Return

Mark followed Sabertooth off the plane, the massive mutant prowled partially down the ramp on all fours as a mere beast and pet naturally should. He wasn't wearing any clothing, his big bulbous butt-cheeks framed by a comical amount of blonde fur. Mark couldn't help but smirk, enjoying the subjugation and unknowing humiliation of an enemy now his to command and enjoy.

Behind him a step came his wives and queens, floating both like fine ornaments to his own meager presentation, a mere robe sitting open on his shoulders the full sweep of his body on display including his heavily dangling member.

The crowd awaiting his arrival on the palace's tarmac went wild at the site of him, behind the golden ropes and the heavily armed guards. They cheered and whistled and clapped. Some openly wept, babes were cast in the air towards him to be blessed, nicely fat black backsides were uncovered and thrust out against the dividing rope in hopes of catching his eye. Men and women both went to their knees and prostrated themselves on the hard ground, worshiping him with a full reverence they'd never even managed for their goddess Bast.

Mark felt his skin tingle and a thrilling shiver slide down his spine in awe at this display of his absolute power over all those around him, there was at least a hundred people in this crowd. The way they were acting showed that each and every one was someone he'd touched and delivered the same all-encompassing mental commands too, but there was something more. He could almost feel his connection to them even with meters of air between them, something like the strange powerful bond he'd felt with Scarlet Witch. Even now, he could feel her tightly wound bundle of neurons exiting the aircraft behind him.

The golden ropes and impassive guards divided the crowd into two groups to either side of the nearby entrance to the palace, creating an open pathway that held several members of Mark's enslaved leadership caste including the Wakandan Tribal Council, military leaders, the recently demoted Queen-Mother, and Chall, his head uncovered but his body tightly clothed in the Black Panther suit.

The group approached to meet Mark with Chall in the lead as he triggered his suit's nanites, causing the vibranium armor to evaporate leaving his muscular black body fully nude even as his face was engulfed by the suit's mask. He squat down as he got closer, taking on a cat-like posture. Mark's eyes briefly took in the former king's dick limply jiggling beneath him as he moved. Mark extended his hand and his pet was quick to press his mask into it.

"I am so thankful you are safe, master. I can never forgive my self. It is my fault that two separate invaders penetrated our nation's defenses. As a false king, I failed to properly prepare Wakanda to defend you. And as your pet, I failed as well, had I been at your feet that day this never would have happened."

"Relax" Mark assured him, even as he took notice of T'Challa's dick starting to thicken and stand up,. "We all make mistakes. Besides _I'm_the one that made you serve the Dora. Did you? Serve them well?"

"I believe so, master. Though you will have to ask Okoye to be sure. I licked them to many orgasms and many seemed to enjoy the reversal of roles, my backside quite sore even now."

Mark tried very hard to ignore the way his dick twitched at that declaration and the knowledge that Chall had noticed and enjoyed eliciting just that sort of reaction, transmitted cheekily into his mind by Jean.

Mark coughed, "Ahem.. and Nakia? How is she?"

"She is well. She will recover fully."

"Good. That's good." Mark felt so much relief, his worry for her survival had been something that had weighed upon him heavily. He liked Nakia, cared for her more than he rightly should, given his callous changing of her mind to suit his desires. But just because he'd molded her utterly malleable brain, didn't mean he couldn't love her or love all of the women he had made his or intended to make his, "I'll want to see her next. We've caught the one responsible."

"Yes... Natasha Romanoff..." T'Challa's voice was low and dangerous despite the ridiculous picture he made sitting on his haunches at Mark's feet, black dick fully hard and twitching.

Mark dropped his hand to Chall's massive shoulder, "You'll help me punish her in a bit."

Through the blank black cat mask came a hiss of excitement, "Yes!! I will master! Thank you!"

Mark then reached down and slapped T'Challa's ass, "Now, get, cat. And take Sabertooth with you. He's a pet too. Show him the ropes."

He laid a hand on Sabertooth's face as he squat beside him, sniffing and looking around constantly as he focused his full being on protecting his master. Obey Black Panther. Feel what Black Panther tells you to. Believe what Black Panther tells you to.

The Black Panther scampered to the side and Mark couldn't help but be amused to watch Sabertooth's massive pale hairy body follow, the both of them with erections, the mutant's significantly larger even if it was absolutely hideous.

As the beastly duo chattered off to the side, they were joined by Shuri, the nude Black Panther rather more interesting to Mark's eye, her cat-mask obscuring her face but her oh so sexy lithe black body a stark contrast to her brother's broad glistening black torso and Sabertooth's huge hairy white body, her black slit leaking her arousal profusely on to the ground between her feet. The trio sniffed at each other, obeying the ridiculous subliminal commands Mark had inlaid into their minds, nostrils flaring as noses pressed rather closely to groins and asses like the animals they now were.