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Breaking Black Widow (Finale) F/F - intense/verbal teasing/erotic

ThePurpleQuill

TMF Regular
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Jan 11, 2018
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161
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Her eyes glance frantically around the room, scanning their way over every surface time and time again, searching desperately for just one precious means of escape. Unfortunately, as she has been forced to confront since the very beginning of her ordeal, there is no escape for her: the sleek metallic walls of this desolate enclosure hide no passages, no hidden corridors, nothing that gives her one idea that salvation is soon to come, and the moment she realizes this is when that last glimmer of hope deep within her is extinguished for good.

Agent Natasha Romanoff, one of the most fearsome secret agents ever to walk this Earth, now finds herself feeling more helpless than ever: pitifully curled up in her bedchamber, stripped naked as the day she was born, she is fully incapable of helping herself no matter how hard she tries. For the past several weeks, she has been held captive, locked away in this horrid laboratory to serve only the sadistic appetite of her captor known only to her as Dr. Lyla. Night after endless night, day in and day out, she is teased, toyed with, and tickled beyond all hope and reason, the deranged sadist wielding her body as her sensual little plaything as though it were her only calling in life.

She inflicts upon her poor captive a myriad of torture devices by her own design, with techniques so despicable that not even the dastardliest villains in the galaxy would stoop so low as to ensure their domination. However, it is those said techniques that Dr. Lyla has mastered to an abominable degree, and only after Agent Romanoff proves to her that she is fully broken, most often through her eventual loss of consciousness after several hours of suffering, is she relinquished from her torments and back into her bedchamber. It is here that she is given but a few precious moments to rest, forced to process yet another onslaught of ticklish torments inflicted upon her toned sensual body much to her dismay, a life of hard toils making this deranged woman’s erotic and ticklish fantasies impossible for her to comprehend on any level.

Agent Romanoff’s accommodations have been meek to say the least, consisting of but a large bed placed in the center of the room, giving her nothing else to enjoy but the few moments of sleep she is allotted after her torments. Her heart races, waiting uneasily for the time when she is once again taken from the comfort of her own bed, whisked away to yet another one of the torments waiting for her beyond her control. Such has become routine, forced to recover both mentally and physically until she is once again subjected to another hellish contraption, one which will test her fortitude in a myriad of ways the likes of which she can barely withstand for the time being. However, as time has gone by, those precious few hours have seemed to whittle down to mere minutes, as time and time again, she is thrust back into the clutches of Dr. Lyla’s machines prematurely so, almost broken the moment she locks eyes with her piercing gaze.

Now, as her arms are wrapped around her legs, tears streaming down her cheeks atop the bedspread below, she can only wait until that time rears its ugly head yet again, and again seems to be coming now.

She hears a sudden sound, that of a hidden doorway opening right in the corner of the room, glancing over at the small opening from which enters the unforgettable Dr. Lyla, seemingly more menacing than ever before. She wants to bolt out of the room, using this one opportunity to seize her freedom from this wretched place. However, there is something inside of her that keeps her stuck in place: maybe it’s her rubbery legs, reduced to tatters from all the struggles her torments elicit, or maybe it’s the fear of whatever traps the horrid woman has laid for her right outside the doorway. Whatever it is, she does not take it, gazing upon the approaching woman, a mixture of fear and disdain eliciting tears within her broken eyes.

“Well there’s my little test subject,” Dr. Lyla notes, strutting her way towards the superheroine that has made quite the impression on the sultry academic. “I bet you’re wondering just what I have in store for you today, aren’t you dear?” She is different now, dressed in nothing but an oversized men’s dress shirt, just barely covering her light pink panties underneath. Her supple size seven bare feet pat against the sterling surface of the flooring below, with her milky white legs almost tantalizing to a woman so sexually repressed as Natasha is right now. Her soft patronizing tone, once eliciting the wrath and indignation of the formidable spy, is now all that Natasha can grasp onto, hoping but momentarily that there is still some humanity left in that husk of a mortal that has kept her there.

“Please just let me go already!” Natasha pleads to her captor, watching as Dr. Lyla seats herself at the edge of the mattress, staring tenderly into her eyes of a woman on the brink of madness. “I’ll give you whatever you want: you want a passcode? I’ll give it to you. Safehouse locations? You’ve got it. Just please, please…” She sees a look of exacerbation across Dr. Lyla’s face, followed by the good doctor making a zipper motion with her fingers across her lips, that which, to her dismay, seals them shut without even a warning, eliciting a tender smile from the good doctor in response.

“That’s much better,” Dr. Lyla notes, savoring the look of ultimate helplessness coming from the resilient little agent. “Sometimes, dearie, silence is truly golden.”

What just happened? Natasha ponders frantically to herself. Does Dr. Lyla have mind control power’s now? No, for all that is holy! Please nothing else! Such a thought is not unlikely to her, given the cohort of gifted individuals she must go up against. However, something inside tells her there is more than meets the eye, and with a look of near panic scrawled across her face, she carefully listens to the good doctor as she speaks.

“I bet you’re wondering just how I did that, huh?” Dr. Lyla asks her, seeing the look of dismay encapsulate her usually stern gaze. “Well, I’ll show you.” Dr. Lyla lifts her fingers up to her head, that which is mirrored by Natasha without her control, suddenly feeling the smooth surface of a metal crown placed around her forehead. She wishes to gasp in fear and dismay but, having no control over herself, given her lips forcibly sealed, she can only exhibit it through her eyes as she looks upon the tantalizing specialist, lying back upon her bed in helpless fashion.

“Marvelous,” Dr. Lyla notes, no doubt proud of yet another one of her inventions. “This is what I like to call CBRI, or Cognitive Behavioral Resistance Inhibitor: quite the mouthful to keep in your pretty little head, but I’ll try and keep it simple for you. This little device sneaks into your conscious brain and, with just a bit of neural mapping, begins diverting your primary decision pathways away from your frontal lobes. Oh, it sounds gruesome, but it’s really not: it just takes away those pesky little inhibitions of yours, making you act out in ways that you would naturally try to deny.” Natasha’s eyes turn wide as saucers, comprehending the horror that is being conveyed to her: that her brain is being rewired at this very moment, having no control over what she does so long as this crown is atop her head. Just how much of this is the actual truth, she couldn’t know, but given just how careful Dr. Lyla has been to never intentionally lie to her captive, it would seem what she was saying was accurate.

“Which brings us to this little device right here,” Dr. Lyla notes, reaching into the top of her shirt, revealing a bright ruby amulet attached to the end of a shimmering silver necklace. “This, as you may guess, is what controls you: the key to my heart, and your brain. This device synchronizes my will directly into your mind, utilizing a specially crafted language consisting of synaptic responses and hormonal measurements, making everything I experience conveyed through you. For instance…” Lifting her hand up, Dr. Lyla takes her two fingers, placing them in front of Natasha’s eyes, keeping them pressed together until, in one swift motion, she separates them, just as Natasha’s legs separate themselves in turn. She tries to close them, feeling bashful as Dr. Lyla gazes upon her freshly shaved womanhood, that which surely would not have been appropriate for the kids to see in the movies. However, no matter how hard she tries to resist, poor Natasha is powerless against the unconscious influence of her captor.

“Are you flirting with me?” Dr. Lyla playfully states, tracing her fingers up the outstretched leg of her captive, inch by inch ascending Natasha’s bare left side to her collarbone. “Don’t worry young lady: I won’t tell anyone, I promise.” A combination of stifled giggles and fearful shivers are all poor Natasha can muster, now completely helpless as she fights with every fiber of her being against the mind control keeping her docile. Her arms lay flat at her sides as Dr. Lyla begins tracing her way across her bare chest, finger by finger eliciting goosebumps atop her captive’s skin. Natasha watches as the sadistic scientist bites the side of her lip, indulging in such a powerful operative being rendered completely helpless by her own command.

“I know what you’re waiting for,” Dr. Lyla tells her, gazing lovingly at Natasha’s pink-tinted nipples just down below. “Let’s not let them feel lonely, shall we?” Ever so tenderly, she begins blowing cold air on them, watching them stiffen much to Natasha’s dismay, as Dr. Lyla begins incorporating them into her erotic teasing. Natasha purses her lips, feeling her captor’s fingertips glide their way all across her bare chest, flicking away at her hardened nipples every so often, prompting her to gasp in erotic stimulation. She tries to fight it but, feeling the warmth slowly build up down beneath her womanhood, Natasha recognizes the fact that she is slowly being aroused by the erotic attention.

“That’s a good girl: so obedient,” Dr. Lyla notes, making Natasha’s cheeks turn red being talked to so patronizingly. “Now be a dear and place your hands behind your head for me.” She does what she is told, hoisting her hands behind her scalp, interlacing her fingers as she exposes her freshly shaven underarms to her captor, surely the next tickle spot on her list to exploit. She tries with all her might to grasp the device placed round her head, but it is no use: her fingers do what they are told, and nothing more. Her body is a slave to Dr. Lyla’s will, and her mind will be soon to follow. Natasha can only watch as Dr. Lyla climbs unto the bed with her, straddling her waist as she gazes lustfully into her captive’s eyes below.

“I think you’re going to enjoy this,” says Dr. Lyla, leaning down towards Natasha’s bare breasts, licking her lips as she does so. “In fact, I know you’re going to enjoy this...eventually.” She takes aim at her left nipple, sticking out her tongue as it begins swirling all around the areola, as her lips gradually envelop the hardened organ. Natasha can only stare up to the ceiling as she is slowly going insane, being so violated by this despicable woman, all the while rendered helplessly immobile underneath, unable to resist a single bit no matter what she does. If that weren’t enough, Dr. Lyla begins ever so softly caressing her fingertips over Natasha’s bare underarms, a torrent of girlish giggles now emanating from behind her sealed lips in addition to the suppressed moans of ecstasy still sneaking their way out.

It also doesn’t help that Dr. Lyla’s moans of enjoyment begin seeping out, as though she were lapping up and down at a delicious ice cream cone the way her tongue is caressing Natasha’s voluptuous cleavage. Just what sadistic pleasure she derives from this is beyond Natasha’s comprehension: to have fought against the world’s most heinous super villains was one thing, but to be fighting against this frail pathetic creature who wields her body like a ticklish and erotic machine is beyond her paygrade. If only she could have trained herself to resist, but it is too late now, and the more time she spends within this madwoman’s grasp, the more she realizes she might not make it out of this one.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Dr. Lyla asks her, switching to her right breast, feeling it too much neglected. “Wait until you feel this now.” As she takes hold of her right breast, lapping away at the hardened nipple as the other shimmers underneath the bright lights above, Dr. Lyla gently begins pressing her crotch against Natasha’s. The spy’s eyes turn wide as saucers, feeling the sudden sensation of intense vibration whirring through her body, now discovering that Dr. Lyla had come in with a set of vibrating panties, and yet no matter what she does, not one muscle twitches of hers that is under her control.

“Compliments of Vibranium,” the good doctor notes, watching her captive try and resist such a delectable sensation, but utterly fail to do so. “I wired up a special little something for us to share, my little super spy. Just take it all in…as though you have any choice.” It is far too much for Natasha: the sensual stimulation of her breasts and nipples, the maddeningly tender tickles across her upper body, and now the pulsating vibrations pressed into her womanhood, all culminating into a torment far more devious than anything she could have anticipated. What force she had to fight these sensations has escaped her long ago, falling swiftly into Dr. Lyla’s clutches as her libido grows to unfathomable proportions, with every feeling she has surely rendered an open book to the devious scientist and her technology.

“Simply delicious,” Dr. Lyla says, hoisting herself up from Natasha’s breasts, wiping the side of her mouth of her saliva. “How’s my little spy doing?” She gazes upon the pathetic creature, reduced to whimpering murmurs, her lips still sealed tight under her control. Sweat cascades from every part of her body, a mental exertion rather than a physical one rendering her so exhausted. It is this picture that touches something deep inside of the devious woman, stroking a dark and twisted sense of sadism she has kept bottled up inside until this very moment, when she had just the right plaything to inflict it upon. With a devious curling smile, Dr. Lyla peels away yet another shred of her captive’s psyche.

“You want me to go to your feet, don’t you?” Dr. Lyla asks her, hovering her seductive gaze right over the erotic strain of her captive spy’s demeanor, catching the moment a little piece of Natasha’s sanity shatters right in front of her. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She moves downward, laying just beside the captive on her large comfortable bed, placing herself adjacent to Natasha’s pale size six left foot, the heroine having received more forced pedicures in these past six weeks than she ever had consensual ones throughout her entire life.

Natasha gazes to her side, catching a glimpse of Dr. Lyla’s bare feet swinging right in front of her: freshly pedicured, coated in a thin varnish of bright red nail polish, she can smell the strawberry foot lotion emanating from them, driving yet another sense of hers haywire. It is in this moment she feels herself envisioning what she would do with them: caressing their outstretched form as she drags her tongue across their supple soles, indulging in their sumptuous form in erotic ecstasy as though she were Dr. Lyla herself. Such a fantasy is not hers, or so she believes, but that of her captor, feeding her own thoughts into Natasha’s head to further push her towards the brink. However, given what predicament she is in now, the poor spy can barely tell just what reality is and what isn’t, having not known anything else since she was placed in this containment for what has come to feel like decades.

“Could you spread your toes, princess?” Dr. Lyla asks, prompting Natasha to unconsciously spread all five digits of her left foot for ease of access. “Thank you: how thoughtful of you.” She takes Natasha’s foot into her hands, gently pecking each one of her toes with a tender kiss like they were her own children. She does the same with the tops of her foot, ever so slowly incorporating her tongue into the mix, leaving behind shining little spots of drool with every spot she indulges in. The feelings that are bubbling up within Natasha are complex to say the least: hatred yet lust, embarrassing yet intrigue, passion yet helplessness. However, what she does next even surprises her, as she can feel her own hands gradually moving downwards, setting themselves atop her bare breasts as they begin caressing her swollen nipples. If she thought this would go unnoticed by the blonde lunatic, then she was sorely mistaken.

“I knew you were enjoying yourself!” Dr. Lyla exclaims, enveloping Natasha’s third toe with her lips, sucking on it in tandem to the spy’s hands rubbing both areolas. “In fact, let’s hear just how much you’re enjoying yourself.” Taking her fingers, Dr. Lyla makes the reverse motion of the one that sealed Natasha’s lips, prompting them to burst open as she gasps for breath, followed by the inevitable begging.

“No...please...don’t make me...uhhhh!” Natasha attempts to sway her captor’s actions, only to be enveloped in a wave of orgasmic lust as Dr. Lyla laps at her pinky toe, prompting Natasha’s hands to begin pinching at her own nipples in response. Even the light tickles Dr. Lyla throws in from time to time, skittering her nails over the sides of her foot, playfully biting the tips of her toes, elicit forced moans from Natasha’s strained gullet, training her body to react to such horrid sensations as though they were pleasurable.

“You don’t really want me to stop, do you hon?” Dr. Lyla asks her, dragging her tongue up the side of her immobilized foot, forcing Natasha to bite down atop her lip to stifle yet another gasp of pleasure. “In fact, I think you want me to do the same with your other foot, huh?” Rising from her perch, she encircles her captive, going to the other side to give Natasha’s right foot the same attention. This time, she kneels before her lowliest of appendages, not hesitating for one moment as she inserts most Natasha’s toes into her mouth, prompting the subdued spy to gasp in shock and orgasmic dismay.

Natasha cannot help but begin curling her toes, knocking against Dr. Lyla’s teeth and tongue inside of her mouth, with each sensation feeding her even more sensational arousal than she thought possible. This is joined by the feeling of fingernails gently scraping down the length of her left sole, tantalizing her flesh in more ways than one. Feeling her hands moving once again, poor Natasha is shocked to now find them placed atop her womanhood as she begins stimulating her clit, moaning unabashedly as she starts to masturbate right in front of her captor. Her eyes can barely keep themselves open, as Natasha wishes only to escape from her torments momentarily, even if it means degrading herself in front of this horrid physician. However, this time, it feels as though her actions are all her own, thinking herself to have been fully conditioned to accept her torments as rewards for her obedience.

“That’s my girl,” Dr. Lyla says to herself. “Just give in...give in Natasha...you’re mine now.” She is lost: not one thought entering her mind other than that of the erotic and ticklish sensations that currently encapsulate her. She is broken, without an ounce left within her of the stalwart spy she came here as weeks ago, just a husk of a hero left lying in erotic ecstasy on this mattress that is now her own.

“...more...more, more!” Natasha begins saying from above, beginning with a whisper but slowly transforming into a desperate cry, feeling herself approach that much-needed climax, having not experienced one for at least a week. “Yes...yes...YES!!” Natasha’s head bows backwards as Dr. Lyla begins nibbling at her toes, driving her libido up another level as she inserts her fingers into her womanhood, stroking at her sex in sacrifice of her shame. Her hips grind into thin air as she finds herself going over the edge, pushing herself into orgasm with several animalistic moans coming from her dried throat. A wave of satisfaction washes over her, having not only experienced the first self-induced orgasm of her life, but taking it back from Dr. Lyla’s control for the time being. Her heaving chest is all that remains of her pleasure, with a look of distant fantasy glazed over her strained eyes.

“That a girl,” Dr. Lyla notes, wiping the side of her cheek as she gazes on such a magnificent sight. “Just the way I like it.” She rises from her perch, making her way up towards the exhausted captive as she crawls back unto the bed, straddling Natasha’s waist once more. Leaning down, she places her face just inches from the agent’s, her sensual tone of voice mesmerizing her in a subdued state.

“This could be you every night,” Dr. Lyla offers to her, feeling Natasha’s panting breath on her face as she gives her a choice, the first and only one she has ever had. “You don’t have to go back and fight villains or save the world or anything. You can stay here, with me, and we can have this fun every night. Don’t you want that” She strokes the operative’s hair, staring deep into her softened eyes, the look of a woman pushed over the edge time and time again, transformed into something unrecognizable to her just hours before.

“...yes…” Natasha is just barely able to eek out, still gasping in well-deserved air after such a tumultuous ride laid before her.

“I want you to say it,” Dr. Lyla reiterates. “I want you to say that you want it. I want to believe you when you say it.”

“I want it,” Natasha repeats, still laying near immobile atop the bed, yet now completely relinquished from Dr. Lyla’s control, free to do whatever she pleases, and right now, what pleases her is submission to her higher power.

“If you really want it, then you have to submit to it. If you really want it, then you have to submit to me. You are my tickle pet: you belong to me, and you do as your told, and in return you will be rewarded. Is this what you want? If so, then you have to say it.” Dr. Lyla waits for a response but, in reality, she doesn’t even need one: she can feel the residual signals coming from Natasha’s mind, letting her in on what exactly she is feeling, and nothing in her mind tells her anything different than what comes out of her mouth next.

“I submit to you,” Natasha whispers, sensually as though she were now Dr. Lyla herself. “I am your tickle pet, Master. I am yours.” She leans in, placing her lips atop Natasha’s sharing a passionate kiss as her fate is sealed. She is now trapped forever in this underground laboratory as Dr. Lyla’s tickle pet, subject to the erotic and torturous fantasies Dr. Lyla cooks up for her. She is her tickle pet…just one out of the many to follow.

The End
 
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