Helpless wasn't something Sally "Silk Spectre" Jupiter experienced on a daily basis. Most men feared her even though she was just a woman in a sexy costume that could easily kick their asses. She was not helpless, never had been, and probably never would be. She loved a little bit of danger to a life of comfort and ease.
He represented that danger.
She loved how his rough fingers would dance over her skin, how he would leave teeth marks on her hip if she bucked too hard against him. He knew she wanted to feel helpless. That she wanted to know what it felt like to have a man not be afraid of her.
And like a good lover, The Comedian was never afraid of her, was always eager to make her feel helpless. He gave her what she wanted.
She loved it most when he would tie her up in front of a window and ravish her, call her a naughty girl, and insist that she brought it upon herself. More than once he would give her a look and she would go into a room and pretend to be shocked that he walked in on her undressing. He loved nothing more than to help her out of the rest of her costume, though sometimes not all of it would make it off until she gave him a soft "thank you" after they were done.
She never wanted it to end. But like all good things, people who didn't understand got in the way.
No one ever understood why she never pressed charges and even insisted upon going on with business as usual with the Minutemen. They probably never would. The Comedian suffered most after their game ended. She watched him slowly begin to crack under the pressure, having no release for the demons that rested inside his mind.
And one day, her own longing became entirely too much. She went to his apartment. He bound her wrists, tied her to his sofa, flipped up the yellow silk, and familiarised his solid hand with her backside once more. Then he held her down on his bed, those strong fingers Ijust/I tight enough around her throat. Bound her arms behind her back with her own gloves and took her savagely.
She spent a week at his place. The first day was spent as his captive, his plaything.
"It doesn't always have to be this way," he said roughly.
"Yes it does," she softly responded.
The second day he tried to show her that it didn't. The third day she ingrained it in his mind that it did. The other four days they recovered from bruises. In the end, they both admitted that they wanted different things. His need for sanity and her craving for insanity drove in the final wedges of what had been their sordid affair.
They went their separate ways.
She just hoped the daughter that came of it would forgive her if she ever learned the truth.