Power Woman Vs. Electrolux

Electrolux springs the trap before Power Woman can blink. One hand crackles. The other yanks a thick leather strap between the hero’s teeth and cinches it behind her head. Power Woman jerks, wrists already cinched behind her, ankles roped tight. The ball gag muffles her curses into wet grunts. Electrolux leans close, beard scraping the heroine’s cheek. “You buzz with juice, sweetheart. I’m going to suck every volt out of that pretty cunt until you’re just another twitching slut.” She drags two fingers down the bound woman’s stomach and presses between her thighs, feeling the heat through the costume. Power Woman strains against the ropes, muscles locked, eyes flashing. The cuffs bite deeper when she kicks. Electrolux laughs low, slides the zipper down the front of the suit, and cups bare skin. Every squeeze sends little sparks across the brunette’s nipples. She slides two gloved fingers inside, slow and deliberate, thumb circling until Power Woman’s hips betray her. Wet sounds fill the concrete room. Electrolux works her open, savoring each muffled moan that leaks around the gag. The ropes creak. The hero’s thighs tremble. Just as the villain readies the humming device that will drain every last spark, heavy boots echo from the catwalk above. An uninvited shadow drops between them, cuts the power feed, and leaves both women staring at each other—bound, exposed, suddenly prey instead of predator.