I returned home after dealing with another reckless bitch and flung my jacket over the coatrack. Another selfish, greedy, egotistical, bitch who thought that the world owed her millions of dollars of jewelry and it was her god given right to take her desires from any store that sold diamonds in this country.

Sure, ‘Sparkles’, not her real name, could fly, emit high intensity beams of light that could cut steel, and was tough as nails. But she had an ordinary woman’s build and strength.

Sparkles also had a set of large tits, great legs, awesome child baring hips and the imagination of a fruit fly.

The glow in the dark throat gag’s binding were constructed out of grade A fiberoptic material. Same with her collar, wrist cuffs, ankle cuffs and post that was shoved six inches up her ass and pussy. Each interconnected to a box in the middle of her back with a simple on and off toggle switch.

Anytime she emitted light of any kind, the switch switched on, and she became the target of her own actions. Even if she were highly resistant to her own light attacks, having a branding iron suddenly light up while inside of you couldn’t have been fun.

She had screamed for days, yet slowly learned. Self-taught lesson that was. Now the mostly naked woman in heels, garters and stockings remained still. Unless commanded otherwise. The large glass beads dangling from her fat nipples were the only item she was allowed to lite up.

And she wasn’t allowed to light those little bulbs without permission either. The cute sunglasses she used to wear, since she wasn’t bright or imaginative enough to use her powers through her own vision, had been replaced by distorted swimming goggles. They looked cool when I purchased them at the novelty store and I thought they would be fitting. Now she could the hallway to my house and the crystal chandelier all she wanted.

And did. Sparkly girl had spent many an hour coveting the crystals in that chandelier above her head. She couldn’t do much else, so why not?

“Sparkles, were you a good girl today?”

She nodded vigorously.

“Good girl. It’s about time. Now let’s see you light up those tits of yours.”

Bimbo super villains had tits. Real women had breasts, not that Sparkles understood the difference.

The crystals lit brighter than a forty-watt lightbulb. Each.

“Good girl. Keep that setting for an hour. I’ll check on you later.” She nodded, for speaking earned feedback and the red-hot pokers, which were already present in lower two holes, to heat up very quickly.

I rang the small silver bell beside the coatrack and removed my shoes.

My serving girl showed up immediately. with hands bound in a reverse prayer and attached to a four-inch-tall posture collar made of cold-forged iron, don’t ask me why, but once that collar was snapped in place, Crystal’s super villain days were over.

I thought about letting her keep her big chested hippy look, just without the gingham dress, and panties, she already didn’t wear a bra. And then decided otherwise.

She was anti-non-natural anything, plus, no meat, no synthetic fiber, no dairy, no machinery, well except for the cell phone that she missed more than her dress, or electronics.

To give her something back when I removed her from the car manufacturer that she was about to blowup with a mini-nuke, yeah, I know, more non-natural stuff, but I couldn’t have cared less at that point. (or is it couldn’t have cared more? I get those confused.) I fit the villain, formally known as Crystal, into her new outfit which was made up of one hundred percent, or I had been told, never trust Chinese labeling, natural materials.

She squeezed and squeaked in her into her new outfit. Well almost outfit. A rubber, all-natural, teddy with cutouts for her breasts and groin. Both front and back.

Garters, stockings, and high-heeled boots, were all made of the same material, supposedly, just in varying degrees of thickness and decorations. Of course, so too were the blinders that she wore and the gag straps which held her precious crystal ball in place between her teeth.

Using little crystals beads that she carried around, I mounted a serving tray to her waist and made sure that those fat nipples, (what was it with fat nipples and super villains?), kept that tray level.

I wasn’t overly cruel, no more than a tumbler of scotch or two and a sandwich on a plate was ever carried via the silver tray, once she too learned to behave herself. I believe the last time she spilled a drink was over nine month now. One more month and I’d see if someone I knew could make decent use of her. My house was getting crowded.

But turning her into a serving wench would not ever make up for the thousands of people she killed by her insanely overblown explosives that she used while doing the whole eco-terrorist thing.

Crystal was so broken in at this point, having tried to escape over thirty times and punished hard each and every time for it, that she no longer even considered it. I know, I had her checked out once by an allied telepath.

Sparkly girl still had hope. Good luck with that.

Snort.

Rockem-sockem-robot-girl was kept in the basement. Since I hadn’t been home for a few days, I needed to check up on her. RSRG was a fighter. I captured her two months ago and she still refused to cooperate.

But I didn’t want to give up on her. She, I had hopes for.

Dressed in a full bodysuit of tightly woven fishnet, and nothing much else, honestly, except for some straps, a collar and a gag. Oh, and the shoes, of course. She kicked me in the groin once trying to escape. I had needed to put an end to that.

I found a pair of ballet boots with a steel rod which ended half way to the top of the toes. If she tried to kick me now, then that spike would spike her. Not pleasant. She hated those things.

I kept the straps on her body tight and made sure that they accented her smaller breasts, with big nipples. Go figure. The straps under her groin pulled her lips apart. Even when she tried to bring her knees together, somehow the straps tightened and separated that pussy for all to see.

She hated that too.

But I wasn’t all mean or nasty. I bound wrists to her thick black collar, everything on her was black, straps, shoes, fishnet, gag, hair and cuffs.

But her fists had some room to move, five inches away from her collar. Enough to try and escape but unless she suddenly discovered a hidden super power, she was screwed.

That white giant robot that she built was impressive. Not as impressive as the building demolished or the people inside that were killed or the other people around the building who were killed...

But I digressed. A mechanical genius she was. A super strong woman, she was not.