"Now."

The light from the hallway dies behind me, the rush of air from the door's silent slide shut playing over your skin in a curling breeze that seems almost calculated for effect.

The distinct click of well-worn boots on immaculate tile sounds around you, one measured step at a time. Despite the impossibly black cloth around your eyes, you can almost feel the tension in my voice, a sinuous undertone to even a single word that speaks of a continuation of the past hours.

It had been easy, really. I'd always been a proponent of the simple approach to things, preferring to stick to the shadows and shun flashy, exotic costumes that seemed more at home in a wrestling show than the business of going where the ethically limited might fear to tread. My work was funded by money siphoned from a grant here, a donation there, a few transactions from across oceans bleeding out a penny per million and disappearing into the silicon ether.

Still, I'd left just enough clues, messages tucked between the bits like little signatures. Safehouses always vacated a little too soon, vanishing tail-lights as you swooped down from the sky. Always one more crumb, one little step on a path, one last little nudge until you'd come bursting in through the skylight.

A skylight that you couldn't resist, glimmering in the dark recesses of a mountain. You'd crashed in, cape trailing melodramatically behind you, with hands on your hips and the stern fury of righteousness in your eyes. For once, there'd been no team behind you, some rampaging beast or other in a faraway city drawing their attention. An icon of truth and justice and pandering to the sort who want to see their heroes in as little clothing as possible, let alone anything resembling a sensible outfit.

Like I'd said. It was easy.

I wonder what they'd say if if they saw you now. Stripped bare and strapped down, the warm, slow trickle of seed dripping down your inner thighs. Hair that had been thoroughly tangled, just long enough to pull, and liberally used for just that. The bright blue eyes that shone from posters extolling the virtues of simple, just living and public good, trapped under black cloth with the smear of cherry red across your cheeks. They'd said you were the essence of purity and innocent heroism. Easy to look up to, easy to believe in, and, in the end, all too easy to get to this point.

Easy to ruin.

They'd said a lot of things, but, looking down at you, I can feel the familiar sense boiling up within me, tracking the curve of your jaw with my fingertips as I tilt you up to look blindly at me.

"Same time next week?"

Wiping my brow with the back of my hand, I grin, slipping off the blindfold and ruffling your hair affectionately. "I'm telling you, you really ought to say you're taking a vacation; they're going to get suspicious sooner or later that you're always chasing after the same guy."

I grin, dropping my tone to a conspiratorial hush.

"What'd you tell them this time, that I was dumping puppies into a volcano again?"

My fingers dance on the restraints, each one snapping loose, and I reach to steady you as your legs shake beneath you.

"Don't worry, the outfit's over in the next room, and the cameras were just for show. Go off and be good for the world, all right?"

A kiss plants itself firmly on your lips, and I toss you a wink before stepping back into the shadows.

"But when you want to be bad, you know who to call."

Kinks: Cute girls who can toss a tank and need a bit of stress relief where they're not in charge, roughness, the odd silly joke slipped in between facefucks and lurid, steely-black sex contraptions.

Limits: The wicked Doctor Brown and Captain Yellow, The Worryingly Underage Wonder Kid(s), actually dumping puppies into volcanoes.

As always, feel free to drop me a line about absolutely anything.