The Eyes of Mesmeralda

"No?" Mesmeralda's tone was big and mocking. "How can you say that when you're dripping for me, Shooting Star?"

And, suddenly, Mesmeralda's right arm fell from Shooting Star's shoulders, and her hand slipped between the superheroine's legs. Star couldn't control herself - she groaned, a noise of sheer pleasure.

"That's all I needed to know, hero."

Mesmeralda massaged Star's pussy through her jumpsuit, slowly, deliberately, tormenting her and pleasing her in equal measure.

"Stop," Star said, flat and unconvincing. Mesmeralda knew it, and she chuckled, purring into her superheroine's ear.

Star stopped fighting - as the villain played with her, she didn't want to fight. That touch, the pleasure, it was... perfect. She closed her eyes, and she saw Mesmeralda's in her mind. Those green eyes, glowing at her - they were perfect.

This moment was wonderful. Laura Morris' words echoed in her brain, a warning and a glorious promise for the pleasure that could be hers if only she surrendered to Mesmeralda.

And then, the pleasure seemed to vanish...

She opened her eyes, a look of disappointment in her expression, and saw a smiling Mesmeralda in front of her.

"If you loved the foreplay that much, wait until we really start having fun."

"No," whatever was left of Shooting Star, beyond the horniess and Mesmeralda's magical eyes, was still clinging on - desperately so.

Mesmeralda smirked at her in response.

"You are a fighter, Shooting Star.

"But if you want to see what you're missing, I know where there's a spare outfit.

"I think you're about Laura's size, Star.

"And I think you'd look fucking incredible in my harem."

And then, the villain turned her back on Shooting Star and simply walked away.

She knew the right thing to do was to stop her, to use her powers to take her down now and to prevent her from doing any more damage to the city. It was that simple - at least, it should have been that simple.

But she couldn't do it - after that magical, wonderful touch, Mesmeralda feeling her body, it took all of her strength just to remain standing.

She waited, frozen in place, until she was certain that the villain was gone. And then she couldn't contain herself any more. She tore open the crotch of her jumpsuit, her super-strength the only thing that could damage the material, and began to finger herself, nothing on her mind but the need to exorcise that building wave of sexual frustration.

Mesmeralda knew what she was doing, turning her on, playing with her, letting the sexual electricity paralyse her.

Did she know that Star would cum, thinking of her?

Would she be proud of her?

---

Those words, Mesmeralda's words, hung in the air, and they rested in Shooting Star's mind. The implication was there, almost designed to mock the hero.

She'd thought about the suggestion for what felt like an eternity, Mesmeralda's hint that the heroine could go and get her harem costume. That she could wear it, that she could become part of Mesmeralda's harem of women. Why would she offer? She knew the heroine knew how Mesmeralda assembled her gang, using her hypnotic powers to manipulate poor innocent women to join her in a life of crime - if she was disguised in the gang, she could use her own powers to help free them, like she'd freed Laura Morris.

That's what her mind kept insisting - well, what it kept trying to insist.

But then it kept tracking back to what it knew was the truth. She was exactly Mesmeralda's type, and it was clear that the villain wanted her to join the harem. She couldn't do it, of course, but she couldn't ignore how hot the idea made her. This stunning woman, expressing an interest in her, teasing her, playing with her. She'd awoken something within the heroine, and she liked it.

Mesmeralda had opened a bottle that Shooting Star didn't even know was shut.

The heroine didn't have to go back to it all the time, but the prospect of indulging herself every once and a while was a new and enticing idea.

The idea had pushed her to more than one orgasm last night, and every time she came, she could feel Mesmeralda's hands on her body once more.

She could have that pleasure all she wanted.

And all it would take was her submission.

She wasn't going to go through with it, of course she wasn't, but she still found herself on the roof of the Mega City police station, and she wasn't sure exactly why. No, she was lying to herself, she knew exactly why she was here.

Because Mesmeralda wanted her to be, and that was the only reason to do anything.

The building's security was no match for a superpowered individual - Star used her abilities to sneak into the police station, flying and superspeeding past officers that she'd worked with, helping to crack their cases. There was only one time she'd failed - Mesmeralda.

She'd found the answer now - if only she'd realised how incredible that answer would be, and what it would promise.

She'd looked for Mesmeralda, and she'd found her.

And Mesmeralda had helped her find herself too.

Soon, she'd made her way to the station's evidence room. She forced her way inside, and began to inspect the material, searching for her prize.

It was there, on the shelf, mundane and plain alongside evidence bags from other cases. Weapons, money, drugs - ordinarily, if a thief got into this room, they would have opted for one of those things. It was the prize of the century, the contraband that the Mega City police had collected over the years with her help.

But this was no ordinary night.

And Shooting Star was no ordinary thief.

The heroine had found a backpack, and she acted quickly, emptying the contents from the plastic evidence bag into her own bag. She was surprised how difficult it was, trying not to stop and caress every single item as she removed it. What was happening to her - what was she even thinking?

Suddenly, everything that she was, and everything she stood for, all seemed not to matter.

Only one thing did.

Mesmeralda.

Just the thought of that name, those eyes, and she was feeling aroused once again. It was a blissful, wonderful feeling. She remembered the encounter on the rooftop, and she could feel herself melting under Mesmeralda's touch.

Thinking of her, everything suddenly felt right.

What she was doing now felt right, because it was what Mesmeralda wanted, so how could it be wrong?

She was fighting different urges now - not to avoid breaking in, doing something she'd never have entered in a previous life that felt so long ago. No, it was an urge to strip now, to feel what those clothes felt like, to forsake her heroic identity and lapse into Mesmeralda.

Something, that fight felt harder.

She'd be safe soon - she told herself. She just had to get out of here, and then she could give in.

It was all so simple.

And then -

Star heard someone approach from behind.

"Shooting Star, is that you? What are you doing here?"

She turned around, and she noticed the chief of police looking at her with a confused expression. Her hand was still on the door to the evidence room, and she saw the police officer's eyes track downwards to her exposed, dripping pussy.

"What are you-?"

He never got a chance to finish the sentence. Shooting Star acted on instinct, super-speeding to the chief and incapacitating him, knocking him out and leaving his unconscious body on the floor.

She was stunned for the smallest of moments. She couldn't believe herself, but soon she could think of little else but the outfit in that backpack - whatever else she did, she needed to free it.

Why?

To study it, to use it to help her find and capture the villain?

No, those thoughts had long left her mind.

To wear it?

Or just because Mesmeralda had as good as told her to get it, and deep down, she wanted to please her?

The thought was horrible and exciting in equal measure.

Her pussy was gushing as she fled the building, the outfit safe in her hands and her heart pounding with sheer excitement.

---

On the flight back home, every instinct in her body told her how wrong this was. She'd broken into the police station, she'd stolen evidence in a crime, she'd attacked a senior police officer, and why?

For herself, for her own pleasure - for an urge that she could barely control. An urge that wasn't even there a few days ago, but which had rapidly become the only thing she could think about.

She vaguely knew, on some far-off rational level, she should be done with this all. She should find and capture Mesmeralda, and be done with all of this. She should take the bag back, before anyone knew it was missing, and take back control of the situation.

But she couldn't.

Something told her to hold onto it.

No, not something - someone.

Mesmeralda.

As she entered her apartment and thought of the villain, she unthinkingly gave the bag a small sniff - it still smelt like her friend.

Her friend? She picked herself up immediately on thinking the word, but she wasn't entirely sure why she'd even thought it in the first place. Imagine, picturing the supervillain as a friend - she would always be the enemy, a threat to deal with for the good of the city.

And she knew that - of course she knew it - but that didn't mean she couldn't acknowledge how hot the villainess was too.

How, whenever they met, Shooting Star couldn't help but fall for her, fall into her eyes and never want to get out.

Those magical, wonderful green eyes.

She wanted nothing more than to lose herself in those eyes. To find Mesmeralda, and to finally give in to her, as she should have done the first time they met.

But first - if she was going to find Mesmeralda, she wanted to be properly dressed.

Shooting Star entered her bedroom, the contraband in her hand. She emptied the backpack onto her bed, and laid out the outfit that it contained. Just the act of touching it sent waves of pleasure through her, her super-senses making every smell and touch and memory all the more exciting - all the sexier.

The leotard was there, the 'M' for Mesmeralda staring her in the face. The mask, fishnet tights and heels all sat together, so very inviting, as well as a few more items of clothing Shooting Star hadn't expected - a matching black bra and thong.

Laura's bra and thong - had Mesmeralda given them to her? Oh, Star hoped that was the case.

Before she even realised what she was doing, she had the thong in her hands. She lifted them to her face, to her nose, and breathed in, her super-smell taking in every scent of the dried pussy juice. It was incredible, an aroma unlike any other.

How many times had Laura cum in these panties?

How many times had Mesmeralda made her cum?

She felt the air on her exposed pussy, and she was suddenly aware that she was so, so wet. Looking at those clothes, knowing that putting them on would be the final act of surrender - of giving up Shooting Star, and becoming one of Mesmeralda's harem - was making her so excited, so horny. She could smell the sex in the air. She could smell that glorious pussy juice in that thong, and she wanted Mesmeralda to make her cum like that.

She couldn't take it any more.

Star had the power to change super-fast, a skill she used to transition from her civilian persona to her superhero guise when she detected a crime. She could have used it here, but somehow, it didn't feel the right thing to do.

She felt like she wanted to take her time, to savour this. She'd led two lives, and she knew how changing your outfit changed your entire persona.

She was ready to give up Star.

She was ready to herself to Mesmeralda.

Star breathed in deep, ready for this transformation.

She performed every action with great deliberateness, feeling the importance of what she was doing. She knew it was monumental - her super-senses were screaming it, and they were loving it. She replaced the thong on the bed, and set about undressing.

First, she removed her gloves. Before, she was so careful with her hero's outfit, but not now - she simply held them to one side, and dropped them to the floor. She lifted her legs in turn, pulling the zips on her combat boots and letting them fall from her feet - she didn't expect she'd be wearing flat shoes for quite some time now.

And then, her catsuit. She could have torn it off, as she'd already torn it open at the pussy, but she decided otherwise, one last hint of internal respect for the heroine she once was. She found the secret zip, concealed away on the catsuit's back, and slowly pulled it down, exposing her back and letting out a little whimper as she did. She pulled her arms free, and then rolled the dark-blue material down her torso and then her legs. She levitated into the air a little, and allowed gravity to pull the catsuit from her feet to the ground. It landed with the minutest of thuds, cast away, an afterthought to Star's transformation.

She returned to the ground, and dealt with her underwear.

The underwear was basic, functional - a sports bra and plain underpants, although the latter had been torn apart by Star earlier in the night on that rooftop as sexual frustration overcame her. It was building again, and she had no such loyalty to those clothes - she tore her panties from her bottom, and used her strength to pull the bra to shreds.

As she dropped the fabric on the floor, she noticed how hard her nipples had become. She was loving this, each moment of undress somehow building the excitement more and more.

One more to go.

She removed her mask, the mask of Shooting Star, and dropped it on the ground. It was strange - for so long, she'd been anxious about removing that mask, even in private, as she had to protect her identity. The mask was a barrier between Shooting Star, and her real life. That was always how she thought about it, anyway - but now, she knew that it was true. But she hadn't realised, until now, that she hadn't known her true self then.

Not until she met Mesmeralda, and stared into her eyes.

Her own eyes tracked upwards, and saw her reflection in her bedroom mirror. She had never really looked at herself, not in the way she was now, and she saw what Mesmeralda had seen. Her body was amazing - of course, given her job - but the way her brunette hair hung, loose and teasing, was sensual. Her face, it was attractive, just as Laura's was - she knew Mesmeralda had a type, and she got it, she truly did.

She'd never thought of women as particularly sexy before she met the supervillain, but she was starting to see it and to get it. She'd had lovers before, yes, but not female lovers.

She couldn't wait for Mesmeralda to show her the way.

Shooting Star stood there naked in her bedroom, and shifted her eyes away from her reflection looking now at her superhero outfit on the ground. She should have felt bad about discarding those clothes, but she didn't. She felt only two things - so, so excited about what she was going to do. Her pussy was practically gushing at the thought, and the knowledge that those thoughts were soon going to become reality.

And self-conscious - not at being naked, no, but feeling naked. She felt naked because, as she looked at the outfit laid out on the bed, she really she wasn't wearing what she should be wearing.

Time to give in.

She picked up the thong once again, and before she thought about wearing it, she brought it to her face and inhaled deeply, needfully. Her super-smell picked up those wonderful scents, Laura's cum and the cum of who knows how many other women that wore this underwear before. They were unclean, used, soiled - and that made the idea of wearing them so much sexier.

Star leaned forward, thong in hand, and stepped into it. She pulled it up her legs, slowly, and she groaned as she did. As the thong reached her pussy and her ass, barely covering either, she was aware how turned out she was. Her pussy was so wet - how many times would Mesmeralda make her cum in these panties?

She couldn't wait to find out the answer.

The lacy bra followed - it was far more risque than anything she owned and, much like the panties, it was clear that they had lived a life before. She pulled it on, thankful that she and Laura were of a similar bust size, and saw her nipples furiously poking against the material.

She had never worn fishnets before - hell, even tights were a bit out of her usul comfort zone, because she had feared that would draw too much attention. She was a jeans and T-shirt girl, downplaying her looks to avoid drawing the eye.

She'd be trying now, though.

Once again, she levitated silently about the ground, raising her legs and slipping each foot into the fishnets. It was a different feeling as she slowly, sensuously raised them up her legs, and there was an extra surprise when she found them around her waist. There was no crotch - these were crotchless fishnet tights. That was exciting, Star thought, and she briefly brought her hand to the thong. Her touch sent a wave though her body - any less self-control, she knew she'd have cum right then.

With each piece of clothing, Star was finding it harder to keep herself together - but she just thought of Mesmeralda. She wouldn't be happy if the job was half-done, she somehow knew that, and so she powered through - the release would only be better the longer she had to wait for it.

Star landed on the ground again, and picked up the black leotard. She studied it, upclose, as if she was seeing it for the first time. The material, black and shiny with the feel of leather, felt like electricity in her fingers. There was a single pattern on the outfit, a large M. M for Mesmeralda. If she put this on now, she knew she would be forever marked as a servant of Mesmeralda.

And she couldn't wait.

She unzipped and opened the leotard, stepping into it, before pulling it right up to her crotch. She slipped her arms through, and reached behind her to zip it up. It was a wonderful feeling, being encased in this material - it felt so liberating, bringing out her curves in all the right places and somehow making her look sexier and sexier from every new angle. She'd never worn something like this. Her old catsuit was functional, but this one - this was hot. This was something else - sure, the women in Mesmeralda's harem were being used for crime, but not just that, no. They were being used for sex, and pleasure, and they had an outfit appropriate for the task.

Star placed the pumps on her bedroom floor, and stepped into them. She was a little unsteady - these were four-inch heels, and she only ever wore flats - but she'd get used to them, she knew that. After all, that's what Mesmeralda would want.

And that left one more item of clothing before the transformation was complete.

The mask.

It was black and simple, covering the eyes and little else. It was barely a disguise. Perhaps it wasn't meant to be - perhaps it was a promise.

She picked it up, and looked it over. This was it, she realised - once she'd fully adopted Mesmeralda's uniform, once she'd allowed herself to vanish into the anonymity of the criminal's gang, she couldn't see herself as Shooting Star any more.

She would be Mesmeralda's - she would willingly surrender herself to that powerful, incredible woman.

She put on the mask.

She was fully dressed, and she felt like a new woman.

No, more than that - now, she felt like herself.

She looked at herself in the mirror once again, and something immediately caught her eye. The zip, over the crotch, something that she'd noticed the very first time she'd seen Mesmeralda's gang of hypnotised criminals. Then, she remembered being a little appalled, and she was ashamed of the memories.