Dances at geek conventions are a very mixed bag. Put several hundred socially awkward nerds in a room together with loud music and alcohol and one of two things will happen. Either everyone will sit quietly huddled together with the few other people they know, trying to talk over the music, or enough people will overcome their awkwardness that the dance floor will be packed with people who are mostly too scared to talk to one another.
This dance was themed around superheroes and villains, and he was thrilled to be there. He was tall, well-muscled, and his father was from Puerto Rico, which meant that it was a natural fit for him to take the costume of a luchador-inspired villain who had been responsible for the destruction of one of comics’ most popular heroes a few years ago. He went for more of a comic-inspired version of the outfit than the one from the movie that came out a few years ago, meaning he wore black spandex that left his massive arms exposed, and his mask was a luchador-style one with a zippered opening allowing the mouth to come away from the mask so he could eat and drink.
His roommate for the convention had insisted on their costumes and that they come out to the dance, and he had reluctantly agreed. He was still in the midst of an unpleasant divorce, so while he had been looking forward to the convention, the idea of spending a night surrounded by drunk and desperate nerds was of limited interest to him. Predictably, his roommate spotted a young twenty-something dressed as a female clown-themed villain moments after they arrived at the dance and vanished into the crowd, leaving him alone.
Sweeping his gaze across the crowd, he tried to figure out how long he had to stay at the dance before he could slip away. His roommate would probably go back to the room of the blonde he had chased after, so no one would know that he left. He could get in a workout, turn in early, and be ready for the convention tomorrow.
So resolved, he turned towards to the exit and started to make his way out, not looking down, and so he almost tripped over her. She was maybe 5’6” tall, and some of that came from the black stilettos she wore. Her hair was long and dark, spilling out of the latex cat-inspired cowl. Her eyes were green, sparkling like emeralds. The leather catsuit she wore was unzipped halfway partially, revealing the tops of a very nicely rounded pair of breasts. They didn’t seem to be terribly large, but on her fairly petite frame, they were more than proportionate. A whip was coiled and hung from her hips. She was adorable, if perhaps a little too young for him.
She also had been holding a full cup of some fruity alcoholic concoction, most of which was now splattered all over his costume from where they collided.
“Watch it!” she said, indignantly, looking right into his sternum. Her gaze traveled up over his well-defined chest until she was looking up at his mask. “Oh… uhm…” she continued, obviously embarrassed at both her outburst and at having spilled her drink all over him. “I’m sorry…”
“No worries, kitten,” he said. “I’m fine. The costume will wash. Shall I get you another one?”
She looked at the empty and dented plastic cup in her hand. “No. No, I really don’t need this. It won’t help.” She was practically screaming to be heard over the music.
“Here, follow me,” he said, taking her by the hand and leading her to a set of couches that were on the outside edges of the dance. He noted how easily she went with him, and he guessed there was a submissive streak in her, despite the fact that the costume she wore had been inspired by the outfits of professional dominatrixes.
When they found the couches, he left her for a minute, then returned with two cups of water. “So, why are you so upset?” he asked as he sat across from her, handing her one of the two cups. She looked at it warily, clearly aware of the potential risk of drinking something a stranger handed her at a party before she decided to throw caution to the wind and sipped the cool liquid.
“The guy I came here with? The one who I spent hundreds of dollars buying a costume to coordinate with his? He’s over there dancing with some blonde slut with big boobs.”
She pointed across the dance floor, and sure enough, there was a guy dressed as the famous vigilante, dancing with a cute little blonde number dressed in pigtails with clown makeup. She was in her early twenties, and the two of them were sharing their dance area with his roommate.
“They’re also dancing with my roommate,” he said. She was obviously furious with the guy, and he guessed that she had really been planning to sleep with the guy this weekend. Her costume wasn’t cheaply made, so she had been willing to invest quite a bit to impress this dude. “I suppose the three of them make quite a set. Hero, villain, and villain’s girlfriend.”
She grimaced. “That is such an unhealthy relationship. I don’t get why girls think those two make a good couples costume.”
“Oh, you’re a fan?” he asked.
The two of them began to talk, sharing their favorite moments in comics, films and television. The conversation flowed naturally and easily, to the point where neither noticed that they had never bothered to share their names. She was clearly much younger than he, but he found her engaging and charming and well-read. They were oblivious to the dance going on around them, and before they knew it, the lights were being turned up to tell the partiers to get out. Both of them looked around and noticed that their respective friends had left without them – most likely somewhere with the blonde in red and black.
“Would you like to continue this discussion back at my room? I’m in a hotel connected to the convention,” he offered.
She chuckled, uncomfortably. “You just want to get me back to your room so you can take advantage of me. Big strong supervillain holding the vigilante anti-hero at his mercy.”
She said that nervously, but he thought he could detect a note of longing in her voice. She was more than ten years his junior. His divorce wasn’t finalized. And if her convention badge could be believed, she lived on the opposite side of the country. There were a million reasons why bringing her back to his room was a mistake. But he decided to go for it anyways.
“Would it be such a bad thing if I did, kitten?”
She bit her lip nervously as she considered her options.
“Take me,” she said, finally.
* * *
They didn’t speak as they made their way the few blocks through the city back to his hotel. The convention had filled the hotel lobby with people in costume and playing board games, so no one paid them a second look as they came in, still in full costume. She stood demurely and quietly beside him as he led her to the elevators and by the time the elevator arrived at the 14th floor, they were the only two left. She followed him down the hall to his room. When they arrived at the entrance, he turned and faced her, placing his second copy of the room key in her hand.
“If you’re going to come into my room, it has to be your choice. Because once we’re inside, what I say goes. Do you understand?”
She nodded assent.
“I still don’t even know your real name,” he said as he let himself into the room. He turned back to see her standing in the hallway.
“I’m your kitty. You’re my poison. Do we need to know anything more about each other?” she said as the door closed with a click.
He stood just inside the threshold to the hotel room, waiting for the impossibly long time as he waited for her to make her choice. It might have been as few as five seconds between when the door closed and when the green light on the lock flashed, indicating that she was inserting the room key, but it felt like hours. As she tentatively began to push the door open, he grabbed the edge, flinging the door wide.
Before she could say anything he had his hands under her arms, lifting her up, spinning her around, taking several steps into the room, letting the door swing closed under its own power, as he pinned her to a wall and they exchanged their first kiss.
She wrapped her slender legs around him, not quite able to fully encircle him as he had one hand on her ass, using it to hold her up and support her as she was pinned against the wall. His other hand was on the black latex of her cowl, pulling her mouth to him. Her hands grabbed his biceps, the claws of the leather gloves digging into his muscles, not quite able to draw blood.
As their tongues dueled, with hers retreating to allow him to explore the shape of her mouth, he released her head. His hand came between them and found the zipper of her catsuit, pulling the zipper down exposing the full curves of her tits. She wore a lacy black shelf bra that pushed her cleavage high, and once the leather was pulled back, left her nipples on full display. A silver stud went through the nipple of her right breast, and her small, pebble-like nipples were hard and erect with longing.
“He would have been very lucky,” he said his hand came up to cup her right boob. His thumb ran across the nipple, toying with the jewelry. “He’s a fool to have turned away from you. But I am happy to claim what should have been his.”
“Yesssss,” she moaned as he fondled her. “Claim me. Own me. Make me yours.”
He turned them away from the wall, easily holding her up with one hand. Before she could fully react, he tossed her onto the king-sized bed that dominated the room. She landed hard, prone and lying flat on the bed, breasts bouncing from the impact, wind slightly knocked from her lungs. Then he was on her, knees pressing her thighs apart as he held himself just above her on his elbows, one hand back on her zipper, peeling it all the way down her stomach, past her waist until the top of her lacy panties could be seen. He kissed her again, his other hand reaching up to take the edge of her latex cowl to pull it from her head.
“No,” she asked, one of her delicate hands gripping his wrist. “Leave the masks on.”
He grinned a predatory grin.
“You wish to be taken by the villain, and not by me?”
“Tonight? Yes. Oh, yes.”
“As you wish, kitten.”
With that, he grabbed the opening of the catsuit near her collarbone and he pulled roughly, yanking it halfway down her arms, exposing her torso fully to his gaze. He kissed her again as he pulled, rearing back on his knees and bringing her into a sitting position as he worked the leather suit down her body. His mouth moved from hers to her neck, and he kissed and bit at her as he stripped the catsuit off of her, leaving her in only her bra and panties.
“Now, my little cat, if you want to make me happy – and you do want to make happy – strip me,” he ordered her as he lay down on the bed.
She was a vision of innocence and debauchery in one, somewhat demure despite the lingerie that had clearly been chosen to create lust and desire. Her bra did nothing to hide her full breasts, the nipples fully on display, and the high-cut lace thong did more to enhance her cunt than it did to conceal it. No hair showed under the lace, so she either had a very well-trimmed landing strip, or she was completely bare underneath.
On her knees she slid down the bed, first unlacing the heavy boots he wore. She slipped them off, then gently peeled his socks down his feet. She turned away completely, so that she was facing the foot of the bed, and as she bent over, he could see the full lips of her pussy peeking out from behind the lacy strip. Her folds glistened and gleamed with her arousal, and he put one hand on the cheek of her ass possessively as she bared his feet.
She looked back over her shoulder, eyes gleaming mischievously as she wiggled her ass back at him. The raven black hair from under her cowl flipped wildly as she turned her attention back to him. She sat back on her knees as she ran her hands up his legs, feeling the muscles beneath through the spandex. Her fingers stroked the growing hardness of his manhood as she worked to undo the complicated belt that was as much prop as it was an article of clothing. His outfit was a one-piece singlet, but the belt had to go before she could peel it down him.
Her hands kept straying from working the buckles and snaps of the belt as she got distracted feeling his manhood. He was big, perhaps not bigger than the basketball player she had hooked up with during college, but still more than enough to satisfy her. She couldn’t wait to expose him, to feel the girth of his shaft, the weight of his balls. Her mouth watered as she considered the possibilities.
“Stay focused, kitten.” His voice brought her back to reality, and she hurriedly finished removing the belt before spinning back to face him.
Her fingers slipped under the black spandex shoulder straps, and she began to peel it down him, loving the play of muscles she could see in his pecs, his abs. His waist tapered in, although she was briefly disappointed that his cock was covered by a pair of tight silvery briefs. But she continued to peel the second skin of the spandex costume down him, fingers massaging the taught muscles of his thighs as she went, and then he was just like her, wearing only underwear and a mask.
Then his hands were back under her arms, pulling her onto him so that she straddled him. She could feel his hardness through their underclothing, her slickness allowing her panties to easily slide back and forth across her sensitive lips as he ground himself against her.
His hands went to her hips, guiding her as she moved above him, their bodies pressed tight together, both longing to feel the naked flesh that was covered by the thin pieces of fabric. He brought his head up to her right breast, taking her nipple between his teeth, biting gently, with his tongue playing with the jewelry embedded within. She grabbed the back of his head, pulling him into her by the spandex as she moaned with pleasure and pressed her pussy against him.
“Take me. Now,” she breathed.
“With pleasure,” he responded, gently pushing her back as he sat up, reversing their position so that her head was flat on the mattress by the foot of the bed as he positioned himself above her, between her legs.
He took her wrists in one massive hand, pushing them above her head and pinning her to the bed as he reached between them to rub her pussy through the black lace of her panties. She was soaking through, and he pushed the thin strip of fabric to the side to feel her bare lips. She was hot, and wet, and his finger slipped past the inner lips of her pussy. Her heat was intense, and the muscles within seemed to pulse and almost pull him in. He slowly fucked her with one finger, marveling at her tightness.
“No, don’t tease me. Please. Just fuck me,” she begged.
“I don’t… do you have condoms?”
“No… but I know you’re clean. I’m clean. And on the pill. And I need you. Now.”
He shimmied out of his underwear, baring his cock. He was hard and ready, his foreskin pulled back, revealing the swollen glands that was ready to penetrate her. The thin hair of her pubes tickled the head of his cock as he rubbed himself against her, slickening his shaft before he penetrated her. She whined in frustration and tried to raise her hips to impale herself on him, but he had her too firmly pinned to do so.
He pushed, and her lips parted to allow him entry, engulfing the first two inches of his cock. She was like a wet, velvet vise, gripping his shaft as it slowly pushed deeper into her. She moaned, a low, deep, soft sound as she was penetrated but his throbbing manhood. She felt herself stretching to accommodate him, not quite painfully so, but a delicious ache that left her feeling completely full. And then he was completely embedded within, their pubic hair meshing together, and his heavy, full balls resting against the curve of her ass.
“You’re mine now,” he said, and then brought his face to hers, nipping gently at her lower lip.
“Yes, absolutely. I’m at your mercy.”
“Too bad I have none,” he said as he swiftly withdrew most of his cock, and then slammed back into her in one fierce thrust that made her shudder. She was almost ready to beg him to do that again when he preempted her request by repeating the motion again… and again… and again.
He fucked her hard, and long, with deep, powerful thrusts, pinning her to the bed, and leaving her completely helpless. And she didn’t want to be anywhere else. Her moans came so quickly and intensely that they stopped being separate moans, and more became one single long exaltation of pleasure as he drove into her, pushing her through one orgasm, then another and another.
He stopped, leaving her panting and wanting more, and withdrew from between her thighs. Seizing her, he pulled her to her feet and then shoved her over, so she was bent over the bed. As she tried to adjust to what he was doing, he had retrieved the whip from her costume, and brought it around to her hands, wrapping her wrists in the leather behind her back. She was a vision of loveliness and submission, bent over at the waist, chest against the bed, hands bound, pussy wet and glistening and open and ready.
Then he was behind her again, pushing into her once more, hands gripping her hips as he fucked violently fucked her. He was hard and ready to burst – it had been months since he had last lain with his soon-to-be ex-wife, and he was primed and ready to explode.
“Do you like this, kitten? Being taken? Being owned?”
“Yes.. oh, god, yes….” She moaned, his words almost as exciting to her as the powerful cock that was piercing her from behind.
“You like the feeling of me inside you. Making you mine?”
“Tell me what you want… what you need.”
“Fill me. Own me. Take me. Fill my pussy with your cock, with your cum. Make all of it yours. Use me. Fuck me. Just fucking take me!”
Her words were enough to push him over the edge, and his fingers dug into the curve of her hip as he buried himself in her, his cock twitching as it sent spurts of his cum deep into her wet and ready womb, triggering another orgasm of hers as she felt him empty himself in her.
He collapsed forward, pinning her to the bed, and they both tried to catch their breath as the moment began to pass.
He withdrew, and lay back down on the bed, pulling her to lay beside him, her head resting on his chest, one of her legs thrown over him. He unbound her wrists, and she cuddled into him, their masks still on.
She brought one hand up to the edge of his mask, fingers toying with the seam.
“Can we take these off?” she asked in a voice that was high-pitched, childlike, and vulnerable.
“Of course,” he answered gently.
Reaching back, he peeled the spandex off his head. His hair was short, dark brown, and despite being matted down under the spandex, she could still make out the gentle curls that were there. His face was handsome enough, deeply lined, with sorrowful bags under his eyes, and now that she could see his eyes, they were a deep brown.
For her part, when the latex cowl with attached wig was removed, he could see that her hair was very short and dyed red. Although her cowl had let her eyes shine through, unmasked she looked even younger than he had thought she was originally. He didn’t doubt that she was the age she had told him, but she seemed so much more innocent and youthful with the mask gone – a look that was only somewhat marred by the well-fucked look in her eyes.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” she responded, looking back at him.
“I guess now we should exchange names?”
They both laughed, as they cuddled together. They had been intimate enough that something as mundane as the exchanging of names seemed extraneous, and they drifted off to sleep curled into one another.
About the Author
Broken Unicorn has been a writer since he was a child, starting off writing decidedly non-erotic stories about superheroes. As he got older, he started writing erotica about superheroes, before eventually discovering his kinky side and writing about people who could live in the real world. He lives in the midwest, and is happy to live in a very full house that includes four humans and two dogs. He can be found under the profile Broken_Unicorn https://fetlife.com/users/8765084