"Taylor." The now named Taylor said matter of factly while pulling out a feather duster.
* * *
Amy paused outside the door to the family room, listening to Taylor talk to her father.
"Please don't be difficult, Master Mark," she said. "Mistress Carol was very clear about making sure you receive your medication."
"I'll get it later." Came her father's mumbled reply.
"Mistress Carol was very clear," Taylor repeated.
There was a moment of silence, and then the sound of someone rattling the pill bottle menacingly.
Taylor's voice carried out to Amy, silky sweet as always. "You won't make this difficult for me, will you?"
Amy froze where she stood, her mind already sweeping into images of Taylor bearing down on Mark Dallon.
Of course, Taylor would be in her maid outfit. The same outfit that was completely formal and demure, but in Amy's mind, somehow managed to accentuate Taylor's bust, hips, and magnificently long legs. Taylor would put one foot up on the couch, towering over Mark. He would look to the side, eyes sweeping up the long, white-stocking-clad length of her leg, just barely catching a glimpse of the edge of her garter belt from the angle he sat at.
"Will I have to force you?" Taylor would say.
And Mark would reply, all stubbornness, "You couldn't if you tried."
And then Taylor would open the pill bottle and shake two pills onto her sleek white silk gloves. She'd stick out her little pink tongue and place the pills there, doing it so Mark could watch.
"How's this?" Taylor would say. And then she'd lean in and press her tongue into his mouth, the brief contact stretching out as the kiss magnified, becoming deeper and longer. Taylor would pull back panting, a single wisp of black hair escaping from under her cap.
"Another dose?" She'd ask.
Mark wouldn't answer. He'd just pull her into his lap and wrap his arms around her. Only then, he'd stop.
"I think someone else needs some tender care," he'd say. And then the door would swing open, and there, standing silhouetted in the frame would be her, Amy Dallon!
"Medical care is my duty," she'd purr. "I think you need to be punished for overstepping your boundaries, Taylor."
Taylor would turn in Mark's lap and spread her legs, tugging her ruffled skirt up to just the edge of decency.
"Come and discipline me then," Taylor would whisper.
Amy would undo the zipper on her robe and let it fall, exposing her bare body beneath. She'd stride forward, rolling her hips as she went, closing in on the goddess before her and—
"Miss Amy?"
She jumped, letting out a high pitched shriek.
Taylor was looking at her with concern. "Are you alright? Your nose is bleeding."
Amy stumbled backward, holding out her hands to ward Taylor away.
"I— I just need to— I need to go!"
"Nonsense," Taylor said. She pressed the back of her hand to Amy's head. "Why, you feel positively feverish. Why don't I put you to bed?"
Amy fainted.
Lily / Taylor Shardswap
(Автор: Subrosian_Smithy)
Taylor laughed eagerly as she continued her work. She'd arrived in the middle of a pitched battle between the ABB, and the E88, but her fears had been for naught as she'd dealt with the capes with ease. Both Lung and Hookwolf had been handily bisected, and were now too busy regrowing their missing halves to try and escalate. The other two E88 capes were already ensnared by her wires, and Taylor pulled them taut, ignoring the panicked cries of Rune and Night.
"..."
"Wait, we're alive?"
Taylor grinned. "I've got a little more control then I seem, eh?" Taylor pulled the wires tighter again, shutting down on her power before she cut their skin. Shredded costumes slid off of her victims.
"Hey!" Rune spat. "You fucking pervert-"
"Now, what should I do now?" Taylor mused. "I could leave you tied up here, in the nude for all to see. Or maybe I should take you back home, and deal with you there~"
Night whimpered.
* * *
Meanwhile, another cape was not nearly having as much fun with her power.
"This sucks!" Lily groused. "I'm a lesbian submissive with the power to dominate everything!
Clit Penis
(Автор: vyor)
Taylor was feeling really good right now. Really good. She wasn't quite sure how it got to this point, but she didn't care at the moment. What she did care about was the pleasure jolting through her body every time Amy bounced on the extremely engorged clit that currently resided in between her legs, and inside Amy's slit. She also cared about the way Amy's breasts bounced slightly as the rest of her did the same, and about the moans coming from her throat as she used Taylor to get herself off.
But what she cared most about was how Amy was preventing her from having an orgasm. She was going to go crazy if this kept up much longer. Not allowed to thrust, not allowed to caress or grope, not even allowed to cum, she was being forced to act as a glorified dildo. Pure torture... and she loved every second of it.
"Amy! Please, let me-" Amy cut her off with a kiss and stopped all other movement.
"What was that? Please stop? Well if you insist..." Her voice was low, almost silent, but as she whispered into Taylor's ear, so close that her breath tickled it, she thought that they were the worst, most ominus words ever spoken.
She giggled at Taylor's whimper, then she started to pull away.
"No! Please don't stop!"
Amy had most of the clit out of her by that point, only the tip remained.
"Hmm, well, if you insist."
At that she slammed herself down, tearing a scream from Taylor's throat and a moan from her own.
"Don't worry, I'm almost at my limit."
Taylor could only whimper, writhe, and moan as Amy picked up the pace. Faster and faster she went, not bothering to draw it out even longer.
Then Amy started to tremble.
"Cum with me pet!"
Amy kissed her before she could start to scream in sweet release, muffling it with her mouth.
They rode out the dual orgasm as Amy forced her to remain conscious with her power.
"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?"
Taylor could say anything to that, so she didn't, she just kissed the girl who gave her such pleasure.
"I think I need to lie down somewhere..."
"Well... we're on a nice bed right now."
"Oh... ya, we are. I think I'm just going to go to sleep now."
"I'll join you..."
They didn't wake up until noon the next day.
Anemone
(Автор: truebeasts)
So I wrote another installment of that Amy/Ingenue snippet that you liked. It's slightly weirder in terms of power usage — clearly Amy has been reading more Octavia Butler than is strictly good for her.
Previously:
Ingenue asked for a favor (not porn): http://archiveofourown.org/works/3210152
Ingenue failed to choose an appropriate outfit (irredeemable smut):
http://forum.questionablequesting.com/threads/worm-ideas-thread.429/page-274#post-379329
* * *
She was in the same room, this time. She'd — she'd cut the tracker out of her arm, but they'd simply put it back in — she'd hated it the last time, and this time was barely better. Not that she was technically a prisoner, not now. She had free run of the Wardens' base, even if the heroes did pointedly pause their conversations and cover up their written work when she came near. Even if all of the unpowered workers looked at her nervously, despite the draw she knew she had on them (and really, why should they be afraid of her? With them, after all, she could only work the normal sorts of sadism). She had her own phone, even if it had come programmed with some byzantine firewall to keep her from making off-world calls. They weren't tracking her movements when she left the base. Or, at least — and Ingenue suspected that this was the real explanation — at least Dragon was too polite to put her drones where Ingenue could see them.
It was funny, the way her memories overlapped each other. Things felt stretched, attenuated. She couldn't quite remember what it had felt like to long for Chevalier, but she walked into her room — the painted screen in the corner, the pin-up girls on the walls, the makeup and perfume on the vanity — and the claustrophobia closed around her like a vice.
Too like the Birdcage, maybe. Hundreds of capes just beyond her door, close enough to touch, and she couldn't do anything with them. On the first day she'd taken the whole room apart. Mattress pulled off of the bed, pictures torn down, cosmetics opened and thrown aside. She'd had the idea that she was looking for cameras, and then she hadn't been able to stop. Her strength was more than human strength now, thanks to Amelia, and she'd heaved the vanity onto its side and put her fist through the wall behind it. Sunk down to the floor, panting. The next day she found that someone had pointedly increased her sessions with the Wardens' therapist to three times a week.
Which was still less frequently than Amelia was going.
Ingenue stepped out of her bedroom. No need to lock it — the door's lock was keyed to her fingerprint. Of course Dragon could override that, in the unlikely eventuality that she didn't already know what Ingenue was doing in her room.
The fact was that they didn't know exactly what Ingenue's power did, now. It certainly still did something — she could feel it when she used it, the doubling of her vision and the acid sting of Amelia's power shaping itself around her, a physical pressure as much as a mental one, the weight and the vertigo and the rush of it. Different than it had been. It probably wasn't going to make her crazy. But it wasn't like the Wardens would let her test it on anyone else (she wasn't supposed to be using it with Amelia either), even if Ingenue had proposed that with the right preparation, Amelia could simply reset their brains when they were done.
For some reason, they hadn't found that encouraging. Oh well.
They hadn't tried to stop her from seeing Amelia, yet, though. Maybe they thought the girl was more likely to be a danger if she was kept away from what she wanted. Maybe they wanted her power enough to take the chance.
Which was why Ingenue was hovering outside of the therapist's door, full of restless, nervous energy. She flicked the brass plaque — Jessica Yamada — with one fingernail. Looked at her phone. It was seven minutes after one, which meant that the session had gone seven minutes over, and also Ingenue was going to scream with boredom and claustrophobia.
The feeling inside her head was a dark wave full of — trash, detritus, a wall of dirty water rising up to sweep her thoughts away. It was a living monster that was growing too fat to fit into her skull. It was — out, vile spot, oh, that was almost funny, it was an itch, a swollen tick somewhere inside her, and it grew in her consciousness until she was ready to take herself apart to get it out.
There was a breathing exercise she was supposed to do when she felt like this. She was supposed to relax her muscles, open her mind, imagine herself someplace else. It wasn't helping. She felt like her skin was shrinking, suffocating her.
The door finally opened, and Amelia stepped out. Her eyes met Ingenue's, and she shot her a small smile as she turned back to say goodbye to the woman, Yamada. Then the door clicked shut, and Ingenue had her hand around Amelia's wrist and was dragging her down the hall to the women's bathroom, locking the door with a click. The overhead light, linked to a motion sensor, burst into life with a soft hum.
"What — ?" Amelia's question cut off with a squeak as Ingenue pushed her back against the door and kissed her, pinning her arms above her head. Ingenue could feel the fragile bones in her hands and the pressure of her teeth against her tongue and the way her power sparked and flared under Ingenue's touch, fur and feathers and scales and blood and slick skin, that sting that traveled like lightning from her fingertips to the point at the back of her head where her spine joined her skull. She focused on the sting, the kiss, forced the other vast black thing that was curled up in her head to move to make room for it.
When she pulled back, Amelia was gasping, her eyes a little unfocused.
"I need you to fix me," Ingenue said. "Now. It's..." She made a vague gesture in the vicinity of her head, trying to find the words for the fat snake of claustrophobia moving down her spine.
"It's a really bad mood," she finished, lamely.
Amelia took her hand and let her breath out through her teeth with a hiss.
"Shit, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize when you grabbed me..."
"It's fine. Do you want my help?" Easier to lean into the darkness when she knew it was going to go away in a moment or two. She breathed out. Amelia nodded.
Ingenue felt Amy's power brighten under her touch, flare and fade like phosphorescence, and for a moment the extraordinary machine of her own body was laid out before her inner eye, a network of infinite complexity, pulsingly alive. Then the vision faded and she was left with the throbbing pressure of Amy's power under her hands, lightheaded, her mouth suddenly wet, her heartbeat in her throat. She felt it as her power moved through her, like the soft pressure of hands on her head. Inside her head. She couldn't affect the outcome, but she could see the flare and fade where Amelia touched her. Could feel the tightness in her skull easing away.
She sighed and leaned against the door, her arm pillowed on her forehead.
"Thanks. That's better." She closed her eyes for a moment.
Before, those black moods had welled up when she didn't use her power, or when she lost access to someone who'd been under her control. Now, she never quite knew when they were going to come on, the pressure, the sudden certainty that she was going to die if it didn't stop.
"I think I fixed it," Amelia murmured. "I'm kind of afraid to keep fiddling with it, though. I get more control when you help, I can see a little bit more around the shard, but it's like...painting, not science. I see it the way you would, I think, and I'm afraid that I'm fucking it up in some way I won't notice until it's too late to fix."
Ingenue smiled, looping her arm around Amelia's waist, her shoulders pressed against the door.
"You know, it could be interesting. Wipe my mind or turn me crazy, I bet they'd stop bothering to make you go to therapy." It was impossible to be worried when she felt so languidly pleasant, so suddenly.
Amelia's scandalized laugh was close enough that Ingenue felt the puff of her breath against her cheek.
"Bitch," Amy murmured. But she was biting her lips over a smile.
