Diana sat upright in her executive chair, reviewing a digital contract, when her body suddenly locked up. Her eyes rolled back, her toes curling inside her heels as a violent, phantom thrust slammed into her soul.
"Nngh—!"
A gush of thick, viscous fluid erupted from her urethra, soaking the white thong beneath her pencil skirt. Because her physical vagina hadn't been touched, there was no natural lubrication to thin it out; the discharge was heavy and gelatinous, forming transparent, sticky threads that clung to her inner thighs.
Somewhere in the world, someone was using one of her "Soul Toys."
Diana had distributed the green gel masturbators—each containing a fragment of her personality—to the underground market. Imbued with self-cleaning magic and mental suggestion spells, these toys were becoming a legend in the dark corners of the globe. They didn't just feel like a woman; they clamped, trembled, and orgasmed like a goddess. And thanks to the sensory link, whenever a stranger buried his cock in the gel, Diana felt it.
If three men used them at once? The pleasure multiplied, leaving the CEO in a state of constant, indiscriminate orgasm at her desk.
The Abandoned Warehouse
"Hehehe... not bad. This is the scent that attracts me."
A thin man in a trench coat stood before an open briefcase, staring at the glowing green lump of gel. Opposite him, a seller grinned, his eyes darting to the shadows.
"You'll only know how good it is once you stick your dick in it," the seller laughed. "But buddy... isn't it risky to carry that much cash alone?"
At his signal, five burly thugs stepped out of the darkness, pipes and knives in hand. The seller chuckled, stepping back. "Market price just went up."
The buyer remained completely calm. He didn't look at the thugs; he looked at the floor. "Shadows are hungry tonight."
Before the thugs could lunge, the shadows beneath their feet seemed to liquefy. Darkness rose like a mouth, swallowing them whole without a sound. The seller tried to scream, but the floor opened up and dragged him into the abyss.
The thin man picked up the gel, caressing it. "What a coincidence. I wasn't planning on paying anyway."
Diana, sensing the surge of power from her office, marked the location. The toys were bait. They attracted superhumans who instinctively sought out the magical energy within the gel to strengthen themselves. She had already found four weak meta-humans this way. She marked them and let them go. They were seeds to be harvested later.
The Forest Factory
One of the toys had stopped circulating. It was stagnant in a remote location. Diana finished her morning meeting—wiping a fresh layer of slime from her chair—and teleported to the coordinates.
She arrived in a dense forest, standing before a hidden industrial complex. She teleported into the office, retrieved the unused toy, and sensed the atmosphere. The air smelled of oil, sweat, and fear.
"Illegal," she whispered. "Perfect."
To blend in with the dark, kinky aesthetic of the underground, she used her magic to transfigure her outfit. The business suit vanished, replaced by a skin-tight, black latex catsuit that shone like oil under the lights. It hugged every curve of her divine body, emphasizing the heavy swell of her breasts and the deep cleft of her buttocks. Thigh-high leather boots clicked softly as she infiltrated the production floor.
She saw them—rows of bound women being fed onto conveyor belts, heading toward massive, complex machines.
"Intruder!"
Several gang members disguised as workers spotted her. Diana didn't fight. She raised her latex-clad hands in mock surrender. A quick, silent pulse of brainwashing magic made them skip the interrogation. They simply bound her wrists and ankles and threw her onto the belt.
She lay on the rubber track, watching the ceiling pass by, her heart hammering with a mixture of anticipation and voyeurism. The belt moved her into the maw of the machine.
Inside, it was a cavernous space of steel and hydraulics. A mechanical claw grabbed her, hoisting her into the air. She was suspended by a vertical pole, her hands locked behind her head, forcing her chest out. Her knees were hooked over a horizontal bar, splaying her legs into a wide, humiliating 'M' shape.
The machine came alive. It wasn't modern tech; the arms moved with a fluid, almost organic dexterity. A manipulator descended, its cold pincer gripping the zipper of her latex suit at her neck.
Zzzzzzip.
Slowly, agonizingly, the zipper was pulled down. Her creamy, snow-white skin was exposed to the cool air. When the slider passed her chest, her heavy, braless breasts sprang free, bouncing with the motion. Beads of sweat, born of excitement, rolled down her cleavage.
The zipper continued past her navel, down to her crotch, exposing her bare, hairless vulva to the mechanical gaze.
A mechanical arm pressed against her flat abdomen. A thin, cold cable snaked out from it. It began to wind around her, coiling tight against her stomach, then moving up to crisscross between her breasts, making them bulge dangerously. The cable moved down, wrapping around her thighs and squeezing her labia from both sides, locking her body into a complex, inescapable shibari bind.
Diana didn't struggle. She watched, panting, as two smaller arms extended toward her chest. Metal clamps opened and closed with a menacing click.
They latched onto her erect nipples.
Pinch.
"Ah—!"
The sudden, sharp stimulation on her sensitive teats was the trigger. Her body relaxed, her hips bucked in the air, and a fountain of thick, clear nectar spurted from her urethra, splashing onto the machine below as she let out a long, comfortable moan of surrender.
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