Supergirl Captured by the Mob 15  

By Dr. Dominator

Supergirl Captured by the Mob

Part 15 - Sergei's Rule and Tony's Tool

By Dr. Dominator

Note: The Supergirl character and name are the property of DC Comics. Tony Bonano and his crew as well as Sergei Zhukovia are properties of Dr. Dominator and cannot be used without permission. This story is simply meant as entertainment and should be read only by consenting adults of 18 years or older. Violence and rape are never an answer to any situation.

Huge triangles of glass are falling from the sky. The man across the street is shockingly decapitated by one of them as it spears into the hard lead surface of the roadway. His headless body collapses like doll. A shower of smaller glass splatters on Kara's head and she ducks into an overhanging doorway to escape the lethal downpour of shimmering crystals. Supergirl is back in Argo City reliving its destruction by meteorites at the tender age of 12. Her world is coming to a devastating end and there is nothing she can do about it. She has to make it home to see her parents for the last time. Ever. She is crying, her tears washing freely over her face. But its more than tears. It feels like rain. A splattering of thick drops hitting her face. But it doesn't rain in Argo....

Supergirl awakes to the light splashing of water being flicked in her face.

"Ah, so now she is awake. Good. I was to be thinking she never would come out of this beauty sleep of hers."

"...whuhhhh...."

"Good morning, sweetheart. It is past eight a.m. now. You should be up and facing the day already." A smiling man with a round face, widely-set pale gray-blue eyes and closely cropped blonde hair is squatting not more than two feet from Supergirl. His fingers are dripping from the large bottle of water he's splashed into his palm and onto her face. The sluggish teenager strapped into the padded bondage chair looks into his eyes and sees a coldness there that gives her the slightest shiver.

What fresh hell is this?

"My name is Sergei Zhukovia." The blond Russian stands up and begins to pace. He is tall and lean. His dark brown suit seems a little large for him. "You, of course, are the eminent Supergirl. I am knowing you from television, newspapers and many Internet websites which display you in compromising positions without your permission, yes?"

Tony and Carmine smirk off to the side, leaning against the wall. Stevie zooms in on Supergirl's face as she takes this remark with a scowl.

"...i....guess...."

"Oh, believe me, Supergirl, this is the truth. I have done some research already while you were taking this nap of yours." Sergei stops for a moment and takes a long gulping drink from the quart container of spring water he's holding. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he continues. "Your face is being put on bodies not yours and manipulated in ways you yourself would be horrified to be seeing. Most unpleasant for you to be so crudely used I would think. Shameful, yes?"

"..i've..no..control over...that..er...stuff..." This conversation is already crazy. Who is this guy?

"Yes, is true, but is still demeaning, no?"

"...no...well...yes...i..mean...I've heard about it...but...but...What do you want?"

"Me. Only to serve you, my kraceevo divooshka."

"....crah..seevo..what..?"

"It is to mean beautiful girl. I am Russian as you are probably already knowing from my accent and face, yes?"

"Yes. I have been to your country," says Supergirl, coming to her full senses slowly. She is very tired and feeling sick. She needs a hit of crack too. It's been too long. "The Russian people I have met have been very nice," she states pointedly.

"Yes, but I am afraid I am not so much nice as those you encountered. This you will be discovering too soon, my blonde...toy." Sergei takes another long pull on the spring water as a startled Supergirl absorbs his insult.

"Toy? So rude so quickly. I see you like to get to the point, Mr. Zhukovia. Throwing that...pornography in my face the moment we meet. Name calling. What's next, beatings, more drugs, torture? Why are you here?" The frustrated champion speaks louder now, talking to Tony across the room, "What's his specialty, Mr. Bonano?"

Sergei turns to Tony and says for all too hear, "Did you not say this bitch was tamed?"

Sheepishly, Tony responds. "I said she was hooked. She's got a spirit that's...very strong. I'm sorry, Sergei, I...thought she'd be less...aggressive by now."

"No apology is necessary, Tony Bonano. None at all. This is not even an inconvenience. It is pleasure," he turns back to the girl bound into the chair beside him giving her a wolfish smile that makes the teenager gulp. "I am liking my new job already!" He takes a protracted gulp of water and twists the top back on.

Rao, what has my mouth gotten me into now? And what's with this guy and his water? "So, even after all I am told you have been through, you have a spark of fire in you still, my dear divooshka. That is too sad for you. Let me explain to you who I am, and who you are, and what our relationship is to be." The lean and dangerous man kneels down close beside her, his arm covering hers lightly. His palm is on her wrist, fingering the plastic zip tie.

Supergirl turns her head and looks at him with a dead calm that surprises herself. She is past the point of despair, she thinks. They will do what they will do.

"They call me The Mad Bear. This is a nickname I do not mind. I believe it is one that I have earned by my temper and my many bad behaviors. Much of my madness has been visited on young, pretty women just like yourself." While holding her wrist gently, the quietly reasonable man with the pronounced accent and cold eyes slides his hand over Supergirl's breast. She takes an involuntary breath and by doing so her chest rises to meet the man's palm as it slowly glides over the silky blue fabric. The only sound in the room is the tiniest whine of a motor as one of Stevie's many cameras closes in for a tight shot of the hand as it leisurely passes back and forth over the Maid of Steel's chest.

"So, you go from verbal insults to physical assault in, what, two minutes, Mr. Zhukovia? Mr. Bonano, your friend has the manners of a....

WHACK!

The blonde beauty's face snaps to left with Sergei's harsh backhand. She blinks twice, silence and chastened.

"I am the one speaking, cunt! Apparently these manners of which you speak must be learned by both of us, nyet?" Supergirl turns her face back toward him, glowering but silent. His hand is poised for another slap. The Maid of Steel remains quiet, the fire in her eyes damped down.

"Yes, well, anyway, these beautiful women of whom I am speaking were quite proud of their big tits just as I am sure you are," the man's hand returns to the Supergirl's breast and squeezes the ample flesh under his hand slowly savoring the hefty width and weight of its lovely shape. The blonde heroine grimly sets her jaw and stares at the man with bright anger as he calmly molests her wide, easily accessible bosom. With her arms and legs pinned by the zip ties to the bondage chair, Supergirl is powerless to do anything but glare.

"As you may appreciate, the joy these women felt about their breasts was very much in evidence. Bouncing from here to there in their small villages, playfully displaying their cleavages in low cut blouses during the brief Russian summer. I also see them letting their boyfriends play with their teats in the dark corners of seedy bars as even now I am doing for you." Sergei's hand squashes Supergirl's right breast like a wide, fat loaf of dough, creasing the fabric and wrinkling the red and yellow S without a shred of respect. Then he works the flat nipple with his fingers, rolling it and pressing it with his fingertips until it grows and stiffens with constant attention, despite the seething anger of the girl now staring daggers at him.

"Anyway, my job at that time was to keep the fathers of these lovely bosomy girls in line, getting them to pay the protection money on time, collecting all the money from their gambling debts, you know this work of which I speak, yes?"

"You were a two-bit thug threatening violence against the innocent."

At the wall, Tony's breath whistles through his teeth at this remark.

Sergei doesn't even frown. He continues to fondle and caress the blonde heroine's breasts, working her other nipple now to an aroused state. He pauses for just a moment, thinking, as he looks at the obviously tented fabric of Supergirl's tight blue blouse. Her alluring figure is accented to its maximum from his attentions.

"No. Not innocent," Sergei responds calmly. "Not most. But yes, I was thug. You have hit nail right on its head as they say. Smart girl. I am liking your tremendous courage in the face of your hopeless situation. You will make an excellent whore for me and my friend Tony and his friend Carmine."

"If you think I'll be your...OWW!" Supergirl yelps as her aroused nipple is crushed beneath pincer-like fingertips. "Ohhh....Aaaghhh..." She winces in bright tear-filled agony as his fingertips turn white while he compresses her nipple below the tightly creased fabric.

"Shhhh! Nyet! You are to be silent now. Sergei is still talking. I explained the rule. I will let you know when it is permissible for you to speak. You get me? You will comply, yes?"

"...ahhhh....yeh...yesss...." she whimpers. It has been quite some time since she'd experienced pain in Tony's training. Unequaled heights of ecstacy yes. But pain, that had been a bad memory that has just been brought to the agonizing here and now.

Sergei releases the nipple and now it is Supergirl's teeth through which a sharp breath is whistling. Tiny tear tracks mark their slow journey down her temples as she grimaces in pain. Sergei stops to take yet another long drink of water before he continues his talk.

"Well, let me make this long story short," Sergei says leaning against the bondage chair now, one arm casually draped over the right arm of the chair, his head resting on it, not even two feet away from the distraught heroine's face. "The girls, like you, treasured their sensitive neeples so when I threatened to cut them off with a pair of electrician's wire cutters unless their fathers paid every rouble they owed, you can imagine how they went flouncing and jiggling to their papas in tears. Most of the men paid, of course. Nobody wants to marry a girl with no neeples, yes? It takes such delight away from the experience of fucking a beautiful young treasure. You yourself know the thrill the neeples produce, no?"

Sergei puts his right hand into his pants pocket and pulls out a pair of red-rubber-handled wire cutters that he holds up in front of Supergirl's face. Her eyes go wide and she stops breathing as he waves them casually in the air before her, mesmerizing her with fear as he speaks. "Some of the fathers were hard men and stupid. Whether the girls were their stepdaughters or the fathers did not like them or were too greedy or too dumb to realize that 'The Mad Bear' does not bluff, I don't know. However, three otherwise pretty girls are walking around the small city of Rostov today without neeples because of their idiotic fathers. That I do know."

Supergirl's body shrinks away from the blond Russian's hand as it suddenly reaches out and grabs her right breast, squeezing it firmly so the protruding nipple is extended through the silky blue material. He pushes the wire cutters against her covered breast, the open blades on either side of the raised nub beneath the cloth, the shining edges pressing against the base of the nipple ever so slightly, ready to do their horrific chore. Supergirl's eyes are like saucers. Her lip is quivering and sweat is streaming down her face.

"So, what I need to know from you, darlink Supergirl, is just how smart you are. You say that I am liking to get to the point, yes? Okay, so, here is point. If you agree with me right here, right now that you are, in fact, a whore who is ready to work for me in any way that I demand, than you can keep your neeples. Please to remember, as I mentioned, I am not a bluffing man. So, you are whore, yes?"

Not even a pause! "....y..yes..." With her eyes glued to the wire cutters, the blonde teen dares not move a muscle.

"Please to say it loud so all in room can hear. 'I am Sergie's and Tony's and Carmine's whore.'"

"...I...am..a...whore..." she is trembling badly now, her nerves completely shot.

"For?" Sergie tightens his grip on the handles of the wire cutters and teases the nipple through the fabric with the tiniest nudge.

"...for Sergei...and...and Tony...an...an..and Carmine...." Supergirl stutters, then bites her lower lip to stop it, and then looks at the Russian's face with pleading eyes. The pale glaciers she sees under his heavy Slavic lids reflect a cold, wind-blasted terrain that remind the terrified teen of the Siberian wasteland she has flown over in the past. She sees him hesitate and shudders despite herself. A small, dark yellowish spot blooms suddenly in her crotch but nobody notices. Sergei abruptly smiles and pulls the small tool away.

"Excellent. We have established a crystal clear understanding of everybody's status, yes? I am looking forward to be working with you as your personal pimp, Supergirl." Sergei stands up and looks down on the devastated blonde champion strapped helplessly in the chair before him. "You will find that I am treating my girls very fairly when they do as they are told. You are the best specimen of everything feminine that I have ever seen. Sweet girl." The Russian madman starts to walk over to Tony to shake his hand and seal the deal. "Many men will be paying for the privilege of knowing you intimately. That I assure you, my pretty friend. In fact..." Sergie stops in mid-stride and turns around. He walks over to where he was before and stands over the morose teen as she slowly breathes in and out, trying to regain her composure after her humiliating subjugation. "...I cannot resist you myself, my young divooshka Already between us there are feelings that I can't help but express in my own way." Saying this, Sergei opens his fly and pulls out his penis. It is not hard, yet, but as the Maid of Steel looks up at the ample sized organ in the Russian's hand, she knows when it is hard it will be formidable. She looks away, turning her head in anguish and thinking she is to be raped yet again. Her body is now crying out for crack. At least if they give her a pipe, she should be able to take Sergei's penetration without it being....

"Ugghhh!" I'm wet!

"What the hell..." Supergirl thinks Sergei spilled his bottle somehow. But when she turns her head to see why her chest is suddenly warm and damp she finds herself sprayed in the face by a warm arc of yellow piss streaming from Sergie's waving prick! "AUWK...(sputter)..." Some of it actually gets in her mouth which she spits out with a flustered raspberry of utter shock and disgust.

"I can't help but express how I feel about you, Supergirl," Sergei declares loudly.

His stream is directed at her belly now and her famous costume is shamelessly darkened and made transparent by his rank watering. A pass over her crotch thoroughly soaks her skirt and panties.

"Yeeaghh.....ohhh....eeeeyeeuuuwww...." Supergirl flails helplessly in the chair, straining against the tight, unyielding zip ties as she endures this miserable shower of shame.

Moving to her bare legs, the yellow rain sprays all over her thighs, her calves, her boots. Piss even trickles down inside the boots leaving the mortified blonde with damp warm spots between her toes.

"What's the matter, Supergirl? Feeling piss poor?" Carmine calls from across the room.

Chuckling, Sergei says, "Everybody is comedian in America. I love it!" He waves his penis and continues the downpour of despair. Moving back up her body, the steady stream now drenches her chest again, flooding over her flawless shape and clearly accenting every curve within the urine-soaked red and blue costume. And still the seemingly endless dousing continues. Turning her head so she doesn't take anymore piss in her mouth, Supergirl now feels piss raining down all over her blonde hair. The oversized water bottle now made all the sense in the world!

"..aagh...eeeeh...yeechhh..." Streams of his warm water drain down her face and her neck and she shakes herself like a dog. The hosing moves back down to her chest and Sergei aims his venomous attack at the red and yellow diamond shape on Supergirl's chest. It splatters and splashes against the famous emblem without a break for a full ten seconds and then, finally, the stinking yellow stream slows and stops. He shakes the final drops onto Supergirl's body and puts his dick back in his pants.

Supergirl slowly lifts her head and looks up at the Russian in complete and utter submission as he stands before her, his hands on his hips in a withering imitation of her classic power stance. "Now I have made it absolutely obvious to you, whore, that no longer are you the famous and powerful Supergirl striding like a colossus in defense of her planet. Now you are nothing but a lowly piss-soaked crack whore! Nothing but a pathetic blonde skank who will fuck and suck and give up her ass to any and everybody I tell her to, yes?"

"..y...yes..." Supergirl lowers her head. Lying there with her body drenched to the skin with this Russian's putrid urine, her skirt draped between her thighs and dripping on the floor with loud, repetitive humiliating drops, the blonde teenager's soul is absolutely shattered by this ultimate disgrace. The resistance is crushed. The point is made. She will do what she is told. She hopes to Rao that the crack comes soon. She needs a lot of it to make her feel better after this. Pipes and pipes and pipes of the stuff.

From the other side of the room, Tony walks over to the bondage table and takes out a hose and a small rubber triangular face mask from a lower level drawer. Unseen by the depressed, blankly oblivious blonde, Tony connects one end of the hose to a small brass circular outlet recessed into the stone and the other to a small input hole in the rubber mask. He gets behind Supergirl's head and quickly slips the mask's rubber bracing strap over her head while he presses the rubber triangle against her face. The urine actually helps create a better seal as the blonde girl's eyes dart around in shock as Tony firmly presses her head against the chair's headrest. Pressing a release valve on the mask, Tony hears a loud hissing as the clear triangle fills quickly with bright, glowing green kryptonite gas.

"...noohhhhh....dohnnnnnn'ttt...." Struggling feebly, the defenseless heroine can't fight the gas, the glowing dildo in her butt, the zip ties or her exhaustion for more than a quarter of a minute. After that, the soaked, limp body slumps lower in the chair and emits a long sigh that closely mirrors the sound of the escaping gas moments before. In with the bad air, out with the good.

Tony stands up and says, "Stevie," he calls into the control room, "Sorry, man, but you have to clean her up. She's finally ready for Phase Two." Stevie quickly comes out of the control room, looking over at the defeated figure strapped into the bondage chair five feet away. His eyebrows go up at the sight. Seeing it on a monitor was one thing. But this was Supergirl he's looking at in real life. And she'd just been hosed down like a skank in a five-dollar porn video.

Fuckin' unbelievable!

"We'll go over how to transition her while she's asleep from the dildo to her control disc. Hey, look at it this way, you get to fondle her and grope her as much as you like while she's in the shower stall. She won't know the difference. She'll be out for at least three or four hours."

"No problem, Tony. She'll be clean as a whistle. Especially her tits and twat. I'm gonna soap them up real good!" Stevie looks at the piss-drenched figure with a mix of amazement and disgust, but shrugs his shoulders and gets to work.

"Sergei, why don't we talk in my office while Stevie gets our young friend ready during the next few hours."

"Certainly, Tony. The pleasure is mine. You have Vodka?"

"I can arrange that."

"Da, well, then let's go and talk and drink, my friend!"

Carmine looks at the unconscious beauty on the chair in the middle of the jail cell as Stevie removes the mask and hose from her angelic face, now dripping with Sergie's marking scent. "Like I said, toast." He shakes his head in wonder as he walks into the control room.

It is almost noon on the fourth day after Supergirl's capture by Tony Bonano and his crew. The powerful and beautiful champion that the world was just beginning to miss is an emotional and physical wreck. But you wouldn't know it right now to look at her lying on the bed in a room hidden deep within Tony's headquarters. At first glance the most powerful teenage girl on the planet could be said to look as good as ever. Her lustrous hair is fanned out on the bed over a pink silk pillow. Her face is slack in sleep, but even without the informing beauty of her personality to enliven it, hers is still one of the most angelic faces a man's gaze might fall upon. The only flaw here involves the dark circles that fill the shallow hollows under her eyes. Trouble curls there for sure. Nevertheless, her uniform is spotless, tightly hugging every curve with not a hint of the abuse the fabric had taken over the past four days. Her cape is secured to her collar and drapes over her thigh, a sensual accent to her bare, flawless skin. Her breasts rise and fall slowly as she lies curled up on the bed in the undisturbed bliss of sleep without dreams. Her boots shine brightly, too, unscuffed in eye-dazzling red..

Indeed, Supergirl is a sight to behold and, so she is, because cameras hidden throughout the room are carefully trained on the sleeping beauty. But all good things must come to an end and slowly the lovely Maid of Steel returns to consciousness. Stirring from her slumber, Supergirl lifts her head and the signs of her emotional wreckage become instantly apparent as her eyes dart back and forth like a frantic fox mere yards ahead of the baying hounds as the blonde heroine begins trying to make sense of her situation. Five days earlier, this girl upon waking would not look panicked or drawn, not have the frenzied air of desperation, not be trembling and shaking in the need for drugs to relieve her unbreakable desire to be high on crack. Four days ago she would have been a superheroine simply waking up from a nap. That life was gone!

"Where am I?" The blonde teenager turns her head and looks around the room nervously, with the jerky static motions of a junkie in need. "Where's Tony? I need a hit of crack right away! It feels like its been forever!" She springs off the bed and seeing a door, walks over and pounds on it loudly. She has no idea that the room she is in is accessible only by the private elevator that lies behind this door. Tony had converted an old freight elevator into a posh leather padded conveyance to his private bedroom. The door she's pounding on is the sole entry and exit point for the room.

"Hey, Mr. Bonano, sir? Hello! I'm in here and I'm waiting for my crack pipe!"

Where is everybody when you need them? I don't see anybody hanging around ready to fuck me! Where's that Stevie guy? Or Carmine even. I bet that Russian dude, Sergei, can get me some crack. He's supposed to be my pimp....

Supergirl stops pounding on the door and looks down at herself.

"Hey! I'm clean! No stains, no crusty crap scraping my thighs, no cum on my skirt, and no piss on me anywhere!" Pulling her hair to her nose, Supergirl takes a deep breath and smiles for the first time in since she got high with Randy. "Gee, my hair smells terrific!"

And there was something else! She feels pretty powerful. She's wondering if maybe she can actually break this door down and find all that lovely crack herself. With all she's been through, her full powers haven't returned but she looks at a box of tissues by the bed and stares at it for a moment. Concentrating, she's focusing all her attention on the side of the box. "250 count." Finally a wisp of smoke trails up and then the entire box goes up in flames.

"Yes!" She pumps her fist. It took a while but she definitely had some of her special abilities back. She grabs the flaming box, runs into the bathroom with it and drops it in the sink. Opening the tap, she splashes water all over the small conflagration and sighs happily. She actually skips out of the bathroom, heading for the door, saying, "Now let's see just how str...UUNGH!"

In mid-skip, she falters badly from a sudden head-crushing headache and swooning dizziness and trips forward, falling flat on her face against the deep-pile pale yellow carpet with which she is now quite familiar with, since it's poking into her left nostril.

"....ohhhhh...." she moans. "That was a surprise."

"I'm continually surprised myself, Supergirl, about just how blonde you are!" Tony's voice emanates from a speaker in the ceiling. "Is there no bottom to the depths of your stupidity?"

"I have my days," she groans, putting her hands against the floor and struggling to her knees. Bastards did it to me again! "Where's the kryptonite, sir?"

"It's a special control disc hidden beneath the attachment to your cape, precious. And I wouldn't fuss with it. The explosive charge would send dozens of shards of kryptonite into your neck and the base of your skull. I doubt you'd live through it."

"Neato. Hey, let me ask you something, Mr. B. This is pretty classy stuff for a guy like you. You sure you're not getting extra help?" Struggling gamely, Supergirl gets herself to a sitting position, propping herself against the bed with a grunt and a thump.

"Help?"

"Mad scientist types? Evil geniuses? High school science fair winners with a grudge?" Sitting in a sick funk on the carpet with her back against the bed, Supergirl tries to gather her strength but cannot find it within her to even attempt standing up. Just as depleting as the anal dildo without the embarrassment. I guess that's progress.

"Well, just the deutronium formula. That was Lex Luthor's. He says hello."

"Swell...a parting gift from ole Lex. What more could a girl ask for?"

"She could ask for a nice hit from a crack pipe."

"You're the one with the cameras, Mr. B. You know I've already made that request when I pounded on the door. Let's not be coy."

"Well, it's just that I never get tired of hearing a former superhero asking for a crack pipe. It's probably something I'm obliged to do from the archvillian's handbook. Sorry, I'm babbling. I'll be right in with it, dear."

"I'm not going anywhere." I wonder if anybody's looking for me? Kal, Diana? Barbara? Anybody out there? I could sure use a little help here. Brushing away a tiny tear,the blonde teenager takes a deep sigh and moans slightly. "Where's that man with the good stuff?"

It takes ten minutes before Tony unlocks the outer door of the special elevator and strides into the special bedroom he's constructed. Walking around the bed, he see's Supergirl lying on her side with her face pressed deep into the pale yellow pile. Her eyes are fluttering under half-closed lids and she's twitching and shaking badly. Tony immediately calls out, "Stevie. Aperture at 3.5 now please."

"Check. 3.5. Tony," the speaker responds.

"Let's get you up, sweet thing." He sits down next to the girl with his back against the bed and pulls the dead weight blonde back to a sitting position and holds her there with his arm around her shoulder. "Sorry, Supergirl. I'm still learning the intensity values of this deutronium kryptonite alloy. It's just so powerful, you know. Well, look who I'm talking to, Who else would know better than you?"

The swooning girl rolls her head on her shoulder and it flops toward Tony so that her eye is level with his mouth. She looks up at him through that eye with dull frustration. "...yuh...gotta work....on your...dosages....Mr. B. Or...yuh're....gonna...kill...me..." With effort, she straightens her head up and shudders in his grasp. "Anyway.....then...you won't have...your cash cow to kick around..." She sighs as the control disc under her cape exposes her to a fraction of the previous amount of kryptonite she'd absorbed over the past ten minutes. She feels at least some measure of her energy returning. No powers but no devastating waves of crippling radiation. Just this nasty case of nausea.

"True enough. Spoken like a practical business woman. Have you ever considered..."

"Hold that thought," the blonde goes pale, holding up her forefinger. She actually crawls rapidly on her hands and knees to the bathroom. Tony remains sitting on the carpet in surprise, until he hears the sound of heavy vomiting echoing off the tiles in the other room.

"Hmmmm. She's right. I gotta start keeping charts on these things! That was Randy's job but he's gone and Sergei doesn't seem like the type. What to do?"

After a couple of minutes of retching and then one more of silence, the bathroom doorway is abruptly filled by Supergirl. She's leaning against the frame with one arm holding her up while the other holds her forehead as she shakes her head.

"Toothpaste?" She arches an eyebrow at Tony.

"Under the sink. New package. Spared no expense."

"Fuck you, SIR!" She closes the door with a thump and he chuckles aloud.

Five minutes later, the beautiful blonde teen trudges out of the bathroom and sits on the plush pink satin comforter at the very end of the bed with her hands clasped between her thighs. She looks over at Tony, who is now sitting up in the bed leaning on a cushioning pillow against the headboard, his own hands clasped in his lap as well.

"Can I please have my crack now, Mr. B?"

Tony rubs his chin, slowing massaging his lower lip with his forefinger.

"Of course, but you have to do something for me first."

"Let me guess. You want to fuck me, don't you?" A small voice resigned to her fate.

"Actually, no."

"No?"

"No I want something more elaborate."

"What? You want me to write a recommendation letter for your son's application to Yale?"

Laughing outright, Tony looks over in surprise at this incredible beauty with her sardonic wit. Of course, sarcasm was just anger turned inward, but it was a secret pleasure of his to hear it bandied about so well. This could be a fucking great year with this broad! She certainly was going to be storing up a lot of anger.

"No, that's not it. Although.....No, never mind. He's not going to make it in anyway."

"I'm sure you could donate a new wing for their student union. That would get the dumb prick through the door."

More laughter. "You're probably right. Ah, let him rot at UCONN."

"I hear they have a great basketball team. What do you want, Mr. Bonano?" The jerking roving eyes tells Tony her level of desperation for the crack is peaking again.

"A lap dance and a blow job."

"...is that all..." she mumbles, taken aback.

"That's all. And both of them done very well."

"And I get the pipe right after that? No waiting?"

"You get the pipe right after that. Scout's honor," he says holding his hand up in the boyscout salute.

"You were no fucking boy scout, Tony, sir."

That's okay, You're girl scout enough for both of us. Now let me get myself situated in that nice comfortable armchair over there and you can sell me some cookies."

Sitting in a comfortable, modern armchair with a glass of cognac in hand with a end table beside him, Tony looks up at the ceiling and says,"Stevie. Would you please pump in some music to help set the mood for us. That Police CD, 'Every Breath You Take' should do nicely. Okay with you...say, what is your real name anyway?"

Supergirl's eyes flame with sudden anger. "Four days you've been fucking me and doing every despicable action you and your filthy friends can think up and now you want to know my fucking real name? Isn't that just so Middle America, apple pie, flag waving, fourth of July decent of you!" Her voice cracks with the tension and fear that's suddenly welled up inside of her like a flash flood in a very dry desert. "Let's just get this over with so you can get your rocks off and I can get my pipe."

"Settle down, BITCH!" He reaches up and slaps Supergirl's face with a hard forehand that knocks her back a step. She looks down at him sitting there, wavering on weak knees and glares. "Don't make me get Sergei in here to control you. I was just asking for a short form of your name so I don't have to keep saying 'Supergirl' all the time. Especially since you're obviously not so super. Skank is nice and short. You want that for a name? Maybe I should give you a professional name like Cherry LaTush. Like that one? You're creative, you come up with something the customers will like."

"Don't kid yourself, Mr. Bonano," Supergirl snaps back, standing with one hand on her hip, the other waving at her incredible shape with a sweep of her hand. "Look at me. Look at this body! The customers are going to want to be saying the name Supergirl a dozen times over because that will help them keep their erections going as they nail the famous heroine. Isn't that right? Isn't that what this is really all about? My 'real' name is the last thing you or any one of the degenerates you'll be selling me out to is going to want to know or care about. It's the costume they're fucking. I'm just the goddam body inside it!"

"Stevie. Give me a 4.2 on the aperture."

"Oh, right. Let's just fuck up the troublesome whore before she...ohhh....hurts...uuhhhhh.. ...the... ..b...big..m..m..man..." Supergirl collapses to the floor onto her knees. "Damn..you... Tony... Bonano...damn...you...to...hell..." She falls face first on the carpet with a grunt and lies there, eyes open, crying openly.

"Hey, princess," Tony says, his voice softening as he watches the sorry creature weep quietly in her despair, "I...I know you're hurting. I was just trying not to keep throwing the name in your face all the time. I really do like your style."

Gauging her weakness as progressed enough, Tony calls out. "Aperture 3.5, Stevie."

"Check. 3.5."

"And your sense of humor is dynamite. It's not just the costume. But yes, it's business, too. I won't lie. You know it. I know it. You're worth millions from the discs we've collected already. The thing is, this is going to last a year. That's all. Then I'm letting you go. I'm using you for a stepping stone to run my own family. Then we're done as far as I'm concerned.

"..no harm, no foul?"

"Right."

Getting back to her knees, she groans, steadies her self and sits back on her haunches.

"That's such bullshit I can't believe even you believe it, Mr. B. Just because I have super powers and can recover from all this torture," she brings her arms up with a sweep to indicate everything she just went through. "...then spending a year as a crack whore doesn't mean much? You're delusional. Call me Linda. That's fine. But we're not compatriots or friends or associates or acquaintances, sir. I am your sexual victim and your pretty little tool to get what you want. At least until I can escape or maybe just die in some cheap bordello from an overdose or abuse from one of your overeager johns. So let's do each other a favor and keep it real and I won't puke on your shoes from disgust at some phony friendship. Now, the hell with the lap dance, let me have your prick and I can get my crack that much faster!"

With that Supergirl rocks forward on her knees in front of Tony as he sits in shocked silence at her anger, her clear thinking and her actions. Her hand reaches over and she zips open his fly. And then Supergirl pulls out his limp tool and goes to work on it with a vengeance.

End of Chapter 15

If you like this series or have feedback that you'd like to share, you can contact the author at drdominator9@live.com

Supergirl Captured by the Mob part 15