Sisterhood of the Iron Mind

The tinkling of glass. The buzz of excited conversation. The swell of chamber music. Even my heart was soaring with pride, for tonight, the grand ballroom of Tagrell Station was drunk on champagne and victory. I had to resist the urge to be swept up in the mood and grab one of the beautiful young ladies and pull her to the dance floor. Or somewhere more quiet.

I was immaculately dressed for the occasion, my raven hair tied back into a fishtail braid. My azure halter dress emphasized my statuesque physique, especially my toned shoulders and graceful neck. The design showed off my athletic back, coming just short of revealing the crest of my plump rear. And from the front, the support made it hard to look away from my considerable assets. Past the waist, the dress flowed out like a waterfall, loose and puffy until it reached my ankles my black stilettos. The look was completed with a pair of unassuming pearl stud earrings and a black choker which peeked out from under the neck of the dress.

My stunning appearance earned me no shortage of attention, and I was constantly deflecting men's requests to dance. They were all fit and handsome, and all disappointed when I explained that I preferred the company of other women. Not that it stopped them from striking up hopeless conversation. I was glad I'd so diligently rehearsed my cover story of an heiress of a minor allied firm.

All the while, I watched her across the room. She was a full head shorter than me even in her gold platform heels. Her black tube microdress struggled to contain her voluptuous figure, the swell of her breasts so close at every moment to bursting from the strapless top that I was certain she was using her telekinesis to keep them under control. Her shapely legs were on full display, the dress's hem stopping well short of mid-thigh. Her firm ass showed no sign of panty lines, and all the leering men's suspicions would doubtless be confirmed should she bend forward even slightly.

Her wavy blonde hair went halfway down her back, billowing gently in a nonexistent breeze--likely another cosmetic use of her powers. The look was completed by gold chandelier earrings studded with innumerable diamonds and a matching necklace with seven tear-shaped diamonds of increasing size, the largest of which rested over her cleavage.

Even if I had not memorized her appearance, I would have had no trouble identifying Mara Song, the Level 5 Kineticist winning victory after victory for Webster & Sons, the sector's rising power. She was more than the belle of the ball; the party revolved around her. A parade of supporters and sycophants flitted by her, vying for attention.

Standing beside her was a man nearing my height with fiery red hair in a navy tuxedo with a black bow tie. This was Gerald Webster, one of the sons. He hovered around Mara possessively. But although he did not even attempt to conceal his frequent glances down her dress, he notably made no effort to place so much as a hand on her arm. Nevertheless, any men who became too friendly with the lady were frightened off by a darkening of his smile, or a barbed comment.

His attitude was consistent with the intelligence my employer had received from one of the high-ranking assets we had in Webster & Sons. Gerald was desperately trying to court Mara, and though she'd yet to give in to his advances, he fought off any other potential suitors with the zeal of a jealous husband. And according to that intelligence, Mara was growing ever more restless as Gerald's interference made it difficult to fulfill certain needs.

Then the opportunity came. Mara made a polite exit, stepping onto one of the balconies overlooking the station's streets. Ostensibly this was to get some air, but in this sector's culture, it was a signal that the lady was interested in more intimate conversations than could be held in the open ballroom. But under the baleful stare of Gerald Webster, no one dared disturb her.

No one except me. I pretended not to notice the irate heir, slipping from the din of the party and onto the quiet balcony. She turned, surprised at the intrusion. Her lips curled into a seductive smile when she saw me.

"What's a gorgeous woman like you doing all alone out here?" I asked, making my way to the rail and leaning against it. The night air was cold, and the sable sky beyond the station's dome glittered with innumerable stars. The moon the station orbited around shone silver at the horizon formed by the dome's far off edge.

"Waiting for you, I think," she replied, standing at the rail as well. She didn't lean against it, lest she give the onlookers inside a show, but she began stroking my hand, looking down and batting her eyelashes as she thrust her impressive chest toward me. It was easy to see why Webster had taken so many glances at it. Her pillowy tits were even more impressive up close and from above than they had been across the room.

I matched her playful smile. I could not believe my luck--this woman was even more pent up than I could have imagined. Following my instincts, I said, "I had a whole routine planned, but perhaps we should skip to the part where it worked?" When she replied with a delicate laugh, I knew I was in.

"That sounds perfect," she purred, still caressing me with her soft hand. She glanced over her shoulder, where Webster stood inside the bright ballroom glaring daggers at me. Then, she grabbed both of my forearms, saying, "I hope you're not afraid of heights."

Before I could ask what she meant, my stomach dropped. In moments, we'd lifted off the floor of the balcony, soaring up to a window on the next floor. It unlatched, seemingly of its own accord. The two of us drifted inside. The window shut behind us, and Mara's gentle touch smoothed my ruffled dress.

I steadied myself, avoiding suspicion by not suppressing my surprise too much. This was within expectations. Another stroke of luck, even, since we were near the room I'd intended to bring her to. Once I'd portrayed the appropriate amount of amazement, I grabbed her by the wrist and led her through the dimly lit halls.

She was content (even excited) to be guided, and a few turns brought us through a double door which I closed and locked behind us. Inside was a small parlor with sumptuous decoration and furnishing. I was most interested in the large sofa. I half-steered half-dragged her across the room, pushing her by her shoulders into the sofa while I crouched before her so that we were eye-level with each other.

She wasted no time in wrapping her arms around my neck and drowning me in passionate kisses. At each pause for air, she panted with sweet desperation. A flush flooded her features as she finally felt the intimacy she'd been longing for.

I returned her affections, grabbing the back of her head, keeping our lips against each other even as she retreated for breaths. With my other hand, I stuck my thumb under the top of her dress and freed her confined breasts. They were somehow even more massive than the dress made them look, coming all the way down to her belly button once they were swaying freely. I grabbed a handful of one, roughly kneading it as I marveled at the size. I had plenty of experience with busty babes thanks to my time training in the Sisterhood, but even compared to other psions, Mara was in a class of her own.

There was work to do, but I had enough time for a little fun first. At one of her tongue's intrusions into my mouth, I gently bit down on it, eliciting a surprised yelp as I trapped her. I released my grip on her head and grasped her other tit. I tweaked both of her nipples, and she let out a deep groan down my throat.

She wrapped her legs around me, locking me in a fierce embrace. Her attire had ridden up to reveal her drooling slit, which was leaking so much that I soon felt her juices soaking through the front of my dress. She was unbelievably needy, yearning for my touch as a starving woman yearns food.

I released her tongue and gave her a quick peck, then moved my head down to her smooth neck, my fingers continuing their assault on her chest's sensitive buds even as I ravished her with kisses. My lips felt the vibration of her vocal chords with each breathy moan. Between my strikes, I said, "You're practically naked in this dress. Do you like teasing Mr. Webster that much?"

After a gasp, she replied with oozing smugness: "I have to retaliate where I can. It's--ah! It's driving him insane. He can look all he wants, but I'll never let him touch." A sharp inhale, then she finished, "You can touch me all you want, baby." She worked the neck of my dress over my head as I withdrew to reply. It fell down to my waist and freed my own bouncing breasts.

"He won't give me any trouble, will he?" I asked playfully. But I expected a great deal of trouble from Gerald Webster very soon, so I didn't care how sore he felt that I was stealing his unrequited love out from under him.

She laughed at that. "He's jealous, but so old fashioned." She began playing with my breasts now, her caresses such delicate contrast to my rough handling. "He'll tolerate a woman touching me, as long as it's only for tonight."

I took my hands off her and hooked my thumbs under my dress and panties. I began standing from my crouch, prompting her to loosen her legs. My tall frame rose, but my clothing didn't follow. I revealed supple thighs adorned with a lacy white garter belt and stockings. Like a perfect picture, they framed my thick cock. It throbbed with need for her. I asked, smirking, "Even if I have this?"

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, and her gaze was fixed on the firm length in front of her. There was a hungry gleam in her eyes. For her, too, this night was going better than imagined. Her lips curled into a wolfish grin as she replied, "I can keep a secret."

I leaned forward on the balls of my feet and twisted my hips, getting even harder as her eyes stayed locked on my dick. Then I quickly turned the other way, making her go cross-eyed as my cock slapped her across the face. "You'd better," I teased, punctuating the directive with another slap from the opposite direction.

Her necklace and earrings jingled as her head moved with each impact. She'd been aggressive from the start, but now that she knew what I was packing, she was in a frenzy. Unable to wait a moment longer, she leapt up into a kneel on the couch, facing away from me and leaning over the back. She reached around to spread her perfect ass, revealing her soaked folds. She cooed, "Maybe you should convince me."

That was all the invitation I needed. I put my hands over hers and plunged into her, my thighs clapping against her ass as I went balls deep in a single thrust. Her walls were clamping my cock, but thanks to the waterfall cascading from her pussy, I had no trouble drawing back for another thrust.

The first one had craned her neck until she was looking at the ceiling and arced her back into a deep curve, a sharp "Oh!" escaping her lips as I knocked the wind out of her. The second one wrenched open her mouth in what would have been a screaming climax if she'd had the breath for it. Her arms and legs trembled as she struggled to hold herself up, already weak with pleasure. She had needed this.

I desperately wanted to see how many orgasms I could give her, but the mission came first. I consoled myself with the knowledge that I'd have plenty of time to play with her later. I reached up to my choker, which already had the code entered. All I needed to do was press the release and it popped open. As soon as I felt my powers flooding back to me, I emitted a field which would prevent the station's construct from processing what was happening in this room.

The choker was a disguised psionic inhibitor, which wore it on infiltration missions so that I wouldn't turn up on scanners which could identify psions. It conveniently doubled as the tool I would need to kidnap one of the most dangerous women in the galaxy. While she was still in the throes of ecstasy, I fitted it around her neck. It closed with a satisfying click, cutting off her powers.

In the moments it took her to come down from her climax and understand what had happened, I reached my foot under the sofa and drew out a large, person-sized duffel bag. It was already unzipped. I bent down to grab a long thick cloth. Noticing my discarded underwear and feeling a perverse throb in my cock, I scooped the silk panties up while I was down there.

She'd looked over her shoulder by the time I'd stood back up, opening her mouth in protest. Instead of whatever she'd been planning to say, she let out a muffled "Mmmph?!" after I stuffed my panties into her mouth. She tried to reach up to remove them, but I grabbed both of her arms, pulling them behind her back.

I used one hand to keep hold of her wrists, pulling up and away while I brought a knee into her back. With the other hand, I put the cloth over and around her head, fitting it in her mouth and tightening it into a cleave gag to keep the panties inside. Still holding her arms behind her, I grabbed a set of metal cuffs which I fitted around either wrist.

Thanks to her awkward backward kneeling position on the couch, she was already out of options. She struggled against my grip, but without her psionics, she was no stronger than an average human. Powerless against the might of a Level 3 Enhancer.

Her feet were next, secured close together at the ankles by another set of cuffs. These had three shackles, the third of which I closed around the chain between the cuffs around her hands to hold her in a hogtie. I'd prepared bindings of exactly the right length for her, so the extent of her mobility was opening and closing her legs or moving her head. With her psionics neutralized and her body immobilized, I flipped her around so that she was facing me.

She glared at me, mumbling incoherently into the gag. She swayed her shoulders from side to side as she struggled, her tits bouncing enticingly. Maybe she was trying to disrupt my plans by seducing me? Her tight dress had bunched up around her waist so that it resembled a belt, and it was the only thing she had on besides her jewelry.

There was the possibility of a tracking device, so all of it would have to go. I started with the dress. I hadn't known how much she would be wearing or how undressed she would be when I'd secured her, so I'd brought fabric scissors in the bag. In a single underwhelming cut, the loop of cloth around her waist became a strip that fell onto the couch behind her. She was now completely naked.

She did not like that, shouting into the gag with such vigor that she would go hoarse if she kept it up. She liked it even less when I reached up to remove her earrings, thrashing her head so that the jewelry--and her huge breasts--bounced wildly. A threat to rip them out halted her resistance. The necklace, secured by a simple clasp at the back of her neck, followed. I hid all of it under one of the couch cushions, planning to be long gone by the time they were found.

Her diamond necklace and earrings had been beautiful, but I liked her better in her new jewelry. The steel shone stunning against her alabaster skin, and the pose it enforced emphasized her otherworldly chest as she thrust it forward. Completing the look was the sleek black choker around her neck. I'd replace it with a proper collar once we were back. I imagined putting a tag on it: "Mara Song, Level 5 Kineticist".

But that was enough fantasizing. I removed my garter belt and stockings, putting them and my dress into the duffel bag. Then I withdrew a tube top and microskirt. I needed to maximize my exposure for my psionics, and it was the least amount of coverage I could have while still technically being decent. I wasn't planning to run into anybody on my way off the station, but there was at least the possibility I could talk my way out of an encounter if I wasn't stark naked.

As I got dressed in my new clothes, I swore. I hadn't brought another pair of underwear. Gagging Mara with my panties had not been part of the plan, but the temptation had been too hot to resist. Even now, she was drowning in my musk.

My dick swung between my legs like a pendulum. Still, the skirt was just long enough that only the tip would be visible as long as I wasn't hard. I'd have to make do, and at least the lack of coverage down there would increase my output a bit.

Mara wasn't struggling at this point, instead watching (perhaps admiring?) me as I changed. As I stepped up to her, she leaned back as much as she was able to. She let out another grumbling protest as I picked her up again, but she didn't waste energy thrashing around.

Perhaps she regretted it after I stuffed her in the duffel bag and zipped it shut. She was writhing now, but the bag had a deceptive amount of padding sewn into the lining. Her movement was barely noticeable as I hoisted her onto my back, making sure her head was facing up.

I was a Multi, a psion of at least Level 3 in multiple disciplines. I had two: Enhancement and Warp. The former was invaluable as I trekked through the manor with a fully grown woman on my back. The latter was equally useful, despite how misunderstood it was.

The most obvious use of Warp was bending spacetime to instantly send objects across distances. This could be used to great advantage, but at Level 3 and below, it was impractical. The ability to bend spacetime had many other applications, however. Most importantly, it allowed me to project a field to obfuscate my actions from the station's construct. Although it had cameras all over the manor, it essentially had forgotten that Mara and I existed. It paid no heed to the scantily-dressed woman carrying a slightly-squirming duffel bag over her shoulder.

I could also manipulate probability. I was wandering through the backways the servants used, and if I did this normally, there was a decent chance I would run into someone going to or from the party. By emitting a probability field, however, I vastly decreased the odds of an unwelcome encounter. So it was that I made it to the manor's back door without encountering another person.

It was a short trip across the gardens. There were a few partygoers, but thanks to my engineered fortune, they were either too far to notice anything suspicious about me in the gloom, or more concerned with not being caught themselves as they canoodled in the rosebushes.

I reached the back gate without issue. This was the tricky part. I removed my heels, then crouched down and took in a deep breath, readying myself. I went to full output, dumping as much power as I could into my legs as I leapt into the air.

I cleared the twenty-foot gate with inches to spare, taking a deep breath as I reached the apex of my jump. Then I maximized my output again, strengthening my body to absorb the impact. My skirt flipped up as I descended, my flaccid cock going vertical with the momentum. My bare feet let out a resounding bang as they slammed into the pavement, and the shock rattled my bones. But I was unharmed. Still holding my heels, I began jogging down the street.

My ride was waiting a few blocks away. It was a blocky black vehicle, one of the station's taxis. It opened the door to the backseat, and I deposited the bag inside before climbing in after it. The driver's seat was empty, which was not unusual. What was unusual was that my construct was controlling it.

[I see you have the package, Agent. Estimated time of arrival at the dock is nine minutes, assuming traffic conditions persist.]

There was a chorus of clicks as the doors locked, and the car took off at a reasonable pace. It felt a bit slow, but the construct would be going as fast as it could without drawing attention.

"Thanks, Intrepid," I replied. I began unzipping the duffel bag, revealing my disheveled prize. I was met with a glare and more muttering into the gag. As I extricated her, I asked, "Any reaction so far?"