Chapter 3: The Taste of Submission
The obsidian throne room held its breath.
Ultraman stood at the threshold, shoulders still dusted with the ash of a dozen fallen cities, his costume torn in places where desperate heroes had tried and failed to leave a mark. The scent of ozone and blood clung to him like a second skin. He had done exactly what she asked. Methodical. Slow. Brutal in ways that would be sung about in terrified whispers for generations.
But all of that faded the moment his eyes found her.
Donna sat sprawled across the colossal throne like it was nothing more than a lover's chaise, one leg draped over the armrest, the other planted on the dais. She wore nothing but the Lasso of Submission coiled loosely in her lap, the golden rope catching the refracted light of a thousand floating gemstones. Her skin gleamed with oil, or sweat, or something more decadent—he couldn't tell, and he didn't care.
"Back so soon?" She didn't look at him, instead examining her nails with theatrical disinterest. "I expected this to take you at least a week. Did you disappoint me, darling?"
Ultraman's jaw tightened. He stepped forward, his boots ringing against the crystalline floor, each footfall a declaration. "They surrendered by the third day."
"How boring."
"They had a child with them. A young girl with lightning powers." He stopped at the base of the dais, close enough to see the way her pupils dilated slightly at the word child. "I used her to make the parents talk. Held her by the ankle over a pit of molten vibranium while I questioned them about their remaining safe houses."
Donna finally looked at him. Her eyes traveled the length of his body, taking in the fresh cuts, the bruises forming on his knuckles, the way his chest heaved slightly with residual adrenaline.
"And?" she prompted, a note of genuine curiosity creeping into her voice.
"And they broke within an hour." He climbed the dais steps slowly, deliberately. "I killed the father first. Let the mother watch. Then I gave the girl back to her."
"How merciful of you."
"I cut out the father's tongue before I killed him. Made the mother carry it back to whatever was left of their rebellion." He stopped at the foot of the throne, close enough to touch her. "As a message."
Donna's smile was slow and approving. She reached out, her foot finding his chest, pressing against the Kryptonian sigil emblazoned there. Her toes traced the edge of the diamond-shaped emblem.
"You're learning," she said softly. "My lessons are taking root."
"I did what you asked." He caught her ankle, his massive hand wrapping around her slender foot, thumb stroking the arch. "Now I want what you promised."
"Did you, now?" She pulled her foot from his grip, rising from the throne in a single fluid motion that made his mouth go dry. The Lasso of Submission swung lazily from her hand as she circled him, her footsteps silent on the obsidian.
"You said I'd get my reward." He turned to track her movement, his body tense with anticipation. "You said you'd—"
"I said you'd get to kneel at my feet." She completed her circuit, stopping directly behind him, her breath warm against his ear. "I said you'd feel my cunt wrapped around your cock while I praised you for being a good weapon." She reached around him, her fingers finding the torn edges of his costume. "I don't recall promising you anything about the timing."
He shuddered at her touch, at the way her nails dragged lightly across his abdominal muscles. "Donna—"
"Superwoman." The correction was sharp, immediate. Her hand moved lower, palm pressing flat against his groin. "You'll address me properly, or you'll address no one at all for the next century."
He swallowed hard. "Superwoman."
"That's better." She squeezed him through the fabric of his suit, feeling him harden beneath her palm. "Gods, you're eager. Did you think about this while you were destroying those rebels? While you were dangling that girl by her ankle?"
"Every moment," he admitted, the words rough and honest.
"Good." She released him and stepped back, her voice dropping into something darker, more commanding. "On your knees, Ultraman."
He dropped without hesitation, the impact of his knees against the obsidian dais reverberating through the chamber. He looked up at her, and in his eyes was none of the arrogance that had once defined him. Only need.
Donna looked down at him, drinking in the sight. Her subject. Her conquest. The most powerful being on this Earth, kneeling at her feet because she willed it.
"You've done well," she said, beginning to slowly circle him again. "You've proven yourself useful beyond just your cock inside me. You've shown you can follow orders. You can be trusted with the dirty work."
"I live to serve you, Superwoman."
"I know you do." She stopped in front of him, hooking a finger under his chin and tilting his face up. "That's what makes you so precious to me. You understand your place. You don't fight it anymore."
"I fought it once," he said quietly. "You broke that out of me."
"And what a beautiful breaking it was." She released his chin and stepped back, reaching for the ties of her gossamer gown—which, he realized, she hadn't actually been wearing at all. The garment had been a trick of the light, an illusion cast by the refracted gemstones. She had been naked this entire time.
His breath caught. She was magnificent, carved from marble and fire, her body bearing the faint white lines of battles fought before he was even born. Her breasts rose and fell with each breath, her nipples hardening under his gaze. Between her thighs, a thatch of dark hair glistened with evidence of her own anticipation.
"You want this, don't you?" She stepped closer, close enough that he could smell her musk, could almost taste her. "You want to bury your face between my legs and drink until I come screaming your name?"
"Please," he whispered. "Please let me worship you."
"You'll get your chance." She sat on the edge of the throne, spreading her legs wide in a display of casual dominance. "But first, you'll tell me what you're going to do to the next group of rebels. The ones who think they can outsmart us."
He stared at her, his mind blank. He'd been so consumed by the thought of this moment, of her, that he hadn't considered anything beyond it.
"I..." He trailed off, realizing the trap she'd set.
"You didn't think beyond the immediate, did you?" Her voice carried a note of disappointment that cut deeper than any blade. "You completed the task I gave you, completed it well, but you didn't plan for the future. You didn't consider what comes next."
"Superwoman, I—"
"There is always a next, Ultraman." She leaned forward, her fingers threading through his hair. "There is always another threat, another enemy, another challenge. A good weapon isn't just sharp—it's ready." She pulled his head back gently, forcing him to meet her eyes. "Are you ready?"
"Yes," he said. "For you, always."
Donna studied him for a long moment. Then she smiled again, warmer this time. "I believe you." She released his hair and leaned back, spreading her legs wider. "Now come here and prove it. Make me forget every other failure I've ever had to correct."
He crawled to her without shame, without hesitation, his hands finding her thighs, his mouth seeking her heat. She gasped as his tongue found her clit, her head falling back against the throne, her fingers tightening in his hair.
"That's it," she breathed. "That's my good weapon. Use that tongue of yours. Show me how grateful you are that I chose you."
He threw himself into the task with religious fervor, consuming her like a man dying of thirst. Her taste was intoxicating—salt and musk and pure female power. He lapped at her folds, circling her clit with his tongue until she was writhing against his mouth, her hips bucking in rhythm with his strokes.
"Yes," she gasped, her thighs closing around his head. "Yes, right there. Don't you fucking stop."
He didn't. He alternated between broad, flat strokes and sharp, focused flicks, driving her higher and higher until her body was trembling, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She pulled his head harder against her, grinding her cunt against his face.
"I'm going to come," she warned, her voice strained. "I'm going to come all over that pretty face of yours, and you're going to swallow every fucking drop."
He redoubled his efforts, shoving two fingers inside her as his tongue worked her clit with frantic precision. She cried out as she shattered, her body convulsing around him, her juices flooding his mouth as he drank her down like holy water.
When her climax finally subsided, she released his head, letting him fall back, gasping for air. His face was slick with her, his lips swollen, his eyes wild with hunger.
"Beautiful," she murmured, her voice dreamy with satisfaction. She reached down and grabbed his hair again, pulling him to his feet. "Now stand up. I want to taste myself on your lips."
She kissed him, not gently but not cruelly either, a claiming kiss that left no doubt about who owned whom. She bit his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, and he groaned into her mouth, his cock pressing against her thigh.
"Please," he begged as she pulled away. "Please, I need to be inside you."
"You do, don't you?" She wrapped her hand around his cock, stroking slowly, teasingly. "You need to feel this tight Amazon cunt gripping you, don't you? You need to hear me moan your name while you're buried to the hilt."
"Every night," he admitted. "Every morning. Every moment I'm not inside you, I'm thinking about it."
She smiled, letting him go and turning around. She planted her hands on the armrest of the throne and bent forward, presenting her ass to him, her back arching into a perfect curve.
"Then take what you need," she said, looking at him over her shoulder, her eyes dark with lust. "Take it like the animal you are."
He didn't need to be told twice.
He stepped forward, his hands finding her hips, and guided himself to her entrance. She was already slick from her climax, and he slipped inside her with a single, devastating thrust that made them both gasp.
"Fuck," she breathed, her head dropping between her arms. "Yes, just like that."
He began to move, slowly at first, savoring the feel of her around him. She was impossibly tight, impossibly hot, her inner muscles clenching and releasing in waves that made his legs weak. He reached around and found her clit, rubbing it in circles as he fucked her.
"Don't tease," she growled. "Fuck me like you mean it."
He grabbed her hips and did exactly that, slamming into her with a force that made the throne rock beneath them. Each thrust drove him to the root, and she took all of him, crying out with each impact.
"Yes," she moaned. "Yes, you fucking animal. Just like that. Don't you dare slow down."
He didn't. He fucked her with relentless abandon, his balls slapping against her ass, his fingers digging into her hips hard enough to bruise even her Amazonian flesh. She was pure energy in his hands, pure power, and the fact that he was the one making her moan made him feel like a god.
Reaching down, she guided his hand between her legs, pressing his fingers against her clit. "Make me come," she demanded. "Make me come and I'll let you fill this cunt with every last drop of that Kryptonian load."
He obeyed. His fingers worked her clit with desperate precision as his cock continued its punishing rhythm, and within moments she was shuddering around him, her cunt clamping down as she screamed.
"Come with me," she gasped. "Come inside me now!"
He buried himself to the hilt and let go, his climax exploding from him in waves that seemed to go on forever. He poured himself into her, filling her completely, and she milked him dry with contractions that stole his breath and his thoughts and everything except the feeling of her.
When it was over, they collapsed together onto the throne, a tangled heap of sweat-slicked flesh and spent desire. For a long moment, neither of them moved.
Then Donna stirred, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "You have your mission," she murmured, her voice heavy with satisfaction. "The eastern territories will need to be brought to heel next. But first"—she smiled, slow and predatory—"rest. Recover. Because when we're finished there, I have something far more ambitious in mind."
His arms tightened around her. He was hers, completely.
And he had never felt more alive.