The Skarlette One

“Oh, Steel, I know it was my idea to take on the Cunning Linguist, but I was wrong,” Satin Swinger gasped between moans of pleasure. She tried to close her legs, or scoot further up the bed, or even turn her head, but some strange force held her motionless in its grip. Her only movement was the twitching of muscles beneath her skin as ecstasy washed over her from every lick. “His tongue is too skilled. I won’t be able to last long. Help me, Steel!”

Her husband Steel Swinger sat watching the sweat bead on Satin’s flawless skin. His cock throbbed, hot and hard, confined by his costume. Part of him wanted to stand up and save his wife, but he was held in a different sort of grip. Each time he shifted position, his cock went a little soft. The delicious pressure of it pressing against its confines lessened. His balls began to ache at the loss of sensation. It was torture.

So, the superhero sat still, squirming in his chair as his wife screamed out her pleasure-slavery to the Cunning Linguist’s bewitching tongue. Only when he joined in with Satin’s desperate, needy cries were they both able to orgasm.

For better or worse, in bliss and in slavery.

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