Alexis's surrender

Michael wasn't satisfied with just Alexis's mental surrender; he wanted her to feel every millimeter of his cock as he turned her arrogance into fuel for his own pleasure.

He kept her pinned against the mahogany desk but, with a slow, deliberate movement, pulled back slightly, leaving her arched and hungry for more. Michael said nothing, merely watching her with the gaze of a man who held the keys to the universe. With a silent command, he made her slide off the desk onto her knees on the cold office floor, while he remained standing, towering over her.

"Now, Alexis. Show me how much you respect your new master," he whispered.

Alexis—the woman who had never bowed to anyone—did not hesitate. Her trembling fingers sought his fly, and she began to kiss him with desperate urgency. It started with slow licks, exploring the texture of his skin and the length of his cock against her breasts, before she took that masculinity—which seemed to pulse with the force of a star—into her mouth.

She began to suck voraciously, savoring the taste of power. Michael let out a low, deep sigh, feeling her tongue work with precision. But he wanted more. He gripped the back of Alexis’s neck, his long fingers sinking into her silver hair, and began to set the pace.

"Deeper, Alexis. I want to feel your throat fighting against me."

She obeyed, opening her mouth wide to take him deep, feeling the pressure against the back of her throat. The sounds of wet kisses and her ragged breathing filled the absolute silence of the office. With every rhythmic movement of her head, Alexis felt her own identity being erased, replaced by a visceral need to satisfy him. When he realized she was at her limit, Michael pulled her hard, spun her around, and threw her back onto the table—but this time, he positioned her with her back to him. With a mental command, he heightened her sensitivity, making every thrust intensely pleasurable and leaving her completely undone.

He entered her from behind with a deep, firm thrust, eliciting a muffled moan from Alexis against the wooden surface. It was a different sensation; he filled her completely, reaching depths that felt as though he were touching her very soul. The rhythm turned frenetic; the sound of their bodies colliding echoed like gunfire on a battlefield.

"You like to control everything, don't you?" Michael murmured, gripping her hips firmly. "Feel what it's like to have no control at all."

He quickly turned her over, placing her on all fours on the table; her back arched and her breasts swayed as she let out rhythmic moans. In this position, he could see her bronzed skin contrasting with the dark mahogany wood, and the expression of pure ecstasy and surrender on her face.

Michael quickened the pace—each thrust like a divine decree—moving with a power capable of making any human structure crumble. Alexis was in ecstasy; her hands gripped the edge of the table while her hips instinctively pushed back to meet his every movement.

When the climax hit him, Michael didn't hold back. He pressed her hard against the table, feeling the intense contractions of her body, and came deep inside her, filling her with the essence of the man who now ruled her existence. Alexis let out a long, shuddering moan, her eyes rolling back as the heat of his semen flooded her—sealing not just the sexual act, but the complete submission of the Queen of Metropolis to the man who had rewritten the laws of reality.

Exhausted, Alexis lies down on the floor and drifts off to sleep, satisfied—until you receive a call from Rachel (the female version of Dick Grayson), your adopted daughter. "Dad, I have something to tell you about Joe Chill." Your expression turns serious. "Go ahead."

(image credits: Lawless)