The Next Day, Dusklord Checks In

Dusklord had not always wanted to be a super villain. If anyone ever actually asked him, he would have said that he never really considered anything else - it was in the blood, after all. It was where he was always going to end up, one way or another. But that didn't mean he'd always wanted to go there. There was a time in his youth when he had wanted to be a hero, when he had wanted to right wrongs, and to be cheered by the public. When he wanted to be seen as a good person.

It was a long time ago now. Sometimes, it was hard to remember just what it had been like to be that boy. When he had spoken to Redwing yesterday, he had not lied. His mother _was _a goddess. A goddess of shadow, of ****, of fear and terror. Primal she was, and terrible. It said something that of his two parents, the immortal vampire who dined upon the blood of thousands, and who was ruthless to a fault was the _kinder _parent. But in spite of all his flaws, Dusklord had always respected one thing about his father.

He had class. His father might have been a murderous bloodthirsty monsters, but when he walked into a room, every head turned to see him. He was better than you, and he knew it. He knew it so hard that he didn't have to say it, or even imply it because you saw it in his confidence. He was charming and intelligent, he always knew the right thing to say. He was someone who was used to getting his own way, but he had such a powerful level of charisma and charm that even when he was hunting them like animals, people couldn't help but like him. It was a vampire thing.

His father, of course, was no longer around. Chiefly this was because Duskord, with the help of his younger brother, had called out the old man and beaten him to a pulp, whereupon they had applied both holy water and sunlight, and then put the ashes somewhere very far away, with no means of return.

He had, as far as Duskord knew, died happy in the fact that his sons were keeping up a vital family tradition. As for his mother, well, Dusklord didn't know what she was up to, and frankly didn't care to. She was from another dimension, and as long as she stayed there, he was happy to leave her to do whatever she wanted to do. The few times she'd tried to come across, he'd had to intervene, which was one of the reasons why their relationship was not exactly typical of a mother and her son.

Which was a nice way of saying that she wanted to **** him, and that he would already have murdered her if only he could figure out how to kill a goddess.

Villain families were _so _fun.

He had already resolved that if he ever had a family, he would try to treat them a little bit better. That was to say, make it so his **** and total obliteration was not a requirement for any sons or daughters that he might sire to come into their own.

Actually, that was one of the reasons he had decided to give up villainy. He had said to Redwing that he was getting bored of it all, but this was not quite true. Rather, he was worried. Worried that his powers were growing even now. Worried that everything seemed easier and easier, worried that he might become like his father, or even worse, his mother. It was a game to him, and he used his crimes to keep score, but what would he do when that score was all that mattered to him?

He was a villian, but he prided himself on the fact that he was not a killer. Not a murderer. Not a monster like Gorehound or Dogma, but rather someone whose chosen lifestyle just happened to be somewhat on the other side of the law.

And also who liked to collect tigers.

He was currently walking down the hallway leading to the dungeon. it was the dawn of the day after Redwing had been put into the **** Maker, and he was wondering how she would look now. His cock was semi-hard just thinking about it, as much as he tried to create an air of effortless ease, he was worried about her. He hadn't expected her to last the whole night. He'd had someone manning the camera every hour of the night, waiting for her to break and beg to be let out as he had instructed her to do when she reached her limit. Instead, she'd managed to go without doing that, and Dusklord had battled with himself as to whether to pull her out or not. Ultimately, he;'d decided not to do it, knowing that it was her choice, and that she was enjoying this as much as he was.

Hah. The thought brought a smile to his lips even now. Who would have thought that it would ever end like this? He was enjoying this week as much as she was, if even more. Who would have imagined that Redwing was such a masochist? The thoughts of what she had already done combined with the thoughts of what they might yet do together, and it made it hard for him to hide his obvious erection. He did it anyway, though. After all, it wouldn't be seen to be so primitive in front of one of his followers.

''Followers'' was the important word here. Not ''minions'' or even ''servants''. Dusklord had both of those, and they usually meant people who did what he told them, and who worked for him in some capacity. But a follower was more. A follower was someone who was personally loyal to him, and who he could trust. Usually, they also had powers of their own.

She called herself Dark Angel, though he didn't know what her name actually was. She was a super, like himself and Redwing, though rather less of a combat focused one. She had pale blond hair, which she wore long, and was dressed in nylon tights, a short skirt, and a jacket over a tank top. Dark Angel had never much bothered with a costume. Dusklord had debated as to whether to bring her, but ultimately decided that he should. After all, her powers would be useful now, and he was also intrigued about something that Redwing had said yesterday, and wanted to press it further. He'd already talked to Angel, and she was all for it.

The final door slide aside, and they stepped into the room. The dungeon was composed of one large cell, split off from the main room by a metal grating. Behind the grating, the **** Maker was still where he had left it, and Redwing hung above it. Dusklord felt his throat go dry as he caught sight of her, his eyes widening. She looked totally different from when he had left.

Her hair was plastered to her naked skin, which was gleaming with sweat. Her arms were above her head, and somehow, she was managing to just barely hang, her head was tilted downwards, the fringe of brown hair falling over her face and mask. Dusklord saw that she was breathing, her chest rising and falling, her chest was forcing forwards by the position she was in, her breasts put into focus. Her nipples were hard.

He looked down, his eyes following the curves of her body, she must have been trying so very hard, because he could see that somehow, she was managing to hang just above the wand, the tip of it was pressing against her pussy, the lips of which were enflamed from the constant stimulation and shocks. It looked a bit swollen, but it was also absolutely soaking. Twin trails of dampness ran down her thighs, and a small puddle had formed below her. By the marks on the device, he could see that she had cum multiple times.

She was gasping for air, her face hidden, she looked almost defeated, and Dusklord wondered if the machine had actually broken her. He felt a spike of fear. It wasn't supposed to do that! If it got too much, she was supposed to tap out! Had he not been clear enough, or had she just been stubborn?

Redwing's strength failed, and Dusklord watched as she fell, the wand entering her pussy yet again, the sudden weight triggered the machine which shocked her. The sound of crackling filled the air, and her back arched, her breasts bounced, and she moaned, he saw that her face was flushed, red with humiliation and exertion. The stimulation was too much for her, and she came again, he watched as her legs kicked out, her body bucked, the electricity jolted her womanhood, making her whole body dance. She had tearmarks under her eyes.

Dusklord didn't quite remember moving to the control panel of the machine, but somehow he was there, the press of a button made it power down, the shock fading away, and Redwing hung by her arms, the wand still invading her womanhood. She was breathing hard and fast, her arms must have been in great pain.

He wondered what to say or do. Somehow, all of his planned speeches had fled from his mind, and he could just see her naked and ****. His cock stirred, but it was outvoted, concern beat lust as he stepped forwards.

"D-Dusklord?" Redwing said, her voice sounded hoarse, and her head tilted slightly, her eyes blinking.

"That's right," he said, "The machine is turned off now." He almost apologised, but managed to catch himself. Angel didn't know that this was the real Redwing, after all. He needed to figure out some way to gauge how Redwing was feeling without giving it away. "I trust that you still remember our conversation from before, when you accepted this role?"

"Role?" She frowned, and then seemed to figure it out, "Y-yes, of course."

"Good. Do you still want to go forward with the full term? This is, I believe, the first time that you have really felt what is expected of you."

Aka, was she sure she really wanted to keep going. Dusklord knew damn well he'd driven her to the limit with this, and he wanted to make sure she still had a desire to continue forwards. If Redwing was done, then it would be a real pity, but he'd happily take what he had already gotten. It was honestly more than he had ever expected to get.

Redwing said nothing, her eyes were on the ground, then slowly, Dusklord felt them rise, sweeping up his body, and meeting his own gaze.

"I understand," she said slowly, "I still want to continue."

A mischievous glint appeared in her eyes.

"I am still being paid for this, right?"

"You are being paid exactly what was promised to you." Technically true, he did love playing with words.

"All right, she said. "S-so after this, what would the heroine Redwing do? W-would she be broken?"

"You're asking me?"

"You're her nemesis, aren't you? What do you think would happen?"

Dusklord got what she was trying to say. amazingly, she was letting him choose what happened next. Would she be a broken ****, or a defiant hero who still needed to be punished?