The vault's steel table was cold against her bare thighs, a shock of metal and dust that grounded her in the moment. Wanda settled onto it, legs parting, the red mist curling from her shoulders like a living thing. She didn't speak. She didn't need to. The mist knew what she wanted.
It found Harley first—because Harley had been the most eager, the most desperate, the one whose mouth had been open and hungry since the ropes fell. The mist wrapped around Harley's pigtails, gentle but insistent, guiding her forward. Harley went without resistance, her knees hitting the concrete floor, her hands finding Wanda's thighs. "Oh," Harley breathed, her voice cracking with anticipation. "Oh, I get to go first. I get to—"
Wanda's fingers threaded through Harley's hair, pulling her closer. "You wanted this," Wanda said, her voice low, rough. "You wanted it most. So take it."
Harley's mouth found her instantly—hot, wet, desperate. Her tongue pressed flat against Wanda's cunt, tasting her, learning her, and Wanda's hips bucked before she could stop them. The sound Harley made was almost reverent, a muffled moan that vibrated through Wanda's core. Harley ate her like she was starving, like this was the only meal she'd ever wanted.
Wanda's eyes found Felicia. The red mist had already moved—wrapping around Felicia's wrists, pulling them behind her back. Felicia's own leather belt cinched tight around them, binding her. Wanda watched Felicia's pupils dilate as the leather bit into her skin, watched her lips part, watched her knees buckle as the mist guided her down beside the table.
"Kneel," Wanda said.
Felicia knelt. Her green eyes never left Wanda's face, and there was something new in them—something that looked almost like worship. "You're enjoying this," Felicia murmured, her voice a purr that barely hid the tremor underneath.
"I am." Wanda's hand tightened in Harley's hair, guiding her rhythm. "Watch."
Harley's tongue circled her clit, slow and deliberate, and Wanda's breath caught. The sound of it—wet, hungry, obscene—filled the vault. Harley's hands gripped Wanda's thighs, spreading them wider, and she buried her face deeper, her nose pressing against Wanda's pubic bone, her tongue sliding inside.
Wanda let herself feel it. Let herself moan. Let her head fall back and her hips roll against Harley's mouth. The red mist pulsed with her pleasure, lighting the vault in crimson. "Good girl," she gasped, and Harley whimpered against her, working harder, faster.
Then she looked at Selina.
Selina stood apart, her whip coiled at her hip, her green eyes unreadable. She hadn't moved since Wanda rose from the chair. She hadn't spoken. But her hands were clenched at her sides, and her chest rose and fell too fast for someone who was supposed to be in control.
Wanda hooked a finger through the chain at Selina's hip and pulled.
Selina came. Slow, deliberate, each step measured—but she came. Wanda pulled her closer until Selina stood between her spread thighs, close enough to kiss, close enough to see the flicker of something raw in those green eyes. Wanda's other hand was still tangled in Harley's hair, still guiding her mouth, and the contrast was deliberate—Selina standing, Harley kneeling, Felicia watching.
"You wanted to see what I could do with these hands," Wanda murmured. Her fingers found the waistband of Selina's suit, tracing the line of her hip. "Watch."
Selina's breath hitched. Just once. Just enough.
Wanda's fingers slipped beneath the fabric, finding Selina's skin warm and slick. She pressed her palm flat against Selina's lower belly, feeling the muscle jump beneath her touch, and she didn't move. She waited. She let Selina feel the weight of the moment, the inversion of every command Selina had ever given.
"You thought you understood power," Wanda said, her voice barely above a whisper. "You thought the whip was the point. But it was never the whip, Selina. It was this." Her fingers slid lower, finding Selina's wetness, and Selina's eyes fluttered closed. "The moment when someone gives it to you."
Harley's tongue pressed harder, faster, and Wanda's hips rolled against her mouth, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. The red mist flared bright, threading through Selina's hair, curling around Felicia's bound wrists, pulsing with every beat of Wanda's heart.
"Don't come," Wanda said, and Harley moaned in protest, her tongue slowing but not stopping. "Not yet."
Wanda's fingers pressed inside Selina—one, then two—and Selina's hands found her shoulders, gripping hard enough to bruise. "Look at me," Wanda said, and Selina's eyes opened, green and dark and full of something she was trying very hard to hide. "Watch me take what you thought was yours."
Felicia shifted on her knees, her bound wrists straining against the belt. "Wanda—"
"Quiet."
Felicia's mouth snapped shut. Her thighs pressed together, and Wanda saw it—the way her breath quickened, the way her eyes went dark. She was getting wet from this. From watching. From waiting.
Wanda smiled. "Good."