, as if she had done something like this before. But his mind couldn't come to any solid conclusions other than obedience, and he could only revel in the joy of her torment.
Again, she cupped his chin, rubbing it softly with her cool, latex-covered hand. She looked beautiful, Blue thought as The Collector raised her gaze to meet his. Her dark glee shone in her eyes, like a hunter finding her prey.
Without saying a word, only smiling horribly at him, she pulled on the straps even harder, lifting him further off the ground. He was now eye-level with her gorgeous face.
Breathing was a challenge, and a luxury, especially with the intoxicating scent of her perfume filling his nostrils. Though feeling immense pain from the straps digging into his limbs and joints, pleasurable tremors coursed through his body. The Collector patted his gagged mouth and smiled at him, her human noose.
Contrary to the first time she used him as a chair, the pain was almost tolerable compared to the blissful oblivion he felt.
Wait... had she used me as a chair before? Why do I have these thoughts in my head?
Reality was starting to blend together in his mind. The depraved acts and tortures she inflicted on him were all he could think about, and it consumed his thoughts entirely. Nothing else mattered.
"You make a fine-looking seat, don't you?" She purred teasingly. "Should I test you out?"
Blue's eyes widened in horror and desire as his mistress mentioned using him as a seat. Yet, he could only lie there, suspended in the air by this perverted goddess and admire her beauty.
"I think I'll fix you up with some wax this time as well." She spoke proudly, and his skin burned at the thought of more agony. As the hazy lust consumed him, The Collector hovered a dark candle over his naked chest, moments before the wax began to pour over his skin. With sadistic delight written on her angelic face, she watched as the first drips splattered on his chest.
Wave after wave of burning pleasure washed over his mind as drop after drop of wax touched his now less muscular body. Already, his muffled screams of ecstasy had made her laugh with glee, as Blue writhed in pain. But he knew that his begging and pleading would only please her more.
His anguish was increased as The Collector shifted and started pouring the hot wax over his groin and inner thighs. Barely drips fell onto his throbbing penis, providing yet another way to tease his erection.
"I hope this isn't too much for you, pet." She cooed evilly. The sadistic mistress relished in the agonized look on his face, mixed with longing and worship. But there was no escape and no mercy. This was all part of his training. Training before he would be traded off to another mistress, becoming her slave. No matter how much he begged for mercy, The Collector would only guide him, leashed, toward the fate that awaited him. [Note: The original story is formatted with markdown tags, leaving it in the markdown format for the response]
Blue's lover slid the molten wax across his dick, enclosing it almost totally. Drowning in hot wax, he intended to call out for a climax, plead for no more, but only moans escaped his connected mouth. The Dom ignored his pleading and gurgling, continuing to play with his flesh.
After what appeared to be an infinite amount of time before the dripping of wax ceased. Before he could conveying his gratitude, the perverted lady's ungloved fingers touched his crotch and fondled it lightly. Delight would've resulted in an orgasm, but the rigid wax cap at the tip stopped him from achieving it.
Blue whimpered for approval, each word cut off by the gag. Denied beyond reason, the madness buried within his mind.
"Seems you're a fan of my torment, pet." She crooned in a loving way. He nodded weakly, eyes flooding with tears as he observed his wonderful owner. His mind split apart from the hypocritical mixture of her caring touch and her desperate torture bent him over. Soothing and exhilarating was her touch that, any discomfort he distinguished, shifted into a delicious frill of desire.
Stopping the dripping of wax at the tip, he attempted to plead for forgiveness but his vocals were swallowed by the relentless gag.
How could she be so cold-blooded? How did she manage to instruct and transform him into a sex-addicted mess, molding him to be their plaything? Was there any kindness in her heart?
"Here comes no relief, slave." Her tone was cavalier, casual and commanding. "You'll be fully reformed into a lust-consumed, nameless feminine toy to use as your buyer and I see fit."
Her intention was frightening, deeds heartless, yet the manner she said it made him think it was completely understandable and normal. Offered as her submissive pawn, he had to tolerate the unspeakable bondage and torture.
She finally relinquished her grip. Stretching the red candle above his encased tip, he endeavored to plead for mercy again. This time, his onomatopoeic cries were drowned by the immense gag.
Have I no soul left? How can I reconstruct her into pure depravity? What course is she setting me on now?
The Dom matter-of-factly said "Forgiveness is out of the question, toymaker."
A frail nod was all he could manage. Driven wild, tortured, abused, he was so consumed by her, longing for her to use him.
She muttered "However, that's all for today." As she rose from her throne, she untied his shackled legs for a moment before casually untying his arms, restricting him more. He fell onto the hard floor. Then she wandered over, picked up a chair and positioned it behind him.
For a second, he believed she would liberate him. But he shouldn't have, he should've known by now that even when he was allowed a climax, it'd be at her caprices.
She undid his leg manacles and left him hanging for a bit. Next, his arms were undone, sealing him to the ground. The beautiful woman sat on the smooth chair, commanding "I need you between my legs, dog."
He wobbled toward her while kneeling on the location she pointed, gazing at his idolized owner. Restricted among her legs, he felt only her foot as she sat down.
His brain reeled from the undulation of unbearable pleasure. His conflicting lust for release surged, but it was powerless against the Dom's manipulations and control. Personal dominion was slowly and uncontrollably tearing at him.
She commanded his gaze upward, an eager view of aching adoration, as he gazed at her. Her glossy hair and irresistible beauty instigated his desire. Flirty black heels, sinister tight latex shorts, wide hips and a soft, plush buttocks; a captivating presence that reigned over his messy mind. Her white vie handmade top and red leather jacket adorned her exquisiteness.
Would he be able to lick her heel? His humble request, his simply planned reverence, or would it be the next consequence of his feminine mistress?
The man didn't utter a word and crawled to her feet, settling in front of them. He started licking the heel, tracing every inch of it with his tongue. He enjoyed such shameful deeds, having done them for weeks, or what felt like weeks. His past life didn't matter anymore; it only brought the wrong kind of pain. Anything his mistress inflicted on him, he welcomed warmly.
"That's enough, slave." She chortled, moving a bowl of dog food toward him. The man scooted closer, his bonds clinking as he approached. He munched on the food she provided, grateful for her presence and the pain she gave him.
"Good boy." His mistress cooed, delighting in her lowly position over him. The oppressive atmosphere she created made him feel good, so he continued to eat, licking his bowl clean.
Next, she connected his arms and legs to thick strips of leather, tying them with ropes. Each rope put pressure on his joints, stretching them painfully. Although it hurt, the strain on his limbs brought him joy.
He admired his mistress in her shiny outfit, appreciating her every curve. His bound state left him helpless against her control, increasing his lust. He whined and mewled, aroused by the thought of her torture.
First, she put chains on his balls. Weighted down, they made him wobble. As his knees weakened, a pole extended from the floor, heading toward his anus. Luckily, his tumbling mentality prepared him for her actions, so he tried to relax and enjoy the sensation.
The Domina caressed his face and inquired, "Happy with my reign, slave?" He gazed up at her lovingly, desperately trying to form words.
"I...love...anything you...do to me, mistress," he managed to utter. His devotion to his tormentor deepened as he stared at her.
She found a ball gag, opening his mouth for its insertion. Once she locked it in place, she fetched a heavy metal collar embellished with weights. It crushed his neck, making him sweat. However, his perineum vibrated, providing him pleasure.
His mistress left the room, taking the keys with her. The scent of her unique perfume lingered, a reminder of her occasional visits. And so, Blue endured the touches of torture and requested her with each gesture.
As time passed, she allowed him a few orgasms. He thanked her, nurturing the uplifting feeling she granted him. Still, he couldn't keep the weights in place indefinitely. His limbs failed and he sank further onto the rod. If he collapsed on it, he would die, and as his owner discarded him. A new thought: If he endured long enough, perhaps she'd keep him?
After many hours, she appeared in his cell, laughing at his struggle. "Hello, sleepyhead." She said. "Missed your mistress?"
She towered above him, taking pleasure in his torment before leaving with a soft thud of the locked door.
Chapter 6
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TLDR
Donations
My Discord
Just like a dog, he panted up at her. His conditioned mind craved her, making his pleasure centers go wild. The Collector removed the shackles that he missed as soon as they were taken off him. Then, similar to a predator stalking its prey, she walked. For a long time she didn't say anything as he cowered on his knees on the floor, his head lowered onto the hard stone.
"You know I don't care if you're a superhero or not." That term came out more as a scoffing insult than a symbol of hope that it usually was for others. "But I did notice that you clung onto that idea for a while. Now, I'm sure the infatuation you had with yourself is long gone and even you don't care anymore that you were a superhero. I know that love is mine, as it always is with my slaves."
If he had any self-esteem left, those words would've hurt him, but in his current state, they only served to arouse him.
Everything she said is true. I don't belong to myself. I belong to her. I don't love myself, I love her. I'm not a hero... I'm a slave...
She stood in front of him, her heels on either side of his face. She chuckled to herself in victory for a moment before planting the tip of her heel beneath his chin and lifting it.
"But I want you to say it. I want you to admit that you were the famous hero Super Sentai Blue, that you are no longer him and that you belong to me now. That you're nothing else but a slave I can use however I want. Say that and..."
The Collector laughed cruelly.
"I might keep you. I know that's what you want.♪"
Blue didn't hesitate this time. While he denied that fact before, now he was ready to immerse himself in it.
"You can speak and touch me." She said calmly. Anyone else, and maybe even Blue in a deep, buried level, would know that it was evident The Collector didn't care about his answer. She was just playing with him.
"I was that superhero once, Mistress!" He pleaded, grabbing her heel. Blue worshipped at her feet, tears filling his eyes. "I was Super Sentai Blue, but now I'm yours, Mistress, I swear to you!"
She smirked down at him with mock sympathy before saying.
"Beg me to hump your leg and tell me who you belong to." The Collector commanded.
She didn't need to repeat the order. In an instant, her slave, the former hero Blue, hugged her nylon-clad leg with his naked body, cock tightly pressed against the fabric. His skin was throbbing with desire even before he started shaking his abdomen rhythmically. He shivered with delight as the silky material drove him crazy just as he began speaking.
He pleaded and promised to always remain hers, that he was deeply in love with her and her games, that his past life was a thing he barely remembered. Unless he was manipulating her at the beginning, he had truly fought against her mentally, but now he adored her for breaking him. He loved every second of his humiliation. His love for his imprisonment became an addiction he would never be able to shake or live without.
Blue continued to confess his pledge allegiance, how he warred internally against her at the beginning, how she was the only one who could break him and that he'd never wanted it more than now. He went through the catalog of mistreatment he now loved at her feet and explained exactly why he loved nothing but her.
"Good pet.♪" She said with a seductive tone. "Now lick my heels clean."
Without hesitation, he was now on his hands and knees licking her heels. "Thank you, Mistress-"
"No talking." The Collector said in a disinterested tone. She was clearly finishing with him. He was completely broken now and wholly hers. That's when she'd usually grow tired of her pets and sell them to the highest bidder.
He didn't even notice that they entered a room he'd never been in before. The final room of his enslavement.
The bound captive glanced anxiously at the machine in front of him. For the sliver of sanity that still remained within him, he could not fathom the purpose of the machine. But the triumphant grin that graced his master's lips supplanted his trepidation with submissive longing.
The Dominatrix stood beside the machine confidently and leaned against it. The radiance of her dungeon accentuated her gleaming outfit, showcasing her voluptuous curves.
"Approach, slave. I'll describe the proceedings as I secure you to it." He obeyed without further words. He slithered towards the machine and prostrated at the direction of his controller. She approached him, towering over his cringing stature, while he shuddered in anticipation and desire. With a flick, his collar detached, somehow leaving him feeling exposed, despite the fact that it was his only garment.
No... I don't feel naked... I feel... inadequate...
"Good boy." She remarked as he shivered and whimpered "Enter now."
He obeyed unquestionably. His years of training and discipline under the control of his master had taught him this and more.
"This little device will clean you from head to toe, both inside and out." She spoke casually, while her deft fingers fastened his restraints. His limbs were bound with smooth latex against his chest and abdomen, his physique bound to restraints that reduced him to a subdued, limp shape. He was perplexed where his restraints started but he could not move a single sinew, for his captor's binding was exceptionally precise. With a clasp, a hose was attached to his mouth and nostrils, locking them firmly, accompanied by a gratified smirk and a click.
"I'll visit you later, once you're pristine enough for an exhibition." She boasted smugly and sealed the chamber.
"I truly ought to thank Domina for these marvellous gadgets she provides me. ♪"
The dominatrix said to herself before retreating from the room.
He quivered as the apparatus sprang to life. Fluids started flowing in all directions around him, cold initially, then growing warmer as time passed. When heated, a sticky, sugary fluid trickled into his mouth, soon transforming into a pasty torrent that coated both his mouth and nostrils. He did not attempt to resist; he had been taught better.
Although he could not breathe, he experienced no dread. His devotion lay entirely with his owner. Fortunately for him, his mouth and nostrils were released soon after he gulped the fluid. A sensation of warmth and coziness washed through his body, leaving him numb and weightless. Throughout this ordeal, the liquid around him whirled in one direction before ceasing abruptly and spinning in the opposite direction. Thus, he was cleansed, his anatomy purified and his psyche putty-like due to unending lust.
This procedure endured for hours; the slave was unaware of the passage of time. Irrelevant as it was, he remained protectively awestruck. When the apparatus had finished, he was spotless and ready for his mistress to sell him.
He allowed his senses to restore, inhaling deeply as the whole episode had exhausted him. Despite longing to see his owner again, he also didn't know what her intentions were. Would it mean their final separation?
Regardless, the slave yelped in ecstasy as his bonds loosened and the machine opened, presenting his beautiful tormentor. His milky eyes stared fearfully.
"One immaculate, compliant slave is ready for the boxing arena."
The Collector beckoned him to proceed, yet his numbness lingered, rendering his scurrying as a slovenly stagger. He fumbled and crumpled repeatedly, his eyes fixed upon his ruler.
"Silly creature, crawl after me the best you can." She demurred nonchalantly. Under her command, he, of course, obeyed. Yet his sincere struggle fell short of crawling. His gaze remained focused on his dominatrix.
Ultimately, they entered a room with a large, latex-sheathed coffin placed prostrate. It appeared otherworldly and mysterious, with an eerie gloss. For a moment, his mistress was out of view before reappearing with a whip, hands on hips and a grin on her blood-red lips. It was only then that his abused mind deduced that she had changed her attire again.
"Time for your agony to commence. Leave the coffin." She commanded ruthlessly. He, of course, complied. Though his movement resembled a crawl only loosely. He stumbled and collapsed periodically, his focus unwaivering on his abusive mistress.
A vibrant red catsuit enveloped her body with the same flawless, enchanting tightness as the latex that covered the coffin beside her. It effortlessly molded to her heels and gloves, giving the villainess the appearance of being enveloped in latex. She was unavoidable, all-powerful, and sinfully ideal in his eyes. A being so far beyond him that he could only stammer.
"Do you want to be disciplined, pet? ♪"
She spoke casually.
"Yes, yes... master..." He moaned in ecstasy.
"I see." He chuckled, not to question her captive's submission to her, but for the simple enjoyment of hearing it from his own lips.
"I... because it pleases you, master..."
The Collector inquired, not to disbelieve in his dedication to her, but for the simple pleasure of hearing it from his own lips.
"I... because I'm your pet and it's my place to be disciplined, master..."
"Wonderful." He said with delight. "And why do you think you deserve to be disciplined?"
The Collector questioned, knowing that the likelihood of him being able to forget was significant, but it thrilled him to torment him in the process.
"I... I'm just your pet, master, and this is what I deserve." He stammered, fearing displeasing his master. She smiled in triumph. He continued in a more subdued tone. "No... just a pet, merely following your orders."
"Good dog." He praised with fulfillment. "For the remainder of your miserable existence, you will be disciplined. If nothing else than to remind you of your position."
The Collector was aware that the likelihood of him forgetting was negligible, but it thrilled her to torment him. She began stalking him, all the while the dread of the coffin loomed over him as strongly as her presence.
She gently touched him with her whip as he shivered beneath her touch.
"Yes, master..."
"Then beg for it. Beg for me to discipline you." He commanded.
"Please master, discipline me. Demoralize me. Punish me to your satisfaction..." He mewed while his master continued to stroke him with the whip. "Show me that I am your property."
Then his master, with ecstatic fervor, commenced her final onslaught. Each strike was delivered with enthusiasm, depriving her pet of voice or breath. A mute, silent scream was all that he was allowed. She assaulted his back and rump, before moving to his thighs.
His instincts roared with the only thing he had left, pleasure. He dribbled pre-cum onto the floor in a matter of seconds, which only served to motivate his tormentor further.
Finally, The Collector stopped whipping him, leaving the former superhero gasping for air. She ran her gloved hand over his prone form, gathering his perspiration on her shimmering fingers, with a victorious grin on her blood-red lips. The villainess handed him the sweat-covered fingers which he devoured like his final meal.
He rolled his tongue over them, savoring the flavor of his sweat and the tang of her latex. He felt triumphant, as if he had accomplished something by being so completely debased and debased with such malice.
Without uttering a word, The Collector got up from her prone form and, with the echo of her heels clicking both around and inside of him, she walked toward the coffin.
"Are you prepared to be sold, slave? To be used as nothing more than a tool that will increase my wealth to the point of forgetting you? ♪"
The Collector examined him with a smug smirk. She knew what his answer would be.
The time I spent next to her... was addictive. She had warped my psyche to love and adore everything she did to me. To the point where the mere idea of it all ending terrified me. In the real world, I would be nobody, a joke of justice. But at her feet... I was somebody. Her property. What was normality compared to the masochism I felt thanks to my master and her every command.
"Yes... master..." he said hesitantly.
"Excellent." He said with a content smile. "I'll leave you with something to remind you of me. ♪"
The Collector revealed her latex-clad boot to him, before pointing it on her heel.
"Lick." And he did with fervor.
"I've enjoyed breaking you, slave. But time is running out and our game is over. Others await my attention with the same enthusiasm as you did." Her words were almost kind. Alone they were enough to make him leak more pre-cum, the fact that he was licking his master's boot for the last time made it all the more intoxicating.
After a while, The Collector removed her boot from his mouth and placed it on the back of his head, pinning his head to the cold floor.
"I love you, master." He whispered in raw devotion.
"I know you do slave." He replied with aloof satisfaction.
Epilogue
The Collector reclined in a plush leather sofa, holding a cup of wine tightly. She swirled the liquid carelessly as she crossed her legs and stared one last time at the impeccably black coffin next to her desk. A plaque now adorned it, etched with laser-precise carvings.
TL - 845t
She grinned at the realization that yet another hero fell to her grasp in her lair. How rewarding it felt, knowing just how vulnerable everyone was to her. Then, there was a knock at the door.
"Enter." She giggled, setting down her wine glass on her desk.
The rich mahogany door creaked open to reveal her only real accomplice in the city. Domina. She stood in front of her, donned in a skin-tight catsuit, a short furry coat, latex gloves, and towering heels. Her flaming red hair framed her face and her piercing, smug eyes glimmered with amusement.
"Ah! I didn't expect you today. I'm sorry, but he's already been sold. ♪"
The Collector pointed to the coffin near her desk as she stood up. She checked her reflection in the mirror as Domina started talking.
"I'm not here for him. I have dozens of heroes back home. Why don't you keep some of them? They can be fun to manipulate, even when defeated." Domina explained as she leisurely walked towards the coffin and sat on it, crossing her long legs with nonchalance.
"I'm in it for the riches, love. The League is simply a means to an end for me." The Collector smiled to herself, her reflection enhancing her feeling of excitement. She wore her casual ensemble. A silky bodice and matching panties, polished stockings of crimson, and incredibly sharp heels.
"What's the reason for your visit?" She questioned with a sly grin. The Collector visibly perked up.
"I'm not here for him. We've found someone even better. Loki, the renowned demon hunter? He knows who and where the Hero of Ages is. Juicy is busy extracting that information from him." Domina smirked.
"Is that what she's doing? I've heard he's practically invincible, mentally."
"You'll see. But let's just say that he's been handed over to the girls and, well, eliminated, over and over again. Each time, he's been weakened even more. Would you like to witness him confessing?" The ladies beamed at each other excitedly.
"Of course! ♪" With almost a hop in their steps, the villains left the room. Abandoning the helpless hero there in his restraints.