#20 The Captive Hero's Total Submission (Club - Complete Obedience Brainwashing) (1)
Another email arrived from that unidentified address, this time via the 7th Squad captain's inbox.
Apple, the specialist in data systems, and the headquarters' expert team had both tried tracking it, but they couldn't uncover a thing about the sender. To evade a specialist team that even wielded Awakener abilities—what did that mean? Did they have an Awakener on their side with related powers? In any case, with the tools at hand, there was no way to find out, so identifying the sender was basically a lost cause.
At any rate, the email came from that untraceable source. And as stated in the email, the sender was none other than Villain No. 13—the one who'd kidnapped Club.
He'd been sending updates on Club almost daily: her meals, her chores, even her sleeping. He'd even recorded video letters. Apple vouched that they weren't fakes or composites. But that didn't mean they could relax. Who knew what might happen outside the photos and videos?
At least her complexion looked healthy, which was a small relief. So when today's message came, Rahe figured it was just another status update. But there was more—an additional message tacked on.
Until now, the only time he'd left a text message was that first email.
The message was more or less like that. Hard to believe it came from a villain, but words are cheap—anyone could fabricate them. Rahe, as captain, had seen plenty of sly, despicable villains pull that trick.
So she wouldn't take it at face value. But even disbelieving it, there was nothing to do right now.
Rahe closed the email and immediately summoned all available 7th Squad members for a meeting on the Club retrieval op in about a week.
Knock knock knock.
"...Excuse me."
Club knocked and announced herself. A voice from inside invited her in. She turned the knob and entered.
Villain No. 13, lounging casually with a drink in hand, greeted her.
"Good evening, Club. You came when called."
"...It's not a good evening at all."
It was a bit after dinner. Normally, Club would be rolling around bored in her room at this hour. Sometimes No. 13 barged in, but otherwise, she'd kill time with the game console or comics he'd given her, masturbate, then sleep.
But he'd never summoned her to his room at this time before. She'd cleaned here a few times, sure...
"Sit down, Club. Like any drinks? Beer? Soju? Wine? Cocktails?"
"...I don't drink much. Soju's no good, maybe a little beer. Never tried cocktails."
"Cocktail it is, then. Low-proof. I love booze, so I picked up mixology as a hobby."
He sat her down and bustled about, pulling out bottles and tools. Club eyed him warily.
"I don't know much about cocktails."
"No worries. We'll start simple to get you used to it. Beer base? Or something easy like Kahlúa milk..."
Soon, a dedicated glass was ready, mixed with surprisingly skilled hands for a "hobby." What he set before Club was some champagne-based cocktail.
He chattered on happily about whatever, but it was mostly useless info she didn't care about, so she half-tuned it out. She caught the name but forgot it quick.
Still, the gold-to-black gradient with rising bubbles looked pretty appealing. She almost sipped it on impulse but caught herself and set it down.
"Not drinking? You can handle booze, right?"
"...Like I'd trust what you put in it."
"Haha, what would be the point in this situation? If I wanted you dead, a gun or knife is way easier than poison."
"......."
"What, even that doesn't convince you? Can't blame you—I'm a villain, after all."
No. 13 grinned.
"Drink, Club. That's an order."
"......Ngh...!"
An order. She couldn't refuse. Club drained the glass, every drop, even nibbling the cheese he offered as a snack.
The cocktail tasted good. Or did it? Club wasn't big on booze, so who knew. But pairing it with cheese wasn't bad. She'd do it again sometime.
Was the buzz hitting already? Her head felt fuzzy. He'd said it was low-proof, though.
No... this is just the alcohol...
"Plenty more to try. Next time, let's toast properly and enjoy it together, Club. Hero and booze—kinda thrilling, huh."
He prepped another and set it down. This one milky tea-like, smooth. But not just any cocktail—it was laced with brainwashing drug, like the last.
Club didn't know the details, but she sensed something off and couldn't refuse. It was No. 13's order. Rahe's, even.
She ended up downing three drugged cocktails. By the end, booze and drugs had her reeling, reason slipping away.
No. 13 just sipped his leftovers, watching.
".....Do......it.......then....let's......"
...?
What... is she... saying...?
Blitzed by booze and drugs, Club couldn't think straight. In that state, No. 13 hugged her from behind on the room's corner sofa.
He whispered in her ear—words that oddly made sense yet didn't fully register.
By the time she noticed, her clothes were gone. Naked in his arms.
His hands roamed her body, caressing softly. At that gentle touch, Club unwittingly let out an aaahn.
Just light stroking, yet it felt so good...
"Club, it's okay. Relax more. No need to tense up."
"I'm someone you can trust. I'm on your side, Club. Trust me. Trust me."
No. 13 whispered softly. Words she'd normally scoff at. But now, his voice seeped in, utterly convincing.
He was trustworthy. Safe. On her side.
So... it was fine. Even as a villain, surely okay.
His hand stroked her lower belly—uterus level. He'd done this sometimes during her stay.
"Nnh...!"
Club sighed pleasurably. A light touch zapped straight to her womb.
Not just there—everywhere his hand went felt blissful. Warm, tingling, floating.
"Club, my hands are magic hands."
"No matter where or how I touch, that spot floods with happiness."
"Got it? Now, let these magic hands touch you lots, make you feel so good. Super good, Club."
He slipped his tongue in her ear, kneading her body all the while.
Club sighed in delight, surrendering to his hands... writhing in endless pleasure.