Nope

Velvet Vixen swallows hard, still stretched across the wooden rake, her limbs bound wide, her body glistening in thick golden glaze from head to toe. Every inch of her costume sparkles under the warm greenhouse lights, as though she’s been painted in honey and seduction.

“Daisy,” she whispers, still breathless, “what happened to the others? What are you—what is Venus planning?”

Daisy doesn’t answer.

Not with words.

She simply dips the brush once more and, grinning, presses it between Velvet Vixen’s parted lips.

The superheroine gasps—but the moment the glaze touches her tongue, her resistance falters. It’s sweet. Strange. Floral and warm, laced with something faintly euphoric.

Her eyes widen in surprise.

Daisy chuckles.

“Knew you’d like that,” she purrs. “Tastes like heaven, don’t it? One of Venus’s special recipes.”

She slowly, deliberately pulls the brush away, trailing a sticky string of gold from Velvet Vixen’s lip. Then she sets the bucket aside and steps back, admiring her work.

Velvet Vixen lies there, bound and slicked, shimmering like an offering in some decadent floral ritual. Her body glows. Her lips glisten. Her mask clings to her damp skin like it’s become part of her.

“You’re just about perfect,” Daisy says softly, eyes roving with wicked approval. “Shiny. Soft. Sweet.”

She pulls a white cloth from her back pocket. Already soaked. Already scented.

Velvet Vixen’s breath catches.

“W-Wait—”

“Time to sleep, sweetheart,” Daisy whispers.

And with that, she presses the cloth firmly over Velvet Vixen’s mouth and nose.

The familiar, heavy scent hits fast.

The heroine’s body tenses. Her eyes flutter. Her limbs, already bound, twitch helplessly.

Daisy leans close as the light in Velvet Vixen’s eyes starts to fade.

“Main course is best served unconscious.”

Velvet Vixen’s muffled cries grow soft. Her head tilts back. Her eyes roll.

And just like that…

She’s out.