Damn it, how had he found out her secret identity? Or where she lived? Or gotten the drop on her? Or figured out that by binding her wrists that she lost all of her powers?

Karen had so many questions that were running through her mind as she sat there staring at him, her “disguise” discarded on the floor.

“Why so quiet?” he asked and she just sneered at him.

She could only hope that he hadn’t figured out the worst part of her powers.

He smiled wickedly and then spoke again, “Let me rephrase… Tell me why you are so quiet.”

The bottom of her stomach dropped out as her lips began to move, “Because I was hoping you didn’t know that I cannot disobey an order from the man that bound me.”

He chuckled and smiled, “Yes, that would be a good reason not to say anything wouldn’t it.”

Then he walked over and easily ripped her top from her body, followed by her bra.

“Stop that! What are you doing?!?” she shouted at him.

“Oh, now you want to talk… I see.. well, keep your voice down.” he commanded

“Just tell me what your doing.” she replied, her voice calm and steady.

“Well, you’ve foiled a dozen of my plans over the last few years and I’m tired of that. So I figured it was time to do something about that. It took me a few months to track down your secret identity, but the rest was pretty easy. Well except for the exact incantation that granted you your powers of course. That was a real bitch to figure out.”

She frowned and wondered where he was going with all this.

“Getting this though was easy…” he said as he picked up a metal briefcase and laid it on the bed before opening it.

Her eyes went wide when she saw what was inside, “What the fuck is that for?!?” she said and tried to thrash her way out of her bonds.

“Settle down.” he commanded and her thrashing ceased.

“No hold still and be quiet while I work.”

Her lips closed and she watched him take the tattoo gun and equipment from the case and then pull up a chair behind her and start working.

“Just be glad that I’m a good artist…”


Karen stood in front of the mirror and turned her body as far around as she could so that she could look at the tattoo that ran from her wrists, up her arms and across her shoulder blades.

It was a realistically rendered set of chains and handcuffs, the wrapped around her wrists and connected together.

A chill ran up her spine, she could feel her bond to him still, and knew it wouldn’t be going away any time soon.

She also felt completely helpless, her powers gone, and her life about to be in ruins.

The memory of the last command he had given her before he left still echoed in her ears, “You are bound to me permanently now, you are my slave for life. Destroy your old life and come worship at my feet.”

She gasped as the memory came over her, her own voice echoing in her memory and throughout the bathroom once more, “Yes Master.”

5