This story is one chapter ahead on my Patreon!

---

Part Two

She really is lovely… for an intruder…

Vandal Savage had his eyes set upon the unconscious woman sitting in his study. He had bound her wrists and ankles with rope, just in case. She had shot him three times in the chest and Savage wasn’t interested in another scuffle. Especially not in his own home. 

For a long time he silently drank in the fullness of her cheeks, her delicate nose, the plump softness of her lips, and her long, golden hair. But that was only her face. Lower, his eyes took in the fullness of her body. Her bosom was ample and defined even under her black leather coat and despite the cool weather she wore a rather short pleated skirt, showing off her long, creamy legs.

Her identity was no mystery. She was Zinda Blake, the Lady Blackhawk, superheroine, pilot for the Birds of Prey, and occasional ally to the Justice League. But why had she come to his domain, Savage wondered.

She began to stir, groaning as consciousness returned to her. The dust he had used to incapacitate her had worn off, it seemed. Savage would have his answers soon.

Her eyes fluttered open, revealing once more those vibrant pools of blue. A lesser man could easily get lost in those eyes, Savage knew. Her gaze was slow, unfocused, but only for a moment. He watched her regain her bearings, her senses visibly coming back to her. Zinda breathed in, glancing quickly around the room, at Savage, then at the rope wrapped tightly around her wrists. She began to struggle against them, vainly attempting to draw her hands free.

“You don’t need to do that.” Savage told her calmly, hoping to ease the anxiety that she likely felt. The last thing she probably remembered was shooting at him, Savage knew. He approached with measured steps, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll untie you myself in a few minutes. All you need to do is just sit there and listen.”

Zinda shot him a glare, jerking her shoulder away from his touch. She continued to try and work her hands free of the rope.

“I don’t need to listen to a damn thing!” She spat at him, her pretty face twisted into a seething scowl. “I’ve seen enough! And I know a damn cult when I see one!”

There was clear and obvious anger in her eyes, but also a not insignificant spike of fear. Savage noticed. And he understood. Surely, her mind was racing, dreading what he, the villainous Vandal Savage, would do to her. Savage did not feel insulted for her assumptions of his character. The sad truth was that the world was often a dark and violent place and the women who lived in it had plenty of reason to fear. Even the superheroines.

But still, Savage would not abide his sanctuary being derided.

“You see a thriving town where everyone pitches in for the betterment of the group and all you can think to call it is a cult? Such is the sorry state of modern society.” Savage groused, frowning. He would banish the fear from Zinda Blake’s mind. It would be good for her as it was for all the homeless who flocked to the safety of Savagetown. The immortal dug into his pocket, drawing out the amulet with the black stone. “Consider this a blessing then. The gift of my illumination.”

He held out his arm, letting the amulet sway back and forth in front of Zinda’s face. The blonde continued to struggle against her binds, but spared the odd trinket a passing, befuddled glance.

“The gift of your… Just what the hell are you talking about?” She asked with a shake of her head.

The amulet continued to swing back and forth. The black gemstone caught the light, glimmering in its peculiar, enthralling way. Zinda Blake didn’t know it yet, but she belonged to Vandal Savage now. It would only take a moment for the amulet’s magic to sink its tendrils into her mind.

“Will you serve?” Savage spoke the words firmly, his voice booming off the walls of his study. But those words weren’t just any words. They were the words.

The anger dropped from Zinda’s face, her eyes fluttering open and shut. She recoiled, falling back into the cushioned backrest of her seat as if struck by an invisible force. A moment later she regained some composure, leveling a bewildered stare at the man that towered over her.

“I… what? How… how did you…?”

The blonde’s eyes danced around the room. Savage imagined she was trying desperately to make sense of the overhaul of her emotions and her ability to choose. The amulet worked fast and that pleased the immortal greatly. He looked on, satisfied, as the anger and tension Zinda had shown vanished from her body language. Now she appeared much more calm and relaxed, no longer struggling to remove the ropes.

“Will you serve?” Savage spoke again, demanding an answer this time.

Zinda Blake, the Lady Blackhawk, blinked. She breathed in slowly, calm and measured. She turned her gaze upward to meet Savage’s, looking upon her captive without fear or anger or the expected righteous fury of a superheroine.

“I will serve.” She answered in a soft but clear voice, offering a small bow of her head.

Vandal Savage, for perhaps the millionth time in countless millennia of life, stood victorious. The immortal allowed himself a small grin as he stuffed the amulet back into his pocket. He stepped forward, looming over his new, beautiful prize.

“Good.” He gave his captive a curt but satisfied nod. He reached into his back pocket and produced a small pocket knife. His grin grew when he noted Zinda did not recoil in fear. He flipped out the small blade and held it against the rope, pausing to speak to her his first command. “When I release you from these bindings, you will not attempt to flee. And you will not attempt to fight me.”

Zinda nodded.

“No. I will not.” She told him with conviction. “Of course not.”

Savage smiled wider. She was his, certainly, but she was no docile pet. The fire inside her still burned brilliantly. He could see it in her eyes. Blue flames blazed within them. The only difference now was that instead of burning with anger and hate towards him, they now burned with something else entirely. Something far more enjoyable. For both of them.

Savage began to slice through the ropes. As he did, he issued to his captive a few more commands.

“You will not attempt to harm my followers. You will not attempt to harm yourself. You will not reveal anything about myself or this commune to your hero friends back at the Justice League.”

Obvious things like that. Savage was simply covering his bases.

Zinda nodded obediently to all of them, tucking a lock of blond hair behind an ear with her now-free hand. She remained seated, clasping her hands together atop her skirt-covered lap. Like a schoolgirl waiting for the teacher’s directions. Savage committed the image to memory as he began to slice through the rope tied around Zinda’s ankles.

“I won’t do any of that.” She told him earnestly. Her voice held a slight edge even now under his spell. Savage decided he liked it. “I promise.”

The immortal was pleased to hear it. So pleased, in fact, that he felt a familiar stirring in his loins. His manhood twitched, awakening with the racing of his heart. Victory, it seemed, had brought to him a nice helping of excitement.

“Of course. The brave and heroic Lady Blackhawk isn’t a liar.” Savage finished cutting, flipping the pocket knife closed and stuffing it back into his pocket. He stood to his full height, once more towering over his new blonde devotee. He crossed his thick arms, looking down at his new plaything with hungry eyes. “No, she’s as honest and direct as she is beautiful.”

Zinda Blake remained seated, a look of… anticipation flickering across her pretty features.

“Yes, sir.”

“You can call me Vandal. Or Mister Savage, if you prefer.” His voice rumbled from deep in his chest. Something he noticed occurred whenever he was in the presence of a particularly enthralling woman.

Zinda pursed her full, pink lips and nodded again.

“Yes, Mr. Savage.”

Those words spoken with her sweet voice filled Savage’s heart with a blossoming warmth. The feeling of triumph was potent, filling him and surrounding him. Even after thousands of years, the sensation of winning still hooked him like the most addicting of drugs.

“Good. Very good.” Savage stood up straight, clasping his hands behind his back. He began to pace slowly back and forth. He issued another command. “You will answer my questions truthfully. Does the Justice League know of my whereabouts?”

“No, Mr. Savage.”

“Does any hero organization? The Teen Titans? The Justice Society? What about law enforcement?”

“Nobody knows where you’ve been or what you’ve been doing, Mr. Savage.”

He slowed his pacing to a halt, regarding his captive with a questioning look.

“So how did you find me?” He asked, more curious than accusatory.

“Sheer dumb luck.” Zinda admitted, her fingers now playing idly with the edge of her skirt. “I was sent to do recon work on a possible cult here in the city. Nobody ever told me you would be involved.”

Zinda’s answer brought Savage a small sense of relief. He did not fear any of the groups he listed. He’d faced deadlier threats in centuries past. But it was comforting to know that his little experiment wouldn’t be interrupted any time soon. But still… Savage knew he couldn’t keep Lady Blackhawk for too long. Her allies would notice her absence and that would bring to his enclave unwanted attention.

“Hmm.” Savage stroked the neatly trimmed hair on his chin, putting on the act of deep thought. All the while, his blonde, obedient captive watched him. He almost couldn’t keep the pleased grin off his face. “I will send you back to your comrades unharmed. You will tell them there is nothing to worry about here. Their intel was mistaken. There is no cult. Investigating these people is a waste of resources.”

Zinda nodded quickly, inching closer to the edge of her seat.

“Sure thing. You can count on me, Mr. Savage.”

Savage wanted to laugh. But not out of mockery for the heroine’s loss. No, the chuckle that was bubbling up in his throat came from the sense of absurdity that seemed to permeate everything these last couple of hours. Zinda had been quite correct - and not just because of the spell. It had been sheer dumb luck.

A pretty blonde had fallen right into his lap. Sure, he would send her back. Eventually. But he did that, why not enjoy her company?

Vandal Savage was of a mind to have some fun.

The immortal went and sat in his personal chair, a classic executive seat set opposite to the one Zinda sat in. It was tufted burgundy leather set upon a polished wood frame with four legs. It had a backrest that rose high and armrests that stretched out in a swirl design. A big chair for a big man - with a little extra room, perhaps for a guest….

Savage leveled his cold, ageless eyes towards the blonde woman sitting across from him.

“Stand.” He ordered. Zinda Blake did so.

He drank her in, her natural beauty, her pale face framed by the soft locks of golden hair. He drew his eyes down, taking note of how her leather coat clung tightly to her bust, to her trim belly, how her pleated skirt teased her milky thighs. Savage drew his gaze lower, eyes roaming over her long, creamy legs. His ogling was slow, deliberate. He did not bother to hide his appreciation.

When he lifted his eyes back to Zinda’s pretty face, he found that a faint blush had formed on her cheeks.

Savage sat back in his executive chair, smirking. The Lady Blackhawk stood before him, waiting on his word. He had half a mind to have her twirl for him, like a model. It was a fleeting thought, remnants of a younger, more spirited Vandal Savage. Back when he was a conqueror who enjoyed every spoil and pleasure women could offer him. That was millennia ago. Today, he liked to think he was more… refined.

“I will send you back to your friends.” Savage repeated, catching a flash of relief in his captive’s blue eyes. Savage felt a warmth blossom in his chest, the flickering flames of excitement. “But that will be later. For now, I need to be absolutely sure of your obedience.”

Zinda swayed slightly on her heeled boots, her fingers once more playing at the edge of her pleated skirt. Savage watched the muscles of her pale throat waver as she swallowed.

“What do you want me to do to prove myself, Mr. Savage?” She asked in a quiet voice. The slight tremble in her words betrayed a feeling of worry.

Savage smirked. He reached for the table beside his chair, plucking a small remote from the polished wood surface. He aimed the remote to the far wall of his study and pressed a button.

Music began to play. Not too loud, not too fast, not too slow. There were no lyrics, but it was enthralling, sensual. Zinda glanced over her shoulder, her hair swishing as she did so. She turned her gaze back towards Savage, confusion in her eyes.

“Dance.” Savage commanded, his hungry gaze fixed firmly upon the blonde superheroine in the short black skirt. “Dance for me.”

Zinda Blake swallowed again, a look of understanding falling across her face.

And to Vandal Savage’s primal delight, the proud, brave, beautiful Lady Blackhawk began to sway her body to the sound of the music.