When the police and supporting hero teams finally managed to contain the situation at the luxurious charity auction house, Zatanna Zatara found herself at the center of attention, but her mind wasn't on the reporters or officials trying to question her. Her eyes kept darting towards Tom Jacker, who was casually explaining to Billy Batson why using "Brutal Surge" in a room full of antique porcelain was a bad idea (though his tone sounded more like he was praising the chaos).
Zatanna knew she couldn't just let this anomaly go. She had to know more. She approached Tom, walking past Billy and his team, who seemed both relieved and bewildered.
"Mr. Jacker," Zatanna said, her voice calm and professional again. "I owe you one. You prevented a major disaster tonight."
"Just call me Tom," he replied with a smile. "And as for the disaster, I actually found tonight quite entertaining."
"Even so," Zatanna continued, ignoring his comment, "I think we need to talk further. Somewhere more... conducive. As fellow 'magic users,' perhaps we could compare notes." She deliberately used the term, hoping to pique Tom's curiosity.
Tom grinned. He knew exactly this wasn't just an invitation to "compare notes." This was an invitation to the next round of their game. "I like that idea, Miss Magician. Lead the way."
With a silent Spatial Teleportation jump, Tom transported them both from the crowded auction site to an entirely different room: Zatanna's private dressing room backstage at her magnificent theater. The room was luxurious, filled with large gold-framed mirrors, sparkling stage costumes, and various magic props and ancient leather-bound books.
"Your workplace?" Tom asked, observing a top hat placed on the dressing table.
"Something like that," Zatanna replied. She moved gracefully to a small bar in the corner of the room and poured two glasses of brandy. "Drink?"
"Why not?"
Zatanna handed a glass to Tom, then sat on a velvet sofa, crossing her legs with a practiced and charming movement. The game had begun.
"So, Tom," she said in a light tone. "Your power... it doesn't come from any spells or rituals I know. Divine lightning to purify curses... that's no ordinary magic trick."
"I'm no ordinary magician," Tom replied, sipping his brandy. "I prefer to be called a 'versatile performer.'"
Zatanna tried another approach. "I can feel immense power within you. So many layers. Like an infinite library of magic. Where did you get all of it?"
Tom chuckled. "A library? Good description. Let's just say I have a lot of friends in high places, and they like to share their 'talents.'"
Every question Zatanna posed was met with Tom's evasive and clever answers, only adding to his mystery. Zatanna, accustomed to being able to read people and manipulate situations with her charm, began to feel frustrated. This man was like a smoke screen; every time she tried to grasp him, her hands passed through emptiness.
Realizing conversation wouldn't get her anywhere, Zatanna decided to switch to a more direct method. She rose and approached Tom, now standing very close in front of him.
"You're quite the enigma, Tom Jacker," she whispered, her voice deep and slightly husky. She placed her hands on Tom's chest. "Perhaps there's another way to make you 'talk.'" She tried to cast a small verbal charm spell, speaking the words backward very softly, almost inaudibly. "...em llet."
Tom merely smiled. He could feel the subtle wave of magic trying to influence him, but his Shazam Template combined with his chaotic will made the magic no more than a warm touch. "Nice trick," he said. "But I'd prefer if you just asked directly."
That's when Zatanna realized she had miscalculated. She had tried to take control in the way she mastered most: seduction and charm. She thought she could dominate this interaction, making it her game.
However, Tom easily turned the tables. He caught Zatanna's hands on his chest, then with a gentle yet undeniable movement, he pulled Zatanna closer. "You want a private show, Miss Zatara?" he whispered, now it was his turn to be in control. "Alright. But remember, in my show, I'm the director."
What followed was a thrilling duel of passion and will, an explicit and uncensored dance of domination. Zatanna, with all her confidence and experience, tried to lead, trying to be the one giving and controlling. She arched her back, pressing her slender yet shapely body against Tom, the fabric of her expensive evening gown rubbing and revealing her sensual curves. The sharp scent of brandy mingled with her sensual expensive perfume and Tom's strong masculine aroma, filling all of Zatanna's senses, stealing her breath. She tried to turn the tables, pushing Tom back with a hidden strength beneath her grace, her thigh muscles tensing. However, every maneuver was always met and countered by Tom with a relaxed yet absolute dominance. Zatanna couldn't read Tom's mind, couldn't predict his movements, couldn't manipulate his emotions. Frustration and passion intertwined within her.
Tom gripped Zatanna's waist, his strong fingers squeezing with thrilling pressure, leaving faint marks on Zatanna's smooth skin. In one swift, dynamic, and unexpected movement, he lifted Zatanna. Her previously elegant gown was now disarrayed, her tanned, olive-skinned plump breasts peeking out, dancing in the air for a moment before falling back with a sensual rhythm. Her body arched backward, her legs automatically wrapping around Tom's waist. Zatanna gasped, a surprised yet pleasurable moan escaping her lips as the shock and new, powerful sensations hit her. Tom then spun them quickly, pressing Zatanna's hot, sweaty back against one of the cold mirror pillars, feeling the astonishing contrast between the scorching heat of their bodies and the piercing cold of the glass surface. Sweat beaded on her skin, trickling down her back and between her breasts.
"You think you can lead, Miss Magician?" Tom whispered, his voice deep, hoarse, and trembling with burning passion, directed right into Zatanna's ear, who was now trapped helplessly between him and the pillar. Tom's hot breath swept across Zatanna's ear, sending shivers down her spine. Without further ado, Tom's hard, veined, and engorged penis sought entry, pressing towards Zatanna's wet crevice. With one brutal and powerful thrust, he plunged deep into Zatanna.
Zatanna shrieked, a scream filled with pure shock and overflowing pleasure, her voice echoing in the room. It was the sound of total defeat and incredible pleasure. The sudden fullness, the thrust that hit her to the very core of her womb, made her vaginal muscles clench uncontrollably around Tom's mighty manhood. Zatanna's eyes were squeezed shut, her face flushed crimson, an expression between delectable pain and pure ecstasy. Tom moved his hips with a fast, desperate, and brutal rhythm. Every thrust was an affirmation of Tom's power, and every ragged gasp from Zatanna was a painful yet inevitable acknowledgment of that dominance. Their sweat-slicked skin rubbed against each other, creating a burning friction amidst the coolness of the room and the unseen stage dust.
"Ah... ah... ah... Yes! Faster... harder... oh, Tom... it feels so... perfect!" Zatanna gasped, letting out a dissolving moan of passion, her head thrown back, completely surrendering to the sensation. She could feel her own heart pounding, hitting her ribs as if it wanted to explode, beating in sync with Tom's relentless, now frantic tempo. Her wet and hot vagina continuously spurted pleasure fluid with every thrust, creating a satisfying, sticky sound.
Tom grinned, seeing Zatanna's face contorted with passion. Zatanna's voice was music to him, the melody of his opponent's defeat now dancing under his control. He granted her every request, his movements becoming wilder, deeper, almost uncontrollable. Tom was not only conquering her body, but also her will. He gripped Zatanna's hips tightly, changing the angle for deeper, more satisfying penetration, hitting every inch of her. Zatanna's soft, pliable breasts quivered with each thrust, their reddened peaks hardening and brushing against the gown wrapped around her body.
As climax approached, Tom smoothly changed their position again. With fluid, powerful, and dominating movements, he flipped Zatanna, letting her kneel on the velvet sofa, her firm buttocks raised, inviting. Zatanna's face was pressed into the soft cushion, her sweat-damp black hair clinging to her forehead, completely obscuring her expression, yet her moans grew more intense. Tom took her from behind, his large, hard penis slamming into her wet depths. The sensation of soft velvet against her cheek combined with Tom's relentless pressure, made Zatanna groan deeply.
"Look at you, Miss Magician," Tom growled softly, his voice trembling with consuming passion. "The queen of this stage... now can only wiggle her ass for me." Tom smacked Zatanna's firm buttocks hard, the sound of the slap echoing in the silent dressing room, leaving distinct stinging red marks on her olive skin.
Zatanna bit the pillow, her body arching extremely, the veins in her neck bulging, a physical struggle against the overwhelming waves of desire. "Bastard... keep going... keep going!" she whimpered, her voice hoarse with escalating passion, a painful yet inevitable admission.
The climax came like a reactor explosion, a shockwave that sent violent tremors throughout their bodies. Tom roared as he unleashed himself inside Zatanna, a torrent of his thick semen gushing out and drenching Zatanna's insides, a savage roar of victory. Zatanna's body arched and convulsed violently, surrendering to a wave of orgasm so powerful it made her forget everything, even where she was. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her body twitching in small spasms of pleasure, eyes still tightly closed.
Amidst that intimacy, behind her own stage curtain, for the first time in a very long time, Zatanna Zatara was no longer the magician in control. She had become part of someone else's magic trick, a trick far larger, more powerful, and more unexpected than anything she had ever imagined. And strangely, in her defeat, she found a sensation that was deeply... intoxicating.