Draven Blackthorn, the 35-year-old mastermind of shadows, lounged in his opulent lair, a cavernous chamber lined with arcane artifacts and flickering torches. He had spent months plotting against the city’s magical girl squad, all women in their twenties who wielded powers of light and justice. His latest scheme involved luring them into a trap, binding their essences to his will. He smirked, expecting their arrival any moment, ready to dominate them one by one.
But the door didn’t burst open with sparkles and heroic cries. Instead, it shattered under the force of a battering ram, and in poured a mob of enraged adults: parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles, all over 30, their faces twisted in protective fury. ‘You think you can mess with our daughters and granddaughters?’ bellowed Marcus, a burly father in his forties, leading the charge. ‘We’re here to teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.’
Draven scrambled back, his dark robes tangling as he tried to summon a defensive spell. But the group was too fast, too many. They overpowered him, stripping away his cloak and pinning him to the cold stone floor. ‘You’ve been preying on the young and powerful,’ said Elena, a fierce mother of 42, her eyes blazing. ‘Now feel what it’s like to be overwhelmed.’ The group, a mix of men and women hardened by years of worry and love, began their retribution.
It started with rough hands binding his wrists with enchanted chains from his own arsenal. They forced him onto a ritual altar, the same one he had intended for the magical girls. Marcus grabbed Draven’s jaw, forcing him to look at the crowd. ‘You’re going to take every bit of this,’ he growled. The first to approach was Sophia, a grandmother of 55, her body curvaceous and commanding. She straddled his face, grinding against him as she demanded submission, her moans echoing in the lair.
One by one, they took turns, a relentless gangbang of punishment and pleasure. Thomas, a father of 38, thrust into Draven with powerful strokes, while others held him down, their bodies pressing close in a heated frenzy. ‘Beg for it,’ demanded Lila, an aunt of 40, as she rode him hard, her nails digging into his skin. The air filled with the sounds of flesh meeting flesh, grunts, and cries of ecstasy. Draven, once the predator, was now the prey, his body used and filled repeatedly.
They switched positions fluidly, some watching with voyeuristic glee while others participated. A grandfather of 60 joined in, his experienced hands guiding the rhythm, ensuring Draven felt every inch of their collective wrath. Cum dripped from his body as they marked him, snowballing loads between participants, forcing him to swallow his own defeat. The magical enhancements in the lair amplified sensations, making each thrust, each slap, each invasion more intense.
Hours passed in a blur of sweat-slicked bodies and unyielding dominance. Draven’s resistance crumbled, his villainous pride shattered under the onslaught. ‘Please… more,’ he gasped finally, broken and begging. The guardians laughed, their victory complete, leaving him spent and covered in the evidence of their gangbang justice. As they departed, Elena whispered, ‘Remember this next time you target our own.’ Draven lay there, transformed from villain to vessel, forever changed by the mob’s unrelenting fury.