Both captive superheroines groaned as the van rolled to a stop. Since their ambush while out on patrol and intervention of some unknown force, Pyrogirl and Nightstreak had been rattled around inside tight, confining cages for the better part of two hours. The Mother drove up front, while The Daughter remained in the back of the van keeping a watchful eye on the two superheroines. Pyrogirl thought it was completely unnecessary, given that she was roped up into a strict hogtie with her hands completely encased in fireproof tape, a power nullifying collar surrounding her neck, and then the high-tech cages that would shock the occupant if they struggled too much and whatever other features it had to discourage any resistance. The Mother and The Daughter were incredibly good at their craft of superheroine hunting and unfortunately, she was about to find out what happened to those who were captured by the duo.
Nightstreak whimpered through the black ballgag filling her mouth, exchanging a nervous glance with Pyrogirl as The Daughter rose from her seat. Her bindings were extremely strict likely due to their captor’s pettiness of Nighstreak’s heroine costume looking quite similar to their own: a combination of metal cuffs at the wrists, ankles, and knees, wide leather straps surrounded her knees, torso, and above and below her breasts, and zipties bound each of her fingers together to make her hands just as useless as Pyrogirl’s. A power nullifying collar, ballgag, and one final set of cuffs to hogtie her kept Nightstreak as a hurting, curled up package inside of her cage.
Pyrogirl herself was bound just as securely with rope in a tight hogtie with ropes at her wrists, elbows, ankles, knees, thighs, and a chest harness on top. More rubber tape was wrapped a half a dozen times around her head, trapping her hair and sealing her mouth shut. While not as severe as the metal cuffs her friend wore, the power nullifying collar meant she was just as helpless. Not that her powers would help her break through her bonds like they were paper, magically powered heroines like her tended to have a problem once things got up close and personal and she was restrained in some way.
The back doors of the van opened with a bang, causing both captives to jump a little in their cages as The Mother entered the back of the van to stand beside The Daughter and inspect their captives. Both women were stunning, with long dark hair and bodies that looked poured into the black leather catsuits and thigh high boots they wore. Utility belts at their waists held more restraints and other tools the heroine huntresses would need, while domino masks covered the upper part of their faces. “Welcome to the Jail.” She sneered at her two captives as she keyed a combination to open Nightstreak’s cage.
Working together, the two catsuited villainesses pulled her hogtied form out of the cage. The metal cuffs holding her into a hogtie were removed and the cuffs around her booted ankles were removed and replaced with a set of cuffs with a foot long chain between them to hobble her. Pyrogirl could only watch as The Daughter snapped a chain to the front of Nighstreak’s collar and led her out of the van into the loading dock area. Her view of her friend was then cut off by The Mother kneeling down in front of her cage. The door of the cage opened with a beep and a gloved hand gripped her chin. “I’m very much looking forward to spending time with you.” She said, her eyes drinking in the helpless heroine. “We’ll be keeping you here for a looooong time.”
Pyrogirl squeaked into her gag as The Mother effortlessly dragged her out of the cage and went to work removing the hogtie rope and ankle bonds, then snapping a similar set of cuffs over her white boots. “Come along sweetie.”
With their super strength, both villainesses could easily carry their captives into the jail themselves but dragging them along on a chain was more humiliating to them. Soon side by side with Nighstreak, Pyrogirl exchanged a worried look before their collars jerked them forward and they were dragged towards a set of metal sliding doors labeled Processing. Inside was a cold metal room with numerous shelves and cabinets that likely contained things that would torment captive superheroines. Their leads were connected to hooks that were retracted towards the ceiling, forcing both girls to stand on their tiptoes in their high heeled boots to prevent themselves from being choked by their collars.
With the heroines sufficiently distracted, the two huntresses busied themselves preparing more restraints for their victims. A normal jail might have a processing room with a shower, some jumpsuits, and cuffs for new inmates. But here Pyrogirl was instead presented with a rubber armbinder. The sight of it made her stomach drop to her toes. Even without the power dampening collar that showed no sign of coming off, the rubber armbinder ensured that her fire powers would remain useless. Not to mention the fireproof tape that still bound her hands into useless balls.
Pinned in place by her collar, Pyrogirl was only able to put up minimal resistance as knives sliced through the ropes binding her arms. Superstrong hands gripped her arms, locking them in place as the rubber armbinder slid up her arms to weld them into a single limb. Straps crisscrossed between her breasts to prevent the armbinder from sliding down, while additional straps were secured around her wrists and elbows. Armbinders in general were extremely difficult to get out of, but the padlocks and straps ensured that it was really going to be inescapable. Rubber straps replaced her knee bindings before they were added above and below her breasts and around her stomach. The final piece was a new gag. The tape was ripped off of her mouth and Pyrogirl simply glared at her captors, not wanting to give them any satisfaction of begging for release. “Bitch.” The Daughter slapped her across the face and it took a lot for Pyrogirl to not cry out in pain. “You’ll now know what it’s like to know no hope.”
The Mother’s gloved hand wound itself into her hair and wrenched her head back, allowing a leather panel gag with a large silicone penis attached to the inside to be stuffed into her mouth. Pyrogirl groaned and retched as the penis slid into her mouth and was buckled in place, leaving her struggling to adapt to the rubber intruder. Both super villainesses turned their backs on her and walked over to Nightstreak, who had been watching her friends suffering while holding back tears. It was the first time either of them had been taken captive by the dangerous duo, so they had only heard of what happened in the jail from stories by their fellow heroines. Nightstreak hadn’t thought it would be as bleak as she was currently feeling with these two acting as the wardens, but as they brought out additional restraints for her she was beginning to wonder how much worse it could get.
The answer came in the form of white leather restraints. Not even bothering to remove the metal cuffs already securing her lithe form, The Daughter slid a white leather armbinder up her arms and laced it up tightly before sliding a zipper over the laces and securing it with a padlock. More straps ensured the armbinder was welded to her back, and a white gwen style hood was pulled over her head to further press the ballgag into her mouth. The opening in the hood only allowed her expressive eyes to be visible as she looked over at Pyrogirl, who was suffering from the choking collar and the rubber phallus in her mouth. A crop appeared in The Daughter’s hand, who was definitely the more sadistic of the two and both Pyrogirl and Nightstreak quickly had some hurting backsides as they were worked over by the superstrength-aided crop. “Let’s go superbitches. We’ve got a nice cell prepared for you two.”
The leashes were removed from the ceiling hooks and with their steps still shortened to a foot in length, the two hurting heroines shuffled out of the processing room into the main jail. Pyrogirl knew if it must be intentional that they were forced to walk the length of the jail to get to their own cells. It meant they would have to pass every defeated superheroine that was currently a resident of the jail, and every cell they passed was a punch in the gut. The first cell made Pyrogirl gasp as she saw Lady Weatharia’s predicament. The dark haired heroine was impaled on a one bar prison, the base clamped around the ankles of her black and silver thigh high boots while a rod in the middle disappeared underneath the skirt of her dress. Her hands were pulled up above her and chained to the ceiling with her hands encased on solid metal balls as added security to the power dampening collar locked around her throat. Her bondage was completed by a head harness panelgag, trapping some kind of stuffing or ball in her mouth. Her head rose as she heard the clicking of heels outside of her cell, allowing the new captives to see the defeated look on her face. Lady Weatharia’s eyes went wide as The Daughter held up a remote, shaking her head before she screamed, collapsing in her restraints as a button was thumbed down.
Nightstreak and Pyrogirl exchanged a worried glance before they were dragged away out of view of their friend who had been missing for months. The next cell held Vita, a member of the Saviour Trio whose healing powers were considered second to none. Her small, slim stature was stretched out on a metal St. Andrews Cross that kept her suspended by metal cuffs around her wrists. Another large metal band across her stomach pinned her in place, and given her lack of physical abilities the metal was thick enough to keep her helpless. Drool leaked around a white ballgag in her mouth, matching her white costume that was ripped in some places, allowing the two captives to see the red welts beneath. Doubtless from whippings at the hand of The Daughter.
The third cell they went by was empty. “You missed Miss Maple by two days.” The Mother said as they continued past it. “We were paid quite a bit of money for her to be a trophy. Maybe I’ll shop you two to her buyer as well?”
Both captives whimpered at the thought of being packaged into a crate and sold off to a rich buyer overseas. Finally they came to a stop in front of the fourth cell. “Welcome to your new permanent home.” The Daughter said as she pushed the two heroines inside.
There were two metal frames bolted to the floor facing one another, with multiple arms extending from the main metal pole that ended in cuffs. Pyrogirl was forced back first into the first frame, allowing the collar part to snap shut around her neck. Once again pinned in place, it was easy for her to be fitted for the remaining cuffs that closed around each individual ankle, her waist, and a larger hoop for her combined wrists inside the armbinder. She tested the frame but having magic based powers instead of physical ones meant she was no match for solid steel and multiple layers of restraints. She moaned softly into the penis filling her mouth as she watched her friend get bolted into the second frame facing her. Nightstreak put up more of a struggle, but without their powers it was no contest.
The two villainesses stepped back and admired their handiwork. “Welcome to the Jail ladies.” The Mother grinned and gave a mock bow. “As your wardens, I assure you we will take very good care of you.”
Their laughter echoed down the halls as they left the cell and locked the door, their heels clicking as they departed. Pyrogirl finally allowed a tear to leak down her cheek. In her career she had been captured and placed in peril before, but never had she been as hopeless and helpless as she was now. She was sure it was the same with Nightstreak as her friend strained and struggled against her bonds. They could only hope for rescue. One of their fellow heroines. Maybe even the Wardens, as stuck up as they were. Anyone. Someone. She needed help and for once she could only close her eyes and pray.