Tangled Up In Capes

"I... I don't know anything about any gang, mister... ah... Architect. I was chatting to a girl in a bar and I thought..."

"So," he started talking, mercifully cutting her off. She would much rather he take charge here, lest she somehow blow the whole thing. "This is your first time, to meet a powered individual face to face?"

"It is." He had the secret smile of a conspirator now.

"Lucky me." They rose. His hands glowed a little brighter (a beautiful pastel glow she saw now, but with a colour that was... very hard to describe) and they just moved vertically up in the air another ten metres. She couldn't help but shriek.

"Lucky...?" She gasped out the word, confused, terrified. Could he slip? Let her fall?

"Lana, forgive me for being forward but sometimes I forget how social interaction works." He had barely moved a muscle from the moment she had laid eyes on him, but he just exuded power and control. How could she look away? Why would she need to forgive him for anything? "I don't have a secret identity like some heroes. I go out in civilian clothes, I go to the market to buy food and I go to the cinema, but when people look at me they know. They know that I have powers." Of course they do. "So it's hard to hold a regular conversation, and occasionally I must come off as awkward."

"I don't..." her voice was weak, lost in the wind. She wanted a cigarette.

"You're an amazingly beautiful girl Lana." Her heart, which had never really calmed down, started pumping harder still. "I'm lucky because anybody could have chanced upon you - but I did. And I'm the first superhero you've ever met. Are you cold?"

"A little." The sun was out, but they were high in the air now, the wind was whipping by and she was - well she was hardly wearing anything. Suddenly the chill breeze died, as if turned off.

"How about now?" The sun warmed her skin, she wriggled her fingers and toes. It was lovely.

"That's amazing!" She giggled, some of her strength and nerve coming back.

"I put up a wind break to the North-West - that's where the breeze is coming from."

"Can... can I ask? Can you drop me?" Her muscles were tense, she realised, she was frozen in his mid air supports like she was riding a roller coaster.

"No. Relax. There are barriers around you that you can't see. There's no way you can fall."

"Oh thank you!" She heaved a huge sigh of relief and let herself relax just a little. Looking up at him now she felt a surge of confidence Powerjack? Fuck Tabby, The Architect was something to really write home about. "So, um... you must be awfully tired, would you like an... ah... a coffee?" Oh fuck, she just offered one of the most powerful people in the world a coffee in her shoebox of an apartment. Would he laugh when he saw it?

"I'd rather stay out here. It's such a lovely day." He glanced up at the sky, which had become almost unbelievably blue without her noticing. "Lana, on a scale of one to ten, how adventurous are you?"

"I..." she gave him a dirty, crooked smile - matching the crafty smirk that had crept back onto his face. "Maybe an eight. Or a nine." She risked moving in his invisible chair and found that it was almost like a recliner, that it supported her at a shallow, almost horizontal angle, with her knees and shoulders slightly raised. She stretched out on it languorously, testing it. It was hard, but not uncomfortable. She found a comfortable position, her hands beside her, her legs slightly spread. Her skirt lay very, very high up her thighs.

"I thought so," he chuckled again, and the glow suffusing his hands flickered. "How's that?"

"How's wh-" Lana stopped, tested, gasped. She couldn't move her hands at all. Not even the tiniest millimetre - they seemed to be held in perfect, invisible casts, restraining even her fingers. "Oh fuck..."

"Such bad language." The Architect laughed louder. "You know I have to be so careful on TV, in public even, that I can't have sworn for... oh years. I trained myself not to."

"How do you stand it?" Of course she couldn't move her feet or her ankles either - they were locked in place by his powers too. She should have been panicking, but she wasn't. This was exactly what she wanted - to get down and dirty with super-powers. "I swear like a fucking sailor, mister."

"So I see. But I know some real sailors, I hate to think what they'd do with you on a three month haul." She couldn't move, she really couldn't. Even her elbows and knees seemed to be under his control now. Fuck it, she had her own powers. She licked her lips and looked up at him.

"Would they fuck me?"

"Oh Lana." He moved his body for the first time, leaning forward to look at her more intensely. "I think you're going to be a lot of fun."

And then it started. A brief sensation that at first she thought she had imagined. A pressure so soft and gentle that it could have been the wind running up the hidden cleft of her pussy, pressing against the thin fabric that protected her from the elements. She could have been imagining it, but then it happened again, and firmer.

"What..." the third time was firmer still and she knew it was him - stroking her pussy from bottom to top with... with his powers. Oh fuck, her heart was going to burst from her chest. "What are you doing?"

"At any time," he said, and she watched colours that weren't colours flicker around his hands, "you can tell me to stop. Do you want me to stop?"

She could still move her head. She shook it and he continued.

His strokes were amazingly skilful; not demanding, not attacking, just teasing at this point. Something like a ball being rolled over her slit, rolled back and forth and occasionally twisted as it rubbed over her panty-covered, hooded little clit. She lay back, she had no choice. She was entirely in his power.

"What if someone... uhn... looks up?" She was breathing more heavily, and though her question was cool, she was actually a little worried about it. What if someone really did look up from the street and see them here, or looked out of their window and... Ah shit, but it was hard to worry when he was rubbing her pussy like that. Up and down, a rolling ball.

"They never look up in neighbourhoods like this one. Who ever saw a superhero around here? And that's why I lifted us up, to get out of sight of most of those windows. I suppose someone might see - but that's part of the fun." He raised an eyebrow - so cool.

"Oh... you're very good at..." she tailed off. If there had ever been any doubt that he wasn't going to be able to turn her on it was erased now. The ball got smaller, or thinner. It kept rubbing though, up and down, teasing at her clit every now and then, and as it got thinner it got more insistent.

She felt warm, safe, as if the sky was her room, and her dress felt... actually it felt too heavy... clinging to her. The pressure on her lips, the secret, private lips between her slim thighs, increased and she... she yielded. With a gasp she felt the thin, finger-like rod press into her through her panties and she felt her lips - tingling from the rolling ball - part for it. And she was already wet - Christ, she had probably been wet from the moment she laid eyes on him, he was just that kind of guy. Her juices soaked into the ethereal silk of her thong, staining it, and she groaned.

"Very... good at..." And it kept going, this invisible finger. His finger. It rubbed her, still through her panties, it was like being teased and tormented by the world's finest invisible finger fucker. He wasn't penetrating her just... teasing her. The pressure slid up and came back down, again and again, a little quicker now - he was just making sure she was wet... wet and open and... ready...

Not just quick but impossibly, damnably constant. The pressure was gentle and as careful as a human finger, but it was moving with a speed and regularity now that no man could ever manage, no human hand could achieve. She tried to see, could only imagine how it must look - some mysterious dimple in the wet crotch of her thong being dragged up and down and up and down and...

"Oh, woah mister... careful... now..."

"Am I hurting you?"

"You know damn well you're not."

"Let me know if I am." She focussed on him for a moment and his smile, utterly confident, utterly in control, made her skin prickle - almost with irritation. "I can do a lot more you know."

"You're doing quite enou- ho-o-o-o fuck!" It was vibrating! The air... the air around the front of her panties - that was: the front of her pussy - that was: her clitoris - was vibrating. The invisible finger was still there, tracing only her lips now (and not just between them, but around them, teasing and exploring her labia as much as it could through her panties), but her clit was being... vibrated by the very air itself. "Jesus, I can't... can't..."

"I rather think you can, Lana."

"Mmmmgh!" She was losing it, so quickly, losing control of her body, of her senses. Where was the cool composure of the nightclub princess now?

The buzzing, throbbing air around her pussy was incredibly, impossibly arousing; and the stroking pressure taunted her. This was what you wanted - it said - but now, with your pussy submitting, with your panties soaked, moments from being forced to orgasm... don't you feel a little out of your depth?

She moved her head - the only thing she had control over, flicking her short hair. The muscles of her thin bare arms tensed in their transparent restraints. She was making noises now, or rather her pussy was - through her panties even - wet, humiliating sounds of defeat and control.

The vibrations seemed to swirl around her crotch, and she gave a little mewling yelp of surprise as they disappeared from her clit and reappeared stimulating her tiny, puckered asshole. In a moment they were back though, the vibrations, shaking her through her clit.

Her panties had become sodden beyond anything she had ever experienced before - a product of the worlds greatest magical vibrator and that constant, probing finger, keeping her lips apart behind their silk barricade. So sodden in fact were they that she started to feel an occasional twitch, like maybe she was dripping, dripping her juices through her panties. That was... that couldn't be right...

"Oh please, oh please..."

"You don't have to ask!" He laughed, and she was happy because she honestly had no idea what she had been asking for. Probably the orgasm that was clearly inevitable, looming over her like a toppling skyscraper or a falling jumbo jet.

She was still clothed, just as she had been when she first came out onto the roof, but she had entered a different world. She realised that the reason her dress felt heavy was that it was sticking to her - clinging to her sweat-drenched body. She opened her eyes and saw the sky, infinite and blue above her. Down below she knew there was nothing, nothing but the defiance of physics keeping her up here.

The buzzing - it wasn't even focussing on her clit anymore. It was a diffuse thrum that made her final ascent frustrating... torturous. She started itching... her back prickling... why hadn't she come yet? She had been on the edge for what seemed like forever but he had been... She felt her pussy twitch again... felt sweat drip from her cheek - was she dripping cum? Was he catching it? Was it raining down on the street?

Oh fuck, he'd been toying with her. He knew exactly when she was going to cum, and he'd backed off, she realised. He was in no rush at all... wasn't there a global crisis or something that he needed to help out with? She felt dizzy and the prickling, itching rash of denial started to spread until it was as if her whole body was crackling with energy that would never be released, that she would have to bottle up forever. She did have to ask.

"Please, no more..."

"You're not used to denial are you? Postponing the pleasure makes it all the sweeter, Lana."

"I'm... hgn... going to lose my mind!" She gasped, the words fat, sticking in her throat as she tried to spit them out. The buzzing, the stroking: never-ending. She imagined her nipples becoming as hard as diamonds, slicing through her thin dress. Her muscles were taught, locked in her perfectly moulded prison. Her neck arched, head thrown back. She was dripping, she was sure, dripping her dirty juices through the ruined silk of her new panties. "Please, God, please I need to come."

"As you wish."

The vibrations intensified, suddenly and massively. And along with that the stroking gained force, dragging the silk between her lips - forcing the crotch of her thong right up into her cunt.

That was more than enough.

"Jesus! Sweet fucking Jesus! OH! Hrrnngh!" She would have been thrashing, spasming, losing her mind, had she not been so perfectly and totally restrained. As it was she just lay there in the air completely still, her neck muscles straining and taught, as her mind alone did backflips and the flooded valley between her thighs shuddered, clenched and let out a further, shameful rush of girl-cum. "I'm coming... co... fuck..."

"I like you a lot Lana." These words dimly filtered through the fizzing, crackling veil of her violent, sustained climax. She tasted blood, must have bitten her lip, didn't care.

"My... my God... that..." The muscles that had been taught and twitching on her neck finally relaxed, and she slumped back. Rather - she felt like she had slumped, but she was so carefully held that she barely moved at all. "That was scary."

"You're completely safe with me, Lana. Do you want to leave? To go back inside?" His tone had almost no inflection this time and she had to project her own interpretation onto it. Was he finished with her? Concerned for her? Taunting her? She struggled to open her eyes and raise her head to look at him.

"How many? How often do you do this?"

"Not as often as you're probably thinking. I'd like you to stay up here with me a little longer, Lana - you really are wonderful company."

"You like..." she had to take a huge, shuddering breath to finish her sentence, "... watching girls climax then?"

"Oh, did you come? I didn't notice." Oh my God, she thought, he has a sense of humour too. Of some kind. She focused on his shit-eating grin and narrowed her eyes - the only kind of chastisement she had the strength for. She really wasn't sure if she should stay there. The total loss of control, the knowledge that she was fucking floating forty or fifty metres in the air... her climax had honestly been terrifying. "Do you trust me?" he prompted.

"I..." she stopped, thought about Tabby again, and who she was talking to. "Did you rescue that ferry last week?"

"Yes," he looked away and smiled in a curious way, it was the first time she had seen him anything other than utterly in control, "Yes, that was me."

"You saved every life on that boat."

"I don't like to..."

"I trust you," and that was the first time that she had interrupted him, and it felt like cutting off the President during his State of the Union speech. "Let's play."

"Oh, I'm so glad you said that." His hands again - that flickering light - and she felt fingertips brushing her shoulders, running down her slender flanks, stroking her hips and the prominent bones of her pelvis. Then she felt cool, comfortable, free. Oh no.

"Hey! Hey wait!" He had carefully and dexterously stripped her stark naked, slicing through the preciously thin cotton of her sundress and through the thin straps of her silk thong. She watched as her sundress reformed itself around some new, voluptuous invisible woman and walked itself away, waiting in the air some ten feet away. And then she blushed and cringed in embarrassment as she felt her thong being peeled off her dripping wet pussy.

It came away and he rotated it in the air for her to see the disgraceful condition it had got into. She was suitably mortified, but her skin prickled once again as she felt the small flood that had been held back by the slip of fabric start to drip out of her.

"Oh... oh, look at that," he grinned - and then her forced her to. She felt her invisible bonds moving, and she moved with them. It was as if he was controlling her like a puppet, and a cold knot of panic formed for a split second as she thought of all the things he could really do to her... or make her do to herself.

For now though he was just sitting her up as though she was in a very deep chair - her back slightly curved, leaning forwards, her knees above her waist, her arms comfortably resting, as if on arm-rests, either side of her. Then he forced her thighs open - wider - and she gasped. In this position she could crane her neck and look up at him but it was much easier to just let her head fall forwards, and when she was in that position she was looking straight at her own sopping wet cunt.

She felt like a dog having its nose rubbed in the mess it had just made. And she was a mess, her labia dark and relaxed allowing her to see the vivid pink flesh they were protecting, and her juices dripping. Oh God.

A long, sticky, string of cum was hanging from the bottom of her pussy, clinging to the edge of her lips and part of her thigh, but stretching and lengthening and gaining weight as she watched.

"You're going to drip on the street in a moment," he said, and she could swear he was just plain taunting her this time. "I hope none of your neighbours are passing by."

"You can... you can catch it."

"Catch what?" She cursed him, silently.

"Catch my... my cum."

"Why would I want to do that?" She both felt and saw it fall, plummeting from the soft cleft between her thighs into the abyss below. And almost straight away another fat, juicy-looking string of girl juice started to form. She made a noise, half clearing her throat, that was almost a sob.

"What a perfect pussy." He was leaning forwards again, shamelessly examining her. She had no problem with it of course, not really. She would happily give this god amongst men much more than he had already taken, but there was something about the fact that he was still restraining her - that she couldn't have covered herself and protected her modesty even if she had wanted to - that made her cheeks burn once more in spite of herself.

Suddenly it hit her that the view she was looking down on - the familiar trees and low buildings of her neighbourhood from a whole new perspective - wasn't special effects. She was really doing this - hovering naked above the city with The Architect, one of the world's most beloved heroes.

The man who had brought her to the most terrifying orgasm of her life.

The view was really quite something though.

"I hope you like this," he said quietly and she saw him flex his fingers as if warming up for a piano recital, "Though I have to admit that I had to practice on some other girls to get this good - you're not the first."

"I kind of doubted I was," she managed a smile, but her pulse was pounding and her nerves were jangling too much for her to offer anything more.

The finger returned, a sensation she was familiar with, making its way up and down her flushed cleft. But before she had been lying back, and clothed - she hadn't been able to see anything. Now she could see how her lips were parted, how the flesh was being stroked, how he now... oh... pulled her labia out, tugging her lips apart - and yet there was no hand, there were no fingers, nothing. It looked as if her pussy was moving of its own volition, and it fascinated, excited and horrified her all at once.

"Oh God, this is crazy."

"I've been told it's quite like an out of body experience, watching this happen to yourself." His movements, or rather the movements of the forces under his command were so skilful, so perfect, that she was astonished he could still concentrate enough to talk.

"It's... so strange. Oh no!" She exclaimed as another heavy drop of fluid fell from her soft skin and plummeted to earth.