The rain-slicked night wrapped the Baxter Building in a veil of quiet electricity. Below, the city pulsed faintly—a distant heartbeat beneath the hum of neon and tireless engines. Abigail and I stood on the rooftop, shadows cast sharp against the glass spires. She was small, almost fragile in her SWORD fatigues, but her emerald eyes held a razor's edge, bright and alert beneath lashes like dark wings. A master of interrogation, yes, but now her gaze was tangled with something unspoken, a delicate tension spiraling between us like smoke.
"Abigail," I said, voice low and steady, the weight of the Conqueror's Ledger settling like armor around me. "Let's find somewhere quieter. Somewhere without an audience."
Her eyes flickered—questioning, cautious—but she followed. The world behind us blurred as we descended, the building's labyrinthine halls swallowing the rain's rhythm and city's breath. Our footsteps echoed in time, a quiet drum that matched the tightening coil of anticipation between us. My pulse thrummed—not with fear, but with the thrill of something uncharted, the dance of wills about to ignite.
We passed the gravity lab—silent now, machines hibernating like slumbering beasts—and the vaults, their steel jaws clamped shut on secrets no one dared whisper. Abigail's gaze darted nervously toward the surveillance cameras, unaware I'd memorized every routine, every blind spot, my HUD quietly tracking every pulse in the Marvel Universe.
"You're intense," she murmured when we stepped into my quarters, voice a breath away from a confession.
"It's the job," I said, a slow smile curling beneath the weight of eight feet of shadow. The Butcher's Voice stirred in my mind, teasing with memories of her lithe form, the fire behind those guarded eyes.
Her gaze swept the room—velvet drapes that softened the cold glow of technology, the metal-framed bed that bore the ghosts of past collisions. The air vibrated softly with hidden power, a quiet hum that promised decadence and danger alike.
"Are you going to kill me?" Her words were a challenge and a plea, raw with unspoken fear.
I laughed—low, dark, the sound a promise and a threat. "Only if you want me to." My breath ghosted over her skin, warm and intimate, a spark in the shadows.
Her eyes widened. Her hand rose reflexively to her throat, her heartbeat wild beneath calm skin. She froze, caught between instinct and desire, like a fawn caught in a hunter's gaze. But I knew—she wasn't innocent. She'd survived darkness most wouldn't dare imagine.
"Don't run," I whispered, voice thick with something older, something fierce. Ledger's pheromones wove through me, potent and undeniable. She inhaled deeply, drawn in like a moth to the fiercest flame she'd ever seen—and I was the blaze that could consume or ignite.
"What do you want?" she asked, her voice strained with her want that she was having such a hard time containing. Her eyes dropped to my groin, where my dick, already large and hard with expectation, strained in my trousers. It was a fine-looking thing, an instrument of mass-seduction that had reduced more than one woman to her knees.
"What does any conqueror desire?" I asked, tracing my hand up her arm to rest on her cheek, my thumb tracing over her jawbone. "To take my prize."
Abigail's breath caught as her body tightened in my hands. She strained to resist, but the attractive visage of Conquest, power and pleasure intertwined as one, was a siren's call she couldn't resist. Her gaze sought an escape in my own, but there was only emptiness there, a void filled with desire. "I am not a prize," she whispered.
"No," I told her, my gaze running over her figure, "you're better than that." I edged in closer, my erection against her thigh, our uniforms the only barrier in the way of us becoming one. "You're a challenge, Abigail. And I love a challenge."
Her gaze didn't falter, though her breasts rose and fell with increased rapidity, the outline of her DD breasts stretching her uniform tight as it strained against what lay beneath. "Your kind always create chaos," she told him, her tone half accusatory and half resigned. "So I have to wonder, what are you here for?"
"I have told you this before," I reassured her, my palm moving from her cheek to the hollow at her back, drawing her closer to the bed. "I am not here for anything improper." The deception poured from my lips like silk, my yellow and black orbs clicking with hers, trapping her emerald-green pools of mistrust. "However, if you're still worried, I'll show you the kind of 'victory' I'm looking for."
I sat back against the bed with a forceful push, the bed creaking with my weight. Abigail stood before me with her arms folded over her sizeable DD bosom, her uniform strained across them. She was a figure of rebellion, and I saw the inner conflict in her eyes. She wanted this, needed something darker, something more primal than she'd ever allowed herself to have. I reclined on my back, arms out to the side in an open invitation, my cock needy to have her.
"Sit," I instructed, my command sexy enough to send shivers down her spine. She paused for a fraction of a second before she climbed over and sat on my swollen erection. I sensed her warmth, her excitement, as she sat on my swelling erection. The fabric of her uniform didn't do much to conceal the size and shape of her ass, plump and hard, inviting the tightening grip of my hands. Her compact asshole was a sly teaser somewhere amidst buttocks, promising boundless bliss to anyone brave enough to overcome it.
"Tell me, Abigail," I began, stroking her thigh with my hand, "Have you always had feelings for me? When you first saw me?" The breathy question in my tone was all for verisimilitude, The Butcher's Voice in my mind reminding me that my "Irresistible Dominance" power only went as strong as her innate attraction to myself.
Her green eyes searched for mine, her pupils dilated with longing. "I've always... noticed you," she admitted, her voice low and hoarsely whispered. "But I didn't think...." She left her sentence incomplete, her hand involuntarily drifting to her chest as her heart pounded against her ribs.
"Didn't think what?" I asked, my palm moving from her thigh to tracing the curve of her hip, feeling the warmth on her skin.
Her gaze locked on mine, her green-lit eyes swirling with a whirlpool of emotion. "That I'd.... become like this," she admitted, her breath constricted with the effort of containing her emotion. "Your.... presence, your power, it's like an addiction."
I smiled, conscious of the true nature of my Irresistible Dominance. It was a cheat code, a hack on human psychology. I didn't have to spend the rest of the week proving to her that I was not as bad as Judge Holden. I can persuade her in a few hours of fucking. "It is, isn't it?" I whispered, my hand going up to encircle her hard, round breast. Her nipples already stood upright, pushing against her clothes like little missiles ready to fly. "But let me show you that I am not all darkness."
I motioned her to stand with a flick of my wrist. The tension in the very air in the room was palpable, heavy and syrupy, pulsating with every heartbeat. She stood slowly on unsteady legs, her gaze never once wavered from my own. I watched her resist the desire to fall to her knees at my feet, to succumb to the power that I wield with such ease. But she was strong, this one. A worthy opponent.
"Now" I told her, the single word seeming to hum through her entire frame, "on your knees."
Abigail's eyes widened slightly, but she obeyed, her knees striking the ground with a soft drumming sound that reverberated through the room. Her crown at waist level, her emerald-green gaze unshifting from mines as she knelt at my feet. I felt her pulse in her throat pulsing, and her inner struggle as she battled lust against terror. The Butcher's Voice whispered against my ear, calling to me, calling me to push her to her boundaries.
I unbuckled my belt in one swift motion, metal on reinforced leather a crescendo of anticipation. Her eyes dropped to my crotch, and she licked her lips, plump, shiny pink lips in contrast with the severity of the surroundings. Her hands dropped to the zip on my trousers, her hands shuddering a little as she unzipped it with a snick and then pulled it down. My dick sprang out, fat and proud, its tip shiny with precum. It was a sight, and the way her eyes expanded with shock and horror made me even more rigid.
"Take it," I snarled out, my voice a low rumble filled with an almost palpable hum in the very air itself. "All yours."
Abigail's eyes didn't leave my dick, my heavy veins pulsating with potential at something she'd never experienced. In slow motion, she crept her face forward, her emerald eyes flicking upward to catch my eye for a moment before she formed her fleshy, red lips over the head of the shaft with her mouth. I watched her lips part wide over me, her eyes going wide as she formed her mouth over me. Her mouth was soft and wet, the kind of wet that bordered on pain. The Butcher's Voice cheered in my mind as her tongue danced along the ridge at my dick's crown, tracing out its sensitivity before enveloping more of me with her mouth.
Water welled in her eyes as she began to throat me, her sounds of gagging swallowed by the thickness of my shaft. She swallowed me whole, her throat constricting over my length, her nose pressed into rough hairs at my root. I felt her throat constrict over me, warmth and moisture enveloping me that sent me toward going over the edge. But I checked myself, having her struggle to swallow all of me, her watering eyes and caving-in cheeks with effort. Her hands gripped my thighs, her nails sinking into flesh of my pants, leaving white lines on my skin. It was a hurting that was sweet, reminding me of what was at stake here.
"Is this what you wanted?" I challenged, my tone a sneer that made her stare at me, flashes of defiance and desire in her eyes. "To be used?"
Her gaze locked with mine, her lips tightened, and she spat onto my cock, her spit mingling with my precum to create a slick trail down my length. Off rhythm, she took me back into her mouth again, her throat now struggling, her gagging sounding like a harmony of submission and lust. Her green gaze didn't waver, a quiet challenge that only made me more rigid. She was struggling with it, struggling against surrender, but I was starting to notice the fractures in her mask. The Butcher's Voice was whispering at my ear, calling on me to push her further, to show her – us – what really lay within the power of the Conqueror's Ledger.
I grasped the back of her head with one hand, my fingers buried in her long, emerald hair, and controlled her movements, establishing a ruthless rhythm that had her bobbing back and forth, her mouth open wide over my cock. She choked, she gagged, but she didn't break away, didn't back down. The sight of her thus, on her knees at my feet, her mouth a dripping sheath for my cock, was more thrilling than victory on the battlefield.
Her eyes still welled with water, and she began to drool over my length, her saliva mingling with the precum that covered my shaft. I was getting close, feeling tension building in my balls, having the urge to have her mouth growing with every passing second. Her gaze would not move from mine, the challenge still there, never wavering. I knew she felt the tension building in me, the tension from the Ledger building towards a crescendo as I approached climax.
I snarled with a shudder that made the walls vibrate as I wrapped my hands around her entire head, my fingers knotting in her short, green hair. "You're going to swallow every drop," I snarled, my throat full with need. She nodded her head, her wide eyes staring in a mixture of terror and excitement, her puffed-up cheeks strained.
I pumped into her mouth, holding her fast, her teeth on my tender flesh. She took it all, her gaze still locked on my own, her green eyes blazing with challenge. The Butcher's Voice rang outward louder still, calling on me to possess her, take her in entirety. The sensation was almost agonizing, and with a bellow that shook down corridors of the Baxter Building, I gave my burden release, my semen spilling into her mouth, her cheeks puffed by effort. Her throat closed hard, her eyes watering more than ever, but she swallowed, her gaze still locked on my own.
Her mouth was a saliva- and cum-soaked mess as I pulled out, a testament to her submission. But she still had more. A mischievous glint in her eye, she raised up and smeared her mouth on the back of her hand, spreading evidence of my climax on her cheek. "Is that all you've got?" she taunted, her voice dripping with challenge.
The Butcher's Voice thundered its assent in my mind. This was the kind of flame I craved, this kind of fight that made winning all that much sweeter. "You're feisty," I snarled, with a rumble vibrating in my chest. "I can't wait to break you."
I yanked her up straight, twirling her around to face away from me. In one quick motion, I leaned her over the desk, her round, full ass out, begging to be tended to. Her legs were spread wide, her uniform stretched taut over her tight thighs, defining the wetness inside. I could make out the shape of her pussy, her lips puffy and open, screaming for me. My still-damp dick ached with desire to plunge into her, to claim her completely.
"You're so wet," I whispered in her ear, my breath on her neck. "Is that all for me?"
Abigail's only response was a low growl, one that shook the very air that filled us. Her green eyes flared with defiance, but a different tale was told by how her body responded. I felt her pussy, slick and prepared, against my leg as I take my position behind her.
"You really believe you can handle me?" she taunted, her low, throaty purring voice sending shivers down my spine.
"I know I can," I told her, my tone low and threatening, its resonance filling the space. I took a step forward, my rod pressing into her moisture, making her inhale sharply. "But let's see how much you can take."
I dove into her, my dense length filling her to capacity. She was tight, tighter than I'd expected, and her pussy's grasp was a vice on my cock. I felt every inch of her, every tremble and contraction with each thrust. Her moans were increasing in volume, a crescendo of pleasure that seemed to feed The Butcher's Voice in my head to thrust on faster, deeper, harder.
"Yes," she whispered, her single-word reply crackling like a whip in the tense stillness of the room.
The table under her groaned and rocked with the intensity of my thrusts, its noises a symphony of power and lust. The Ledger's HUD detected her points of peak pleasure and pain, and with calculated precision, I targeted them, a conductor leading an orchestra of lust. Her ass shook and gripped me, tightness a pleasure that goaded me to continue, take her further.
I fondled her immense breast with one hand, that DD cup spilling from my palm. Her nipples were hard and sensitive, a slight touch sending pleasure shudders down her. I pinched and pulled them, and she gasped, her breath stolen by slapping flesh on flesh. The Butcher's Voice whispered in my ear and told me to get dirty, to imprint her, to take her in ways she didn't know anyone ever had.
For her ass was what truly summoned me. The way her round, hard buttocks sat there, vibrating with every thrust, was a concord of supplication. I pulled my other hand back to slap her hard, the sound ringing out strong in the room. The scream on her part was a concord of pain and pleasure, the kind that made my dick hard. The slapped buttock pinked over, indicative of how forcefully it was slapped. And when she writhed and made a low noise, I knew she was enjoying it, and she wanted more.
"Is this what you want?" I whispered in her ear, my voice low and threatening. "Do you want me to claim your ass too?"
Abby's only answer was a stifled whimper as she pushed back against me, her full cheeks begging for more. The Butcher's Voice cackled with pleasure, living off the adrenaline in the space. I knew she was close, her flesh tight with the pleasure I was doling out. With one hand, I kept twisting and squeezing her nipple, her full DD breast in my palm, while with my other, I hovered over her ass, ready to deliver the coup de grâce.
"Say it," I growled, my tone a command ringing out in her very soul. "Beg for it."
Abigail's green eyes clashed with my own in the glint on the chrome rim of the desk, her eyes wide with lust and rebellion. "I.... I want it," she gasped, as though she ripped the words from somewhere hidden within her.
I grinned rather than smiled, and spanked her ass again, watching how flesh shook with the blow. It was a harsh sound in a quiet space, a jarring note amidst decorous poses we'd more commonly assume. She gasped lightly, her muscles tightening for an instant, then releasing as she fell into a shiver of pleasure. Her cunt gripped my flesh and I knew she was ready. The voice in my mind, the Butcher, whispered sweet words of power and possession, calling on me to push her over.
"Again," she begged, her hoarse breath sounding as she closed over my shaft like a velvet fist. "Harder."
I snarled, obeying, my hand dropping down like a hammer on her round, plump buttocks. The slap resounded through the room, a climax of want and possession. She arched her back, her buttocks jolting with the blow, the sound half pain, half pleasure, tearing at the very guts of existence. Her pussy constricted its way down my length, now dripping with juices, evidence of the force with which I struck.
Her eyes were screwed shut, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she bit back a scream. The Butcher's Voice in my mind was getting louder, whispering sweet nothings about destruction and control that egged on every move on my part. I sensed she was close, very close to tipping over into ecstasy on her own with just one final push.
"Fuck," Abigail gasped, her pleasure and pain entwined in her voice as she writhed on her back under me, her DD-sized breast jouncing with every forceful drive. She was almost there, her cunt tightening on my erection like a vice. The Butcher's Voice taunted words of conquest and possession in my ear, goading me to push her over into pleasure.
I pounded into her one last time, my hips slamming into the unyielding hardness of her ass with a sweet slap. She howled, her scream a crescendo of bliss that shook her to her very foundations, it seemed. Her form froze, every one of her muscles locked, and then she was orgasming, her pussy clasping my cock in a succulent grip. Her juices flowed out, coating my cock and her thighs with a sticky warmth that only made me crave more.
Her cry was an ecstasy symphony, a soft scream that shook through the very fabric of the air about us. I felt the surge of the Conqueror's Ledger coursing through me, the Butcher's Voice whispering to me of destruction points racked up with every shuddering convulsion of her flesh. It was a wine, a potent blend of ecstasy and power that filled my mind with its urgings to drive her still higher.
Retreating from her dripping pussy, I situated the head of my dick at the puckered tightness of her anus. She tightened, her emerald-green gaze flashing a look half-fear, half-anticipation. "You can't," she panted, her protest a soft whisper that I recognized as a falsehood. Her flesh longed for it, her asshole's tightness an unspoken request that I couldn't resist.
"But I will," I whispered with pain and pleasure weighing in my voice. "And you know you want it."
Her eyes widened in the reflection of the desk, a jumble of terror and expectation. She recognized what was occurring, recognized she was not in command here. But she made no move to resist it. Instead, she pushed back, her plump ass opening wide to receive me, desperate for invasion. Keeping one hand on her hip, I put the fat, vein-twitching length of my penis alongside her tight, clenched, puckered opening. Her gasp as my penis lodged at her entrance, her tightness making my eyes roll back on my skull in bliss.
"You're so tight," I gasped, my words a sensual threat. "I'll have you begging for more."
I was stretching her tight hole to its limit with my cock. She whimpered, her fingernails pressing into her desk as she struggled to keep still, pain intertwining with pleasure that coursed through her. The Butcher's Voice commanded me to push deeper, to take her in one motion.
"Fuck," she snarled, her voice strained with effort at constraining it. "Conquest..."
Her anus tightened, contracting down over my dick, tension building as I pushed deeper into her. The constriction was bliss, a test that I revelled in, the kind that revitalized me. Her fat, rounded backside was a sensual feast, one that could humble a god. I pushed once again, and I was sheathed to the base in her, her body shuddering at the force of invasion.
"You're mine," I snarled, my tone a growl of possession echoed through the space in the room. "You're going to take every inch of me, and you're going to enjoy it."
Her only response was a whimper, a sound torn from her very core as I began moving again. The Butcher's Voice snarled in my ear, ordering me to drive deeper, take her all in, to make her feel the full force of the Conqueror's Ledger. And I obliged, my hips slamming into her with a vicious cadence that shook through the space. Her ass was a juicy handful, her fatty flesh quivering with every stroke, the tightness in her hole a succulent barrier I was desperate to break through.
"You like that, don't you?" I taunted, my whispery voice sounding as though it encircled her like a soft, dark velvet noose. "You like having me fuck you, to fill you like you've never been filled before."
Abigail's only response was a stifled groan, her forehead pressed against her arms as she gripped the front of the desk. Her body was a symphony of pain and pleasure, her clenched ass a sweet obstacle to breach that I reveled in overpowering. With every stroke, I felt her clinching down on me, her body begging for more. The Butcher's Voice in my mind was whispering in my ear, drawing strength from the intensity of the moment, commanding me to push her to her limit and past it.
"You're going to stop questioning me now" I whispered, my voice a threatening whisper that sounded like it echoed in her very core. "Unless you don't want me to take this yummy ass of yours again."
Her eyes widened in front of the mirror, shock and excitement welling up inside her. She knew that what I was telling her was true, that she was indeed under my complete control. "What are you saying?" she asked in a whisper, her voice a throaty blend of rebellion and desire.
"You're going leave me alone," I panted in her ear, my voice low and raw, encasing itself like a velvet snare around her. "You will stop watching my every move unless you want to go through this again." I plunged deeper into her, feeling her eyes roll back in her head with the thrill exploding through her. "You will obey like a good little SWORD agent, and do as you are told."
Her whimpering was such a sweet noise, a blend of pain and pleasure that filled the entire room. "What if I don't wanna?" she was able to get out in a breathy act of defiance.
I moved in close, my erection still sheathed deeply inside her, her warmth enveloping me like a fiery, tight glove. "IThen I'll make sure every time you sit down, you'll remember who owns you," I snarled, my threat sensual and sinister.
Abigail's eyes widened, but she didn't protest. Instead, she pulled back against me, her body a louder shout than words ever could have been. "Please, no," she gasped softly, her single utterance a capitulation that sent shudders down my spine. "I'll.... I'll do as you say."
The Butcher's Voice in my mind laughed with triumph, its voice a chorus of victory. I knew she was mine, that she would belong to me as a willing plaything from this day on. I grinned, more a baring of teeth than anything, and proceeded to screw her ass proper, my dick going in and out of her tight ass with a squelching, wet sound filling the room.
"You're going to take it," I snarled, my voice a command that reverberated throughout her entire body. "Every inch, every drop."
Her eyes widened, emerald pools swirling with a mixture of yearning and terror. "Y-yes," she stuttered, her voice a mere whisper. I let out a victorious snarl and gripped her hips, palms like steel straps closing round her supple curves, and began to screw into her even more savagely. Her ass tightened round my fat prick, its constriction a sweet torment that had me long to cum. The Butcher's Voice in my ear told me to take her all, to make her my own, and I knew I couldn't resist.
"You're going to feel me for days," I told her in a whisper, as much threat as temptation. "You're going to walk around with my semen deep inside you like a good little girl."
Abigail's only response was a suppressed groan, her own body writhing with pleasure that threatened to overwhelm her. The constriction at her ass was sweet pain, pain that made me desire to screw her forever. But I knew I had to take her whole, to show her the power of the Ledger of the Conqueror. With a bellow that shook the very walls in the house, I pounded her one final time, my dick on fire as I filled her ass with semen. The sensation was indescribable, a union of pleasure and power that flowed through my system like an electric charge.