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Part Three

Zinda Blake breathed in. Then, slowly, she breathed out.

I lost.

The realization was frank. It settled in her mind.

Vandal Savage, the villainous immortal caveman, had done something to her. The amulet he had put in front of her face, Zinda didn’t know if it was magic or some sort of technological device. But what she did know was that the effect it had on her was stark and immediate.

Savage issued commands in that deep, booming voice of his. And Zinda above all felt the desire - no, the need - to obey him.

Feelings of anger, defiance, her ability to resist, Zinda felt them depart from her body and her mind, swept away by the flood of the immortal’s iron will. Savage’s desires took precedence, standing above all other things in Zinda’s mind and in her very soul. She could not defy him. She didn’t want to defy him, even if she knew that it was wrong.

How did I lose?

She was a superheroine, brave and stalwart, trusted by the likes of Batgirl, Black Canary, and the Huntress. She was proof that gals had a place on the frontlines just as much as the boys. Lady Blackhawk was as tough as tough honeys got, the spitfire that burned brightest.

But Vandal Savage had just ordered her to dance for him. And the magic, the force that he had put over her mind, was too strong to resist.

Instead of fighting or fleeing, Zinda let the music he put on pour into her. The tune was low and smooth and sweet. There were no vocals, no lyrics, just instruments playing slow and sensual, like syrup being poured out. Zinda breathed in deep, closed her eyes, and let the notes sink into her.

Then she began to move. Slowly, she swayed her body, hips moving from side to side. Nice and slow, her body following the flow of the music. It was frighteningly easy, Zinda found. She should have felt a spike of fear at how deeply Savage’s commands had become rooted, how far they were driving her. But instead, Zinda felt satisfaction. It was pleasing, the blonde discovered, to fulfill her purpose. Her new purpose.

A moment of shock came and went, followed by a blunt acceptance.

Zinda Blake liked following the man’s orders.

What… What is wrong with me?

The music continued to guide her body, the lovely notes rising and falling. Zinda imagined the song coming alive alongside her, slithering over her skin, caressing her as she twisted and turned. The blonde let out a long, soft sigh, running her hands up her neck, through her golden mane, then back down over her breasts. They were sensitive, aching for her touch even under her thick leather jacket. 

As her hands traveled lower, sliding down her belly, Zinda imagined how much better it would feel if it was Savage touching her. Even with her eyes closed, Zinda could feel the immortal’s eyes on her, hungrily watching her swaying, writhing form.

Then came the man’s voice again. Deep, smooth, but also rumbling in his chest. His words sent a shiver down Zinda’s back.

“Miss Blake, come here.”

A simple command, but thanks to the amulet it was binding. 

Zinda obeyed. She could do nothing else. Her stomach turned at the mere idea of displeasing Vandal Savage.

No… I… I should stop this.

The fact that his word meant so much to her was an absurdity. Zinda knew that. It was all so very wrong. Vandal Savage was the bad guy. A very obvious bad guy. But Zinda followed his command all the same. 

She opened her eyes and turned to face him. The immortal was sitting in his executive office chair, his sharp, dark eyes set firmly upon her. His gaze was piercing, unwavering, and in his eyes Zinda could see his iron will. Another shiver ran through her body. The blonde swallowed and drew closer.

Zinda came to stop right before him, so close that he could reach out and touch her, grab her if he so pleased. For a moment, the woman felt the desire for just that flash through her mind. She stood before him, arms firmly at her sides with her hands closed tight - like a nervous schoolgirl having a meeting with the principal.

“Do you want me to dance up close?” She asked him in a small voice.

Why can’t I stop?

Savage leaned back in his seat, his face remaining like stone. He spread his legs apart and Zinda’s eyes flickered down to his groin.

“Yes.” He answered in a cool voice, his sharp eyes locking with hers. “On my lap.”

Zinda’s cheeks burned, but not from humiliation. There was no anger in her heart either. Shame, bitterness, and all those other negative feelings, they were gone from her mind. But still there was guilt, much to her surprise. And it made her excitement all the more delectable.

Her face wasn’t the only place where Zinda felt heat bloom. There was a pleasant warmth growing inside her, rising in her chest… and deep in the pit of her belly. Her whole body tingled, delight dancing just under her skin. And as she obediently took a seat upon Vandal Savage’s lap, the unyielding firmness and wonderful warmth of his body only added to the growing fire.

Lady Blackhawk’s skirt was a short one, black and pleated like a cheerleader’s. The only thing separating her rump from Savage’s groin was the thin fabric of her panties. And with the prominent and unmistakable hardness of his manhood pressing against her bottom, Zinda felt she may as well have been wearing no panties at all. 

The savage immortal was rock hard - and big! Easily one of the biggest men Zinda had dealt with. Long and fat, she knew just from grinding her nearly-bare buttocks onto his bulging groin. 

Feels… good…

It was scandalous, demeaning, for a woman like her to be giving a lapdance to a man like him. But the salacious nature of their dance - and the unbending nature of Savage’s hold over her - only drove Zinda to work her body harder against his, her writhing and moaning building in intensity.

By now her panties were damp, the slick of her arousal pooling into the fabric - and onto the crotch of the immortal’s own pants. She grinded her covered womanhood against the length of his bulge and Savage took a firm grip on her waist. Zinda sighed, delighting in the roughness and strength of his touch. Silently, she wished he would dare to take even more. Her mind and body were his to play with. Why shouldn’t he take liberties?

Instead, he guided her rolling hips, keeping her at a steady rhythm as she rubbed her buttocks in slow circles over his lap and burgeoning cock. He leaned forward, his nose brushing against ear. Zinda let out a quiet moan as she felt his hot breath on her skin.

“Hmn.” He grunted, his voice so deep and so close that Zinda shivered in his lap. His thick arms coiled around her belly, drawing her body flush to his own. Zinda took in a shaky breath but continued to writhe in his lap. “You’re very talented at this. Have you danced for men before?”

Zinda felt her lips curl into a tiny smile. She pressed her body, her womanhood hard against him, a soft moan spilling from her open mouth. She gripped one of the arms wrapped around her middle, but not to try and pry herself loose. She wanted to touch him. She needed to touch him.

“A couple of times…” Zinda answered truthfully… and wistfully. Pleasant memories floated back to the front of her mind. “Back when I was with the Blackhawks. Those boys worked hard… and played hard.”

Behind her, Savage gave a low chuckle. It rumbled deep in his chest and Zinda could feel it against her back. He loosened his arms around her tummy, his hands returning to hold her by the hips - with his thick fingers dangerously close to sliding under her skirt.

Yes… Touch me…

Again, Savage spoke into her ear.

“Then you know what I expect from you. Stop.”

Zinda stopped. He gave her a light touch on her leg, a silent command to get up. She rose from his lap, the sudden loss of his body and his heat making her let out a quiet whine. But Zinda did not dare argue. She stood and turned to face him, a palpable sense of worry creeping through her skin and burrowing into her belly.

“Is something wrong, Mr. Savage?” She asked him. A small grin broke across his hard face, soothing her concerns.

“Not at all. I just wanted to look at you.” Savage answered, taking a moment to do just as he said. His dark eyes drank her in, roaming from her face to her covered bosom down to her long, creamy legs. Zinda had always been proud of her legs. They were why she wore a skirt instead of pants. Even as a respectable superheroine, the blonde had a marked desire to show off. Her skills, her bravery… and her body.

So it was to Zinda Blake’s delight that Vandal Savage clearly liked what he saw.

“Kiss me.” Was his next command.

Kiss him.

Zinda wasted no time in seeing it done.

Her belly was butterflies, her heart racing as she dipped down and caught his lips with her own. His large, rough hands took her by the neck, deepening their embrace. The bristles of his goatee tickled her face and his kiss was hard and demanding. But Zinda felt nothing but joy and excitement, the blonde overcome with a sense of satisfaction at fulfilling her master’s desires. 

As Savage ran the fingers of one hand through her blonde locks, his other hand lowered to plant itself on the small of her back. Zinda did not resist his guiding hand as he pulled her closer. Again, she climbed up onto his lap, though this time she straddled him. All the while, their kiss continued.

Savage was dominant, ramping up the intensity of the kiss at will. His tongue dueled hers… for but a moment then quickly found triumph. But rather than feel irked for losing, Zinda instead felt enthralled. It was like being with a man from her own time, the kind of man who knew how to take charge and treat a woman. 

The kiss was passionate, intense enough to draw moans from Zinda’s lips. Savage drank them down hungrily, never tiring. And the feeling of grinding against his bulging groin made the blonde’s head spin. His hold remained on her neck and on her waist, never once slackening. Zinda loved how strong he was, how he could move and guide her around like she weighed nothing.

The kiss, which Zinda briefly thought might have been more carnal and violating, was surprisingly enjoyable.

Then Savage tugged on her hair.

It was a forceful tug, not a violent one, but still enough to break their kiss. Zinda found herself being pulled back, gasping in shock… and a measure of sweet pain. A blush crept up on her cheeks and a nice blossom of heat bloomed in her lower belly. Oh, how Zinda had missed this. When men were men and weren’t afraid to get a little rough.

Finally… a man who knows… how to handle me…

Beneath her, she heard Savage give an appreciative hum. Then she felt his lips upon her long, slender neck. Faint, teasing kisses accompanied by the ticklish brush of his facial hair. With his hand still tight around her hair, Zinda was forced to stare at the ceiling. But she didn’t care. It turned her on, being used as a toy. A low, throaty moan spilled from her lips.

“Oh, you are very lovely.” Savage murmured against her neck. Then he leaned back into his chair, releasing his hold on Zinda’s hair. The blonde heroine whined, planting her hands on the man’s broad chest. Another spike of guilt stabbed at the back of Zinda’s mind. How quickly had she turned from superheroine to harlot? What would her friends think? Those questions boldly took space in her mind… and then were quickly pushed far, far down into the depths. Zinda had better things to focus on. Like enjoying a real man’s company.

Savage looked up at her, silently regarding the spitfire of a woman who wandered into his territory. Zinda bit her lip, taking the opportunity to run her hands down his torso, copping more than a few feels along the way. It was only fair that she got a couple gropes of her own, Zinda figured. Then Savage spoke again.

“It gets quite lonely running a commune, you know. I should send the Justice League a thank you note for their very considerate gift. I haven’t enjoyed a superheroine in quite a while.”

Both of his hands fell upon her bare thighs, slowly sliding up until his fingertips just barely teased at the hem of Zinda’s pleated skirt. His touch - and his words - made Zinda shiver with excitement and joy. He wanted to enjoy her. And Zinda wanted nothing more than to be enjoyed.

“Do you want me to strip down for you, Mr. Savage?” Zinda asked in a breathy voice. Her eyes locked with his, eagerly awaiting his answer.

The immortal grinned and rubbed his hands up and down her thighs. The roughness of his calloused hands on her soft skin sent Zinda’s belly twisting pleasantly.

“No, dear.” He told her, his dark eyes now holding a spark of savage mirth. “I prefer to unwrap my presents myself.”