Return to her Doom (M/F) (Patreon)

(A Scarlet Witch x Doctor Doom ticklerotica, 18+)

A restful timidity cloaked the city of Doomstadt in an era of peace. It had been over a week since the storm that tore through the land. Homes had been devastated, infrastructure ripped from its foundations. The people had worried and consoled one another over property damage and loss of goods for trade and supplies. People turned to the security of emergency services working both through and after the storm to ensure safety and recovery, which came swiftly by the means of the nation’s unique sentinel force. While the storm ravaged through all of Latveria, it was Doomstadt that suffered the most damage, leading many to consider the possibility of it being the result of manifested assault from outside forces. Since the storm’s departure, both Doomstadt and Latveria recovered physically and socially from the devastation that fortunately cost no lives due in large part to the nation’s advancements in social services.

As the citizens could finally breathe a collective sigh of relief, their enforced monarch, the Latverian ruler Victor von Doom, enjoyed a time of solace and reflection of his own. The castle sustained significant damage from the abrupt visit of the distraught Scarlet Witch, but it was nothing that Doom’s own protection and recovery systems spent longer than that week of work across the country to mend. He too could breathe relieved air once again while his mind went through a restoration of its own. He reflected on the time spent in the Chaos Realm, having fallen victim to the witch’s supreme extent of magical power. A sufferer who found humiliation more devastating than mutilation, Doom spent several nights in deep contemplation over his decision to both help and punish the witch for crossing both national and personal lines. He was grateful that no one had witnessed his defeat, yet his ego held onto the denial that allowed him to believe that it was his lust for the woman that allowed a man like him to be defeated at all, that any loss suffered was that of his own permission.

Victor enjoyed a rare, quiet evening. As usual, he would spend it alone in his castle, looming over the renewed prosperity of his people. His doombots worked around the clock to make sure that both his castle and his nation recovered from the mess. He reflected on the instance that came from the storm, the presentation that Scarlet Witch had posed to try and threaten him into helping her find her sons. Victor was a man of logic as much as he was pride and could not deny her alleged victory, despite what it cost her in the end.

Victor spent the evening meditating in his sanctuary, a designated chamber within the castle devoted to the development of spiritual and magical connections. The chamber was circular. Across the walls, ornate sculptures and reliefs depicted ancient tales and mystic runes. Green flames surged atop torches that reached for the conical stone ceiling. More runes were carved into the floor, accented with trimmings of solid gold and other precious metals. Victor stood in solitude in his quiet chamber. He breathed slowly and thoughtfully, his eyes closed as his mind continued to wander back to his time in the Chaos Realm.

“You’re only human, Victor,” a voice spoke from behind him. Doom’s eyes opened. He turned around to see the soul who had dared enter his castle with the skills to do so undetected. Before him stood Wanda Maximoff once more, just as beautiful as she was that day over a week prior. Her dress had taken a more casual approach, something fitting for a life of newly discovered domestic bliss. Her long locks of ember shade tumbled down her shoulders. Her eyes sparkled as they looked back at the man. She entered the chamber with delicate grace. Looking closer, Doom could see an ethereal transparency to her figure. The great and powerful dictator squinted and stared curiously.

“What are you doing here?” Doom asked deeply. “You’ve been banished.”

“I suppose entering your mind while you meditate counts as crossing Latverian borders, huh?” Wanda asked. She smiled sweetly and came closer. Doom looked around the room with suspicion.

“Astral projection,” Doom said. “A parlor trick. I thought you better than that, Witch.”

“It was the only way that I could see you again, Victor,” Wanda said. “After you blacklisted me from Latverian soil, how else was I supposed to contact you?”

“You weren’t,” said Doom. “That was the whole point. After you breached this nation's boundaries and caused hundreds of thousands of dollars of property damage and put my people in danger, you had to face consequences. Trust me, Witch, any other soul who did what you did would be screaming from the flaming pits beneath your feet.” Wanda nodded respectfully.

“You’re right,” Wanda said. “Honestly, I am very thankful for the help you provided, given what happened between us. I’m grateful for everything that you and Owen did to help me find my boys and I fully intend on upholding the deal made between us regarding my banishment.”

“Then why are you here now?” Doom asked, his voice booming through the chamber. “Projection or not, you are still consciously crossing forbidden boundaries, those of both my country and my mind. I could have you just as easily torn away from your family right here and now, forever.” Wanda stood up straight. She kept a sly smile as she held herself with respect and adoration.

“Then please allow me to apologize rightfully,” Wanda said. “Both for this intrusion and for my behavior during my last intrusion. I simply came to offer my contrition, my gratitude, and to possibly make it up to you, Lord Doom.” Doom’s eyes studied Wanda carefully. He grumbled and waited for the Scarlet Witch to explain herself further.

“Even if you presented yourself fully to Doom, what could you possibly have to offer?” Doom asked. Wanda continued to grin.

“You’re only human, Victor, like it or not,” Wanda said, turning around and walking out of the sanctuary. Doom huffed. He eyed the woman as she started down the long, torchlit corridor. Compelled by her boldness and mystery, he took a step toward her. He contemplated his options on how to deal with the intrusive witch all while finding himself being carried toward her, step by step.

“What is your ploy here, Witch?” Doom asked, following Wanda's path out of the meditation chamber. “You have nothing to gain here.”

“Maybe not,” Wanda said, her voice echoing as Doom looked around for the phantom woman. “But you may.”

Doom proceeded to track the witch through the halls of the castle, humoring her quirky nature. He watched her walk with the grace of a projection, only somewhat existing within the realm she occupied. The spell was a simple one for a mystic of her caliber, but one heightened to extremes beyond Doom's expectation, allowing her to not only breach worldly barriers and distance as well as catch Doom himself off guard. Intrigued, he followed with only slight reluctance.

Doom followed Wanda into the dark recesses of the castle. Flickering torches clashed with the glow of monitors, each illuminating endlessly whirring machinery. Wanda walked gracefully through the corridors and adjacent chambers, passing stations of scientific and magical purposes alike. Doom trailed at a distance. He pondered the woman's intentions and wondered if she was still underestimating his boundaries and pension for punishment, if the Scarlet Witch believed herself to be beyond the wrath of Doom. Curiosity guided him further into the darker hallways and chambers of Castle Doom.

“You're a man of unbridled vitality, Victor,” Wanda said, crossing over the threshold into the castle's ancient torture chamber. “Of course, there's nothing I can't praise about you that you yourself are not aware of. That's what makes you so… intoxicating, in a way.”

“You're treading your own downfall here, Witch,” Doom said in a low and gruff voice. “Do not think yourself above my laws or penance.”

Wanda approached a wooden rack in the far corner of the dungeon, erected at an angle. It was sturdy and still retained a hearty structure from its days of use, withered only slightly from time and rot. The corners were ornated by thick metal cuffs, the ends attached to a singular crank system, utilized to painfully extend the limbs of the souls who found themselves within its cold, unforgiving grasp. The witch smiled and let her hair fall freely down her back. She waved her hand to ignite a pair of torches nearby, casting a shifting, orange glow over the device.

"You will not humiliate Doom again, Witch," Doom said sternly. Wanda looked back at him with a playful smirk.

"I'm honored you would suggest that I managed to humiliate the great and all-powerful Doctor Doom the first time... but no. No, that's not what we're here for."

As Wanda stood before Doom, she waved her hand across the front of her body. Before Doom's eyes, her clothes burned away. Embers carrying the remnants of her outfit floated into the air in a painless display. Every piece of cloth that hugged her skin vanished into a fiery display, leaving behind only Wanda, standing bare before the great monarch himself.

Doom’s eyes fell to her figure. He beheld her shapely body, accented with large, heaving breasts. Her belly below was trim and slender. Her hips accented a rounded posterior while her groin boasted a faint fuzz above a tender, inviting slit. Her legs were long and fed into a pair of bare, slender feet, of which Doom remembered fondly from her previous visit. A wash of shame overcame him, hidden away beneath his mask, as he was forced to confront, yet again, his human, primitive urges.

"This is your ploy?" Doom asked. "To entice the will of Doom?" Wanda giggled.

"I'd like to think of it as an apology or perhaps a 'thank you'..." Wanda said. She backed up against the rack, laying herself across it facing Doom. She raised her hands up to the cuffs as the pair opened and shut around her wrists. Seamlessly, she performed the same maneuver to her ankles, binding herself against the device. "Or perhaps... surrender?"

"Surrender," Doom muttered, his eyes scanning across the beautiful, bare woman bound before him. "If I desired that, I wouldn't have let you leave."

"Only human, Victor," Wanda said. "It's the generosity in your nature. You can't deny it any more than you can deny me..." Doom breathed deeply. He stepped forward, walking up to the woman.

"Just because you desire Doom does not mean Doom reciprocates," Doom said. He came up closer to the witch, stretched out atop the rack in front of him.

"I know what you felt, Victor," Wanda said softly. "I felt it too... You think about it more than you want me to believe. I don't have to be inside your mind to see that. Make me yours, if only for today. I want to show you my appreciation." Doom managed a faint chuckle.

"You have shown more than that, Witch," Doom said, almost in a whisper. He neared her face, one gloved hand rising against her side.

"There's still so much more to see..." Wanda said. "I'm all yours..." Doom's eyes narrowed over the invitation. As his hand stroked her side, gliding over her bare skin, Doom could feel her more intimately than ever. The warmth from her body caressed the tips of his fingers, seeping through the metal of his gauntlets. His eyes studied her naked figure. Wanda's glimmered above a devious, yet curious smirk. Doom continued to assess Wanda's disposition and found trust where he could not find motivation for foul play.

“If Doom willed your subservience, it would have already been done,” Doom said with hesitant skepticism.

“You banished me to save face, Victor,” Wanda said. “Commendable and understandable. But we're alone now, Victor. And I've been thinking all about how I can pay you back… properly…” Doom paused. His metal glove raised up across Wanda's ribs. She smiled back at him sweetly. “Come on. No one has to know.”

The woman before him, despite being a projection of herself, felt as real against Doom's tender touch as she ever had before. Doom came closer, his low, heavy breathing adding to the warmth that surrounded both. He stared curiously back at the witch before starting to scribble his fingers lightly against her ribs. Wanda's smile widened. Giggles began fluttering from her voice as her naked body began to twitch.

“Neeehahaha… mmmmmheehehehe,” Wanda laughed. Her voice sparkled as she giggled. Her smile glimmered while her eyes squinted with laughter and beheld the mighty force of a man in front of her. She knew he had all the power he needed to tear her from the projection and end her right there, just as he knew she had the means to vanish from the binds, and his castle, whenever she pleased. It took no great intelligence to conclude the intentions that had fueled Doom's validated skepticism.

“Your boldness is admirable, Witch,” Doom said, raising his other hand to Wanda's opposite side. He began to pinch the tender area while still scribbling his fingers across the woman's ribs. Her laughter increased as she squirmed more in place, her chest wafting back and forth as she wriggled. Her naked form began to shine with a thin layer of sweat fed off from the heat of the chamber as well as her own enthused fevers. The Scarlet Witch, a force many had come to fear, giggled playfully. She relinquished herself to her passions, to letting her own desires flow through her submission to the silver monarch toying with her senses.

“Geeeehhhhehhahahahahammmm…” Wanda alternated between giggles and heavy laughter. Doom continued to tease her with his touch, though steadily increased the ticklish potency. He could no longer deny the ruthless truth of his own humanized impulses, driven by affection and lust, motivations Doom had long since deemed primitive and arbitrary in others. Still, the witch at his disposal toiled to his touch. Minute by minute, he concluded that Wanda had no schemes to enact. She had neither the means nor the incentive to trick him a second time, and as dreadful as he found it, Doom knew that any additional attempt to humiliate him would have to be her last.

“You really are quite remarkable, Witch,” Doom said, his gravelly tone softening from its usual dramatic grandeur. He spoke intimately with the woman whose own responses, physical and verbal, conveyed nothing but transparency.

“Thaaaahahahahaank you!” Wanda said Her smile brightened. Her hair loosened as her body writhed against the rack. Doom opened his gloves outside her ribs and armpits. Dozens of faint, green bolts, as thin as strands of hair, arched from his palms and fingers onto her skin. Wanda jerked in place. She threw her head back, a sudden surge of tickles coursing through her body as each magical bolt inflicted a steady stream of rousing tickles against her nerves. They poured in with a consistency that teased as much as it tortured into a delightful medley of stimulation.

“Your boldness in the face of adversity never ceases to amaze me, Wanda,” Doom spoke solemnly. “Even when your daring transgressions dip into valleys of foolishness.” Doom emitted more and more sparks arcing off of his open gloves. He watched at the woman before him writhed and glistened with beads of sweat. Her smile illuminated the dungeon, her heated moans and giggles stirred within him primal responses of the mortal beneath the mask. His hands traced over her naked body. He watched her chest rise and fall, he soaked in her bursts of ticklish laughter, engaged in a display of delighted innocence in as much as it was a moment fanning the flames that burned within them both.

“Geeeeaaaahhhhhahahahahahahaha!!! Vict-aaaahhahahahaaaahhhh!!” Wanda cried out. Doom could feel the sincerity in every laugh and aching bodily twitch. He witnessed not a performance but a surrender, one that came as uniquely powerful and forgiving. Her face, twisted and shimmering with ticklish hysteria, showed only a woman indulging in her own urges, her only schemes being to have the moment that Doom reluctantly, yet joyfully, allowed. His magic sparked across her stretched armpits. It channeled down the ridges of her ribs and as far down as her sides, each little bolt only tickling the bound witch, but compounding into a blanket sensation that teetered between erotic and legitimately torturous.

“You wish to belong to Doom so badly, Witch, that you dared breach sacred and forbidden ground,” Doom reiterated. “You could, and should, be punished to the fullest extent. Doom could just as easily make that happen right now.” Doom’s hands shifted downward. Both metal palms hovered just outside of her sides. His fingers wiggled slightly, toying with his own sense of whimsy as he did her very nerves. The tickles surged once again, concentrated in the slender edges of Wanda’s midsection. Tickles sparked from both sides at once, sending her senses screaming from within. Doom left Wanda little time to recover or react as he sent her into a new feverish fit of screaming laughter.

“Naaaaaahhhhhahahahahahahahahaaa!! Ohhh gaahahahahah!” Wanda’s back arched as she relinquished her body to the tickles that raged through her. She bucked and twisted in place, squealing with a delight that continuously teetered into exhaustion and reactionary panic. Yet Wanda’s trust in Victor persisted and allowed her the vehicle with which her euphoria would remain surfaced. The tickles came in waves, rushing through her senses in powerful bouts from Doom’s magic, restrained for the specific purpose in delivering onto them both their unspoken desires.

“You are a beautiful woman, Wanda,” Doom said as his magic sparked more and more branches of tickling currents against Wanda’s slender sides. “One who could have the world at her feet, yet you choose the humble, simple life, a choice Doom can respect as much as I cannot agree.” His eyes glazed over Wanda’s naked body. Her skin shimmered in the torch light. Beads of sweat raced across ridges of trembling muscles and supple vallys. Her nipples rose as her chest heaved with deep, laughing breaths. Her smile shined through her hysteria, strained, yet not without glee and relief.

“Shhhaaaaahahahahahahaha!! Ohhhh gaaahahahahahahaaaad!!” Wanda laughed. She closed her eyes as her head fell back. Her hips swiveled against the rack, her arms and legs endlessly tugging at the binds Doom knew she could easily get out of. The performance of helplessness was just as much for her as it was for him. Doom chuckled. One hand shifted over to her belly, sending the magically active tickling sensations across the surface of Wanda’s stomach. Wanda squealed into a deeper surge of laughter. The hundreds of tiny, ticklish shocks rained over her belly, attacking nearly the entire circumference from Doom’s open palm. His other hand ventured further downward. It brought the tickling sensations to Wanda’s bare mound, sending the same ticklish waves against the delicate relief of the witch’s bare pussy. “Faaaaaahhhhhahahahahaaaaack!!! Mmmmmmhehehahhahahaaa!!!”

“Regardless how magnificent a specimen you are, Witch, or your efforts to apologize, I could still see to the punishment from your prior visit,” Doom said. “Banishing you alone was still more mercy than I care to offer.” Doom smiled beneath the mask. His ticklish touch attacked Wanda’s stomach and pussy with the effect of hundreds of fluttering feathers and scratching fingers. Tiny and spread across their respective areas, Doom’s magic sent consistent tickles out across Wanda’s sensitive frame. The tickles that covered her stomach left the witch reeling with laughter. She bucked in place, throwing her head side to side, as her cheeks began to glow one of her favorite shades of red. Her chest rose and fell to great extremes, lifted by the exaggerated breaths of her unstoppable, ticklish laughter.

“GAAAAAHHHHHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAMMMM!!” Wanda’s voice howled. It echoed through the castle chamber and the corridors beyond. Tears trickled down her burning cheeks. As Wanda surrendered to the tickles, various moments arose that made Doom question if Wanda would actually strike back in her hysteria, if she would flee from being so overwhelmed by pleasure. Yet it was the tickles below that offered different reactions. Wanda’s hips thrust. Her groin blushed as it danced beneath Doom’s open hand. The dozens of tickles that rained down against her bare slits slipped into the tender lips and devoured her most sensitive areas. Tickles rushed through her mound and across her swollen clit. Every moment of ticklish agony was endured just as torturous as it was euphoric, leaving the witch’s pussy a pulsing, aching, dripping display.

“AAAAAHAHHHHHHHAHAHAHAMMMMOOOOHHHH!!!!” Wanda moaned through her laughter. Doom’s own senses indulged in the same heat coursing through his body, the body that resided deep beneath the mask and suit. He remained hovering over her, sending wave after wave of tickles that coursed through her belly and pussy. She writhed against the rack. She thrashed until her body began succumbing to weakness of figure and will. The passions growing within her stirred and built against a faint veil of resistance. Wanda prepared herself for the orgasm that grew within her, the rising release stoked by the torrent of tickles tearing through her body. Her back arched. Wanda groaned through her teary-eyed laughter. She readied herself for the explosive submission to her own desires, channeled with an expert touch from the tickles that Doom continued to unleash against her slit. Wanda waited and waited only to be met with a gasp as the tickles came to a sudden stop.

“You came for torment, Witch, whether you knew it or not,” Doom said. The magical energies ceased to glow out of his gloves. He drew back his hands as Wanda heaved before him, glistening with sweat and the juices of her passion. She stared back at him, her eyes wilted with defeat, yet still wearing a familiar grin.

“Pl… please… let me…” Wanda begged as she huffed. “I was… so close.”

“I know,” Doom said. “But you’re in my control now, as I suspect you wanted, so you will endure what I command.” Doom raised one hand. With it, the rack began to rise. It lifted up off of the ground, bringing the bottom of the device closer to eye level. Wanda stared down. Her eyes glistened with fear and intrigue, a combination that kept her heart racing and her mound quivering. Doom turned his gaze away from her and toward her feet, bare and left helpless in their archaic, metal cuffs. They hung where Doom kept the rack in perfect suspension. He brought both palms to Wanda’s soles, hovering them just off of the warm, blushing skin. An instant charge of magical energies protruded once again, sending dozens of branching sparks onto the surface of Wanda’s ticklish soles.

“FAAAAAAAHHHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!” Wanda’s body convulsed against the bindings. She threw her head back and screamed, her hair flinging and matted with sweat. Her back arched and chest rose against the sudden need to inhale. The laughter came pouring out as Her feet flailed in place, unable to escape the ticklish energy released by Doom’s sadistic magic.

“I’m sure your fellow darkhold casters are no strangers to the tortures of overstimulation,” Doom said. “I’m inclined to keep you here, in suspended animation, to indulge further curiosities.” The magic covered the entire surfaces of Wanda’s delicate soles. Like hundreds of fingers scratching and swiping up and down from her heels to the bases of her toes, the torment raged on in a consistency reflective of medieval torture practices. Doom watched Wanda’s feet as they desperately tried to fend off the ticklish energy. He poured more and more of it onto the delicate soles before him, delighting his sadistic side on watching them dance to the frantic medley of the witch’s laughter.

“GAAAAAAHHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! OOOOHHH GAAAAHAHAHAHAHAD!!!” Wanda shrieked. She pulled at each of her binds as her back slammed against the rack with each desperate buck. As the cuffs began to loosen by Wanda’s defensive magic, a green glow swirled around them, keeping all four locked tight. Doom chuckled as he perpetuated the ticklish torment of Wanda’s bare feet, leaving the young woman screaming with laughter.

“You will not enter my realm illegally and think you can flee whenever you wish,” Doom said. “You dared to come here against my will, you will leave when, and in whatever state, Doom allows.” Tickles stormed across Wanda’s soles. They covered every inch in scribbling effects, tormenting Wanda’s senses more and more each passing second. The magical tickles scratched all across her heels and up and down her arches. They slipped across and in between each of her squirming toes. Her feet became enveloped in a maddening coat of tickles that devoured her endurance and mental faculties, reducing her to little more than a screaming, writhing mass of nerves.

“GAAAHHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!! STAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAP!!!!” Wanda screamed with laughter until her throat began to run raw. Tears poured down her cheeks. Her limbs ached and grew weary from the constant struggling. Her energy and powers dwindled by the second, and all to the effect that Doom’s ticklish magic had against her feet. Wanda’s body burned with the tickles that coursed through her. She twisted against the sensations gushing through her nerves. Doom’s magic kept her feet in a perfect limbo of ticklish prowess, perpetuating a raging onslaught of tickles that spread across her bare soles and tore through her senses. Doom pushed the seductive witch to and past her limits over and over again, plunging her deeper into thresholds of hysteria she had never known.

Doom observed Wanda closely as she endured the tickles coursing endlessly against the soles of her feet. He chuckled and drank in her heated laughter with deep breaths. His loins stirred as he watched her blushing figure writhe so helplessly in place. His magic toyed with her senses until her laughter burst with sharp cuts of exhausted groans and moans. Her chest heaved as her pussy leaked to the torment waged against her delicate feet. Minutes passed of Doom reveling in Wanda’s ticklish agony. As the tears began dripping from her face and her cries began to fall with fits of silent laughter, Doom drew himself back. He lowered the rack to face the woman on level again, giving her a moment to catch her breath.

“Your apology would be your life in servitude to Doom,” Doom said. He tenderly lifted his hand to stroke a strand of sweaty hair from Wanda’s glowing cheek. “Anything less would be inadequate.” Wanda’s tired expression lifted briefly into a faint smile. Her eyes closed as she leaned her head back, her chest still rising and falling.

“T… tempting…” Wanda said. Doom chuckled once more, reserving the lifted humors within himself.

“You shall continue to entertain while you consider,” Doom said. A wave of his hand melted the suit from his body. His armor and mask faded into the dark recesses behind him, leaving behind only the man himself, Victor, in his most natural attire. Wanda looked back. Her eyes widened to the scars leaving his face twisted and ridged with untreated burns. She saw not malformation, but power, determination, and sacrifice. His eyes still sparkled glaring back at her while the body beneath displayed the figure of a man strong enough for combat and agility in a suit of the strongest metals on Earth. His member stood firm before her, wafting as he came closer.

“Victor…” Wanda muttered. Victor waved one hand. The cuffs around her ankles loosened. He guided one foot up toward his chest. He cradled it tenderly, keeping his eyes firmly locked onto the witch in his grasp.

“You are truly an astonishing woman, Wanda,” Victor said. Wadna watched as Victor brought her foot closer to his cheek. The rough surface of his face scaled across her toes with an almost ticklish rigidity. She wiggled them slightly, just to feel his face against them. Her heavy breathing continued, her ache stirring still.

“‘Astonishing’,” Wanda muttered with a grin. “A bit uncanny, maybe.”

“You could have the world, if you so desire it,” Victor said. He brought his lips closer to her toes, giving the whole row a gentle kiss. Wanda sucked in a deep breath, her hands clenching with heated surrender.

“I do though, Victor,” Wanda said. “I have my boys… I have my life… and I have you.” Victor paused. His eyes fell back to hers. His face remained stoic as he glared.

“Do you now?” Victor asked, his voice low and gravely. Wanda’s other foot, free from the cuff, raised beneath a blent knee. She brought it up to Victor’s thigh, her warm, soft toes coming across Victor’s stiffened member. Wanda began to stroke softly, running her toes up and down the full length. Victor glanced down to see. He closed his eyes and allowed the softness of her digits to seep into his tender manhood. He moaned softly while breathing in the fumes of Wanda’s other foot.

“You’ve won, Victor,” Wanda muttered, moaning gently as she spoke. “No tricks. No illusions. You’ve won me, Victor. Banish me all you want to, but I want you just as badly as you want me. No sense denying our feelings.” Wanda spoke in the faint whisper of a flickering flame. Victor melted into the heat glowing off of Wanda’s toes, both against his lips and his pulsing shaft. His mouth parted to suck gently on the tips of Wanda’s toes. She smiled and moaned as she closed her eyes. She shared in the heated passions of her lover, the ache inside her pulsing to the warmth of his cock stroking against her foot.

“From one man of metal to another,” Victor commented. Wanda looked back.

“What Vis and I had was special,” Wanda said soberly.

“That I don’t deny,” Victor said, staring back into the surrender in Wanda’s eyes. He spoke with the sincerity of experience, several faces in particular flashing back in his meditative mind. Both emphasized the moment they shared in the whispering of their pleasured moans. Wanda continued to stroke the man with the softness of her toes and the warmth they exuded. Victor breathed the same up at his lips. He suckled at her toes, letting the personal, musky flavor and the silken texture coat his tongue. Wanda bit her lip. She moaned to much the same sensations of warmth and tenderness.

“You are a man of peculiar tastes, Victor,” Wanda said, feeling Victor’s pulse thumping against her toes. “I too have peculiar tastes.”

“I am aware,” Victor said. A low chuckle rose deep from within Victor’s chest. He guided both of their sensibilities farther into the dark, humid depths of intimacy. His tongue weaved slowly around Wanda’s toes while the other foot stroked his cock more and more firmly. It continued to rise and stiffen, each pass of Wanda’s digits further stoking the flames of desire and sensitivity. Victor’s moans vibrated against her foot. Wanda moaned and grinned, watching the man, the great monarch before her, get his pleasures from her soft, supple feet. “Though I doubt that your tastes, no matter how depraved, could ever match that of Doom’s.”

Victor raised his hand again, now bare and trembling. From his palm, a newly rejuvenated surge of magic sprung and arched out onto Wanda’s bound, naked body. Another revived rush of tickles engulfed Wanda’s body. All across her skin, her nerves electrified with hundreds of scribbling and feathering sensations teasing and taunting her composure. Her arms pulled once more at the cuffs holding them above her head. Her back arched as her head fell back, her throat releasing a jarring squeal of fluttering laughter.

“Neeeaaaaahhhhhahahahahahahahaaaa!!!” Wanda giggled. The tickles that covered her body came restrained, not enough to plunge the young woman back into ticklish hysteria, but more than enough to elicit the desired reactions. The tickles appeared as a constant reminder of the power over her she had surrendered onto Victor, that at any moment he could leave her trapped in a hellish void of tickles endlessly attacking every last delicate nerve beneath her skin. Wanda squirmed in place as she shrieked and squealed, her cheeks illuminating a deep blush once more.

“Mmmm… very nice,” Victor said. He took a firm hold of both of Wanda’s ankles. He continued to lick and suckle at the one set of toes while manually stroking himself with the other. Wanda, in her newly renewed ticklish fit, tried to keep up the appeal on her end, but found herself far too preoccupied with enduring laughter and involuntary twitches. She giggled through a bitten, crimson coated lip. Her chestnut amber hair tossed across her sweaty neck. Her chest glistened, matching the tempting sheen that coated her thighs.

“Naaaaahhhhahahahaheeeheheeheeh!!” Wanda laughed. The tickles reached all over her upper half. They teased and taunted her perking nipples. They drove deep into the confines of her underarms. They danced up and down her sides and ribs with the sensations of being attacked by dozens of hands at once. They covered her belly and dipped into her navel. The tickles created a cloud of perpetual stimulation, all of which served to push farther and farther into her aching passions. Tears beaded in her eyes once more. Her chest ached as her pussy stirred with need. Victor moaned as he continued to stroke himself, stiffened to the sight of the witch’s ticklish hysteria. He breathed deeper and faster, more and more while beads raced down the back of his neck. He continued to facilitate the ticklish teasing with his magic while stroking himself with Wanda’s foot, but only for as long as he could take. As Victor neared climax, he pushed himself forward.

“You are mine, Wanda,” Victor said, spreading her legs. “You belong to Doom!”

Victor plunged himself deep inside Wanda’s mound. The pair grunted and moaned together. Wanda’s mouth dropped. The tickles subsided, and in their wake a massive release of pleasure exploded through her body. Victor’s cock pulsed as it caressed and stretched Wanda’s inner walls. The chamber filled with the moans of the pair, both so close to the point of absolute release. Even in the manifestations of Victor’s meditation, the sensations were all too real. Victor held onto Wanda’s thighs, keeping them lifted and spread, as he thrust almost ragefully into Wanda’s pussy. Every thrust came with a guttural grunt and tightening of his grasp on her legs.

“Ohhh Victor!” Wanda cried. Her chest extended with each exaggerated, breathy groan. Each thrust brought the pair closer. Victor soaked in Wanda’s vocalizations, her moans and her breathing. It was a melody sweeter than any he had heard in a long time, enhanced with the faintest notions of true affections. His eyes glanced to hers. Wanda looked back. Her mouth remained open, her cheeks burning and streaked with pleasured tears. Victor held onto her firmly. He breathed in her scent. He embraced her skin against his. He listened to her voice and washed himself in the sight of Wanda’s pleasure.

As he continued to thrust, Victor felt his pleasures rising. He drew himself closer and closer with each rushing plunge, balancing the edge between tender and violent. Victor’s hands tightened. The carnal drive within him rose to its breaking point. With one more firm, lingering pulse, Victor drove himself deep inside Wanda’s pussy. A bursting relief overcame him as his pleasures, the delights of his humanity, exploded through her member. Wanda as well trembled in place. Her legs shook, feeling Victor’s release flooding her insides. Her limbs shook as her throat unleashed a long, whining groan.

“Ohhhhhhmmmmmm!!!” Wanda’s voice echoed among the stone walls. The pair shared in their moment of ecstasy, bathed in the humid clouds of their fever. They panted together. Their drops of sweat pooled together. Wanda heaved while Victor braced himself over her with one strong arm. Wanda’s eyes fluttered open. They were tired and sparkled with affection. She released her wrists from the cuffs magically, bringing both down to caress Victor’s face. “Mmmm… my love…”

“Wanda…” Victor muttered. He held her against the rack, hoisted in his arms. Wanda stroked the ridges of Victor’s face. She stared lovingly back at him, smiling with the utmost content. As her breathing evened out and the two shared a lasting moment of taking in the beauty of the other, Wanda broke her silence.

“It’s never over, Victor,” Wanda whispered. “I’ll always be yours… and you’ll know where to find me…”

Victor opened his eyes. He was back in his meditation chamber. His body was cloaked in his armor, the cloth beneath soiled. He peered through his mask, taking a moment to root himself back inside his body. The echoes from the experience reverberated in the air. The scents of Wanda’s pleasure resided in Victor’s nose. The warmth of her skin rested in memory against his. He could still see her face smiling back at him, knowing it all to be too real to be an illusion. Wanda’s presence lingered around him, though he knew he was alone. Wanda was breaking from her own meditation nations away from where he sat.

Victor smiled beneath his mask, a trickle of sweat gliding from his shoulder.

~~~

Beyond Earth’s detection, cloaked in stealth with advanced anti-relay markers, the ship Damocles resided in waiting. The base, shaped menacingly in the formation of a mighty blade, housed the figure who went by many names, throughout many various timelines and universes. Its scale was immaculate, yet even that was minuscule compared to the power that walked its halls. Such beacons of power found themselves conferencing in the ship’s observation deck, watching from a wary distance the event unfold both within Castle Doom, as well as the very mind of Victor himself.

“This is what you called me here to see?” Nathaniel Richards asked. The youngest of the group, by a far margin, was equally as separate in age as he was in motivations of domination and perceptions of grandeur. He stood, arms crossed, in the suit that with his teammates on Earth had named him the Iron Lad. With his helmet off, he turned to his peers.

“When two of the most powerful beings on Earth confer, it is worthy of notice,” Kang Prime said, his eyes leering on the screen displaying the scene. The man, known to many as The Conqueror, leered over the pair with a studying stare.

“Scary how you all can just see into minds like this,” Nathaniel said with a sigh. “If you’re so afraid of Doom, maybe spying on him isn’t the best idea.”

“It sounds like you are the one who is afraid, child,” Immortus said. Another of the Kangs, pulled directly out of Limbo, the future being scoffed at the sight before him. He wore a towering headpiece and a cape that flowed to the floor behind him.

“As should you all be,” Nathaniel said. “I’ve seen first hand what this man can do. I’ve also seen how far he will go to keep his people, including the witch, safe. If he sees you all as a threat, no distance will save you from him.” Immortus let out a hearty chuckle.

“My boy, you are as delusional as these fools and their… ‘love’, ugh,” Immortus said. “A mutual damnation, that.” Nathaniel went silent. His thoughts fell to his own paramour, many lightyears from where he stood.

“You would be wise not to discredit the power of love,” Rama Tut added. A leading figure in the all-mighty Council of Kangs, the ancient pharaoh came closer, walking slowly and speaking with deep, meaningful purpose. “Love has moved mountains and directed rivers. Love, in all of its manifestations, is the unseen power, the untapped potential. This demonstration of lingering passions is… as beautiful as it has the potential to be devastating.”

“Let it be known that love is how Victor von Doom came to be in the first place,” Kang added. “Everything he is, and all that he accomplished, stemmed from the love for his mother.”

“Not to mention the lengths that the witch went through for love,” Nathaniel added. He glanced back to the screen. “A union of both, working in tandem, could be bad for everyone, or at least everyone who stands against it.” He turned around and started for the transporter. “So if that’s all that you came to show me, thanks, but I’d advise you all to stop spying on this man. If he finds out, which I wouldn’t be surprised if he already has, it won’t end well for you.”

“Or perhaps, knowing Victor, he’ll call our efforts underwhelming and futile,” Kang added with a soft chuckle. “He is nothing if not performative in his hubris.”

“His ego is only as big as what he’s capable of proving,” Nathaniel added. “Which is, to say, a lot.” Immortus and Rama Tut turned to face the conqueror who called them together.

“The boy has a point,” Kang said, disrupting the image before them. He turned to address the others in the room, commanding their eyes. “It is nobody's business but theirs. Leave them to their devices and perhaps any potential complications will sort themselves out.”

“Passivity is… unbecoming of you, at say the least,” Immortus said, rolling his eyes.

“Then I will challenge you to say less,” Kang said. Immortus turned in silence. He followed Nathaniel toward the transportation bay, with Rama Tut following closely behind.

“Now we know what we may be up against,” he said. “We shan't act again until further developments occur.” The three started off, Kang catching Nathaniel muttering something about ‘an e-mail’. He watched them walk off before turning to face his on-board assistant, the A.I. hologram of Miss Minutes. She appeared before him, summoned by a node pressed on his wrist.

“You rang?” Minutes asked sweetly. The program took the form of a small, orange clock with bodily features reflective of antiquated animation. Her large eyes stared back at him above a faint smile.

“See that the council members return safely,” Kang said.

“Y'all done spyin’ on the mystics back on Earth?” Minutes asked playfully.

“Purely for observation, I assure you,” Kang said, with a smile.

“Okaaay,” Minutes said coyly. “If you say so. Sure looked like fun though.”

“Just take care of the council,” Kang said. “You know the coordinates.”

“You got it!” Minutes said. She smiled wide before vanishing before him, leaving Kang in the faded light of the observation chamber. He huffed as he looked back to several other smaller monitors. Some detailed activity on Earth while others covered other neighboring planets and galaxies. Scanning his eyes over them all, his mind still remained on the monarch and his witch lover. He smiled softly before hearing another voice in the room with him.

“Did you really expect to sway them with romance?” asked the Larval Earth Kang. The figure bounced forward on two powerful legs. Known in his universe as Kangaroo the Conqueror, the Larval Kang stood tall and strong, his arms tucked behind his back. Kang smirked. He sighed and raised his brows.

“To some degree, perhaps,” Kang said. “But I’m happy for them, the tyrant and his witch, for what they found. The purity and beauty in what they feel should not go unexamined.”

“Ever the amatory analytic,” the Larval Kang said with a smirk. “You and he are a lot alike it seems.” Kang nodded. He smiled and sighed through his nose.

“So it seems,” he said, his mind fluttering back to the face of his own romantic yen.