Body paint

Melissa hung face down, suspended by her wrists and ankles above a vat of turpentine. Despite the strong odor, she was eager to be dipped in. It would wash from her porcelain body the mockery of her Rocketgirl uniform that Ms Kyoto had painted on her.

The humiliating reminder of her noble crime-fighting career was bearable on its own. But Ms Kyoto's body paint was a highly potent aphrodisiac. Confined now as she was to a delicate porcelain shell, the former heroine was unable to move or even breathe. She was powerless to fight the sensual sensations that overwhelmed her under the layer of paint. Moreover, Ms Kyoto had spent weeks painstakingly brushing the paint onto Rocketgirl's body, using a tiny paintbrush to apply soft, slow, delicate strokes to small parts of Melissa's body, only very gradually covering her completely.

She'd randomly alternate applying paint in more and less erogenous regions of Melissa's body, too. She'd started with Melissa's top lip, which was bad enough. But then the tingling sensation in her top lip lasted throughout the weeks of painting everything from her elbows to her navel, her calves to her tender nipples. By the end of it, what looked to all the world like a statue of the proud Rocketgirl was actually a sexually frustrated, lust-crazed wreck with no hope for release.

Ms Kyoto kept Rocketgirl like that for a few months. Every time she walked by where Rocketgirl stood, she'd do something to either humliate or sexually tease her. She slapped her ass with a resounding echo inside the hollow chamber that had once been Rocketgirl. She posed for silly photos with her. She kissed her lips or fingered her pussy. She stroked her face or threatened to push her to the ground, reminding her that her delicate frame could now shatter beyond repair.

Her favorite activity was whispering in Rocketgirl's ear. She'd tell her provocative fantasies, "I'm getting wet just thinking of your perfect figure staying this statuesque for all eternity." Or she'd threaten her, "One of these days, I'm going to take you to the top of the Empire State Building and throw you over the edge." Or if she really wanted to get under Rocketgirl's skin, she'd describe sexual acts she wanted to engage in with her, acting some of them out and moaning.

But after a few months, she told her prisoner it was time for a change, that she'd grown bored of the painted Rocketgirl costume. "After all, there hasn't been a real Rocketgirl for almost a year now. In honor of the anniversary of my capturing you, I think it's time we wash this paint off your body."

And so now Rocketgirl found herself grateful to be lowered into the vat of turpentine. She was surprised at how cold it felt when she breached its surface. But as she was slowly submerged, she acclimated to the temperature. She was relieved to watch as the paint dissolved from her delicate figure. She wasn't even worried about drowning, she'd become so accustomed to not having to breathe.

Ms Kyoto left Rocketgirl submerged in the turpentine for just over an hour. When she was pulled out of the tank, Rocketgirl found she was exhausted. She realized her heartbeat had slowed significantly while she was in the turpentine. (She was surprised to find she still had a heartbeat at all, recognizing she had no need of a heart now that she wasn't a living thing.) She was no longer sexually aroused. After months teetering on the precipice of an orgasm that would never come, she was relieved not to feel the constant buzz of need, of unfulfilled desire, of lust for her evil captor.

"How are you feeling, My Little Lissa?" asked Ms Kyoto as she approached the clean white porcelain figure of Rocketgirl. She moved some levers that lowered Rocketgirl to a standing position on the ground. The former superheroine dripped turpentine to the floor as Ms Kyoto undid the bindings at her wrists and ankles.

"Nothing to say? Not even a 'thank you for washing me off' or 'happy anniversary,' or perhaps a 'please don't ever do that to me again, I beg you, I'll do anything you ask?' Well that's alright. I'll let you take the night off. You've more than earned it. But tomorrow we're going to start painting you with something new."

And just like that, Rocketgirl's misery returned.