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Bruno began dressing his mistress in her armor; thigh-high spike-heeled boots, shoulder-length gloves, a corset that cinched Doom's already wasp-thin waist and further accentuated her large tits, all made of an alloy of her own creation, stronger than
steel but soft as silk or supple as leather. Over this came a green negligee, and finally a green hooded cloak.
Meanwhile, Viktoria pondered her relationship with Richards. All men in this world were handsome and virile, but his looks and sexual ability stood out nonetheless. She burned with lust for him, and not a day went by that she did not fantasize about making
him her plaything. At the same time, she hated him almost as passionately; his intellect rivaled her own, which her massive ego found intolerable, and he and his harem were constantly thwarting her attempts to take her rightful place as ruler of the world.
True, the humiliation of her defeats were slightly ameliorated by his fucking her brains out, but only slightly.
Fortunately, there was no way for him to interfere with her current plan; to capture the Silver Surf-Whore, erstwhile Herald of Galacta the World-Fucker, and steal her cosmic powers. The apparatus for the transfer had already been built, and Doom's calculations
indicated that the metal-skinned minx would be soaring through Latverian airspace within the hour.
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