Spellbound, Chapter 2

Clark/Madeline/Chloe
Season 4, "Spell"
Rating: Adult. If you're under eighteen, please go elsewhere now.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to the CW and DC Comics, not to me.
Author's Note: This is darker than my usual stories. Elements of rape, bondage, and sadism.

Madeline leaned forward again, and Clark shuddered. Oh, God, she's going to do it again. His eyes fluttered shut.

"Open your eyes," she said softly.

His eyelashes felt impossibly heavy, but he managed to open them. He watched as she leaned forward, her tongue sliding out between her lips, and ran her tongue over the head of his cock again.

Pleasure spiked through him again, and he barely held back a sob. She stroked him over and over again, in endless circles, licking the head and the shaft until his cock was wet and slick with her saliva and his precome, until he throbbed in a relentless beat of need and desire.

Chloe, he thought. Oh, Chloe...

Except it wasn't Chloe. And Chloe was being raped here, just as much as he was, an unwilling participant, her body being used against her will and without her consent. She'd waited for him for a long, long time, and she deserved better than to be forced into having sex with him. He should have come to her of his own free will, damn it. He should have taken the opportunity to start a relationship with her when he'd had the chance.

He wondered if she would remember any of this, if she'd remember the taste of him. He wondered if she'd dream about this, the way he still dreamed about her kissing him, the way her mouth had tasted, the way her body had felt against his. He wondered if she'd remember the way he'd surrendered to her.

No, not to her. To Madeline.

Confused and miserable, but unable to prevent his body's reactions, he watched as Madeline's tongue swirled over his cock. It was the hottest damn thing he'd ever seen, and he was helplessly enraptured by the sight, utterly unable to look away. And then her mouth opened.... and she bit him.

Her teeth grazed him lightly, enough to sting, not enough to be truly painful. Even so, it wasn't what he'd been expecting, and he gave a startled yelp. She sank her sharp white teeth into his erection again, a little harder, and he groaned in pain, struggling against his bonds in a futile effort to get away.

"I can hurt you," she whispered throatily. "I can do anything I like to you, farmboy. I can hurt you terribly, or bring you to heights of ecstasy you've never before experienced. And there is nothing you can do to stop me. Nothing."

He shuddered all over as the truth of her words hit him. He'd never been so helpless in his life. It was terrifying-- but it was also strangely exciting. He'd always been so powerful that no one could hurt him, or do anything to him against his will... and now he was utterly powerless. Madeline could do anything she liked to him, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

She opened her mouth and took the head of his cock between her lips. The warmth and suction felt incredible against his abused flesh, and he struggled to remain still, but couldn't. His instincts demanded that he move, and he obeyed them, giving a hard thrust and sinking more deeply into the heat and moisture of her mouth.

It was an entirely new sensation to him, and it felt incredible. His skin grew wet with sweat, and his heart thudded rapidly. His body arched against the restraints, his chest and arm muscles bulging, and despite his efforts to remain quiet, a long sound of desperate pleasure rose from his throat.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh. Yes."

Thrusting harder and deeper, he looked down at her through heavy lids, unable to believe how much of him she'd taken into her mouth. He'd never done this with a woman before, but he'd never realized a woman could take that much of a man without choking or gagging.

He was somewhat worried about hurting Chloe, but Madeline seemed to know what she was doing, and didn't seem to be in any danger of being hurt. He'd always been afraid of hurting a woman with his powers, but he was powerless right now, and no more likely to hurt her than any other guy. He pulled back and thrust again, and pleasure shot through him.

His mind wanted to stop, wanted him to somehow regain control of the situation, but his body had other ideas. He was totally out of control, utterly seduced by Madeline's undeniable talent, and there was no possible way he was going to be able to stop. Because right now, his body was in charge of his brain.

And Madeline was in charge of his body.

Madeline's wet, hot lips slipped along his shaft, and her hands lifted to his ass, pulling him against her more firmly, so that he slid even more deeply into her mouth. Her long, sharp nails dug into his ass, hard enough to draw blood. He cried out, unsure if it was a sound of pleasure or pain, and thrust even harder, falling instinctively into a steady, fast rhythm.

He could feel the hard spasms deep within his balls, the relentless squeezing sensation at the base of his cock, that presaged a really intense orgasm, and his voice rose in a long, wordless noise of ecstasy. He imagined coming in her mouth, in endless bursts of heat, and his fingers itched with the desire to grab her by the hair and hold her so she couldn't stop.

But he was still shackled, and just before he hit the point of no return, she pulled her mouth away from him with an audible popping sound, and rose to face him.

"No," she said softly, touching his cheek with a finger. "You will not find release until I permit it."

He stood trembling in front of her, shackled by leather and iron, covered in sweat and blood, his muscles taut and his erection pulsing violently. He was beaten, and he knew it.

"Please," he whispered, in as submissive a tone as he could manage.

She considered him for a moment. Then she smiled that terrible, cruel smile.

"Very well, farmboy. I will give you what you crave. But first you will please me."

He wasn't quite sure what she meant. He was chained, and in no position to please her. He couldn't so much as move.

She spoke a single word. "Ascendo."

She rose gently into the air and drifted toward him. Her arms slid around his neck, her thighs around his, and her breasts pressed against his chest. She was close to a foot shorter than he was, and too small to have sex with him in a standing position, but floating was a way around the problem he hadn't foreseen somehow.

She was perfectly aligned against him now, because her hot, wet core was pressing right against the head of his cock.

Another of those long sounds came out of his throat, despite his best efforts to keep quiet. He wanted her, wanted sex, worse than he'd ever wanted anything. It didn't help that she smelled like Chloe and sounded like Chloe and felt like Chloe. He remembered Chloe sitting in his lap a few weeks ago, pressing against him intimately, and he uttered a low moan of need.

Madeline slowly pressed down on him, taking him inside her, inch by slow inch. He could feel her tight, hot body squeezing his erection, and it felt like paradise. He felt himself jerking inside her, so close to coming he could barely breathe, and he lowered his head and pressed his face against the top of her head.

"Chloe," he whispered into her hair. "Oh, Chloe."

She lifted her head and looked at him with a mocking smile, and suddenly he remembered she wasn't Chloe at all, just a witch wearing Chloe's body.

"She isn't as pure and innocent as you, you know."

He blinked, bewildered by the coldly uttered words. "What?"

"Your friend. She wasn't a virgin. She's had another man."

He hadn't known that, and shock and pain roared through him. Which was absurd, because Chloe didn't belong to him, and never had. But even so, he couldn't seem to stop the hurt that filled him. It must have been reflected on his face, because her smile grew wider and more unpleasant.

"You thought she'd been waiting for you all this time," she taunted. "You thought she'd wait forever, didn't you?"

He blinked hard, because for some reason his eyes were smarting. He didn't want to cry in front of this cruel, cold witch. And he wasn't going to cry about this anyway. It didn't matter if Chloe was a virgin or not, or if she hadn't waited for him. There was no reason in the world for her to have waited for him. It didn't matter to him.

Except somehow, inexplicably, it did.

She smiled mockingly. "Obviously you don't mean as much to her as you thought you did."

He closed his eyes, but a single tear leaked out anyway. She laughed coldly as she brushed it away.

"Poor naive farmboy. You thought she'd always be waiting." Her voice grew savage. "But she didn't."

She lowered herself further, so that he was all the way inside her. She felt wet and soft and hot, and his body reveled in the sensation. At the same time he wished his hands were free so he could strangle her. He hated her like he'd never hated anyone, hated her for telling him things he hadn't wanted to know, making him face emotions he hadn't wanted to face.

But she was wearing Chloe's body, and he couldn't have hurt Chloe, even if he'd been free. He could never hurt Chloe.

Even though she'd somehow hurt him.

His bitter thoughts fell away as his instincts took over. He flexed his hips, sinking hard and deep, then withdrawing almost entirely. Her head dropped back, exposing her throat to him, and he desperately wanted to kiss the smooth, pale skin there. But he refused to kiss her. She's not Chloe, he reminded himself. She's not. She's someone else entirely.

He remembered kissing Chloe's throat the night she'd approached him in the loft, the way her head had fallen back, the little noises she'd made, and he thrust harder, in a violent, rapid rhythm.

Chloe. Oh, God, Chloe.

Madeline cried out, and her body convulsed around his. He could feel the long, powerful waves of her orgasm as her body shuddered, as her voice rose almost to a scream. She came all over him, her creamy moisture coating his cock and dripping down onto his balls, and he sobbed helplessly and fucked her harder, frantic with need and hatred and lust and fury, all twisted together in a snarl of emotions and sensations.

But no matter how hard he moved, he couldn't seem to come. Somewhere deep in the clouded recesses of his brain, he remembered her words: You will not find release until I permit it.

He hadn't realized she'd cast another spell on him with those simple words. Damn her.

But regardless of her spell, he couldn't stop moving inside her, and she climaxed again, her fingernails clawing into his shoulders, tearing at his skin until he sobbed with mingled agony and ecstasy. He could feel blood trickling down his back, could feel sweat dripping from his face and chest, and he thought his heart might just quit working from exertion, because it was pounding so damn hard.

At last she fell limply against his shoulder, gasping for breath, but he couldn't stop thrusting. He heard his own frantic cries, felt his balls grow unbearably taut with need, and he dropped his head forward and buried his face in her hair.

"Please," he whispered. "Oh, God, please, Chloe."

She lowered her hand to his ribs and scratched, hard. Pain shot through him, so sharp that he gave a startled yell.

"My name is Madeline," she hissed. "Not Chloe."

He could feel blood trickling from his side, could feel the wound sting as his sweat dripped into it. He wanted to retaliate, to hurt her, to bite hard into the exposed side of her throat, to sink his teeth into her hard enough to draw blood, but he couldn't. Because it was Chloe's body.

"I'm sorry," he whispered instead, as meekly as possible.

She lifted her head and considered him for a long moment. "Please me once more, farmboy, and I will give you what you need."

Damn her. He ached with desire and pain and humiliation, and he just wanted this to be over with, but she insisted on prolonging it, insisted on making him want it terribly. Making him want Chloe terribly. He wanted to whisper Chloe's name again, but rather than antagonize Madeline, he let the name roll around his mind instead. Chloe... Chloe... Chloe...

He moved inside her body, harder and faster than ever. This time she reached down between their bodies, caressing his balls with her long nails. He whimpered and groaned with need, mingled with a healthy dollop of terror, and she laughed softly, obviously enjoying his fear, enjoying his awareness of what she could do to him, and how badly she could hurt him. Then she lifted her hand a bit and began to stroke her own clitoris, slowly at first, then faster.

"Ah," she murmured. "Yes, farmboy. Harder... even harder..."

And then her head fell back as she screamed with pleasure, and he couldn't stop himself from kissing her. He rained kisses over her throat, running his tongue over the exposed skin there, drawing her vanilla scent into his lungs like pure mountain air. Chloe, he thought. Oh, Chloe, oh, Chlo...

Her body squeezed his in long, rippling spasms, driving him still higher. At last the ripples died away, and she langorously touched his cheek.

"Now."

Her body continued to move against his, and a violent wave of ecstasy ripped through him as he thrust even harder than before. He felt the intense, deep spasms in his balls, and the hard squeezing sensation of his cock that meant he was about to climax.

God, she just couldn't stop him this time. He couldn't bear it if she stopped him.

"Clark," she whispered, and the sound of his name, uttered in Chloe's voice, sent him right over the edge. She didn't try to stop him, only rode him hard and fast while come exploded from his body and flooded hers. He wailed aloud with the intensity of his release, his body shaking all over, his erection jerking with pulse after pulse of liquid heat.

It was almost too much to bear, but at long last the pleasure began to subside.

And then she touched his cheek again. "More," she whispered.

Instantly another wave of ecstasy hit him, stronger and more intense than the first. "Oh, fuck," he groaned. "Fuck... fuck..."

The words faded into a long cry of rapture as their bodies moved together, slick with come and sweat and blood. He strained violently against the leather cuffs, his body arching hard, and slammed into her over and over again as heat burst through him. She bit into his throat, her teeth drawing more blood, but the pain only intensified the pleasure somehow. He writhed and gasped and shivered, so overwhelmed that he would have fallen to his knees if he hadn't been chained upright.

When it was over, he leaned his head back against the wooden support, panting harshly. She reached up and brushed a finger over his cheek.

"And still more."

"Oh, God..." He gasped desperately for breath as the next climax hit him like a freight train. She rode him violently, her slick warmth stimulating his terribly oversensitized flesh, and he felt a surging ocean of heat engulfing him. He couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't hear. He was drowning in thick, dark ecstasy, his voice raised to a hoarse shriek, his body moving helplessly with the waves.

And this time when it ended, his head fell back against the wooden support, his eyes rolled back in his head... and he passed out.

Read Chapter 3 here.