thexxxthdoctor

[thexxxthdoctor]

[thexxxthdoctor]

Strange Recompense

***Over 18s Only***

Written by commission. This story features Dr Strange and a female reader. Themes include submission, BDSM and graphic sexual content.

You were his. Your arrogance, your naivety, had fooled you into believing yourself able to outwit and deceive your Master, and now, you would face your punishment.

It had all seemed so easy, in your mind, as you crossed the threshold of the Sanctum Santorum in the dead of night, your heart filled with plans, purpose and lustful desire. You had come for the stone. Not to steal it, but to prove to your mentor, Dr Stephen Strange, who had nurtured your burgeoning magical skills these past months, that you were worthy of his affections. Worthy of him. If you could bypass the Mystic’s many defences and place your hand on the enchanting, green piece of eternity, then perhaps he would begin to look at you in the same way you looked at him. Perhaps, for once, it would be he and not you, bringing himself to a feverish climax at night, lost in a fantasy world of orgasmic perpetuity. When you had proven yourself to him, you had dreamed, he would beg for your body, for your sex, for your soul. And when he had begged you enough, you would surrender them.

He had taught you so much, perhaps too much for his own good, you had allowed yourself to think, as you dealt with the enchantments in the ornate, archaic hallway, with ease. Mandalas of sparkling, mystic art were produced at your whim, saving you from enchantments and spells that would have surely paralysed most other intruders, and began to climb the grand staircase in the heart of the room. It was there that you had found him.

You had wanted him since the moment your eyes had met, across a crowded street in the heart of Greenwich Village. You were drawn to him, as if by some temporal magnet forged of magic and lust. He had come to you. For you. Your eyes had never left him as he explained how he had sensed the skills you had developed and made it his mission to find and train you. You took in each facet of his thin, angular face; his piercing eyes, his neatly trimmed beard, the greying hair, framing his high cheekbones. As much as you had wanted answers to the magical energy you had begun to feel burning inside yourself, you wanted him; this peculiar man, strolling through New York in his blue shirt and startlingly red cape, a gaudy looking medallion clasped around his chest. You wanted all the secrets he could give you, all of his techniques, and not just purely those of the magical kind.

In time, he had told you of the true nature of his jewellery of choice, this Eye of Agamotto, as he called it, and the powerful stone it housed. Your new mentor was its guardian, and no other could be allowed to touch it. It was then that you had hatched your plan. You had felt your powers growing by the day, but Strange only ever looked at you with the eyes of a kindly, if stern, mentor, not with the desire you felt for him. To earn his lust would require more skill than an average training day in this palace of enchantments could provide.

The memories had flooded through you as you took in the sight before you. Framed by the circular skylight you had gazed through so many times, his deep red Cloak of Levitation flowing behind him, floated your master, levitating in peaceful slumber. Your draw dropped as your mouth began to water. Gone was the old -fashioned attire, leaving Strange, aside from his magical cape, resplendent in nakedness. His body, thin and toned was more beautiful to you than even your most extravagant fantasies had allowed you to believe, and you had felt your hand inch towards your groin, reaching under your waistband and pressing the fabric of your panties against yourself, at this unexpected but very welcome state. Your eyes had fallen to his waist, and you had gulped at the perfectly formed outer symbol of his manhood, your rubbing increasing as you imagined it awakening, feeling it harden and grow in your hand while you drew him from his dreams into ecstatic reality.

With phenomenal restraint, you had broken away from the sight and stilled your fingers, summoning every fibre of energy you could muster into rising into the air before him, your heart beginning to pound at your proximity to the naked sorcerer. Your breath light and your head spinning, you had reached forward slowly, ever so slowly, towards the Eye of Agamotto, still clasped around his neck, the tip of your middle finger brushing, only very slightly, the golden casing which house the stone.

It was then, that Dr Strange had awoken.

With alacrity faster than any lightening storm could ever produce, his eyes, once piercing and wise, but now fierce and furious, had snapped open and peered into your own, while golden mandalas wrapped, themselves tightly around your wrists, forcing your arms out to each side, more, binding your ankles in magical bonds. And now you waited, your plans in ruins, to face the fury of the Sorcerer Supreme.

“You!” The word fell from his thin lips in a gasp, and you could feel in it, the pain of your betrayal. “You came for the Stone?”

You shook your head, quickly, uselessly, your denials struggling to pour from your mouth.

“No!” you finally responded. “It’s not like that, I was trying to impress you!”

The magician floated before you in beautiful naked fury as you stuttered and stumbled through your explanations; how often you had played with yourself to the thought of him fucking you, how desperately you yearned for his touch and how you had hoped, that by proving yourself able to reach the stone, you had hoped he would look at you as you looked at him.

The words fell from you incoherently, your mind spinning as though you were drunk on the foolish severity of your actions, and you stared into his face, desperate for any sign that he believed you. Finally, after a tortuous age, you watched his brow furrow in thought.

“I believe you,” he ultimately concluded, his voice soft but laced with an indescribable danger. “I can’t even begin to tell you how foolish, unworthy and stupidly dangerous it was of you to do this... However, I… believe you.”

Pangs of relief flowed through you, and you breathed deeply for the first time since he had awoken.

“Thank you,” you sighed, attempting a smile before gesturing with your head at your mystical bonds. “So, can you let me out of these things now?”

He simply stared for a moment, taking you in, and you saw, for the first time, an inkling of mischievousness in his stern, imposing face.

“I’m afraid, it’s not quite that simple,” he began. “You have touched the Eye of Agamotto without permission.”

“I barely even brushed against it,” you protested.

“That doesn’t matter.“ Strange’s voice was severe. “You have touched it, the intent was in your heart, and now you must make the choice.”

“What choice?” you nervously asked, your voice shaking.

“Of punishment,” he replied.

“What do you mean, punishment?”

“There must be a punishment for your transgression. You must face either, expulsion from our order…,”

“No!”

“Either…,” he repeated, his voice stern and commanding, “expulsion or, recompense.”

“What ‘recompense’?” you queried, your voice racked with confusion, but the sorcerer refused to answer.

“Choose. Choose now,” he ordered.

Your mind was ablaze with guilt, shame, embarrassment and uncertainty. All you knew for sure was that he believed you, and there was a chance of forgiveness, and frankly, there was little you wouldn’t do to stay in this new life you had found. If only you knew what the recompense would be…

“I choose…,” you stuttered, “I choose recompense.”

You scanned his features for any sign of what this might mean, but little could be discerned from his rigid, penetrating stare, until, with a wave of his hands, the enchanter returned himself and you to the ground, your magical restraints still firmly in place; the restriction at once frustrating and exciting you.

“Then we shall begin.”

The sorcerer’s words were harsh and authoritative, and the pit of your stomach churned in anxious anticipation of what, exactly, was about to begin.

“But remember,” Strange said, “if you change your mind, and decide you would prefer to walk away from your potential, you can at any time say so, and your recompense will cease. Do you understand?”

“I understand, Stephen, but…”

Your sentence was cut short by the tightening of your magical bonds, pressing hard into your flesh, accompanied by a raised eyebrow from the powerful magical hero.

“Stephen?” he quizzed, a flicker of lust flashing in his eyes. “Not tonight. Tonight, it would be more appropriate for you to call me, Master.”

The churning in your stomach gave way to a sudden and overwhelming onslaught of butterflies which spread through your senses, your head light as it was claimed by nervous anticipation.

“Master?” you asked, your voice shaking and uncertain.

“Master,” he confirmed, “tell your Master that you understand.”

“I understand,” you stuttered in response. “I understand, Master.”

Strange walked closer towards you, each step exuding the power of his magical office.

“Well, then,” he said, his voice as charming as ever it was, “before we begin, we should perhaps, redress the balance.”

You squinted in confusion before, on instinct, your eyes finally dropped from his, towards the part of his body that had drawn you to it moments earlier. While earlier, it had lain in elegantly proportioned rest, it now stood hard, thick and ready, its delicate skin straining against its length and its tip glistening with expectancy. You began to realise, finally, as you absorbed the sight into your memory, exactly what form the penance you were about to pay, would take. And you realised, for the first time, that your desires might have indebted you in ways you might be unable to pay. With a wave of the sorcerer’s fingers, a golden mandala, pointed and sharp appeared in the space between you, a torrent of sudden fear running through you as it hung inches from your eyes.

Your senses threatening to overwhelm you, you tried to summon the magical powers you possessed, which you had learned to control with such expertise under the magician’s tutelage.

Your efforts were useless. The power would not emerge. Even the simple force to move your head and look away was blocked to you.

Though you opened your mouth to object, or perhaps to scream, the mandalic blade before you shifted in the air, slicing at your clothes, leaving you gasping in shock as they fell, piece by tattered piece to the floor below, only your thin, cotton underwear protecting what was left of your modesty. Trepidation ran through your almost totally exposed body, though the sensation of your nipples stiffening against the material of your bra, and the dampness in your panties pressing against you betrayed the eagerness you tried to repress to embrace your deserved punishment.

“Wha… what’s happening…?”

The anxiousness in your words should have been alien to you. Not since that first day of magical training had you felt anything other than supreme confidence, but now it too, just as, for the moment at least, your access to your powers, was gone.

“You are being prepared for your recompense,” Strange answered, his tone seeped in what you understood now was a justified arrogance. “I’d say you were almost ready…”

The magical blade moved again, slower this time, slicing away the straps of your bra and sniping your panties away from you, your final garments joining your others in lying, ruined, on the Sanctum’s polished floor.

Naked, exposed, and bound in magical bonds, your eyes wide in excited consternation, you stared into your Master’s face. Though the house’s chilled air raised goosebumps on your exhibited skin, the drop in temperature was countered by the burning heat of your humiliation. Your Master feasted his eyes upon you, his lip curling into a lustful snarl as he moved his hands once more, and lowered himself and you to the floor, kicking away the remnants of your clothing.

Your ethereal, golden bonds began to pull and twist, contorting you down, onto your knees, before him, your arms clasped behind your back. The movement overwhelmed you, assaulting your senses with an intense cocktail of desire and agitation. Though your tight bonds, and the new look in your Master’s eye excited you, even the strength of your yearning could not wholly displace the gnawing of fear. You had wanted this, wanted him, so very much, for so very long, and you knew, now, that he was about to take you.

A tendril of shining light burst forth from Strange’s hand towards you, wrapping itself swiftly around your neck and you shuffled on your bare knees towards him as he pulled it, hard, in a charged display of his Mastery of the mystic arts, and of you. Your eyes locked onto that part of him closest, so very, very close to your face, which just moments before you had yearned to take silent hold of. Its sweet scent filled your nostrils, and your mouth hung open in greedy anticipation, your tongue licking fresh saliva over your teeth.

“Not yet,” came his stern order. “A good slave will only act when instructed.”

You wordlessly nodded your acceptance and sat back on your knees, your anticipation making you gasp even more than the tightness of the magical collar around your throat.

Your eyes following the object of your fixation without blinking, Strange wrapped his other hand around it, gently stroking it before you, teasing you with what you desired but refusing to gratify your lust until it was earned. He pulled you closer still, and began to trace your features with it, until delicate drops of his pre-cum adorned the edge of your face. You stuck out your tongue, trying desperately to catch a taste, as he moved, before he could contain himself no longer and plunged himself into the warm cavity of your mouth.

The sudden movement shocked you, as did the size, as you felt the back of your tongue pushed down by the intrusion. His grip on your collar tightened further as pulled your head down, all the way down, and back again, faster and deeper until you could feel him pressing mercilessly against the back of your throat, the sound of your gagging only spurring him on harder still.

At last, he withdrew, his dick coated in your saliva, granting you a precious moment to heave air into your lungs before he pushed himself back between your lips again. His strong, firm hand stroked your cheek for a moment, before reaching to the back of your head and clumping your hair, pulling it back roughly.

“Look at me,” he commanded. “Don’t take your eyes off mine.”

You did as he bade, staring up into his stern features as he continued to callously fuck your mouth. You saw everything in his eyes; his anger, his sorrow, his lust for you. You were sure your own eyes conveyed each of the complex emotions you were feeling, too, and something in them caused the sorcerer to slow his thrusting, pulling out of your mouth and holding the tip of his dick agonisingly close to you.

“Do you want to stop?” he asked, an eyebrow raised.

“No,” you responded defiantly, the taste of his pre-cum, sweet on your lips, “I want you to fuck me.”

For a moment you your words shocked you as much as you hoped they had shocked your Master. You were subjugated, utterly, at the total control of the Sorcerer Supreme, but though the anxious trepidation still burned in the pit of your stomach, you knew, with every fibre of your consciousness that right here, right now, you wanted this.

A half smile cracked onto his thin face at your response.

“You want who to fuck you?”

“You,” you answered. Master.”

Silence hung between you for a moment before his smile, full of lust and authority widened further.

“Say please.”

“Please, Master.”

“Please, what?”

“Please fuck me, Master.”

“I can’t hear you,” he cruelly toyed.

“PLEASE, MASTER!” You shouted with every decibel your bound body. “PLEASE FUCK ME, MASTER!”

As soon as the words left your salivating mouth, your magical bonds contorted again, lifting you just inches from the floor, thrusting your arms out to each side, your legs swiftly following, exposing your vulnerable sex to whatever machinations hid behind your Master’s narrowing, dominant eyes.

The gasp you exhaled at your body’s involuntary movements served only to spur Strange’s lust further, as he stepped towards you, one hand hovering close, so close to your exposed and yearning skin, while his other gripped tightly to your ethereal leash.

For a moment of brief eternity, it hung there, the Sorcerer’s eyes feasting on your naked excitement and delighting in the reaction of your flesh. Just as you thought the moment would never arrive, the back of his fingertips brushed, one by perfectly manicured one against you, the deep sigh of relief you breathed matched in intensity only by the wanton anticipation you felt building between your splayed legs.

His fingers moved majestically upon you, tracing each contour of your torso, skirting the outline of your collar bone, your ribs, your navel, as he prolonged the torture of your wait, until finally, they moved upwards, teasing the aching, stiff nipple of your left breast, his thumb and forefinger pulling on it hard as he claimed it. You had long heard stories from friends that this sensation alone could build to climactic release – stories you had always dismissed, until now. With supernatural speed, your collar tightened behind you, now held by some unseen force as his other hand joined its compatriot in exploring you, squeezing and pulling as hard at your right breast as your left.

Your eyes stayed on your Master’s, he had ordered as much, and your breathing heightened as your body reacted to his touch in a pleasure as unbridled as you were restrained. The throbbing in your untouched sex pounded within you, somehow stirred into crescendo by his ownership of you and you felt yourself, somehow, through some tantric mysticism felt it stir towards crescendo. You began to feel the cry of passion you had so often toyed yourself into releasing as you rubbed and played to thoughts of this man, build inside you, and your mouth hung open wider still, ready to surrender to it.

As though taking cue from your ecstatic expression, Strange’s hands dropped from your chest, his left clamping hard on the back of your head, clumping your hair once more, while his right sank below your stomach, his fingers reaching for your grateful, pulsating clit which reacted at once to his touch, sending waves of pleasure through you.

“Do you want to cum?” he asked, his voice as hard and firm as the dick he had pushed into your mouth.

You nodded with what movement in your head he still afforded you.

“Then beg.”

You answered loudly, your tone pleading and desperate.

“Please let me cum, Master,” you entreated, “please let me cum!”

Your words became profane as he responded by pressing two fingers past the wet lips of your expectant pussy, pushing them deeper inside you as it clenched tightly against them, curling them back against your inner wall as he relished your cries.

In moments it was enough, and rapturous ecstasy rippled through you as your Master granted your request, his wet fingers not relenting for a second as they drew out every last vestige of physical joy from your orgasm.

“Say thank you,” he ordered as your panting finally began to subside.

“Thank you, Master,” you answered gratefully, “thank you for making me cum! Thank you for… Oh, fuck…”

Even as you had begun to speak Strange was upon you, pushing the hard dick whose taste still lingered in your mouth against your pussy, which earnestly granted him entrance, inch by glorious inch.

“You’ve wanted this all along, haven’t you?” he asked, his breath becoming quicker as he pushed his full length deep inside you, his hand slapping sharply against your cheek when you failed to answer at once.

“Yes, Master,” you answered, your voice cracking with pleasure, “I’ve wanted it all along.”

“How many times have you played with yourself imagining this?”

“Every day, Master,” you cried out, your breasts shaking as he thrust himself inside you, pausing sometimes to grind his flesh against yours, his neatly trimmed pubic hair tickling and toying with your clit. “I play with myself every day for you!”

You screamed your confession as another ocean of pleasure culminated inside you, his thrusting intensifying as you came around him, coating him in your essence. He withdrew and watched the blissful inflections of your face, slowly stroking your wetness over himself, toying with his tip as your eyes, for once, dropped from his to enjoy the sight. Your body ached to curl into post-coital rest, but your bonds held you fast, enslaved still to your Master’s whims.

“Bad girl,” he almost whispered, the words finally filling the air with a sound other than your ecstatic panting. “I told you to keep your eyes on mine…”

The golden mandalas strapped around you shifted again, forcing you to bend into the new position desired by your Master, forcing you to accept further punishment. Returned hard to the floor, you felt your head move, pressing the side of your face against it, while your knees bent up beneath you, your arms once more tied magically behind your back, your ass pointed upwards towards the Master you had betrayed.

“If you can’t keep your eyes on mine, then you don’t get to watch what happens next…”

The pang of fear you had felt when the Sorcerer had first awoken ran through you again and you heard yourself begin to plead for mercy.”

“Please, Master,” you began, “I’m sorry, I…”

Your pleas were interrupted by the sound of a hard slap and the sting of a firm palm on your ass.

“You will learn,” Strange began, punctuating each word with another slap on each sensitive cheek in turn, “to do as you are told.”

“Ye... yes, Master,” you answered, an intoxication of pleasure and pain assaulting your senses as slap after slap connected with your stinging, unprotected ass.

“Say it,” he ordered, his until now measured voice wild, as though he had finally given in totally to his lust for you.

“I will – ow – learn to – ow – do as I’m told, Master!”

He wordlessly continued, the sound of your spanking broken only by your promises to do as commanded as his hand came down faster and harder until the orgasmic agony threated to overwhelm you. You braced yourself for another barrage, but the spanking stopped, as instantly as it had begun, but before any thoughts of clemency could reach your mind, your controlled arms shifted behind you, your hands gripping your stinging cheeks and spreading them apart.

Your addled senses hadn’t even time to register your embarrassment and shock before you felt his hot breath behind you, and those hands which had seconds before inflicted such punishment, grip your waist tightly. No words came from the Sorcerer now as he began greedily enjoying your exposed pussy, his teeth nibbling at your lips and his tongue flicked and licked at your clit until you felt your whole being give in once more to the orgasmic reactions he commanded.

You had no energy left even to shout your obedience to your Master, but still the pleasure came, his tongue now shifting upwards, delighting in the sweet taste of your ass. You knew, as his tongue pushed deeper, followed by fingers coated in your own cum what you were being prepared for and you braced yourself as you felt the tip of his dick press against your smallest, tightest hole.

“Thank you, Master,” you managed to whisper as your asshole gave way to him, “thank you for fucking my ass…”

Strange remained silent, lost in the ecstasy of you, and the pleasure of how obediently you were taking your ass fucking. The intensity of his thrusts increased, and you knew you were reaching the apex of your recompense. One arm was suddenly, without warning, released from its bondage, and you felt it directed by your Master between your legs, your fingers rubbing furiously at your clit as he buried himself deeper and harder into your ass.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasped as pleasure claimed you once more, “Oh, fuck, thank you, thank, you, thank you, Master!”

The moment your pleasure peaked, he pulled himself from you, your bonds twisting your body round once more to face him, your hand still rubbing at your pussy and your eyes now firmly locked on his.

He looked different now, his face reddened with effort and coated in sweat, his hair matted and displaced over his forehead as he pushed his throbbing and straining dick back inside your mouth.

There was no shock for you anymore, no reticence. You were his. Totally. And serving your Master brought many rewards.

It was as you sucked on him and let your tongue tease him that you realised your bonds were released. Movement was yours once more, and the first you made was to reach up and grab the Sorcerer’s ass, pulling him deeper into your mouth, deeper even than he had pushed himself at the start of your penance. His eyes closed and your mouth felt his dick stiffen harder, impossibly hard, before releasing his ecstasy inside you at last, filling your mouth with the thick streams of his cum.

His cries of pleasure enriched you and you continued to suck and play with your tongue as you felt him begin to soften in your mouth, his cum spilling out onto your chin as he finally withdrew and knelt beside you on the floor, wrapping his cloak around your shoulders and holding you to his hot, naked chest.

For an age you knelt there together in silence, but no words were needed. Not anymore. You had tested your Master and failed, but somehow, also won. This man you had yearned for, this Sorcerer Supreme, had grown closer to you then you had ever dreamed possible as a result of your transgression. Closer even still, through the punishment you knew you had deserved. Your Strange recompense.

[thexxxthdoctor]

Strange Recompense

***Over 18s Only***

Written by commission. This story features Dr Strange and a female reader. Themes include submission, BDSM and graphic sexual content.

You were his. Your arrogance, your naivety, had fooled you into believing yourself able to outwit and deceive your Master, and now, you would face your punishment.

It had all seemed so easy, in your mind, as you crossed the threshold of the Sanctum Santorum in the dead of night, your heart filled with plans, purpose and lustful desire. You had come for the stone. Not to steal it, but to prove to your mentor, Dr Stephen Strange, who had nurtured your burgeoning magical skills these past months, that you were worthy of his affections. Worthy of him. If you could bypass the Mystic’s many defences and place your hand on the enchanting, green piece of eternity, then perhaps he would begin to look at you in the same way you looked at him. Perhaps, for once, it would be he and not you, bringing himself to a feverish climax at night, lost in a fantasy world of orgasmic perpetuity. When you had proven yourself to him, you had dreamed, he would beg for your body, for your sex, for your soul. And when he had begged you enough, you would surrender them.

He had taught you so much, perhaps too much for his own good, you had allowed yourself to think, as you dealt with the enchantments in the ornate, archaic hallway, with ease. Mandalas of sparkling, mystic art were produced at your whim, saving you from enchantments and spells that would have surely paralysed most other intruders, and began to climb the grand staircase in the heart of the room. It was there that you had found him.

You had wanted him since the moment your eyes had met, across a crowded street in the heart of Greenwich Village. You were drawn to him, as if by some temporal magnet forged of magic and lust. He had come to you. For you. Your eyes had never left him as he explained how he had sensed the skills you had developed and made it his mission to find and train you. You took in each facet of his thin, angular face; his piercing eyes, his neatly trimmed beard, the greying hair, framing his high cheekbones. As much as you had wanted answers to the magical energy you had begun to feel burning inside yourself, you wanted him; this peculiar man, strolling through New York in his blue shirt and startlingly red cape, a gaudy looking medallion clasped around his chest. You wanted all the secrets he could give you, all of his techniques, and not just purely those of the magical kind.

In time, he had told you of the true nature of his jewellery of choice, this Eye of Agamotto, as he called it, and the powerful stone it housed. Your new mentor was its guardian, and no other could be allowed to touch it. It was then that you had hatched your plan. You had felt your powers growing by the day, but Strange only ever looked at you with the eyes of a kindly, if stern, mentor, not with the desire you felt for him. To earn his lust would require more skill than an average training day in this palace of enchantments could provide.

The memories had flooded through you as you took in the sight before you. Framed by the circular skylight you had gazed through so many times, his deep red Cloak of Levitation flowing behind him, floated your master, levitating in peaceful slumber. Your draw dropped as your mouth began to water. Gone was the old -fashioned attire, leaving Strange, aside from his magical cape, resplendent in nakedness. His body, thin and toned was more beautiful to you than even your most extravagant fantasies had allowed you to believe, and you had felt your hand inch towards your groin, reaching under your waistband and pressing the fabric of your panties against yourself, at this unexpected but very welcome state. Your eyes had fallen to his waist, and you had gulped at the perfectly formed outer symbol of his manhood, your rubbing increasing as you imagined it awakening, feeling it harden and grow in your hand while you drew him from his dreams into ecstatic reality.

With phenomenal restraint, you had broken away from the sight and stilled your fingers, summoning every fibre of energy you could muster into rising into the air before him, your heart beginning to pound at your proximity to the naked sorcerer. Your breath light and your head spinning, you had reached forward slowly, ever so slowly, towards the Eye of Agamotto, still clasped around his neck, the tip of your middle finger brushing, only very slightly, the golden casing which house the stone.

It was then, that Dr Strange had awoken.

With alacrity faster than any lightening storm could ever produce, his eyes, once piercing and wise, but now fierce and furious, had snapped open and peered into your own, while golden mandalas wrapped, themselves tightly around your wrists, forcing your arms out to each side, more, binding your ankles in magical bonds. And now you waited, your plans in ruins, to face the fury of the Sorcerer Supreme.

“You!” The word fell from his thin lips in a gasp, and you could feel in it, the pain of your betrayal. “You came for the Stone?”

You shook your head, quickly, uselessly, your denials struggling to pour from your mouth.

“No!” you finally responded. “It’s not like that, I was trying to impress you!”

The magician floated before you in beautiful naked fury as you stuttered and stumbled through your explanations; how often you had played with yourself to the thought of him fucking you, how desperately you yearned for his touch and how you had hoped, that by proving yourself able to reach the stone, you had hoped he would look at you as you looked at him.

The words fell from you incoherently, your mind spinning as though you were drunk on the foolish severity of your actions, and you stared into his face, desperate for any sign that he believed you. Finally, after a tortuous age, you watched his brow furrow in thought.

“I believe you,” he ultimately concluded, his voice soft but laced with an indescribable danger. “I can’t even begin to tell you how foolish, unworthy and stupidly dangerous it was of you to do this... However, I… believe you.”

Pangs of relief flowed through you, and you breathed deeply for the first time since he had awoken.

“Thank you,” you sighed, attempting a smile before gesturing with your head at your mystical bonds. “So, can you let me out of these things now?”

He simply stared for a moment, taking you in, and you saw, for the first time, an inkling of mischievousness in his stern, imposing face.

“I’m afraid, it’s not quite that simple,” he began. “You have touched the Eye of Agamotto without permission.”

“I barely even brushed against it,” you protested.

“That doesn’t matter.“ Strange’s voice was severe. “You have touched it, the intent was in your heart, and now you must make the choice.”

“What choice?” you nervously asked, your voice shaking.

“Of punishment,” he replied.

“What do you mean, punishment?”

“There must be a punishment for your transgression. You must face either, expulsion from our order…,”

“No!”

“Either…,” he repeated, his voice stern and commanding, “expulsion or, recompense.”

“What ‘recompense’?” you queried, your voice racked with confusion, but the sorcerer refused to answer.

“Choose. Choose now,” he ordered.

Your mind was ablaze with guilt, shame, embarrassment and uncertainty. All you knew for sure was that he believed you, and there was a chance of forgiveness, and frankly, there was little you wouldn’t do to stay in this new life you had found. If only you knew what the recompense would be…

“I choose…,” you stuttered, “I choose recompense.”

You scanned his features for any sign of what this might mean, but little could be discerned from his rigid, penetrating stare, until, with a wave of his hands, the enchanter returned himself and you to the ground, your magical restraints still firmly in place; the restriction at once frustrating and exciting you.

“Then we shall begin.”

The sorcerer’s words were harsh and authoritative, and the pit of your stomach churned in anxious anticipation of what, exactly, was about to begin.

“But remember,” Strange said, “if you change your mind, and decide you would prefer to walk away from your potential, you can at any time say so, and your recompense will cease. Do you understand?”

“I understand, Stephen, but…”

Your sentence was cut short by the tightening of your magical bonds, pressing hard into your flesh, accompanied by a raised eyebrow from the powerful magical hero.

“Stephen?” he quizzed, a flicker of lust flashing in his eyes. “Not tonight. Tonight, it would be more appropriate for you to call me, Master.”

The churning in your stomach gave way to a sudden and overwhelming onslaught of butterflies which spread through your senses, your head light as it was claimed by nervous anticipation.

“Master?” you asked, your voice shaking and uncertain.

“Master,” he confirmed, “tell your Master that you understand.”

“I understand,” you stuttered in response. “I understand, Master.”

Strange walked closer towards you, each step exuding the power of his magical office.

“Well, then,” he said, his voice as charming as ever it was, “before we begin, we should perhaps, redress the balance.”

You squinted in confusion before, on instinct, your eyes finally dropped from his, towards the part of his body that had drawn you to it moments earlier. While earlier, it had lain in elegantly proportioned rest, it now stood hard, thick and ready, its delicate skin straining against its length and its tip glistening with expectancy. You began to realise, finally, as you absorbed the sight into your memory, exactly what form the penance you were about to pay, would take. And you realised, for the first time, that your desires might have indebted you in ways you might be unable to pay. With a wave of the sorcerer’s fingers, a golden mandala, pointed and sharp appeared in the space between you, a torrent of sudden fear running through you as it hung inches from your eyes.

Your senses threatening to overwhelm you, you tried to summon the magical powers you possessed, which you had learned to control with such expertise under the magician’s tutelage.

Your efforts were useless. The power would not emerge. Even the simple force to move your head and look away was blocked to you.

Though you opened your mouth to object, or perhaps to scream, the mandalic blade before you shifted in the air, slicing at your clothes, leaving you gasping in shock as they fell, piece by tattered piece to the floor below, only your thin, cotton underwear protecting what was left of your modesty. Trepidation ran through your almost totally exposed body, though the sensation of your nipples stiffening against the material of your bra, and the dampness in your panties pressing against you betrayed the eagerness you tried to repress to embrace your deserved punishment.

“Wha… what’s happening…?”

The anxiousness in your words should have been alien to you. Not since that first day of magical training had you felt anything other than supreme confidence, but now it too, just as, for the moment at least, your access to your powers, was gone.

“You are being prepared for your recompense,” Strange answered, his tone seeped in what you understood now was a justified arrogance. “I’d say you were almost ready…”

The magical blade moved again, slower this time, slicing away the straps of your bra and sniping your panties away from you, your final garments joining your others in lying, ruined, on the Sanctum’s polished floor.

Naked, exposed, and bound in magical bonds, your eyes wide in excited consternation, you stared into your Master’s face. Though the house’s chilled air raised goosebumps on your exhibited skin, the drop in temperature was countered by the burning heat of your humiliation. Your Master feasted his eyes upon you, his lip curling into a lustful snarl as he moved his hands once more, and lowered himself and you to the floor, kicking away the remnants of your clothing.

Your ethereal, golden bonds began to pull and twist, contorting you down, onto your knees, before him, your arms clasped behind your back. The movement overwhelmed you, assaulting your senses with an intense cocktail of desire and agitation. Though your tight bonds, and the new look in your Master’s eye excited you, even the strength of your yearning could not wholly displace the gnawing of fear. You had wanted this, wanted him, so very much, for so very long, and you knew, now, that he was about to take you.

A tendril of shining light burst forth from Strange’s hand towards you, wrapping itself swiftly around your neck and you shuffled on your bare knees towards him as he pulled it, hard, in a charged display of his Mastery of the mystic arts, and of you. Your eyes locked onto that part of him closest, so very, very close to your face, which just moments before you had yearned to take silent hold of. Its sweet scent filled your nostrils, and your mouth hung open in greedy anticipation, your tongue licking fresh saliva over your teeth.

“Not yet,” came his stern order. “A good slave will only act when instructed.”

You wordlessly nodded your acceptance and sat back on your knees, your anticipation making you gasp even more than the tightness of the magical collar around your throat.

Your eyes following the object of your fixation without blinking, Strange wrapped his other hand around it, gently stroking it before you, teasing you with what you desired but refusing to gratify your lust until it was earned. He pulled you closer still, and began to trace your features with it, until delicate drops of his pre-cum adorned the edge of your face. You stuck out your tongue, trying desperately to catch a taste, as he moved, before he could contain himself no longer and plunged himself into the warm cavity of your mouth.

The sudden movement shocked you, as did the size, as you felt the back of your tongue pushed down by the intrusion. His grip on your collar tightened further as pulled your head down, all the way down, and back again, faster and deeper until you could feel him pressing mercilessly against the back of your throat, the sound of your gagging only spurring him on harder still.

At last, he withdrew, his dick coated in your saliva, granting you a precious moment to heave air into your lungs before he pushed himself back between your lips again. His strong, firm hand stroked your cheek for a moment, before reaching to the back of your head and clumping your hair, pulling it back roughly.

“Look at me,” he commanded. “Don’t take your eyes off mine.”

You did as he bade, staring up into his stern features as he continued to callously fuck your mouth. You saw everything in his eyes; his anger, his sorrow, his lust for you. You were sure your own eyes conveyed each of the complex emotions you were feeling, too, and something in them caused the sorcerer to slow his thrusting, pulling out of your mouth and holding the tip of his dick agonisingly close to you.

“Do you want to stop?” he asked, an eyebrow raised.

“No,” you responded defiantly, the taste of his pre-cum, sweet on your lips, “I want you to fuck me.”

For a moment you your words shocked you as much as you hoped they had shocked your Master. You were subjugated, utterly, at the total control of the Sorcerer Supreme, but though the anxious trepidation still burned in the pit of your stomach, you knew, with every fibre of your consciousness that right here, right now, you wanted this.

A half smile cracked onto his thin face at your response.

“You want who to fuck you?”

“You,” you answered. Master.”

Silence hung between you for a moment before his smile, full of lust and authority widened further.

“Say please.”

“Please, Master.”

“Please, what?”

“Please fuck me, Master.”

“I can’t hear you,” he cruelly toyed.

“PLEASE, MASTER!” You shouted with every decibel your bound body. “PLEASE FUCK ME, MASTER!”

As soon as the words left your salivating mouth, your magical bonds contorted again, lifting you just inches from the floor, thrusting your arms out to each side, your legs swiftly following, exposing your vulnerable sex to whatever machinations hid behind your Master’s narrowing, dominant eyes.

The gasp you exhaled at your body’s involuntary movements served only to spur Strange’s lust further, as he stepped towards you, one hand hovering close, so close to your exposed and yearning skin, while his other gripped tightly to your ethereal leash.

For a moment of brief eternity, it hung there, the Sorcerer’s eyes feasting on your naked excitement and delighting in the reaction of your flesh. Just as you thought the moment would never arrive, the back of his fingertips brushed, one by perfectly manicured one against you, the deep sigh of relief you breathed matched in intensity only by the wanton anticipation you felt building between your splayed legs.

His fingers moved majestically upon you, tracing each contour of your torso, skirting the outline of your collar bone, your ribs, your navel, as he prolonged the torture of your wait, until finally, they moved upwards, teasing the aching, stiff nipple of your left breast, his thumb and forefinger pulling on it hard as he claimed it. You had long heard stories from friends that this sensation alone could build to climactic release – stories you had always dismissed, until now. With supernatural speed, your collar tightened behind you, now held by some unseen force as his other hand joined its compatriot in exploring you, squeezing and pulling as hard at your right breast as your left.

Your eyes stayed on your Master’s, he had ordered as much, and your breathing heightened as your body reacted to his touch in a pleasure as unbridled as you were restrained. The throbbing in your untouched sex pounded within you, somehow stirred into crescendo by his ownership of you and you felt yourself, somehow, through some tantric mysticism felt it stir towards crescendo. You began to feel the cry of passion you had so often toyed yourself into releasing as you rubbed and played to thoughts of this man, build inside you, and your mouth hung open wider still, ready to surrender to it.

As though taking cue from your ecstatic expression, Strange’s hands dropped from your chest, his left clamping hard on the back of your head, clumping your hair once more, while his right sank below your stomach, his fingers reaching for your grateful, pulsating clit which reacted at once to his touch, sending waves of pleasure through you.

“Do you want to cum?” he asked, his voice as hard and firm as the dick he had pushed into your mouth.

You nodded with what movement in your head he still afforded you.

“Then beg.”

You answered loudly, your tone pleading and desperate.

“Please let me cum, Master,” you entreated, “please let me cum!”

Your words became profane as he responded by pressing two fingers past the wet lips of your expectant pussy, pushing them deeper inside you as it clenched tightly against them, curling them back against your inner wall as he relished your cries.

In moments it was enough, and rapturous ecstasy rippled through you as your Master granted your request, his wet fingers not relenting for a second as they drew out every last vestige of physical joy from your orgasm.

“Say thank you,” he ordered as your panting finally began to subside.

“Thank you, Master,” you answered gratefully, “thank you for making me cum! Thank you for… Oh, fuck…”

Even as you had begun to speak Strange was upon you, pushing the hard dick whose taste still lingered in your mouth against your pussy, which earnestly granted him entrance, inch by glorious inch.

“You’ve wanted this all along, haven’t you?” he asked, his breath becoming quicker as he pushed his full length deep inside you, his hand slapping sharply against your cheek when you failed to answer at once.

“Yes, Master,” you answered, your voice cracking with pleasure, “I’ve wanted it all along.”

“How many times have you played with yourself imagining this?”

“Every day, Master,” you cried out, your breasts shaking as he thrust himself inside you, pausing sometimes to grind his flesh against yours, his neatly trimmed pubic hair tickling and toying with your clit. “I play with myself every day for you!”

You screamed your confession as another ocean of pleasure culminated inside you, his thrusting intensifying as you came around him, coating him in your essence. He withdrew and watched the blissful inflections of your face, slowly stroking your wetness over himself, toying with his tip as your eyes, for once, dropped from his to enjoy the sight. Your body ached to curl into post-coital rest, but your bonds held you fast, enslaved still to your Master’s whims.

“Bad girl,” he almost whispered, the words finally filling the air with a sound other than your ecstatic panting. “I told you to keep your eyes on mine…”

The golden mandalas strapped around you shifted again, forcing you to bend into the new position desired by your Master, forcing you to accept further punishment. Returned hard to the floor, you felt your head move, pressing the side of your face against it, while your knees bent up beneath you, your arms once more tied magically behind your back, your ass pointed upwards towards the Master you had betrayed.

“If you can’t keep your eyes on mine, then you don’t get to watch what happens next…”

The pang of fear you had felt when the Sorcerer had first awoken ran through you again and you heard yourself begin to plead for mercy.”

“Please, Master,” you began, “I’m sorry, I…”

Your pleas were interrupted by the sound of a hard slap and the sting of a firm palm on your ass.

“You will learn,” Strange began, punctuating each word with another slap on each sensitive cheek in turn, “to do as you are told.”

“Ye... yes, Master,” you answered, an intoxication of pleasure and pain assaulting your senses as slap after slap connected with your stinging, unprotected ass.

“Say it,” he ordered, his until now measured voice wild, as though he had finally given in totally to his lust for you.

“I will – ow – learn to – ow – do as I’m told, Master!”

He wordlessly continued, the sound of your spanking broken only by your promises to do as commanded as his hand came down faster and harder until the orgasmic agony threated to overwhelm you. You braced yourself for another barrage, but the spanking stopped, as instantly as it had begun, but before any thoughts of clemency could reach your mind, your controlled arms shifted behind you, your hands gripping your stinging cheeks and spreading them apart.

Your addled senses hadn’t even time to register your embarrassment and shock before you felt his hot breath behind you, and those hands which had seconds before inflicted such punishment, grip your waist tightly. No words came from the Sorcerer now as he began greedily enjoying your exposed pussy, his teeth nibbling at your lips and his tongue flicked and licked at your clit until you felt your whole being give in once more to the orgasmic reactions he commanded.

You had no energy left even to shout your obedience to your Master, but still the pleasure came, his tongue now shifting upwards, delighting in the sweet taste of your ass. You knew, as his tongue pushed deeper, followed by fingers coated in your own cum what you were being prepared for and you braced yourself as you felt the tip of his dick press against your smallest, tightest hole.

“Thank you, Master,” you managed to whisper as your asshole gave way to him, “thank you for fucking my ass…”

Strange remained silent, lost in the ecstasy of you, and the pleasure of how obediently you were taking your ass fucking. The intensity of his thrusts increased, and you knew you were reaching the apex of your recompense. One arm was suddenly, without warning, released from its bondage, and you felt it directed by your Master between your legs, your fingers rubbing furiously at your clit as he buried himself deeper and harder into your ass.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasped as pleasure claimed you once more, “Oh, fuck, thank you, thank, you, thank you, Master!”

The moment your pleasure peaked, he pulled himself from you, your bonds twisting your body round once more to face him, your hand still rubbing at your pussy and your eyes now firmly locked on his.

He looked different now, his face reddened with effort and coated in sweat, his hair matted and displaced over his forehead as he pushed his throbbing and straining dick back inside your mouth.

There was no shock for you anymore, no reticence. You were his. Totally. And serving your Master brought many rewards.

It was as you sucked on him and let your tongue tease him that you realised your bonds were released. Movement was yours once more, and the first you made was to reach up and grab the Sorcerer’s ass, pulling him deeper into your mouth, deeper even than he had pushed himself at the start of your penance. His eyes closed and your mouth felt his dick stiffen harder, impossibly hard, before releasing his ecstasy inside you at last, filling your mouth with the thick streams of his cum.

His cries of pleasure enriched you and you continued to suck and play with your tongue as you felt him begin to soften in your mouth, his cum spilling out onto your chin as he finally withdrew and knelt beside you on the floor, wrapping his cloak around your shoulders and holding you to his hot, naked chest.

For an age you knelt there together in silence, but no words were needed. Not anymore. You had tested your Master and failed, but somehow, also won. This man you had yearned for, this Sorcerer Supreme, had grown closer to you then you had ever dreamed possible as a result of your transgression. Closer even still, through the punishment you knew you had deserved. Your Strange recompense.

[thexxxthdoctor]

Strange Recompense

***Over 18s Only***

Written by commission. This story features Dr Strange and a female reader. Themes include submission, BDSM and graphic sexual content.

You were his. Your arrogance, your naivety, had fooled you into believing yourself able to outwit and deceive your Master, and now, you would face your punishment.

It had all seemed so easy, in your mind, as you crossed the threshold of the Sanctum Santorum in the dead of night, your heart filled with plans, purpose and lustful desire. You had come for the stone. Not to steal it, but to prove to your mentor, Dr Stephen Strange, who had nurtured your burgeoning magical skills these past months, that you were worthy of his affections. Worthy of him. If you could bypass the Mystic’s many defences and place your hand on the enchanting, green piece of eternity, then perhaps he would begin to look at you in the same way you looked at him. Perhaps, for once, it would be he and not you, bringing himself to a feverish climax at night, lost in a fantasy world of orgasmic perpetuity. When you had proven yourself to him, you had dreamed, he would beg for your body, for your sex, for your soul. And when he had begged you enough, you would surrender them.

He had taught you so much, perhaps too much for his own good, you had allowed yourself to think, as you dealt with the enchantments in the ornate, archaic hallway, with ease. Mandalas of sparkling, mystic art were produced at your whim, saving you from enchantments and spells that would have surely paralysed most other intruders, and began to climb the grand staircase in the heart of the room. It was there that you had found him.

You had wanted him since the moment your eyes had met, across a crowded street in the heart of Greenwich Village. You were drawn to him, as if by some temporal magnet forged of magic and lust. He had come to you. For you. Your eyes had never left him as he explained how he had sensed the skills you had developed and made it his mission to find and train you. You took in each facet of his thin, angular face; his piercing eyes, his neatly trimmed beard, the greying hair, framing his high cheekbones. As much as you had wanted answers to the magical energy you had begun to feel burning inside yourself, you wanted him; this peculiar man, strolling through New York in his blue shirt and startlingly red cape, a gaudy looking medallion clasped around his chest. You wanted all the secrets he could give you, all of his techniques, and not just purely those of the magical kind.

In time, he had told you of the true nature of his jewellery of choice, this Eye of Agamotto, as he called it, and the powerful stone it housed. Your new mentor was its guardian, and no other could be allowed to touch it. It was then that you had hatched your plan. You had felt your powers growing by the day, but Strange only ever looked at you with the eyes of a kindly, if stern, mentor, not with the desire you felt for him. To earn his lust would require more skill than an average training day in this palace of enchantments could provide.

The memories had flooded through you as you took in the sight before you. Framed by the circular skylight you had gazed through so many times, his deep red Cloak of Levitation flowing behind him, floated your master, levitating in peaceful slumber. Your draw dropped as your mouth began to water. Gone was the old -fashioned attire, leaving Strange, aside from his magical cape, resplendent in nakedness. His body, thin and toned was more beautiful to you than even your most extravagant fantasies had allowed you to believe, and you had felt your hand inch towards your groin, reaching under your waistband and pressing the fabric of your panties against yourself, at this unexpected but very welcome state. Your eyes had fallen to his waist, and you had gulped at the perfectly formed outer symbol of his manhood, your rubbing increasing as you imagined it awakening, feeling it harden and grow in your hand while you drew him from his dreams into ecstatic reality.

With phenomenal restraint, you had broken away from the sight and stilled your fingers, summoning every fibre of energy you could muster into rising into the air before him, your heart beginning to pound at your proximity to the naked sorcerer. Your breath light and your head spinning, you had reached forward slowly, ever so slowly, towards the Eye of Agamotto, still clasped around his neck, the tip of your middle finger brushing, only very slightly, the golden casing which house the stone.

It was then, that Dr Strange had awoken.

With alacrity faster than any lightening storm could ever produce, his eyes, once piercing and wise, but now fierce and furious, had snapped open and peered into your own, while golden mandalas wrapped, themselves tightly around your wrists, forcing your arms out to each side, more, binding your ankles in magical bonds. And now you waited, your plans in ruins, to face the fury of the Sorcerer Supreme.

“You!” The word fell from his thin lips in a gasp, and you could feel in it, the pain of your betrayal. “You came for the Stone?”

You shook your head, quickly, uselessly, your denials struggling to pour from your mouth.

“No!” you finally responded. “It’s not like that, I was trying to impress you!”

The magician floated before you in beautiful naked fury as you stuttered and stumbled through your explanations; how often you had played with yourself to the thought of him fucking you, how desperately you yearned for his touch and how you had hoped, that by proving yourself able to reach the stone, you had hoped he would look at you as you looked at him.

The words fell from you incoherently, your mind spinning as though you were drunk on the foolish severity of your actions, and you stared into his face, desperate for any sign that he believed you. Finally, after a tortuous age, you watched his brow furrow in thought.

“I believe you,” he ultimately concluded, his voice soft but laced with an indescribable danger. “I can’t even begin to tell you how foolish, unworthy and stupidly dangerous it was of you to do this... However, I… believe you.”

Pangs of relief flowed through you, and you breathed deeply for the first time since he had awoken.

“Thank you,” you sighed, attempting a smile before gesturing with your head at your mystical bonds. “So, can you let me out of these things now?”

He simply stared for a moment, taking you in, and you saw, for the first time, an inkling of mischievousness in his stern, imposing face.

“I’m afraid, it’s not quite that simple,” he began. “You have touched the Eye of Agamotto without permission.”

“I barely even brushed against it,” you protested.

“That doesn’t matter.“ Strange’s voice was severe. “You have touched it, the intent was in your heart, and now you must make the choice.”

“What choice?” you nervously asked, your voice shaking.

“Of punishment,” he replied.

“What do you mean, punishment?”

“There must be a punishment for your transgression. You must face either, expulsion from our order…,”

“No!”

“Either…,” he repeated, his voice stern and commanding, “expulsion or, recompense.”

“What ‘recompense’?” you queried, your voice racked with confusion, but the sorcerer refused to answer.

“Choose. Choose now,” he ordered.

Your mind was ablaze with guilt, shame, embarrassment and uncertainty. All you knew for sure was that he believed you, and there was a chance of forgiveness, and frankly, there was little you wouldn’t do to stay in this new life you had found. If only you knew what the recompense would be…

“I choose…,” you stuttered, “I choose recompense.”

You scanned his features for any sign of what this might mean, but little could be discerned from his rigid, penetrating stare, until, with a wave of his hands, the enchanter returned himself and you to the ground, your magical restraints still firmly in place; the restriction at once frustrating and exciting you.

“Then we shall begin.”

The sorcerer’s words were harsh and authoritative, and the pit of your stomach churned in anxious anticipation of what, exactly, was about to begin.

“But remember,” Strange said, “if you change your mind, and decide you would prefer to walk away from your potential, you can at any time say so, and your recompense will cease. Do you understand?”

“I understand, Stephen, but…”

Your sentence was cut short by the tightening of your magical bonds, pressing hard into your flesh, accompanied by a raised eyebrow from the powerful magical hero.

“Stephen?” he quizzed, a flicker of lust flashing in his eyes. “Not tonight. Tonight, it would be more appropriate for you to call me, Master.”

The churning in your stomach gave way to a sudden and overwhelming onslaught of butterflies which spread through your senses, your head light as it was claimed by nervous anticipation.

“Master?” you asked, your voice shaking and uncertain.

“Master,” he confirmed, “tell your Master that you understand.”

“I understand,” you stuttered in response. “I understand, Master.”

Strange walked closer towards you, each step exuding the power of his magical office.

“Well, then,” he said, his voice as charming as ever it was, “before we begin, we should perhaps, redress the balance.”

You squinted in confusion before, on instinct, your eyes finally dropped from his, towards the part of his body that had drawn you to it moments earlier. While earlier, it had lain in elegantly proportioned rest, it now stood hard, thick and ready, its delicate skin straining against its length and its tip glistening with expectancy. You began to realise, finally, as you absorbed the sight into your memory, exactly what form the penance you were about to pay, would take. And you realised, for the first time, that your desires might have indebted you in ways you might be unable to pay. With a wave of the sorcerer’s fingers, a golden mandala, pointed and sharp appeared in the space between you, a torrent of sudden fear running through you as it hung inches from your eyes.

Your senses threatening to overwhelm you, you tried to summon the magical powers you possessed, which you had learned to control with such expertise under the magician’s tutelage.

Your efforts were useless. The power would not emerge. Even the simple force to move your head and look away was blocked to you.

Though you opened your mouth to object, or perhaps to scream, the mandalic blade before you shifted in the air, slicing at your clothes, leaving you gasping in shock as they fell, piece by tattered piece to the floor below, only your thin, cotton underwear protecting what was left of your modesty. Trepidation ran through your almost totally exposed body, though the sensation of your nipples stiffening against the material of your bra, and the dampness in your panties pressing against you betrayed the eagerness you tried to repress to embrace your deserved punishment.

“Wha… what’s happening…?”

The anxiousness in your words should have been alien to you. Not since that first day of magical training had you felt anything other than supreme confidence, but now it too, just as, for the moment at least, your access to your powers, was gone.

“You are being prepared for your recompense,” Strange answered, his tone seeped in what you understood now was a justified arrogance. “I’d say you were almost ready…”

The magical blade moved again, slower this time, slicing away the straps of your bra and sniping your panties away from you, your final garments joining your others in lying, ruined, on the Sanctum’s polished floor.

Naked, exposed, and bound in magical bonds, your eyes wide in excited consternation, you stared into your Master’s face. Though the house’s chilled air raised goosebumps on your exhibited skin, the drop in temperature was countered by the burning heat of your humiliation. Your Master feasted his eyes upon you, his lip curling into a lustful snarl as he moved his hands once more, and lowered himself and you to the floor, kicking away the remnants of your clothing.

Your ethereal, golden bonds began to pull and twist, contorting you down, onto your knees, before him, your arms clasped behind your back. The movement overwhelmed you, assaulting your senses with an intense cocktail of desire and agitation. Though your tight bonds, and the new look in your Master’s eye excited you, even the strength of your yearning could not wholly displace the gnawing of fear. You had wanted this, wanted him, so very much, for so very long, and you knew, now, that he was about to take you.

A tendril of shining light burst forth from Strange’s hand towards you, wrapping itself swiftly around your neck and you shuffled on your bare knees towards him as he pulled it, hard, in a charged display of his Mastery of the mystic arts, and of you. Your eyes locked onto that part of him closest, so very, very close to your face, which just moments before you had yearned to take silent hold of. Its sweet scent filled your nostrils, and your mouth hung open in greedy anticipation, your tongue licking fresh saliva over your teeth.

“Not yet,” came his stern order. “A good slave will only act when instructed.”

You wordlessly nodded your acceptance and sat back on your knees, your anticipation making you gasp even more than the tightness of the magical collar around your throat.

Your eyes following the object of your fixation without blinking, Strange wrapped his other hand around it, gently stroking it before you, teasing you with what you desired but refusing to gratify your lust until it was earned. He pulled you closer still, and began to trace your features with it, until delicate drops of his pre-cum adorned the edge of your face. You stuck out your tongue, trying desperately to catch a taste, as he moved, before he could contain himself no longer and plunged himself into the warm cavity of your mouth.

The sudden movement shocked you, as did the size, as you felt the back of your tongue pushed down by the intrusion. His grip on your collar tightened further as pulled your head down, all the way down, and back again, faster and deeper until you could feel him pressing mercilessly against the back of your throat, the sound of your gagging only spurring him on harder still.

At last, he withdrew, his dick coated in your saliva, granting you a precious moment to heave air into your lungs before he pushed himself back between your lips again. His strong, firm hand stroked your cheek for a moment, before reaching to the back of your head and clumping your hair, pulling it back roughly.

“Look at me,” he commanded. “Don’t take your eyes off mine.”

You did as he bade, staring up into his stern features as he continued to callously fuck your mouth. You saw everything in his eyes; his anger, his sorrow, his lust for you. You were sure your own eyes conveyed each of the complex emotions you were feeling, too, and something in them caused the sorcerer to slow his thrusting, pulling out of your mouth and holding the tip of his dick agonisingly close to you.

“Do you want to stop?” he asked, an eyebrow raised.

“No,” you responded defiantly, the taste of his pre-cum, sweet on your lips, “I want you to fuck me.”

For a moment you your words shocked you as much as you hoped they had shocked your Master. You were subjugated, utterly, at the total control of the Sorcerer Supreme, but though the anxious trepidation still burned in the pit of your stomach, you knew, with every fibre of your consciousness that right here, right now, you wanted this.

A half smile cracked onto his thin face at your response.

“You want who to fuck you?”

“You,” you answered. Master.”

Silence hung between you for a moment before his smile, full of lust and authority widened further.

“Say please.”

“Please, Master.”

“Please, what?”

“Please fuck me, Master.”

“I can’t hear you,” he cruelly toyed.

“PLEASE, MASTER!” You shouted with every decibel your bound body. “PLEASE FUCK ME, MASTER!”

As soon as the words left your salivating mouth, your magical bonds contorted again, lifting you just inches from the floor, thrusting your arms out to each side, your legs swiftly following, exposing your vulnerable sex to whatever machinations hid behind your Master’s narrowing, dominant eyes.

The gasp you exhaled at your body’s involuntary movements served only to spur Strange’s lust further, as he stepped towards you, one hand hovering close, so close to your exposed and yearning skin, while his other gripped tightly to your ethereal leash.

For a moment of brief eternity, it hung there, the Sorcerer’s eyes feasting on your naked excitement and delighting in the reaction of your flesh. Just as you thought the moment would never arrive, the back of his fingertips brushed, one by perfectly manicured one against you, the deep sigh of relief you breathed matched in intensity only by the wanton anticipation you felt building between your splayed legs.

His fingers moved majestically upon you, tracing each contour of your torso, skirting the outline of your collar bone, your ribs, your navel, as he prolonged the torture of your wait, until finally, they moved upwards, teasing the aching, stiff nipple of your left breast, his thumb and forefinger pulling on it hard as he claimed it. You had long heard stories from friends that this sensation alone could build to climactic release – stories you had always dismissed, until now. With supernatural speed, your collar tightened behind you, now held by some unseen force as his other hand joined its compatriot in exploring you, squeezing and pulling as hard at your right breast as your left.

Your eyes stayed on your Master’s, he had ordered as much, and your breathing heightened as your body reacted to his touch in a pleasure as unbridled as you were restrained. The throbbing in your untouched sex pounded within you, somehow stirred into crescendo by his ownership of you and you felt yourself, somehow, through some tantric mysticism felt it stir towards crescendo. You began to feel the cry of passion you had so often toyed yourself into releasing as you rubbed and played to thoughts of this man, build inside you, and your mouth hung open wider still, ready to surrender to it.

As though taking cue from your ecstatic expression, Strange’s hands dropped from your chest, his left clamping hard on the back of your head, clumping your hair once more, while his right sank below your stomach, his fingers reaching for your grateful, pulsating clit which reacted at once to his touch, sending waves of pleasure through you.

“Do you want to cum?” he asked, his voice as hard and firm as the dick he had pushed into your mouth.

You nodded with what movement in your head he still afforded you.

“Then beg.”

You answered loudly, your tone pleading and desperate.

“Please let me cum, Master,” you entreated, “please let me cum!”

Your words became profane as he responded by pressing two fingers past the wet lips of your expectant pussy, pushing them deeper inside you as it clenched tightly against them, curling them back against your inner wall as he relished your cries.

In moments it was enough, and rapturous ecstasy rippled through you as your Master granted your request, his wet fingers not relenting for a second as they drew out every last vestige of physical joy from your orgasm.

“Say thank you,” he ordered as your panting finally began to subside.

“Thank you, Master,” you answered gratefully, “thank you for making me cum! Thank you for… Oh, fuck…”

Even as you had begun to speak Strange was upon you, pushing the hard dick whose taste still lingered in your mouth against your pussy, which earnestly granted him entrance, inch by glorious inch.

“You’ve wanted this all along, haven’t you?” he asked, his breath becoming quicker as he pushed his full length deep inside you, his hand slapping sharply against your cheek when you failed to answer at once.

“Yes, Master,” you answered, your voice cracking with pleasure, “I’ve wanted it all along.”

“How many times have you played with yourself imagining this?”

“Every day, Master,” you cried out, your breasts shaking as he thrust himself inside you, pausing sometimes to grind his flesh against yours, his neatly trimmed pubic hair tickling and toying with your clit. “I play with myself every day for you!”

You screamed your confession as another ocean of pleasure culminated inside you, his thrusting intensifying as you came around him, coating him in your essence. He withdrew and watched the blissful inflections of your face, slowly stroking your wetness over himself, toying with his tip as your eyes, for once, dropped from his to enjoy the sight. Your body ached to curl into post-coital rest, but your bonds held you fast, enslaved still to your Master’s whims.

“Bad girl,” he almost whispered, the words finally filling the air with a sound other than your ecstatic panting. “I told you to keep your eyes on mine…”

The golden mandalas strapped around you shifted again, forcing you to bend into the new position desired by your Master, forcing you to accept further punishment. Returned hard to the floor, you felt your head move, pressing the side of your face against it, while your knees bent up beneath you, your arms once more tied magically behind your back, your ass pointed upwards towards the Master you had betrayed.

“If you can’t keep your eyes on mine, then you don’t get to watch what happens next…”

The pang of fear you had felt when the Sorcerer had first awoken ran through you again and you heard yourself begin to plead for mercy.”

“Please, Master,” you began, “I’m sorry, I…”

Your pleas were interrupted by the sound of a hard slap and the sting of a firm palm on your ass.

“You will learn,” Strange began, punctuating each word with another slap on each sensitive cheek in turn, “to do as you are told.”

“Ye... yes, Master,” you answered, an intoxication of pleasure and pain assaulting your senses as slap after slap connected with your stinging, unprotected ass.

“Say it,” he ordered, his until now measured voice wild, as though he had finally given in totally to his lust for you.

“I will – ow – learn to – ow – do as I’m told, Master!”

He wordlessly continued, the sound of your spanking broken only by your promises to do as commanded as his hand came down faster and harder until the orgasmic agony threated to overwhelm you. You braced yourself for another barrage, but the spanking stopped, as instantly as it had begun, but before any thoughts of clemency could reach your mind, your controlled arms shifted behind you, your hands gripping your stinging cheeks and spreading them apart.

Your addled senses hadn’t even time to register your embarrassment and shock before you felt his hot breath behind you, and those hands which had seconds before inflicted such punishment, grip your waist tightly. No words came from the Sorcerer now as he began greedily enjoying your exposed pussy, his teeth nibbling at your lips and his tongue flicked and licked at your clit until you felt your whole being give in once more to the orgasmic reactions he commanded.

You had no energy left even to shout your obedience to your Master, but still the pleasure came, his tongue now shifting upwards, delighting in the sweet taste of your ass. You knew, as his tongue pushed deeper, followed by fingers coated in your own cum what you were being prepared for and you braced yourself as you felt the tip of his dick press against your smallest, tightest hole.

“Thank you, Master,” you managed to whisper as your asshole gave way to him, “thank you for fucking my ass…”

Strange remained silent, lost in the ecstasy of you, and the pleasure of how obediently you were taking your ass fucking. The intensity of his thrusts increased, and you knew you were reaching the apex of your recompense. One arm was suddenly, without warning, released from its bondage, and you felt it directed by your Master between your legs, your fingers rubbing furiously at your clit as he buried himself deeper and harder into your ass.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasped as pleasure claimed you once more, “Oh, fuck, thank you, thank, you, thank you, Master!”

The moment your pleasure peaked, he pulled himself from you, your bonds twisting your body round once more to face him, your hand still rubbing at your pussy and your eyes now firmly locked on his.

He looked different now, his face reddened with effort and coated in sweat, his hair matted and displaced over his forehead as he pushed his throbbing and straining dick back inside your mouth.

There was no shock for you anymore, no reticence. You were his. Totally. And serving your Master brought many rewards.

It was as you sucked on him and let your tongue tease him that you realised your bonds were released. Movement was yours once more, and the first you made was to reach up and grab the Sorcerer’s ass, pulling him deeper into your mouth, deeper even than he had pushed himself at the start of your penance. His eyes closed and your mouth felt his dick stiffen harder, impossibly hard, before releasing his ecstasy inside you at last, filling your mouth with the thick streams of his cum.

His cries of pleasure enriched you and you continued to suck and play with your tongue as you felt him begin to soften in your mouth, his cum spilling out onto your chin as he finally withdrew and knelt beside you on the floor, wrapping his cloak around your shoulders and holding you to his hot, naked chest.

For an age you knelt there together in silence, but no words were needed. Not anymore. You had tested your Master and failed, but somehow, also won. This man you had yearned for, this Sorcerer Supreme, had grown closer to you then you had ever dreamed possible as a result of your transgression. Closer even still, through the punishment you knew you had deserved. Your Strange recompense.

[thexxxthdoctor]

if you are interested in contributing a piece of writing or art for the Rogue and Gambit: Burning House collection, the submission guidelines have been posted!

details:

"All net proceeds from this publication will be donated in support of the Canadian Cancer Society"

they are looking for "original tales that feature Rogue & Gambit as the driving characters, set in either the 616 Marvel X-Men or XAS/X-Men 97 universes"

for writing: "Stories can be drawn from any era of the comic or animated series and should be between 8000 to 10,000 words"

story proposals must be submitted by midnight Western European Time on 30th November 2024

for artwork: "We are looking for art of Rogue & Gambit to preface each story, depicting a scene or theme from within it, for inclusion in the collection as part of the published book. The final pieces will be commissioned from selected artists once the story list has been finalised."

find the complete details and submission guidelines at the link above!

for more info you can contact James Silvester, who put together this whole thing!

[thexxxthdoctor]

if you are interested in contributing a piece of writing or art for the Rogue and Gambit: Burning House collection, the submission guidelines have been posted!

details:

"All net proceeds from this publication will be donated in support of the Canadian Cancer Society"

they are looking for "original tales that feature Rogue & Gambit as the driving characters, set in either the 616 Marvel X-Men or XAS/X-Men 97 universes"

for writing: "Stories can be drawn from any era of the comic or animated series and should be between 8000 to 10,000 words"

story proposals must be submitted by midnight Western European Time on 30th November 2024

for artwork: "We are looking for art of Rogue & Gambit to preface each story, depicting a scene or theme from within it, for inclusion in the collection as part of the published book. The final pieces will be commissioned from selected artists once the story list has been finalised."

find the complete details and submission guidelines at the link above!

for more info you can contact James Silvester, who put together this whole thing!

[thexxxthdoctor]

[thexxxthdoctor]

their face card😩💗

im in love with david marquez's drawing so bad

[thexxxthdoctor]

Get yourself a Remy LeBeau.

[thexxxthdoctor]

Is there something about Remy that Marvel dislike with him bc it seems like every other content I see or the Marvel world he gets killed somehow and it's like why couldn't they just leave him alone

Though if I remember correctly before 97 the animated universe did him fair

[thexxxthdoctor]

Appreciate the follow 👍🏾

Likewise! I love to connect with people on here 😊

[thexxxthdoctor]

Damn it, these two…

they OWN this pose

[thexxxthdoctor]

Truer words have never been spoken.

(You're not going crazy this is a repost I made a goof on it and it was driving me nuts 😭)

[thexxxthdoctor]

The kind of couple who would absolutely rock new levels of sexual intensity one day, and lie in bed snuggling and making each other laugh with farting competitions the next.

[thexxxthdoctor]

This being canon makes me so happy

[thexxxthdoctor]

revisiting some panels I saved in my X-Men readthrough last year 💕

[thexxxthdoctor]

Nudes are nice but bro, have you seen this girl's face and the way her eyes and smile light up a goddam room?