Rehab for SuperVillains (18+)-Chapter 65: her anchor

Freya sat cross-legged on her yoga mat, the room’s quiet wrapping around her like a cocoon as she transitioned from yoga to meditation.

The practice was her anchor—a mental discipline to hone her mind, carve out calmness, sharpen focus, and cradle inner peace.

Today, she needed it more than ever.

The rematch with Kael loomed, his taunting grin and yesterday’s defeat gnawing at her pride. She wouldn’t let him unravel her again—not with his tricks, his touches, or that smug certainty he wielded like a blade.

She began with a warm-up meditation, eyes closed, spine straight, her breaths deep and conscious, pulling air into her lungs and exhaling tension.

Her platinum-cyan hair rested against her neck, still damp from yoga, the cyan t-shirt clinging to her sweat-slicked skin, her dark pants hugging her toned thighs.

She shifted to sensory meditation, sharpening her awareness, letting the world unfold around her.

Sounds crystallized—the faint drip of a leak in her bathroom, a slow drip - drip against the tile; the creak of the Haven’s old wood settling; the distant hum of the refrigerator outside.

Scents bloomed—the musky trace of her own sweat, the lingering smell of the left aside plate of breakfast snuffed, and something new, crisp and faint: the clean, starchy smell of the white lace lingerie Kael had left by the door, a silent dare. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

Her skin tingled, hyper-aware, catching every sensation—the cool air brushing her bare arms, the slow trail of a sweat drop rolling down her temple, pooling at her jaw before slipping to her collarbone.

Another bead traced her spine, teasing the small of her back, and she felt it all, her body a map she knew by heart.

She was the master of it—her emotions, her reactions, her will. Kael’s dirty games wouldn’t shake her, not today. She was steel, forged in discipline, and no amount of his clever ploys could change that.

Her meditation stretched long, hours blurring as she sank deeper, grounding herself in control.

When she finally stirred, her blue eyes opened, sharp and clear, her mind a polished blade.

She rose, stretching her tall, toned frame—thighs strong, hips curved, her figure a balance of power and grace—and headed for the shower.

The water cascaded over her, hot and cleansing, washing away the sweat and doubt, leaving her skin flushed and glowing.

She dried off with a towel, her platinum-cyan hair falling straight, framing her face as she stepped back into her room, naked and unselfconscious.

Her gaze landed on the lingerie, a pile of white lace by the door, its presence like a challenge whispered in Kael’s voice.

She’d never worn anything like it—never saw the point.

Fancy decorations for what?

To impress someone else? Her body was enough—perfect, she’d always thought, from the sharp angles of her face to the sculpted lines of her legs and abs.

She dropped the towel, standing bare, her reflection imagined in the absence of a mirror.

Her breasts were firm, her waist narrow, her thighs long and powerful, every inch carved with intention.

Beautiful, flawless, a weapon in its own right.

She approached the lingerie, separating the pieces with a faint grimace, a flicker of disgust curling her lip.

A bra, floral lace so sheer it might as well be air, designed to tease rather than cover.

Panties—barely there, a delicate strip of fabric with lace edging, meant to ride low and reveal more than conceal.

Stockings, thigh-high, gossamer-thin, paired with a garter belt, its straps dangling like promises.

Freya gulped, her pulse quickening, a mix of disdain and curiosity stirring.

Would this amplify her perfection or dull it?

Her blue eyes narrowed, a spark of defiance igniting.

She wanted to know—needed to see how it would look, if it would make her body sing or merely mock it.

A hint of nervousness broke through her composed facade, excitement tingling beneath it as she picked up the bra first, the lace soft against her fingers.

She slipped on the floral lace bra, the sheer, delicate fabric settled against her skin like a whisper, its intricate patterns barely concealing her breasts.

The cups were designed for allure rather than coverage, the white lace woven thinly enough to hint at what lay beneath without fully revealing it.

As she adjusted the straps, the bra hugged her firmly, lifting her full, rounded breasts, the floral edges framing them perfectly.

Her nipples, sensitive from the morning’s meditation and the lingering memory of Kael’s touch yesterday, hardened slightly against the cool air and the soft graze of the lace.

The sheer material did little to hide them—through the translucent patches between the floral designs, her nipples appeared as faint, dusky outlines, their subtle shape pressing against the fabric, visible enough to tease but veiled just enough to maintain a tantalizing mystery.

She fastened the garter belt next, its straps snapping lightly against her waist, then pulled on the stockings, the silk gliding up her thighs, accentuating their length and strength.

The panties came last, settling low on her hips, the lace soft but barely covering her, her ass cheeks exposed, the fabric brushing her skin with every move.

She stretched, testing the feel, her body tingling as the lingerie caressed her—light, intimate, a constant reminder of its presence.

The stockings honed her legs, making them look longer, sleeker, the garter straps framing her thighs like art.

The bra lifted her breasts, the lace a delicate cage, and though the panties left her vulnerable—her ass bare, her core only just covered—they were oddly comfortable, a secret she hadn’t anticipated.

She turned, wishing for a mirror, her curiosity burning.

How did she look?

Stunning, she bet, the lingerie not diminishing her but elevating it, a crown for her perfection.

A warm flush spread through her, excitement and something else—pride, maybe, or defiance, or maybe something else entirely.

Kael had chosen her size exactly, a detail that sparked a strange thrill.

How did he know?

The thought lingered, unbidden, her mind flashing to yesterday—his fingers inside her, unraveling her control, her climax shattering her queenly mask.

He’d seen her then, raw and exposed, so what was there to hide now?

The lingerie was his trick, meant to embarrass her, make her vulnerable, keep her off-balance during the rematch.

But Freya wasn’t falling for it.

She straightened, her resolve hardening.

There was no shame in this—her body was perfect, a masterpiece, and if anything, Kael should be the one rattled, forced to admire what she wielded so confidently.

Let him try his games; she’d wear the lingerie like armor, turning his penalty into her power.

Her blue eyes gleamed, unwavering, her mind set. This rematch wasn’t just a game—it was a war, and she’d fight to win.

click

The main door of the Haven clicked open, the sound sharp in her quiet room, pulling her from her thoughts.

Kael was back.

Her pulse spiked, anticipation coiling tight in her gut. The rematch was about to start, and she was ready.