Tarnishing the Brand  

By Dodgynubian

Supergirl
Wizards Lair Contest Summer 2013 Supergirl
Wizards Lair Contest Winner

“You’ll have to put your criminal plans on ice, Frozen Dude!” Supergirl gleefully announced to the prostrate super-villain as he slammed into the hard Metropolis sidewalk.

With a triumphant smile the blonde bombshell surveyed the wreckage of Frozen Dude’s plan to detonate a Freeze bomb in the heart of the city. His pitiful minions were also flat out, mostly unconscious.

A crowd of civilians were gathering and pushing forward thru them were the good people of the media, mostly the TV. Normally Supergirl would launch herself skyward and leave everyone gawping but today Metropolis Police seemed to be a bit slow in appearing. Time for some banter, this time with a TV audience watching.

“Yes!” continued Supergirl, “You’ll be given the time to cool off…in the cooler!”

A couple in the crowd applauded and Supergirl bowed to thank them as she wracked her brains to come up with a better cold-based quip.

“Fuckin’ bitch!” snarled Frozen Dude as he clutched his bleeding head, “Next time I’ll slit your slutty throat!”

“Now look, here!” whispered Supergirl as she sprang close to the miscreant, “There are children watching this on TV! Control your foul tongue!”

“FUCK YOU!”

A blast of cold air from Supergirl and the front of Frozen Dude’s face was frozen still.

“Coldness has conquered YOU it would seem!”

More applause. Louder this time. Nice.

At last some cops deigned to appear, made arrests and hauled off the bad guys.

“Fantastic performance Supergirl!” gushed a TV reporter as he pushed his microphone forward.

“Thank you!” smiled the Maid of Steel, “Justice is delivered! Mr?…er…?”

“Ched Rogers! Good Morning Metropolis! And we’re live!”

Now Supergirl recognised the man with his unpleasant, smirking face. He was a douche bag.

And here was another TV crew coming into view with a more nicer looking lady reporter. Supergirl turned to meet her.

“Must be nice to win this one, eh?” barked Ched, rudely pushing himself between Supergirl and the other reporter.

“Yes!” Supergirl nodded, “Wait a minute. What do you mean this one?”

Ched gave a nasty chuckle.

“Well c’mon, Supergirl!” he said, “Even a superhero like you must sometimes be on the losing side. And when you are I bet you lose big-time!”

Ghastly man!

“Mr Rogers,” said Supergirl coldly, “I assure you that thus far I have always emerged victorious. That’s why I’m still here!”

With that she spun on her heel and used a burst of super speed to evade Ched and place herself right in front of the female reporter. She prepared to take questions from her but firstly shot a fierce glance over her shoulder at Ched.

Ched chuckled a bitter chuckle. The story he craved, the one he simply knew must be true, was what had happened when Supergirl had been beaten. From his contacts at Metropolis Police HQ there were plenty of rumors.

It was said that a year ago a female criminal gang called Sisters of Chaos had somehow captured Supergirl and dildo-raped her till she almost died. It was said that six months ago a villain called Cobalt had used Kryptonite to weaken the blonde superheroine. He and his thugs had then gang-banged Supergirl’s sexy ass for hours. The wildest (and most delicious) rumor was that an eco-terrorist called Daughter Earth had unleashed a tentacled plant upon the Maid of Steel and that it had somehow got her pregnant with some new plant form.

All rumors. Unsubstantiated rumors that couldn’t be broadcast. Annoyingly Supergirl appeared to have then escaped, turned the tables on the villains and so been able to continue to present herself to the world as virtuous and pure.

Ched watched as Supergirl started to give a jolly interview to that bitch from Channel 8. His eyes ran up the back of her bare legs to that wonderful heart-shaped ass beneath that cock-teasingly short skirt. He longed to escape the banality of daytime TV and a hard-hitting exclusive on the rape of a superheroine would be his ticket. It was just a matter of time. Surely some maniac would defeat this stuck-up super bimbo soon? And Ched Rogers would be there to film it!

“We’d better get closer,” muttered Jimbo the cameraman a she indicated Supergirl, “Mebbe we can pick up some quotes she’s giving.”

Ched gave a grunt of approval and wandered over.

“Oh Supergirl! This was such an impressive show!” gushed the TV reporter as she gazed with rapt wonder at the superheroine.

“Thank you! Any criminals fancying doing wrong in our fair city will face my wrath!”

“You’re such a wonderful role model! And popular with the boys as you showed by winning that award last week.”

Supergirl gave an embarrassed laugh.

“Well, you know…,” she smiled, “I’m not sure that winning an award called ‘Hot Chick of the Year’ is something I’m particularly proud of. I hope people judge me for my deeds and not my looks!”

She prattled on in his vein for a while, but Ched’s mind was wandering. He was now standing to the side of the Maid of Steel and had a fantastic view of her tits as they strained beneath that blue and red top. He wished someone would be brave enough to step forward and rip that top off.

He wasn’t, obviously. But he’d join in if someone showed the way.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Supergirl was saying, “I’ll be off. I have a busy night ahead!”

With that she raised her right arm and hurtled up into the Metropolis sky.

That night Supergirl wasn’t busy fighting crime but was taking part in a photo shoot at Channel Five. The event was for the top five in that ‘Hot Chick of the Year’ competition. She wasn’t keen on appearing but it was all for charity.

“Welcome, Supergirl!” smiled a pretty brunette with big brown eyes, “I’m Laura Cotter, Channel Five weathergirl. I finished sixth in the competition. They only invited me as a reserve if someone didn’t show up.”

“Well it’s very nice to be here and nice to meet you!” replied Supergirl.

“Ok, Laura,” said some man, “We don’t need you. The others are here now.”

Laura gave a disappointed pout, said goodbye and left.

Supergirl watched her leave, admiring how nicely tight that skirt was on Laura’s butt.

“Make way!” yelled a female voice, “Make way for the four hottest chicks in Metropolis!”

A middle-aged woman with short blonde hair was pushing her way thru the crowd helped by a powerful bodyguard with the bronzed face and short haircut that screamed ex-military. Behind this duo came four young women.

The woman caught sight of Supergirl and gave a fierce glare.

“What I mean is…four of the top five hottest chicks in Metropolis.”

“Good evening, Supergirl,” she said, extending a cold hand to shake that of the superheroine, “So nice to meet you. I’m Glenda Proctor, manager of pop-stars and this… is Babe Explosion!”

“Babe what!?”

The four young women now came into view and lined up to meet Supergirl. Now she recognised them as yet another of those girl band groups with a life expectancy of about six months.

So ‘Babe Explosion’ was their name, eh?

They certainly met the ethnic quota.

Denise, a tall lightly skinned black girl with frizzy hair.

Amy, brunette with a cheeky little face going for the tomboy look.

Susie, Asian with her hair in pigtails and a tiny pink skirt that showed most of her knickers.

And Jenny, a blonde with a ready smile almost bursting out of what Supergirl believed was called a boob tube.

All were polite and with a smile that showed that there was little going on inside their pretty heads.

“I’m just so excited to meet you, Supergirl,” gasped a wide-eyed Jenny, “I didn’t mind coming second when I heard that you had won!”

She grabbed Supergirl’s hand and pumped it energetically. So energetically that her breasts bounced in a not unpleasing manner.

“You’re here to be photographed, not to chat!” barked Glenda, ushering the girls about.

Supergirl looked at this woman with her thigh-length boots, severe blonde hairstyle and gray business suit. When younger she was probably quite attractive but with age her face had taken on a harder tone.

The photo shoot went on for far too long in Supergirl’s opinion. Group pictures, single pictures, profile pictures (Supergirl realised too late that the photographers wanted more than face profiles) and pictures with a variety of props. She drew that line at some of the instructions shouted at her, but all of ‘Babe Explosion’ were keen to ‘work it’ and to ‘make love to the camera’.

At one point Supergirl tried to talk to Glenda about how overtly sexual some of the girls’ poses were and how their clothing showed rather a lot of bare flesh.

“You can talk!” came the sneering response, “Look how provocative your outfit is! When you’re out flying I bet hundreds of guys look up your skirt!”

Supergirl was shocked and prepared to give a lecture on setting a good example to young girls but Glenda had turned away.

“C’mon Jenny!” she was shrieking, “You’ve got a great cleavage! Flaunt it!”

Thankfully the evening came to an end and Supergirl made to leave. Jenny came to say goodbyes.

“Oh Supergirl!” she gushed, “Could we possibly hang out together? It’s still early. You wanna go grab a pizza?”

“We ain’t got time for that!” said Glenda sharply, “Move!”

Jenny sighed.

“We all hate her!” she whispered, “The way she leers at me and Susie makes us sick! Nasty person!”

“Well she shouldn’t let yourself be bullied,” said Supergirl, “If you ever need help, give me a call!”

This was accompanied by a hug that made Jenny beam with glee.

Supergirl went back to her apartment and changed into her civilian alter ego. She forgot all about ‘Babe Explosion’ until three days later…


“Kidnapped!” announced the Metropolis Police commissioner when Supergirl arrived at his office at Police HQ, “All four girls!”

“What about their manager?” asked Supergirl, “And wasn’t there a bodyguard?”

“Yeah,” drawled the cop, “An’ this is priceless. When the kidnappers struck the bodyguard was banging the manager in a cupboard!”

“Any clues Chief? Any ransom?”

“Yeah…,” he drawled guardedly, “That’s really why I called you in. The bodyguard found a note when he finally zipped up his pants.”

He handed Supergirl a piece of white paper. On it was some typewritten text.

‘Tell SuperBoobs to be at the Channel 57 telethon tonight at 9pm or the first Babe will die.’

“I-er…assume they mean you.”

“I imagine you’re right,” confirmed the Maid of Steel as she glared at the Chief who seemed to be in the process of admiring her superboobs.

“This telethon is for an animal wildlife park upstate,” the Chief said after coughing, “It’s to be broadcast live on TV from the Channel 57 studio. At 9pm they’re due to have 5 minute auctions of items they got from celebrities.”

“Surround the building with your men, Chief! I’ll turn up and do my best to save those poor girls!”

For the rest of the day Supergirl whizzed across the sky desperately searching for any sign of the kidnapped girls or their abductor. But nothing. And so it was that she found herself herself hurtling towards the Channel 57 studio just before the clocks struck nine.

A police officer escorted Supergirl to the backstage area. From there she looked out onto the telethon. Nick Grayson, the exuberant host of some afternoon children’s program was running the show from a raised platform. Behind him was a huge TV screen where events from around the city were featured. To the right were about a dozen people manning the telephones to take bids. Behind the cameras there was a studio audience of around a hundred. Supergirl slowly scanned the scene for someone out of place.

“Here she is!” Nick suddenly shouted, “As promised, it’s Supergirl!”

Earnestly he waved the superheroine out from the shadows. Taking a deep breath and putting on a fake smile she went forward to the podium.

Rapturous applause burst from the audience as Supergirl popped into view.

“Great to see you, Supergirl!” said Nick, approaching a frenzy of excitement.

“Great to be here!” she smiled, “And by the way, how did you know I was coming?”

Her blue eyes met those of Nick.

“An anonymous viewer told us! And sent this for you!”

He held his hand forward, revealing a small black object in the palm.

Gingerly Supergirl picked it up and now saw that it was an earpiece.

“A note with it said you were to put it on.”

Warily Supergirl popped it into her right ear.

“Good evening, Supergirl!” said a deep man’s voice in her ear, “Guess who?”

Supergirl gave a sharp intake of breath. Without a microphone there seemed no point in responding.

“Well Supergirl,” said Nick, distracting her from the voice, “Now what?”

“Now what indeed?” laughed the voice in Supergirl’s head, audible only to her.

Furious yet impotent Supergirl had to remain standing on the podium as the voice went on.

“You can call me the Puppet Master, and you are gonna be my puppet! Hah! Tell Nick you’re here to take part in the auction.”

Supergirl did as she was told, drawing a delighted squeal form Nick.

“And what will the Maid of Steel be putting up for auction?”

Before he could answer the massive TV screen behind them went black, then shone brightly then went white. Supergirl, Nick and everyone watching turned to face it.

“A five minute auction, Supergirl,” hissed the voice in her head, “Play along and a Babe goes free!”

“OK!” she announced as cheerfully as she could, “Let’s do this!”

Up on the screen some words flashed up…

PLACE YOUR BIDS FOR….

There was a pause and then another word flashed up…

SUPERGIRL’S

Seeing her name in three-foot high letters stunned Supergirl. She took a deep breath and nervously waited for whatever was to come…

The pause lasted for longer than before and then…

KNICKERS.

Supergirl gave an audible gasp. It felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. The whole studio was suddenly silent. Supergirl swallowed quickly, struggling to know what to do.

“Now, now Supergirl,” purred the voice in her head, “I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that you could fly off home, get some panties and whizz back here. But that would be cheating the viewers, wouldn’t it?”

Supergirl was seething, shaking with rage. And a little trepidation.

“The only way the viewers will know that they’re really bidding on Supergirl’s knickers if they see Supergirl pull them off!”

There followed a laugh, a cruel snickering laugh.

“Unless of course, you’re going commando!”

“Er…can we do this?” Nick was asking, “Do you have some knickers?”

“Of course!” declared Supergirl with clear irritation in her voice, “I’m wearing some!”

The director of the telethon now directed his lead camera to zoom in on Supergirl’s face. All of Metropolis could see the blushing turmoil on her beautiful face.

“PULL YOUR PANTIES OFF!” screamed the voice in her head.

Supergirl frantically looked about, looking for away out. But all she saw was that there seemed to be rather more men in the studio than she had first realised.

Biting her lower lip and closing her eyes Supergirl stuck her thumbs in the back off her knickers and pushed them down her bare legs. It took what seemed like ages to push them over her boots but eventually she managed it and pulled them off her boot toes. Her red knickers were in her hands and cool air was caressing her bottom.

Quickly she passed them over to a startled Nick, who stared at them for a moment then shocked Supergirl by waving them in the air like a trophy.

“Here they are!” he yelled, “The knickers of Supergirl! Get those bids in!”

Immediately all the phones lit up and the operators were dealing with frantic bidders. Supergirl had to remain on the podium, staring at the floor with her hands behind her back to ensure her skirt didn’t blow up.

Nick had a microphone in his hand and was excitedly pointing at the screen that showed the inexorable rise of the bidding amounts.

The five minutes seemed to last forever but suddenly here was Nick shrieking that bidding was closed.

“One million dollars!” he yelled, slapping an offended superheroine on the back, “One million dollars for a cheap piece of underwear!”

Supergirl fought back the urge to shriek that the panties were perfectly clean and fresh that morning but the moment passed.

“Bravo Supergirl!” said the voice smoothly, “I wonder what the winning bidder will use them for! I’m sue all the beavers in that wildlife park will appreciate your work!”

He laughed again, the laugh Supergirl was coming to hate.

“You’ve kept your side of the bargain, now I’ll keep mine. A Babe will be free in 60 minutes. Goodnight!”

Supergirl pulled the earpiece out and glared at Nick. Then she spun on her heel and walked out. Outside there was a growing gaggle of men with cameras. Clearly they were anticipating getting some good pictures when she launched herself into the sky. But Supergirl outwitted them by running off so fast she was but a blur.

One hour later Denise was found wandering the Clevemore area of the city. An anonymous phone call to the police brought a patrol car to pick her up and take her to Police HQ.

Next morning and Supergirl found herself in the office of the Police Chief.

“Ah…Supergirl…,” he started, “A bit of good news. We’re gonna ignore the anonymous caller who wanted you arrested for lewd conduct in a public place.”

“Thanks,” said Supergirl thru gritted teeth, “And what of Denise?”

“Few clues I’m afraid. Her and the others received a chocolate cake at their hotel – no CCTV. Turned out the cake was drugged. Denise woke up imprisoned in a wooden box. She doesn’t even know if the other girls are alive.”

“Oh they’re alive Chief, don’t worry. Puppet Master still needs them. Things may change. That’s why we need to find them fast!”

“We got another letter, “ said the Chief handing it over.

‘Tell Supergirl to be in the alley behind the abandoned Crystals bar at midnight.”

“I sent a patrol to check out the area. Just a dirty back street in a poor part of town.”

“OK, Chief,” said the Maid of Steel, “Keep your men back. We’ll see how Puppet Master wants to play it.”

It was raining when Supergirl landed in the alley just before midnight. It was a dirty area with rubbish strewn about. Carefully she walked up the alley. Movement up ahead!

But it was merely rats. Supergirl gave a shudder and walked on.

Then a strange light near the ground by a wall caught her eye. She moved closer and was startled to see the letter S contained within a triangle painted on the top of a small box with luminous paint.

Glancing about Supergirl bent down and opened the box. Inside was another earpiece. Reluctantly she picked it up and put it in her ear.

“Good evening, Supergirl,” chortled Puppet Master, “I hope you’re wearing knickers tonight!”

Supergirl seethed, longing for the day this guy stopped hiding and showed himself.

“Lets go for a walk,” said the voice.

Supergirl started walking slowly. Was he watching her somehow?

“Almost there.”

Up ahead Supergirl noticed that the back door of one of the buildings was open. Music was coming out into the alley.

Supergirl stopped at the door. Some sort of mist was issuing from the interior. The light source was a long way inside. Supergirl scanned the area with her X-ray vision. Nothing.

“Go in,” was the order.

Nervously Supergirl went thru the doorway. The mist was pouring along about a foot off the ground. Seemed to have no effect.

The further she went the more she could hear voices. Many raucous voices with a guttural tone. Now ahead of her was a small flight of steps. With her heart pounding Supergirl climbed up them. She sensed that she was entering a larger room but right then she was bathed in blinding light. Instinctively she raised her hand to shield her eyes. Thankfully the power of the light soon diminished. Supergirl lowered her hand and saw that a row of footlights were pointing up at her. The mist was now seen to be merely smoke effects. Her eyes blinked to adjust to the new environment.

“Good grief…”

She wasn’t alone. The room was much bigger than she had thought, and though smoky and gloomy, was full of people. And most of those people were men looking up at her. Any women were near–naked. At the back was a bar. Supergirl was struggling to recognise where she was. The men were getting closer, gathering near her feet, two deep. Grinning and leering…

“Good grief!” gasped Supergirl again, “It’s a strip joint! And I’m on stage!”

“Here she is boys!” blasted a voice from the speakers at either side of the stage, “Blonde Linda is dressed as Metropolis’s favorite superheroine- Supergirl! She’s new at this so give her a warm welcome!”

This call provoked a round of clapping and whopping from the growing throng. Some were thumping the stage inches from Supergirl’s boots. She backed off, shaking at the waves of animal lust assailing her dignity.

“You can probably guess what happens next,” sniggered the voice in her ear, “Put on a show an’ strip!”

Paralysed by shock Supergirl couldn’t do more than stand still shaking her head.

The crowd were growing restless.

“C’mon bitch! Show us the goods!” yelled a man.

“Yeah baby! You got the goods so let’s see ya shake ‘em!”

“Get naked or a Babe dies. Your choice.”

Supergirl glanced at the doorway that led to the alley. Fleeing this awful place would be so easy. But an innocent girl would die.

With a sigh and a steely determination to see this thru Supergirl squatted down and took off her left boot. The leering faces were on the level with hers and she made a conscious effort not to make eye contact.

“No, no, Supergirl,” said the voice, “Do it with style. I’ve heard you’re quite the athlete. So flick up your leg to take the next boot off.”

Supergirl stood up, kicked her leg up and peeled off the boot. Halfway thru she suddenly realised that this stance gave the watching audience a spectacular view of her knickers. She glared down at the mass of drooling manhood.

“Get the top off, bitch!” roared a man.

“Right! Show us the tits!”

Ignoring them for a moment Supergirl scanned the room. Puppet Master was watching this. Was he in the audience? She looked for anyone with a microphone.

It was then that her eyes met those of a man with a naked dark-haired woman grinding into his lap in a decidedly disinterested manner. It was that ghastly Ched Rogers!

Ched had received an anonymous invite to the club. He’d been delighted and was having a great time. Picking out the bitch who looked most like his co-host Marcia Churchill Ched had her on his lap whilst he poured vile abuse into her ear. Now he noticed the barely-moving slut on the stage. As she recognised him, he recognised her.

That was the real Supergirl up there!

Now he realised why the anonymous invite had suggested he bring a camera.

The slut was tipped off onto the floor in a squawking heap so Ched could whip out the camera and start clicking away.

The sudden blinding flash of the camera horrified the barefoot Supergirl. Seeing Ched was bad enough but…this!

“Tits! Tits! TITS!” bayed the mob in unison.

Supergirl didn’t know what to do until in a burst of renewed determination she pulled her top off and tossed it and the attached aside, revealing her sports bra.

“What a rack! Let’s see ‘em!”

Supergirl knew nothing about the art of stripping but even she knew that now was not yet the time for displaying her breasts. So she pulled out her yellow belt from her skirt and threw it away.

The drooling mob were crowding her now, reducing the amount of stage she had to work in. Grasping hands were reaching out to seize her. She slapped them away.

“Back!” she pleaded, “Stay back!”

Taking a deep breath Supergirl started to pull her skirt down. She was visibly shaking now and blushing a red as bright as the knickers that were now coming into full view.

All around her was a wall of animal noises from the crowd. She could smell them, sense their lust.

Her skirt was at her ankles and she stepped over it and left it on the floor. A sweaty hand shot out from the crowd and grabbed the discarded skirt. The new owner immediately shoved down the front of his open pants, winking at Supergirl as he did so.

Standing up in nothing but her underwear Supergirl was again blinded by the flash of Ched’s camera. He was getting closer now, shoving his fellow perverts aside.

“C’mon Linda or whatever you’re pretending yer frickin’ name is!” he yelled, “Show us yer tits!”

“Tits! Tits! Tits!” chanted the crowd at his urging.

“Say boys!” smirked Ched, “She looks so much like Supergirl we should call her that!”

This made Supergirl’s heart jolt.

“Yeah!” whooped a fat bastard at the front, “I regularly jerk off over Supergirl! Seeing this bimbo get her tits out will be just as sweet!”

“You heard the man,” cooed the voice in her ear, “Give the audience what they want.”

Supergirl looked to the left and then the right. The mob were crowding even closer round the edges of the stage. They were blocking her escape!

Suddenly she felt herself choking but then regained her composure and swallowed hard. Ahead and around her the mob appeared like a single disgusting organism with leering eyes, drooling mouths and grabbing hands.

“C’mon Superslut!” yelled Ched, “I’ve got plenty of film left in this camera and I’m waiting for the good stuff!”

Supergirl stuck her hands behind her back and unfastened her bra. As it fell down her fabulous breasts burst free to a roar of approval from the mob.

Instinctively Supergirl raised her hands to cover herself, but then lowered them. Defiantly she glared back on the sea of salivating faces.

“Smile you slut!” bawled Ched, working his camera.

He was now about a metre from Supergirl’s face. Even he was using a poor quality camera the moment he developed the film it would be obvious to all of Metropolis that it was the real Supergirl standing there topless.

“Jiggle ‘em, baby!” hooted someone in the crowd.

“What a good idea!” laughed the voice in Supergirl’s head, “Bounce!”

Supergirl was stunned and appalled by this notion, but dutifully started shifting her weight from one foot to the other. This had the event of causing her boobs to sway from side to side. Below her the crowd quietened, hypnotised by this sight.

“Faster!” ordered Puppet Master.

Supergirl obeyed, moving up and down at an ever-faster rate.

Her boobs were really moving now, bouncing at such a rate that Supergirl appeared to be in danger of knocking herself out.

“Grab ‘em! Squeeze ‘em! Kiss ‘em!” barked the voice in her head.

Supergirl was shaking uncontrollably, her knees so wobbly that she feared she was about to collapse. But if happened this mob would pounce on her. She wiped away a tear as she planted a kiss on her right tit. Blinking away her tears she stared at the mob. Several had their hands down their pants and were vigorously working away down there. The looks of expectancy disgusted her.

Supergirl knew that these men knew she was nervous, that she didn’t want to do this. But this was increasing their enjoyment. Swine!

“Quite a titillating performance!” laughed Puppet Master.

Never had a quip cut Supergirl so deep.

“Turn around, Supergirl,” said the voice in her ear.

Slowly she did as she was told. It was a relief to face the back wall.

“Loose the knickers, slut!” she heard behind her.

“I’ll give for 500 bucks for ‘em!”

“You can buy her panties if you like, but I’m gonna have her pussy!”

“Do it, Supergirl,” said the voice, “Just one more piece of clothing to go.”

Down came the red knickers.

“Slower,” said that hateful voice, “Tease the guys.”

The flimsy cotton garment went down Supergirl’s thighs, past her knees and down her calves. When it reached her bare feet she moved her left foot out and flicked the panties off to the right with her other foot. Hurtling off and out of sight was better than seeing them claimed by a grubby hand.

“Don’t get up just yet,” said Puppet Master, “Stay bent over and smack your peachy ass.”

Supergirl gave her right butt cheek a slap, then a harder one, then harder again.

Oh, how she wished her butt was Puppet Master’s face!

“Now stand up an’ put your hands behind your bimbo head.”

Once she had done this the voice continued,

“Turn around. Slowly. Once everyone has seen what you’ve got this little task is complete.”

Supergirl closed her eyes and turned around as instructed. When she was facing the audience there was a brief moment of hushed silence as the men gazed in wonder at the statuesque Amazon goddess in their presence. Then a wall of noise erupted.

“Phhhwoarrrrr!”

“Natural blonde! The tramp is a natural blonde!”

“I must have her!”

“You’re a goddess!” wailed a small man, “I worship you!”

Supergirl tried to fix her gaze on a spot on the wall at the back of the club.

Jeez!

There were CCTV cameras on the wall and they were all pointing at her!

Supergirl was clenching her teeth shut and was making an heroic effort to control her shaking. She closed her eyes in a desperate attempt to shut out the seething mass of animal lust drooling at her naked body. It didn’t work, they were still there!

The flash of Ched’s camera filled her vision. And again. And again. He was taking enough pictures to make a movie!

“Well done, Supergirl!” laughed the voice in her ear, “You’re an excellent puppet! Goodnight! I’ll leave you to work out how to get out of this!”

“Right in the face!” Ched was sneering, “Let me get a pic right in the face so everyone can see those big blue eyes!”

Sueprgirl backed away and felt the wall behind her. She looked about in panic. This was the signal for the mob to swarm towards her. On the left were there was a trio of middle-aged Asians waving dollar bills. Behind them was an American.

“C’mon bitch! Help me out!” he was screaming, “I need these Koreans to sign a contract. They’ll do so if they can pound your sexy all-American ass!”

“Tell the gooks to wait!” snarled a fat man in a cheap suit closing from the right, “I know the owner here an’ I get first pick of the girls! I pick this bitch’s mouth!”

“Pick yo hole!” yelled another, “We’ll all get a go!”

For a brief moment the sheer number of men trying to get to her worked to Supergirl’s advantage as they got in each other’s way.

A blast of heat vision hit Ched’s camera, causing it to burst into flame. Ched screamed and threw the blazing camera into air.

BEE-BEE-BEE-BEEEEEP!

A smoke alarm went off, followed immediately by the blast of water from sprinklers that drenched everyone in the room. As people shrieked in surprise the lights went out and then the much dimmer emergency lighting kicked in.

Saying a silent prayer of thanks for the efficiency of whoever ordered fire prevention measures at Metropolis City Hall, Supergirl darted about the room searching for her clothing. The emergency lighting was so dim that everyone was reduced to a dark shape. The super-speedy naked woman whizzing about was able to remain unseen.

The bad news was just how little Supergirl could recover. One boot, her belt and her top. Her bra and knickers had been shoved down pants and Supergirl was reluctant to go fishing for them. She tried to yank her skirt out of the hands of the man in a dirty mac who had them but his grip was surprisingly fierce. After a brief tugging match the skirt was ripped apart so Supergirl abandoned them. The missing boot was nowhere to be seen.

Supergirl hurtled thru the doorway that she’d used earlier. A gaggle of men and a couple near-naked strippers had got out into the alley. Thankfully they were in too much of a state of shock to notice the pink blur racing past them.

Supergirl stopped to gather her wits in a nearby alley. Consumed by relief she wearily pulled on her boot and her top. The belt was put into a knot around her waist to at least cover part of her modesty.

“Hard night’s work, eh Blondie?”

Supergirl looked up. There leaning on a wall was a black woman smoking a roll-up. She was wearing a tight white leather jacket that over-emphasised her cleavage, a tiny pink skirt and long boots. Even to a puritan like Supergirl it was obvious what she was.

“Yeah,” she drawled in reply, “I’ve had a rough night.”

“All men are pigs!” spat the hooker, “But at least you got the goods to make a lotta money outta them, eh sugar?”

Supergirl tugged her top down to cover more of her perfect anatomy then rushed off. In the next alley she glanced about. With no one about she hurtled into the sky, bound for home.

An hour later Amy was discovered wandering near the Liberty shopping mall. She told the same story as Denise – she’d been drugged and kept in a box. And no, she had no idea if the other girls were alive.

Supergirl had a restless night and woke early. She was dreading seeing the front page of the ‘Daily Planet’ as she was certain that pictures of her topless display from the night before would be on the front page.

Instead there was nothing. That ghastly Ched Rogers was doing his banal morning show but he made no mention of anything involving the Maid of Steel. His hand was bandaged but Ched explained this as a DIY accident.

She longed to interrogate Ched about why he’d been at the club but was fearful of any accusations we’d make against her. She’d just assume Ched was too dumb to be involved and was merely a stooge.

She whizzed off to Police HQ to find out what Puppet Master’s latest scheme involved.

The Chief had found out that there’d been a fire alarm at a strip joint near the alley where Supergirl had gone but no mention of superheroine activity. The fire fighters had encountered difficulty with some Korean businessmen who’d claimed that one of the strippers had cheated them and was a ‘cock-teasing Yankee whore’ but local officers had moved them on.

“Puppet Master made me dance, but it’s all done now,” Supergirl told him, “The important thing is that Amy is now free.”

Moving on, the Chief handed Supergirl a note from the kidnapper.

‘Tell Superslut to get her big tits over to Warehouse 4 in the Wexford Business Park at 8pm.’

Supergirl knew the Wexford Business Park as a rundown and vandalised wreck of a place to the north of Metropolis. The dirty buildings were often used for illegal activity.

“As soon as I saw the note I sent a patrol car round to Warehouse 4. It’s completely empty apart from…,” he hesitated, unsure of how to phrase his next sentence.

“Go on, Chief,” prompted Supergirl.

“It’s empty apart from having a double bed right in the middle.”

There was a long pause of silence in the office. Both the police officer and the blonde Amazon could only think of one reason why Supergirl was be lured to a double bed.

Supergirl broke the tension.

“This may be our chance,” she said, trying to sound cheerful, “It looks like Puppet Master will want to deal with me in person.”

“Supergirl,” said the Chief steadily meeting her eyes, “You’re a symbol to this city, a symbol of truth, justice and dignity. We don’t want to lose that.”

“The lives of two women are at stake here, Chief!” she responded passionately, “And if I have to whore myself to save them then I’ll do it!”

The area was quiet that evening when Supergirl arrived at the Wexford Business Park. Police officers were deployed at a discrete distance, but no one was near Warehouse 4. Supergirl looked around but no one was visible in the cool, dark night. In the distance she could hear the buzzing hum of traffic.

Above the entrance to Warehouse 4 swung a lonely single lamp, it’s light emphasised by the surrounding darkness. Boldly Supergirl went in.

The interior of the warehouse was lit by the buzzing of strobe lights. The place smelt musty. There in the middle was the double bed. It was a bed with a strong iron frame and a dirty pink mattress. No sheets or blankets. Clearly the bed wasn’t to be used for sleeping.

On top of the bed was a small wooden box. As she approached Supergirl saw that on the top of the box was a letter S contained within a triangle in red paint. She paused to scan the box with her X-ray vision, then tutted as she realised the interior was lined with lead.

Fearing a gas bomb, a snake or even a freaky jack-in-the-box Supergirl opened the box. There was a package inside. She ripped it open. In her hands she held a headpiece. Now there was not just an earpiece but also a small microphone. Puppet Master wanted whatever was to come to be more interactive. She put the headpiece on.

“Good evening, Supergirl!” smirked the hateful voice she was growing used to, “How are you today?”

“Release Jenny and Susie!” was the snarled response, “I’m warning you!”

“We’ll release them once my little puppet slut has done as we’ve told her. Now look in the box.”

Supergirl peered in the box again. What she hadn’t noticed before was that beneath the package was….something. The chocolate-colored mystery object was about a foot long and as thick as her arm. At first Supergirl thought it was a stick.

“I imagine that an uptight little goody-two-shoes like you has no idea what that is, do you?”

Supergirl reached into the box and picked the object up. It was lighter than she expected. It felt like it was made of rubber.

‘…oh no….,’

“That, my dear Supergirl, is a vibrator.”

Supergirl almost dropped the object, such was her shock.

“This particular model is called the ‘African Pleaser’ and it’s the biggest one the shop had. And tonight Supergirl, you’re gonna fuck yourself with it.”

“You’ve got to be joking! You simply cannot be serious!”

“Shift the box, get on the bed and let’s get going!”

“No!” said Supergirl firmly, “It’s depraved and I won’t do it!”

“I see you’re gonna need some persuading.”

There was the sound of some commotion in Supergirl’s ear and the voice could be heard at a distance…

“I’m doing it! I’m doing it! Little slut!”

“Supergirl! Help me!”

That was Jenny’s voice!

“Jenny! Hold on, honey! I’ll save you!”

“Supergirl! Please!” sobbed Jenny, terror in her voice.

“Let her go!” pleaded the impotent superheroine, “Don’t hurt her!”

“Tell her what I’m doing!” snarled the Puppet Master, “Do it, you slut!”

Jenny could be heard crying out in pain and then…

“He’s got me on my knees, Supergirl! He’s got a knife at my throat!”

There was another sound of struggle, Puppet Master grunting with effort.

“Help me here!” he could be heard snarling, “Make the slut behave!”

“You still there, Supergirl?” he soon asked.

“Yes!” she answered, “Put Jenny back on! I want to hear that she’s alright!”

“Shaddup, you bitch! Now get on that bed and shove that dildo up ya cunt! Or this bitch dies right now and we get Susie in here!”

“Oh Supergirl! Please!” sobbed a clearly distressed Jenny, “Don’t let me die!”

“OK, Jenny,” said Supergirl as calmly as she could, “Tell him I’ll do as he wants.”

“Thank you, Supergirl!” gasped Jenny, “I knew you’d anything to help me! I love you! I meant to say so when we met! I hope you like me! I hope you remembered everything I said!”

“Of course I like you Jenny!” said Supergirl, feeling a bit teary-eyed, “And I’ll get you home safe! I promise!”

“Put her away!” barked Puppet Master to someone with him.

There was a pause.

“Now do it!” he barked in Supergirl’s ear.

With a sigh Supergirl moved the box to the floor and climbed onto the bed. Sitting on the mattress she examined the ‘African Pleaser’ in her hand. Up close she could appreciate the ribbing down the length, the curvature ending in a bell-end. It really did look like a model of a male human penis- albeit at what Supergirl assumed was an exaggerated size. There was a little red switch at bottom. Nervously she flicked it on.

Hmmmm

The ‘African Pleaser’ hummed into life and throbbed in Supergirl’s hand. She flicked the switch again and the beast was still. She turned it on again and experimented with twisting it slightly.

Hmmmmmmmm

The tone of the hum increased and this time the throbbing was more pronounced. Grimly satisfied that she understood dildo mechanics Supergirl turned it off and placed it by her side. Then the Maid of Steel laid back on the mattress and stuck her thumbs into her knickers. Raising her hips she pushed her panties down her legs and off. The discarded underwear was dropped off to the side to land on top of the box.

“Are you aware that every time we meet you take your knickers off?” laughed Puppet Master’s voice in her ear, “Perhaps you’re trying to tell me something!”

Supergirl was too angry to say anything back. But then it suddenly occurred to her that Puppet Master must know exactly what she was doing. How?

With a groan she then noticed three black boxes hanging from the ceiling, each topped by a small red light. The swine was recording her again!

The blonde Amazon picked up the vibrator with her right hand, whilst pulling up her skirt with her left. Nervously she placed the head of the dildo at her vagina and turned it on at the lowest setting.

“Oooooo…,” she exhaled.

Her left hand drifted to her pubic area and started massaging.

It would not have surprised Puppet Master to learn that Supergirl had never pleasured herself with anything remotely like the ‘African Pleaser’ before but she knew enough to realise that she had to get the thing inside her.

She turned the red switch further and moved it to her entrance.

Hmmmmmmmmmmmm

“Ahhhhh!” groaned the superheroine, beginning to pant.

She shifted her position and opened her legs wider. Up and notch and in.

It was big, but she could take it. Her free hand massaged some more as her right pushed as gently as possible.

“Ughhhnnnn!”

Her bottom jaw dropped open as her panting increased. She was sweating.

For a moment it didn’t seem possible to push any more in, but there were higher settings available...

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Supergirl started to work the dildo in her pussy, drawing lubrication form her insides. An inch more, then another.

“Uhhh! Yeah!”

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

She could really appreciate the quality of the construction of the thing. The pronounced ribbing could be felt thru her tight cunt. She was getting hot. Panting more.

“All the way in, Superslut!” purred the voice in her ear, “You know you want it!”

The truth was that she did.

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

“Uhhhh!” she gasped, grinding her hips as the dildo penetrated still further.

“Ahh! Ahh! Ahhh! Yeah!”

Part of her knew that she should be feeling ashamed of what was happening but a larger part craved more.

Supergirl didn’t know how much of it was in her, but it felt like a lot.

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

“Oh my God!” came the shriek.

Her left hand shot up to the top of the bedstead and grabbed it. A firm hold there, her hips working faster, her right hand moving the dildo inside her and now another setting increase.

“GOD! Yes! Yes! Fucking YES!”

Supergirl felt covered in sweat, her eyes so moist she couldn’t see. She was thrashing about wildly, incapable of thinking about anything other than the powerful beast inside her.

There was one more setting. Eagerly she flicked the switch as far as it would go.

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

She was gonna bury the whole damn thing inside her!

Her panting was now making guttural sounds, her body felt like it was about to burst into flame.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Police officers a mile away heard the scream and immediately thought that some gigantic beast had just ripped Supergirl apart. They put in a call for the SWAT team.

Back in the warehouse an exhausted Supergirl rolled onto her side, pushing out the cum-drenched dildo. As it fell to the mattress in a sloppy mess she felt suddenly empty inside.

She was gushing sweat, boiling hot and fighting to breathe.

“People call me a villain,” said Puppet Master, “But here I am giving you pleasure!”

“You’re a pervert,” gasped Supergirl, “Wallowing in depravity.”

“You just orgasmed after fucking yourself with a huge dildo and I’m the pervert! Oh, Supergirl! I think not!”

Supergirl took a deep breath and managed to sit up, noting the sticky mess she’d deposited between her thighs.

“Just tell me you’ll free Jenny!” she said wheezily.

“An hour from now you’ll have your third Babe. Goodnight, Superslut!”

Supergirl pulled the headset off and wearily got to her feet. She recovered her panties and prepared to leave. Her eyes lighted upon the ‘African Pleaser’. No point leaving it lying around for the police to find, it might lead to awkward questions. So she picked it up and took it home with her.

An hour later and another Babe was free. This time she was released near the dog-track.

But it wasn’t Jenny, it was Susie.

Susie had told a similar story to Denise and Amy. Except that from within her box she had overheard the struggle between Jenny and Puppet Master. She’d heard Jenny getting slapped and later heard her sobbing.

This news made Supergirl angrier than ever before.

“Why d’you think he released Susie and not Jenny?” asked the Police Chief next morning.

“Jenny likes me,” responded Supergirl, “She and I have made a connection. Puppet Master may be hoping to exploit that.”

“Y’know Supergirl,” the Chief went on, “I’ve been talking the department psychologist. He thinks that as we approach the final act this Puppet Master will seek to kill you, to finish this off.”

“Don’t worry about me, Chief!” said Supergirl with grim determination, “I long for the day this bully stops hiding and comes out to fight!”

“Well said, Supergirl!” smiled the cop, “Here’s the latest letter.”

Supergirl took the proffered paper.

‘Tell Superslut to put her knickers on and be in the lobby of the Cavalier Hotel at 7pm.’

“The Cavalier is quite a classy place,” said Supergirl, “Not the usual place the Puppet Master likes to play his games.”

“At that time of day the lobby will be busy. I can flood it with plain clothes guys.”

“OK, Chief! Let’s finish things with this punk!”

Supergirl was dreading the long wait till 7pm but to her surprise there was a development that afternoon that required her attendance at Police HQ. When she arrived at the Chiefs’ office here was Susie in a distressed state.

“It’s not true is it, Supergirl?” she wailed tearfully, “Is it true? Is it true that Jenny is dead?!”

These words stunned Supergirl. She glanced over at the Chief who shrugged his shoulders.

“Why do you think Jenny is dead? Have you remembered something else about your captivity?”

“No! Nothing like that! But Ms Proctor said that she was almost certainly dead and we had to think about replacing her in the band!”

“Ms Proctor is a stupid bitch!” spat Supergirl, “There is absolutely no evidence that Jenny is dead. Hopefully you’ll see her again tonight!”

Seemingly reassured Susie was taken away for a comforting coffee with a female police officer.

“Y’know Supergirl,” said the Chief in a fatherly tone, “You’ve saved three outta four. That’s pretty good going.”

“Save it, Chief!” Supergirl shot back, “I’ve saved three and I’ll save one more!”

Furious she shot out of the office and took off. Once airborne an idea struck her. She may be powerless to find Puppet Master but she could certainly give Glenda Proctor a piece of her mind. She changed direction and flew over the office of the manager.

A knock on the door brought the bodyguard.

“What are you doing here?” he said in a contemptuous manner.

“I demand to see Ms Proctor!”

For a moment it seemed that the guard would block her path. Supergirl scanned him. He had a gun in a shoulder holster.

“Let her in, Clyde!”

Reluctantly Clyde opened the door and let the superheroine in.

Glenda Proctor was sat behind a big black onyx desk. Behind her was a big TV screen playing the latest ‘Babe Explosion’ video. Supergirl’s heart gave a tug when she saw Jenny’s face on screen.

“What can I do for you?” said Glenda with false friendliness.

“You can stop frightening impressionable girls with stories about how Jenny is dead!”

Before she could go on Supergirl suddenly noticed that the desk was strewn with pictures of girls – all pretty white girls with blonde hair.

“You’re seeking to replace Jenny already!” she said outraged.

“My dear Supergirl,” said Glenda calmly, “You seem to be innocent of the ways if the world. Let me explain.”

She took a swig of some red wine.

“Jenny has been in the clutches of a gang of thugs for four days now. Unlike the others we know that she hasn’t been kept fresh in a box. How can I put this…Jenny is a good-looking blonde with great tits – something like yourself!”

“Get to the point!”

“She’s probably been raped. Gang-raped senseless.”

“She’s still worth saving!” raged Supergirl, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Worth saving? Not to me!” said Glenda smoothly taking another gulp, “Y’see girls in pop groups can be sexy, they can sleep around but they can’t be raped. Think about it. Could a rape victim successfully wear sleazy outfits and gyrate like a whore in a video? I think not!”

Supergirl was appalled.

“You are a truly disgusting human being!”

Glenda made a dismissive hand gesture and turned away.

“I’m a businesswoman. I can’t pay the mortgage on my new top floor apartment in Elliot Rogers Towers using puritan sentiment! I need to sell records, concerts and DVDs! An’ the best way to sell them is to use sexy young girls!”

The Maid of Steel was too disgusted to remain in the same room as this ghastly person. She stormed out as Clyde held the door open for her.

“See ya around, babe!” he winked with a smirk.

Supergirl’s temper still hadn’t cooled by the time she was standing in the lobby of the Cavalier Hotel. As the Chief had predicted it was busy so he supplied two uniformed officers to make sure no one troubled the pacing Supergirl.

“Oh Supergirl!” called the receptionist as the clock struck seven, “There’s a call for you.”

Warily she took the phone.

“Evening Supergirl!” sounded the voice of the Puppet Master, “Ready to play one last time?”

“Is Jenny safe?” she asked.

“Go up to Room 78. Alone.”

The phone went dead.

Supergirl told the police officers were she was going then went up in the lift. Room 78 was on the third floor. Supergirl got out there and checked the door numbers. 78 would be four doors along on the right. She went there. Outside she paused and debated forcing her way in. But until Jenny was located she was reluctant to take risks and so politely knocked.

“Come on in, girly!” said a deep voice in a friendly tone.

Supergirl gently opened the door and entered. Rising out of a chair to greet her was a powerfully built black man with a shaved head. He was wearing an expensive dark blue suit and outwardly at least seemed friendly. Supergirl glanced around the room. To the right was a big TV and the entrance to the bathroom. To the left was the bed, a double bed.

Supergirl’s blue eyes widened in shock as she now saw that surrounding the bed were three cameras on tripods. Slowly all three rotated until they were pointing at the tall blonde.

“Who are you?” Supergirl asked.

The man seemed friendly but he was big, nay huge, and Supergirl watched him like a hawk.

“Don’t you recognise him?”

The sudden sound of the voice - that hateful voice she’d heard so much recently – burst out from a mobile phone on top of the TV.

“I’m on speaker phone, Superslut! Feel free to respond!”

“No” announced Supergirl, “I don’t recognise him. And where is Jenny, damn you!”

“You’re so predictable,” sighed the Puppet Master, “I’ll go get her. Why don’t you two get acquainted?”

There was a pause then the black man moved forward.

“Nice to meet yo, Supergirl,” he smiled, “I’m disappointed yo don’t recognise me. Dat’s fame, eh? My name is Dalton Blake an’ it’ll be great to work wiv yo!”

Dalton Blake!

Now Supergirl recognised him. Dalton Blake was infamous. Until a year ago he’d been the star of the Metropolis Monarch’s defensive line. No runner got past him. But then he’d gone clubbing after a home win and seen one of the Monarchs cheerleaders. He tried to chat her up but she’d told him to get lost. Angry at the rejection Blake had followed the girl into the toilets, dragged her into a cubicle and brutally raped her. Other women had run out screaming for help. Several male staff and clubbers had gone to help but this only enraged Blake further and he was soon smashing heads in. Four cops using tazers were finally able to bring him down.

The Monarchs’ owners were desperate to protect their best player so they hired the meanest and best lawyer they could. This shyster had destroyed the poor cheerleader when she took the witness box, branding her a drunken, drug-addicted slut. Then he approached the prosecution and suggested that Blake might plead guilty to taking part in the fight. This was accepted and he got eight months.

The case caused outrage in Metropolis, especially amongst womens groups who organised protest marches. In her civilian alter ego Supergirl had taken part in one of these protests. When sponsors started pulling out the Monarchs were forced to sack Blake and his football career was over. But not his celebrity career. Blake revelled in the role of celeb bad boy and was a regular on appalling reality TV shows and trashy tabloids.

Now here he was, alone in a hotel room with Supergirl.

“Wait a minute!” said the blonde bombshell, “What do mean you’ll be working with me?”

“And I back!” announced Puppet Master over the phone, “With a little blonde friend!”

“Dis blonde don’t know how things are!” grunted Blake pointing at Supergirl, “Put her straight, bro!”

“Keen to get started, eh Mr Blake? I can guess why!”

Blake’s face changed. He looked meaner. No weapon though, noted the Girl from Krypton.

“Let me just get ready!” added Puppet Master.

Over the phone a struggle could be heard.

“You’re hurting me!” squealed Jenny.

“Tell Superslut what we’re doing!” barked the kidnapper.

“I’m on my knees again!” wailed Jenny in despair, “He has a knife at my throat!”

“Let her go, you monster!” yelled Supergirl.

“Here’s the game, Supergirl,” said Puppet Master, “Mr Blake here is looking to start a new career as a porno star. An’ you’re gonna help him by starring in his first film!”

Supergirl stared in stupefaction at the beaming Blake who was now undressing.

Dully she shook her head as the jacket, tie and shirt were removed.

The TV blazed into life. On the screen was the unwelcome face of Ched Rogers.

“Here’s tomorrows headlines, today!” he was saying, “The body of ‘Babe Explosion’ star Jenny Sawyer was this yesterday found dumped in a ditch just outside Metropolis. Post mortem showed that poor Miss Sawyer had been brutally raped and tortured before been murdered.”

The screen was suddenly full of Ched’s face.

“And all because Supergirl didn’t want to embarrass herself!”

The TV went blank again.

“Is that an accurate prediction of the future, Supergirl?” asked Puppet Master.

“What exactly are you expecting me to do here?” Supergirl, with a mounting sense of dread.

“Good question!” laughed Puppet Master, “I’m glad to see you’re taking an interest!”

Blake was now down to his trousers and they were soon off. He wasn’t wearing underwear.

“Poor Mr Blake is in need of some affection from the girls of this fair city, so you can start by sucking his dick. Then we’ll proceed to the bed for some full-on filthy depraved acrobatic inter-racial sex! How’s that grab you?”

“It strikes me as the depraved ravings of an insane pervert!”

“I knew you’d say that so here’s some extra incentive!”

Jenny screamed. A scream that was like a cold dagger thru Supergirl’s heart.

“He’s cut me!” she sobbed, “I’m bleeding!”

“It’s okay, Jenny,” sighed Supergirl, her heart pounding, “I’ll do what it takes to save you!”

“No, Supergirl!” said Jenny to Supergirl’s surprise, “He’s gonna kill me anyway! I know he will! And I’d rather die than see you humbled!”

“Control the slut!” said Puppet Master sharply to someone else with him, “I’m trying, dammit!”

“Well Supergirl,” Puppet Master said a moment later, “Do you suck cock or listen to Jenny die?”

Surrendering to the impossibility of her situation the Maid of Steel sunk to her knees.

She could hear both Blake and the Puppet Master snickering in triumph.

The shaking superheroine stared at the floor, wracking her brains for a way out of this. Of course she could overpower Blake any time she liked. But she could guarantee that the big black had no idea where Jenny or Puppet Master were. And until she got an idea about where Jenny was it was checkmate and a destiny that involved her getting naked and flat on her back while Blake humped her senseless.

The sight of two bare black feet appearing in front of her broke Supergirl’s troubled thoughts. She looked up and gave an involuntary gasp as she was greeted by the sight of Blake’s penis, swinging down between his legs, mere inches from her face. The kneeling blonde recoiled in apprehension and shock at the size of it - eight inches and still flaccid!

The night before when she’d seen the ‘African Pleaser’ Supergirl had assumed it was an exaggeration, but now it appeared that the makers had used Dalton Blake as their model!

“A year ago my dong had it’s first taste of blonde meat,” Blake smiled, “An’ it’s eager for more!”

There was whirring sound to Supergirl’s left. She glanced over and noticed all the cameras were rotating and depressing to focus on her face.

“Make sure the cameras get a good view of her face, Mr Blake!” came the voice of Puppet Master via the phone, “And take your time!”

Powerful black hands flicked Supergirl’s hair back behind her shoulders, fully exposing her face to cock and camera. Blake swayed left and right, slapping his manhood into the cheeks of the kneeling blonde. She bit her lower lip and lowered her head but a sharp tug on her hair forced her head up and drew a yelp of anguish.

“Lick my balls!”

Supergirl gave a sigh and shot a look of hatred up at Blake before leaning forward. Tentatively she had to take the hot cock in her left hand and move it up to provide access for her mouth to the swinging hairy balls. Struggling to avoid gagging the Maid of Steel kissed the chocolate-colored meat, drawing a groan of appreciation from the man towering above her. Leaning closer she used her tongue to massage the filthy hairy monstrosities.

“Chew ‘em! Carefully! If you bite I’ll get angry!”

Supergirl opened her mouth and gently took Blake balls inside and starting chewing. The taste- a hot mix of sweat, hair and rough skin – sickened her.

“No point me doing any work here!” sneered Blake as he pulled Supergirl to her right, “Work ma dick!”

Dully Supergirl noticed that this new position gave the best possible view of her face from those hated cameras. Slowly her left hand tightened it’s grip on the stiffening penis that dominated her vision and she started working on it. In response it grew.

Again Blake used his grip on her long blonde hair to yank Supergirl back.

“I know yo type,” he spat into her face, “Yo pretend to be reluctant but secretly yo wants it. Bad!”

He gave a big smile.

“Lick yo lips.”

Supergirl complied.

“An’ kiss my dick!” pushing her face into the base of his manhood.

Supergirl planted a kiss on the penis before her. At Blake’s grunted prompting she worked her way along the cock, planting kisses all the way. Supergirl found herself studying every millimetre of the organ she was serving, the way the raised veins were arranged along it’s length, the slight changes of color from light brown to dark brown to almost black. Thru her tongue Supergirl could sense the throbbing power of this beast.

She tried to blank her mind to put herself somewhere where she wasn’t kissing dick. She tried to think of Jenny.

“Hey, Supergirl!” scoffed Puppet Master, “At least your keeping your knickers on this time! So far, anyway!”

Supergirl’s super-powered hearing strained to hear anything of Jenny. Thru the phone she could hear Puppet Master snorting laughter. And there! There was the sound of Jenny, clearly sobbing. Another sound. Alternately kissing dick and licking her lips on autopilot Supergirl strained to hear the other sound at the other end of the phone.

Someone laughing. Giggling? A woman giggling?

No one else.

Blake was moving but Supergirl paid no attention.

Jenny with a man and a woman.

“Make the slut behave!” Puppet Master had said before. To who?

“See ya around, babe!” was a memory that hit Supergirl like a sledgehammer.

“Open up, girly!” yelled Blake, yanking the hair.

The shot of pain brought Supergirl back to reality as she felt the slimy taste of pre-cum fluid on her mouth. She blinked to focus and gasped as Blake jabbed his cock, purple cockhead deployed with cum winking at her, at her mouth. It was huge! It would choke her!

“See ya around, babe!”

That memory again. It meant …?

“Good grief!”

Supergirl shoved Blake back and stood up.

“I know who you are!” she blurted out to the phone, “You’re the puppet and I know-TWAKKK!”

The left-handed backhand blow from Blake took Supergirl completely by surprise. She sprawled over backwards onto the double bed, knocking over a camera as she did so. The Maid of Steel landed on her sexy ass and was trying to recover when Blake leapt on her and grabbed her boobs.

“Ahhhh!” she cried in horror and discomfort.

Gritting her teeth Supergirl made her right hand into a fist and drove it into the side of Blake’s torso. The big black grimaced in pain. And nothing else!

Roaring his lust and hate Blake grabbed Supergirl’s ankle and pulled her legs apart, planting himself between her bare thighs.

Supergirl shrieked in terror as Blake’s donkey cock swung about above her waist.

Reaching to her right Supergirl grabbed a small table lamp and hurled it at Blake’s head. It slammed into his temple, drawing blood. But he didn’t go down!

His eyes were bulging, foam coming from his mouth.

‘Heavy drug user!’ was the thought that flashed thru Supergirl’s mind.

She tried to rise but a left hook – WAKKK! - sent her head slamming back into the pillow. Stunned by the blow Supergirl was powerless to stop Blake grabbing the front of her knickers.

‘Not again!’ was the thought as Blake ripped the red panties apart.

Straightaway Blake stabbed two fingers into Supergirl’s exposed pussy making her scream in shocked pain at the unwelcome intrusion. Ostentatiously Blake pulled his fingers out, sniffed them and then licked them.

In the face of Blake’s ferocity the blonde Amazon was struggling to regain her composure. She felt tears forming in her eyes as she panicked. It was inconceivable that she could be overpowered and raped by a single ordinary human male. She was Supergirl!

Blake’s left hand shot out and grabbed Supergirl’s throat, choking her. He grabbed his cock with his right hand and loomed over the prostrate woman, positioning himself at her pussy.

Desperately Supergirl flung out her left hand and felt it latch onto a glass ashtray.

Blake’s grip was tightening! If she passed out there would nothing to stop him committing any act of depravity upon her helpless body!

With a final effort Supergirl smashed the ashtray against the bedside table and hurled it at where she imagined Blake’s cock to be.

She got lucky! Blake was a powerful man pumped up on drugs but even he was affected by having his dick sliced open. He shrieked and recoiled, releasing his grip on the blonde’s throat.

That was all Supergirl needed. She flung her legs towards the ceiling and rolled to the right. This move sent another camera flying but now Supergirl was standing up and free to fight.

With a roar Blake and his bloody penis launched at Supergirl. He was big, but he was clumsy. Supergirl feinted to the right, he fell for it and she moved to the left and unleashed her booted foot right up and into his balls.

Blake gave a strange small cry and sank to his knees. A roundhouse kick from Supergirl smacked him right in the jaw and he hit the carpet. Not taking any chances the blonde wonder picked him up and hurled him into the wall. Blake slumped to the floor and was still.

“That’s for the cheerleader you raped!” Supergirl bellowed, “And we all know you did it!”

“Are you there, Blake? What’s happening?”

Supergirl shot over to the phone whence Puppet Master’s voice was coming. She glanced around the room. In all the excitement the third camera had been knocked over. As far as what had happened in the hotel room Puppet Master was blind.

“Remember Blake,” said the voice again, “You can fuck her as hard as you like and anyway you like, but we must have a recording of it.”

Supergirl snatched up the phone.

“I’ll tell you what’s happening,” she said savagely, “Your kinky sex games are over and Supergirl is about to pay you a visit!”

Seconds later Supergirl was crashing thru the balcony window of the top floor apartment of Elliot Rogers Towers. Inside Jenny was struggling with Clyde. The big bodyguard had a large knife and he was slowly pushing the point nearer Jenny’s chest. The frightened young woman was using both hands to try to delay him, but losing.

Clyde saw a red and blue blur hurtle towards him and then a powerful blow smashed into his face. Such was the power of Supergirl’s fist that he was thrown back into the wall behind him, smacking his head and knocking him out.

Supergirl spun round to confront the other person in the room. Glenda Proctor was sat in a chair beneath three big wall-mounted TV screens.

“Well Supergirl,” Glenda said calmly, “You appear to be smarter than I thought. How did you work things out?”

“The clues were there, it just took me a while to consider them altogether. I finished doing so flying over here. At the photo shoot Jenny intimated that you are a lesbian, so how could you be having sex with a man in a cupboard when the kidnappers struck? Then why didn’t you free Jenny before Susie? And why was Jenny convinced that she was to be killed?”

Supergirl pointed at Glenda.

“Because Jenny was the only Babe to have been taken out of her box and could identify you! Then there was this moronic thug you retain as a bodyguard. Several times he used the word ‘we’ rather than ‘I’ and several times he was clearly taking instructions from someone else. Tonight I realised that person was a woman. A man and a woman connected with ‘Babe Explosion’? It had to be you. I should have seen the final piece of the puzzle earlier. This afternoon I finally heard Clyde talk. Tonight I suddenly realised it was the voice that has been tormenting me these past few days.”

Fists on hips, Supergirl looked at Glenda with what she considered to be justifiable smugness.

“The only thing I don’t get is the motivation.”

In response Glenda pressed a button on a remote control. Above her the three TV screens burst into soundless life. The one on the left showed Supergirl’s performance at the strip club. There she was, completely naked on display. In the middle the screen showed Supergirl in Warehouse 4, writhing in the throes of sexual passion as the ‘African Pleaser’ did its’ work. On the right was a close-up of Supergirl’s face as she worked her way along Blake’s cockshaft. She had her eyes closed, giving the impression that she was not only kissing the erect Negro penis but worshipping it.

“Its that it?” gasped Supergirl in disgust, “You wanted to get some kinky pictures of me to lesbo drool over!?”

“My, my,” said Glenda with rather more confidence than Supergirl expected, “Don’t we have a high opinion of ourselves?”

She laughed a nasty spiteful laugh.

“Everyone in this damned city likes you, lusts after you and loves you,” she continued, “You’re an icon – the Supergirl brand. And it’s a brand that can’t be beat. No matter how good a girl band I assemble they’ll never be as good, as popular or as hot as you. I told you I’m a businesswoman. It made good business sense to tarnish this Supergirl brand.”

Glenda jabbed a bony finger up at the TV screens.

“Tonight I’ll splice these videos together into a single downloadable file, available from my website. Once it’s live it’ll be mere minutes before everyone in Metropolis, everyone in the world, will see you as a wanton nymphomaniac slut! People will come to despise you! The Supergirl brand will be associated with all that’s depraved and sleazy in the world. This time tomorrow you’ll be lucky to be regarded as a laughing stock!”

“It’s true, Supergirl!” gasped Jenny, “Last night she made me watch that video of you taking your clothes off and she told me her intentions!”

“Calm down, Jenny my dear,” said Supergirl soothingly, “I can see a big hole in this plan – a Supergirl-sized hole!”

She flicked her hair back and looked at Glenda with contempt.

“I’ll deposit Glenda and her goon at Police HQ and then whizz back here to destroy all these filthy files. It will only take a few minutes.”

“Here’s a gun-shaped hole in your plan!” yelled Glenda, producing a pistol.

“A gun!” laughed Supergirl, “With bullets? Are you serious?”

“Bullets tipped with Kryptonite! Yes, I’m frickin’ serious!”

BLAM!

Glenda had pointed the gun at Supergirl and fired.

“NOO!” shrieked Jenny, hurling herself in front of the blonde superheroine.

“Jenny! NO!”

Jenny was hit and went down.

Supergirl roared in anger and launched herself at Glenda. The seated manager managed to squeeze off a second shot but Supergirl easily dodged it. The gun was knocked to floor and in a flash Supergirl used the arms of the chair and a nearby lamp to render Glenda immobile.

“If Jenny is dead, you’re gonna leave via a window!” Supergirl snarled.

She raced over to the prostrate Babe. There was blood on the floor!

Supergirl bent down and took Jenny in her arms.

“Supergirl…,” Jenny gasped weakly, “I couldn’t let her shoot you! I love you!”

Waves off relief engulfed Supergirl as she saw that Jenny had merely a scratch on her forehead from a grazing bullet.

“You silly little thing!” Supergirl laughed, “I’m Supergirl! I can dodge bullets! I was never in danger from that evil woman!”

“Oh…” said Jenny, deflated.

“But thank you for the help!” smiled Supergirl, planting a kiss on Jenny’s cheek.

She picked the wounded Babe up in her arms and carried speedily to the nearest hospital.


Three days later Supergirl visited Jenny in her private hospital room.

“Supergirl!” Jenny squealed from her bed, “I’m so pleased you’ve come!”

“I was always planning to check up on you,” replied the Maid of Steel, “I was just waiting till you’d finished all those police and TV interviews.”

“Is everything sorted now?”

“Everything! That oaf Ched Rogers claimed that he was duped into making that spoof broadcast. I doubt it, but can’t prove otherwise. Dalton Blake is in another room of this hospital with a fractured skull and several broken bones. Would you believe he wanted to have me arrested for assault! As if! He can’t be charged with anything but at least he won’t be attacking any women for quite some time.”

Supergirl sat on the bed and tenderly took Jenny’s hand.

“Most importantly Clyde and Glenda Proctor have been charged with four counts of kidnapping and false imprisonment. I persuaded the Chief to add a charge of wounding for Clyde for when he cut you. They’ll be in prison for quite a while. Glenda Proctor will bully no more young women!”

“And those videos? Those horrible videos of you?” Jenny asked nervously.

“Destroyed!” was the triumphant response.

“Oh Supergirl give me a hug!”

The women embraced. Supergirl felt Jenny’s right hand smoothly move down her back, over and then up her skirt.

“Jenny!” Supergirl said firmly, “You’re injured and confused….”

“No!” said Jenny calmly, “I said I love you and I meant it. I love you and I want you.”

Supergirl gazed at Jenny’ full red lips as they parted invitingly. She leaned forward and they kissed. Together their mouths opened and tongues emerged to explore the hot mouth of the other. Jenny had a firm hold of Supergirl’s butt cheek and now her left hand moved to squeeze the superheroine’s right breast.

With a look of surprised delight Supergirl pulled back.

“Horny little thing, ain’t ya?” she giggled, “I don’t think even Blake was this keen to have sex with me!”

Jenny suddenly looked troubled.

“I have a confession to make,” she said quietly, “When Glenda showed me the video of you in that strip club part of me enjoyed it.”

Supergirl merely laughed.

“Consider yourself forgiven!” she smiled, “And perhaps later I could give a second show, this time just for you!”

Jenny glanced over to the door.

“The nurse won’t be back for a while,” she whispered, “And this is a big bed!”

Supergirl laughed but shook her head.

“Too risky.”

Jenny looked downcast.

“But,” continued Supergirl, “You look well enough to come round to my place for dinner tonight. If you want to that is?”

A beaming Jenny nodded assent.

“Yes! Assuming of course that there’s a big bed at your place?”

“There is!” smiled Supergirl, “But first I’ll show you’re a little African souvenir I’ve kept from this adventure and been using for the past two nights. I reckon you’ll find it quite pleasing!”

The two women laughed and embraced.

THE END