Supergirl Captured by the Mob 17  

By Dr. Dominator

Supergirl Captured by the Mob

Part 17 - First Big Night in the New Digs

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.

Back and forth, to and fro, the anxious barefoot blonde teen wrings her hands, licks her lips and paces her plush new living quarters like a jungle cat at feeding time. Supergirl's bare feet don't even leave footprints in the carpet, the pile is that deep. The lovely blonde is wearing nothing but a pink satin body-hugging teddy under a pink terry cloth robe and, around her neck, a pink choker with a small oval kryptonite crystal inset securely within a unbreakable nylon web band. The crystal is large enough to keep the pacing teen powerless but not nauseated. The band had been "provided" by Tony after he took away her costume for cleaning.

That been two hours ago. And the physical cravings were really bad now. The blonde teen hadn't had any crack since just before Carmine and Sergei had subdued her back in the bedroom in Tony's warehouse in Brooklyn somewhere. She had wanted some crack right after she'd been taken out of the crate but that hadn't happened. Supergirl had been simply hustled up from the basement of what appeared to be a badly neglected warehouse to the upper floor of the building via a small private elevator. The little elevator was surprisingly nicer than she expected, given the state of the vast, dark, leaky area where they'd opened the crate in which she'd been transported.

But the elevator cab was nothing compared to the room that she was now in. A luxury suite with every possible amenity greeted her when the door slid open. The plush carpet, a pale sea green color with white and dark blue floral accents throughout, gave the room a sense of relaxation as soon as you entered. The living area was wide open, a converted factory floor that spread out at least 25 feet in width with a huge, elegant pale beige leather contemporary sectional dominating the space. A glass and brass coffee table had recent issues of City Living, Smithsonian, New York and Architectural Digest magazines fanned out in perfect order. The New York Times and Wall Street Journal were also squared up to the table's edge. A beautiful sea green vase with a floral arrangement consisting of orange birds of paradise, tulips and lilies was set on a matching glass sofa table behind the couch. Original watercolors, oils and framed posters gave the eye beautiful views of Tuscan landscapes, Grecian churches and Parisian cafes.

"I can't wait to get these freaking dildos out of...." Supergirl had stopped in mid-thought when the elevator door opened. A room like this in the South Bronx? If the door had opened onto the reddish dusty surface of Mars she couldn't have been more shocked. The word dildo did not belong within a city block of this room! "What is this?" Her blurted question is returned by a smile from Tony Bonano.

"This is your suite, Supergirl, during your stay with us."

"Shut Up!"

"It's true. It's all yours. We've stocked the fridge in the kitchen area there with plenty of tasty treats from fresh fruit and salads to cold cuts and cheeses. There's wine and beer and stronger stuff over there in the bar," he says pointing off to a built in wall unit complete with drop down bar, a 50-inch wide-screen LCD television and Bang and Olafson music system. "We want you to be comfortable here. And we want those people who we've invited to meet you to be comfortable as well. Now why don't you take advantage of the bathroom back in that direction and freshen up. The shower's got a pulsing spray with 5 settings. We'll be right here when you get back. There are clothes that are your size in the bedroom just across the passageway from the bathroom by the way. If you give me your costume I will have it cleaned for you. The ride over I know was pretty taxing and you probably want to shower I'd guess."

"What about the drugs. They kept any place in this luxury suite for my convenience?" Supergirl crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow at Tony.

"Sorry no. That's under Sergei's control. And mine. We approve the distribution of that as far as you're concerned," Tony replies cordially.

"So you're admitting you're distributing illegal narcotics, are you?"

"As much as you're admitting you're using them, sweetheart."

"Touche, Mr. Bonano. I'm going in for that shower. I would absolutely adore it if you would provide me with the items under discussion when I return."

"We shall see about that. Now go in an freshen up. You could use it."

"You're saying I smell bad?"

"Not for a herd of wildebeasts."

"Charming, Mr. B. So, you're saying the magic pebbles might be here when I come back out?"

"Magic pebbles, that's what you call crack?"

"Sounds nicer to me."

"Whatver floats your boat. Now go get that shower. Go on, scoot!"

"I notice you didn't answer my question about the crack."

"You'll get it when I think you're ready for it."

"I'm ready for it now!"

"Beetch," Sergei yells out. Carmine, Stevie and Tony all stop dead and look at him in surprise. "Stop whining for your drugs like a little girl and go in and shower that stink off you. Now, yes?"

Chastened, the costumed teen heads off to discover what the rest of the suite looks like, turning her head and appraising the quality and expansiveness of her new environment with pleasure. If she was going to be a kept woman, at least it was in style. She wonders if there were iron bars on every window.

She had to check out the bedroom, of course, and yes it had bars in the one small window. But it also had a white and pink cast iron king sized four-poster bed with an expansive headboard and sheer pale pink drop curtains surrounding the bed, all of it looking like something out of Martha Stewart's wet dream. Grabbing a robe from a closet filled with beautiful if somewhat skimpy clothes, she headed into the bathroom where she'd stripped off her sweat-drenched uniform and then took advantage of the power pulse option on the shower head to bring her back to her senses as well as full cleanliness. Exotic body washes, loofa sponges and expensive shampoos cluttered the wide tile shelf in the shower and more lotions, potions and perfumes crowded the vanity of the oversized bathroom. For a moment, she'd considered filling the Jacuzzi and soaking in bubbles up to her nipples, but she wanted the crack more than the luxury so she went with the shower instead.

After drying off her body with towels so thick you could use them to ship fine art, Supergirl was now sitting at the vanity with its ring of small round makeup lights staring at her face as she adds the smallest hint of blush to her cheek. Sitting in a long pink terry cloth robe that matched the towels in its sinfully luxurious feel, the Maid of Steel is wearing nothing beneath it. She looks in the mirror and twists her hips to show off her breasts hanging half hidden beneath the untied robe. Thrusting out her chest, she thought her breasts still seemed not to be sagging even with all the kryptonite radiation she'd absorbed over the last few days. Her nipples didn't have a hint of green, nor, for that matter, did her lips or eyelids. In fact, she had to admit she was feeling better than she had in a while. In fact, scrutinizing her face, she notices that the circles under her eyes don't seem nearly as pronounced. She takes a deep breath and grips the makeup brush tightly, coming back to her true self for a flash. What the hell am I doing here? Why am I playing along like some cow shuffling off to the slaughterhouse who doesn't know any better?

Suddenly she looks over at the crumbled costume lying in a heap on the floor by the bathroom door, everything was there to be washed. Her top, her skirt and panties, even her cape and boots smelled of her sweat from her three hours of non-stop arousal and multiple orgasms during her journey in the crate. Even the two dildos hidden beneath the carelessly thrown pile of shimmering red and blue material stank of her. She knows why she feels better! The kryptonite control disc was over in that pile, too! She was getting her powers back, big time. In her excitement, the makeup brush crumbles to dust in her hands.

Brushing off the crumpled plastic onto the top of the vanity, Supergirl stands up slowly. How am I going to handle this? Casually walking over to the bathroom window she sees there are thick iron bars set into cement on the outside ledge. At full power, she could push those aside like she was spreading open a beaded curtain but she knew she wasn't that strong yet. She had to stall. Tony and his goons were probably outside waiting for her to come out and hand him her costume to clean. He had slipped up! Or had he? This could be a trap, a test to see if she was going to try to escape. Of course, if she tried that and failed again, the punishment, she knew would be brutal. Possibly even fatal. And even if she did manage to escape, that would cut off her supply of crack and that was something she didn't want to jeopardize. With her powers returning, she might be able to take them on in a fight however and steal the crack from Tony, assuming it was on him.

"Everything all right in there?" Tony sounds calm, not even put out. Barely concerned. What did that mean. Was he so confident or had he made a mistake? She even hears Sergei and Carmine laughing crudely over some vulgar joke no doubt.

"Yes," she calls out. "I'm just doing girl things. You've got more makeup choices in here than I've ever seen!"

"Spared no expense!" He jokes.

"Fuck you, sir," she calls back. Rao, they have a private joke between them! What has my life turned into here? I'm so afraid to try to escape. He's been a step ahead of me every time. Or lucky or both, I don't know for sure anymore. Sergei's got his wire cutters. I'm sure Tony's got plenty of other kryptonite around to keep me in line. What's the point of trying to escape anyway? I'll probably just blow it and end up dead. I haven't been able to do anything right in four days now. Plus, I do know if I don't go out there, I'm not getting any crack and I absolutely have to get some of that. I just need to play it by ear and see how it goes.

Moving over to the bedroom she, goes to the dresser, opens the top drawer and sees half a dozen folded slips in a rainbow of color options, a full section of silk bras and panties of every style imaginable except comfortable, and several spaghetti strap teddies in six different colors. She chooses the pink and, throwing off the robe to the floor, steps into the leg holes and pulls it up over her perfect body. It fits, of course. And looking in the full length mirror on the wall opposite the bed, sees the smooth thin material show off every physical attribute she has, including the slight bulge of her pubic hair.

"Not much left to the imagination with this thing!" She swipes her thumb into her crotch to straighten out the twisted leg band.

"You coming out of there, Linda?" Tony shouts. Now he does sounds exasperated.

Throwing on the robe over the teddy, she walks back to the bathroom, gathers up the pile of her costume, including the boots and dildos and heads back through the small hallway to the main living area. Tony is standing there with his hands on his hips looking anxious. He's hand is in his pocket, fidgeting nervously.

"Here's my uniform and those damn dildos. Get rid of them please. The material is machine washable, even the boots and cape. Usually I just dive in the ocean or a lake and dry it out by going supersonic or flying over the desert slowly." She sighs heavily. Would that life ever be hers again? It seemed unlikely at the moment.

"But a washing machine would work, too." He says, taking the clothes and stuffing them into a pillow case he had ready in his hand.

"Not too heavy on the bleach," she smiles. Like it mattered. The outfit was indestructible, at least it used to be. With that kryptonite disc on it, it might be weakened. Should I mention that? She notices that Tony is looking at her in a strange way. And still worrying something in his pocket. She glances at his hand and looks him in the eye, face to face, only two feet apart..

"What?" She says tightening the robe belt with a nervous twist.

"Huh? Oh, nothing. I was just thinking you look very nice. Beautiful, in fact."

"Probably because I've got a lot of my powers back since I took off the costume with the kryptonite disc. Can I have my crack now?"

Over on the sectional, Carmine and Sergei and Stevie all stop talking at once and look to Tony with alarm. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small pink choker. There is an embedded stone in the pink nylon webbing.

"Turn around please," he says holding up the choker. She turns around and he slides the smooth pink nylon against her throat and fastens the specially-designed clasp.

"Uuhhh..." Supergirl swoons slightly as the choker is fixed around her neck. Tony steadies her with one hand firmly gripping her elbow and the other slides down to her hip.

He turns her around to face him again, and she tilts against him, a little dizzy and suddenly weak again. _Well, that was a short respite._He holds her upright, straightening her wobbly figure, and looks down into her clear blue, slightly drifting eyes. She had to readjust to the radiation levels again. It wasn't crippling and painful, but the lethargy and lack of energy and dizziness drained her every time she was exposed to this stuff.

"What a good little girl you are! See boys, and you were worried!"

"Did they even know?" She is skeptical about his hired help's mental capabilities.

"Actually, it was not discussed. Sergei," Tony is still holding the girl steady and looking right at her, not even looking toward the sofa. "did you remember the kryptonite control disc in the uniform and what would happen to it if she took it off to take her shower?"

"Tony, I am admitting nyet, I did not remember."

"That will cost you dinner for me and the boys tonight with a nice $400 bottle of champagne, I think."

"This would be my pleasure, Tony. I will not be so unfocused again." Sergei starts breathing again. As do Carmine and Stevie.

" I was wondering what you were going to do when the disc was removed," Tony continues to stare into those baby blues without a break. And this remarkable girl, even with an occasional twitch from her crack habit, does not back down one inch. He doesn't know what to admire more, the power of the crack to make this super-powered teenager give up an advantage like that or the power of her will to still be able to assess the situation and come out ahead. "Why did you even say anything about the disc?"

"Three things. First, I need the crack so I'm behaving. Secondly, Sergei's wire cutters. And thirdly, I saw the kryptonite choker in your hand inside your pocket with my xray vision when I came into the room. You run a gambling den downstairs. You know about playing the odds, I'm sure. I did the math. Now how about that crack?"

"By all means. Gentlemen, let's give the lady some privacy. I'll be back with your crack, I don't have it on me right this minute. You will be dining alone tonight, I'm afraid I must insist. Certainly until we see how things go over the next few days. You're forthright approach about the kryptonite control disc not withstanding, we still have a shakeout period we have to go through here. I trust you understand."

"Naturally. As you said, the fridge is filled. I won't starve. Got any good DVDs?"

"Quite a good selection. Comedies, Classics, Drama, Thrillers. You can watch 'The Godfather' if you're in the mood.

"Cute," she says drolly.

"Plus, there's always news and 300 channels of programming. Spared no expense." Tony smiles and moves toward the elevator, then turns on his heel with a final thought.

"Obviously I spared no expense on the security in this apartment either, inside and out. Feel free to explore. Escape is not an option. But with such elegant surroundings and free drugs, why would you want to?"

The quartet of mafioso heads into the elevator and Supergirl is left standing in the middle of the apartment with her arms crossed.

"Why would I want to, indeed?" She heads for the refrigerator to see what goodies she can snarf down. She's just realizing she's starving. Food and crack and a big bed. What else could a girl want if she couldn't have her freedom?

But that was more than an hour and a half ago. And so she was pacing. And now her head is really twitching more often as she tries unsuccessfully to calm herself down and breathe normally.

As soon as I get one or two of those magic pepples in me, I'll be fine. Two hours plus who knows how long in that box crate with my own body driving me crazy as a loon! Dr. Suess indeed! No wonder I'm a wreck. Who wouldn't be in my situation? If there's ever a chance for me to beat the crap out of Tony Bonano without getting myself killed, I'm taking it. Where is he with my crack? If he expects me to give him another blowjob like that last one, it'll be a cold day in hell. If I hadn't been so mad at him and myself, I would never have done all that stuff to him. I just needed to be in control myself for a change. And was I ever! He didn't know what hit him. Never expected your pure little prize to put out like that, did you, Mr. Tony Bonano? That's right, just keep underestimating me. You'll get yours..... Now Where Is Mine?


"She's goin' apeshit in there, Tony," Stevie says, watching from the other side of the special two-way mirror hung over the dark green marble sideboard in the dining area of the penthouse suite. "When you givin' her the next dose?"

"In a few minutes, I'm just reinforcing her behavior patterns so she performs the way she supposed to as our Whore In Residence."

The small, specially-built sound-proofed observation room behind the mirror had a passageway and a spiral staircase that led to it from the floor below where Tony's apartment was located. The secret passageway surrounded virtually the entire exterior of the penthouse suite. In fact, the only windows in the entire suite were in the bathroom and the bedroom. Both were small, five feet off the floor and would have been difficult to shimmy through, even without 2" thick steel bars blocking them. The passageway continued under the height of the windows and it had a wide variety of peek holes situated at least every ten feet or so to ensure at any time, with enough manpower, the Maid of Steel could be tracked as to her position in the suite. Of course, concealed cameras throughout the apartment fed into recording equipment of the highest caliber. The sex tapes Tony planned to sell from Supergirl's tricks would be a big part of the income this girl would generate. Not to mention the bidding already going on among the wealthiest people on the planet who wanted to spend time with this new Superwhore.

And it wasn't all men doing the bidding either. Not entirely. Plus, there were some very nasty villains who were also willing to pony up big bucks to humiliate the famous Supergirl, plenty of those, including famous psychos like The Joker and Lex Luthor (from his new hideout god knows where, all Tony had for him was a third party contact and even that was an email drop box). There were also major Mafia Don's lining up for her by email throughout the country whose operations she'd disrupted over the years. Even small time hoods had scores to settle with her, the mid-range to low-end scumbags that she'd put in stir who had served their time and were now roaming the streets and halfway houses of New York. She didn't know it but starting tonight, she was going to have a very busy lifestyle. Everybody who knew about the auction for her services wanted a piece of this young teenage wonder!

Tony had been too conservative in his pricing considerations at five grand a pop. He was getting bids of ten times that from some of the bigger fish. Especially the nasty ones who wanted little to do with sex and more to do with revenge. There were obviously going to have to be rules laid down to keep the Maid of Steel alive and profitable. Maybe the five grand stuff would come later, after the novelty had worn off a bit and she looked more whorish. That had to happen didn't it? He wondered if he reduced the kryptonite, would her looks keep coming back to that natural beauty he'd seen tonight just after she'd come out of the bathroom. That would certainly keep sales brisk if it did.

But for now, he checked his Rolex, it was almost midnight. Time to give the broad her crack and get her started on an easy customer. He didn't want her to have any heavy hitters right off. She was hooked for sure, but that didn't mean she was predictable. That was why he needed Sergei. He would keep her and the customers in line. He certainly had a talent for it. Things worked out for the best. Randy would not have had the skills to handle this balancing act. As long as Sergei didn't get too violent, things should go okay. But who knew for sure. This was virgin territory, so to speak.

He takes out the crack pipe and puts a tiny nugget of brittle white cocaine into the base and starts around the passage to bring Supergirl her hit of some very low-rate crack. It would get her high, but not very. He needed her to be ready for the client, not nodding off in a crack haze. A little before and a little after. He'd keep her stringing along at this point on the low dosage stuff and keep the good stuff only when necessary.

When the elevator door opens, the Maid of Steel strides over to accost him with a vehement snarl.

"What the hell happened to you? You said you'd be right back with the crack. That was two hours ago! And I was so nice to you, too! I've been the good girl for the last day or so, even you have to admit that. I really don't think I deserve to be kept waiting like I had to tonight. Let me have the pipe in your hand please!"

"Slow down, princess. You're not running the show. I'm running the show. Now calm down and let's be reasonable about this. You do want the crack right?"

"You damn well made sure right from the very start of this that I'd want it, didn't you. So now I do want it. So now can I have it?"

"Are you calm?"

Twitching and gritting her teeth, Supergirl's eyes have a hooded, jerkiness to them. "Yeah, yeah, I'm calm. I'm real calm. Let me have it." Tony hands her the pipe. Taking it with shaking hands, she looks up at him. "I thought you were a gentleman. Can I have a light?"

He takes a cheap Bic lighter out of his pocket and hands it to her. "You're hands aren't shackled now, princess. I think you can light your own pipe."

"Fine," she says, flicking the thing without waiting another second.

"Aren't you going to sit down," Tony takes a seat on the leather sectional and motions to the cushion beside him. "That stuff could knock you down in ten seconds if you're not careful. And I don't need burns in this expensive rug."

Puffing on the glass pipe with its crackling bowl, Supergirl sits beside Tony and inhales deeply. She releases the lever on the lighter and Tony watches with satisfaction as the bright flame of the lighter goes out as fast as the bright intelligence in the girl's eyes beside him. Through half-lidded eyes, Supergirl breathes out the smoke at Tony and then waits with a anxiously nodding head for her high to kick in as she glances idly around the apartment.

"Really nice paintings," she says. "Real, too. Aren't they. Genuine oils, I mean."

"Yes, they are," he replies with a smile.

Tapping her toe, she's waiting for that old black magic to kick in. She feels pleasantly happy. But that's it. She looks at a brass clock on the wall in the kitchen area.. The sweep hand is circling the face in calm tiny ticks.

"What gives with this stuff?" Supergirl asks.

"Beg pardon," Tony replies, leaning his head toward hers as if he hadn't heard clearly.

"The crack, what's the matter with it?"

"Matter? There's nothing the matter with it. It's normal street stuff. Maybe stepped on a bit. Stevie got it for me, I ran out of the better stuff. We'll get you some more of that tomorrow. Now, about the gentleman who's coming in to meet you in a few..."

"Wait a minute," she interrupts. "I waited two hours for this sorry excuse for crack? I need a real high, Tony. Come on, stop joking."

"I'm not joking. That's the stuff you get for tonight. Now, anyway, this guy's name..."

"I don't care what his name is or why he's coming. I'm playing by your rules, I think I should get better stuff than this."

"You're wasting the little high you're on, Supergirl. And I'd like you to watch your tone with me!"

"MY TONE? YOU BASTARD! You got me hooked on the strongest crack on the planet and then hand me a bowl of baking powder and expect me to be the nice quiet dumb blonde. Well, if you want me to do what I think you want me to do with your friend tonight, I think you should try to find me some better grade cocaine, Mr. Bonano."

"You do, huh." Tony's face gets grim.

Seeing this, Supergirl switches tactics. She shifts her body so she's sitting closer to him and unties the cloth knot in her belted robe, letting it fall open to reveal the tight pink teddy underneath. She puts her hand on his crotch and snuggles up close to the tall dark Mafia don and strokes the crotch of his gaberdine pants slowly, tracing her fingers up and down the expanding bulge beneath the fly. "Come on, Mr. B," she breathes softly. "Give a girl a chance to be grateful, kay?"

His hand slides into the opening of her robe and he palms her warm breast, slowly encompassing its fullness within the pink silk. It feels like heaven in his hand. Squeezing the plumpness gently, he hears a soft moan from the girl and feels her nipple poking into his hand through the smooth fabric.

"Mmmm. What about it, Ton?" She kisses his lower lip. Then his upper lip. He squeezes her nipple with growing pressure.


"Save it for Mr. Rozzo."

"Damn You, Tony! That's just not fa..."

SLAP. "Enough, Linda!"

The shocked blonde's face barely does a quarter turn. It wasn't that hard a bitch slap. Just the right force to make his point. What a pro, she thinks. Her face sets like cement, glaring at him and not speaking.

"You'll get more after Mr. Rozzo leaves. I don't want you so stoned on crack that you can't lift your head up! Anyway, he'll be here in ten minutes. I want you to do what he asks. Be good and you'll get your crack. The good stuff. I'll be back with it when you're done." Tony stands up. He then motions to a gym bag on the coffee table in front of the sofa. "Your uniform is being cleaned. Wear the outfit in this bag for now. Rozzo expects you to be wearing it." Tony heads for the door. As the elevator arrives and he walks into it, he turns and says loudly, "Do what he asks and you'll get the good crack!"

Fuming, Linda looks up at the ceiling, around the apartment and down at her shaking hands. The crack had barely calmed her down. Damn that prick! She reaches over and grabs the gym bag and almost tears the zipper off, she's so pissed. Inside she sees the familiar red and blue of her costume and smiles.

"What a joker, he already had it cleaned. Well, I better get ready for Ratso Rizzo or whatever his name is."

It wasn't her costume after all. It was a bargain basement version that was much too small. Even getting into it was difficult. The top was tightly constraining her breasts, making them look large bigger than their already ample size. Tight lines of fabric stretched from her sides to her nipples in a grotesque parody of her real costume. The famous red and yellow emblem looked the same in color but it was so poorly silk-screened onto the fabric that she could already see crinkling imperfections in the ink. Anybody playing with her breasts would be wearing down this cheap logo in just a few uses of the blouse!

The panties were also overly tight and uncomfortable. Obvious fabric lines stretched down from the top waistband over her pelvic muscles and pointed straight to her nether regions like neon arrows at an all-night truck stop.


The cape was far shorter than her regular cape, also, only extending halfway down her back, more the impression of a cape. It looked like something a kid would wear running around his bedroom playing superhero in.

And the skirt. The bottom hem didn't come within shouting distance of her thighs! It barely covered her butt at all. You couldn't dignify it by calling it a micro-mini. This was a pure male adolescent wet dream skirt right off the whore rack! Looking in the full-length mirror on the bedroom wall, she checks out her butt by twisting her head around. She can see the bottom swell of her red panties and she wasn't even bending over a little. She bends down slightly while still looking at her reflection and there was her crotch, so tightly outlined by the fabric that you could see her pussy lips! No imagination wouldn't be necessary to appreciate all her assets. None whatsoever!

The boots were shoddy plastic but at least they fit well. They gripped her calves and accented her legs nicely, but the cheap zippers down the sides didn't look like they'd stand much more wear and tear than the shoddy logo on her blouse.

Looking at herself in this horrifying abomination of her own beautiful silky costume that always made her feel special about herself, she bites her quivering lip and squeaks in anquish.

"Look at me! I'm a cheap, slutty-looking imitation of what I used to be! I'm hooked on crack and I look like some lowly whore trying to play at being Supergirl." Tears roll down her cheeks at the image in the mirror. She hates what she sees! She hates herself! She hates the world! The fact is, she thinks, I'm really Supergirl trying to play at being a whore! Or was it really the other way around by now. She was tired and confused and strung out. She really needs more crack. Desperately. She'll get this guy over with, whatever he wants, as soon as she can and get the good stuff.

"Nobody's going to even believe I'm the real Supergirl!" She says to the empty room. And without her powers, she couldn't prove it if she wanted to. Maybe that was a good thing. But, of course, her face was familiar. She still looked the same, if not a little worse for wear again, now that she had kryptonite around her neck again. The circles under her eyes had reappeared already!

"Hello? Anybody home?" A deep voice from the other room calls out. "Supergirl, Frankie boy is here. Come on out and play!"

Gritting her teeth, Supergirl, swings around from the mirror and stalks out to the living area to meet her new friend.

Frankie Rozzo is a 42-year old with hair plugs who runs a bookie joint in the Bronx, not far from Yankee Stadium, the old one and the new one. He takes bets on the boys in pinstripes, takes them on the Mets, Jets, Nets, Giants and Rangers. Even the fuckin' Islanders, when people had nothing better to do than throw their money away on hockey games. He did all right and Tony owed him a favor from a while back. So, as Tony's test case, the guy is perfect. He'd agreed to five grand without batting an eye. Tony already had the cash in his pocket. Frankie wanted a standard double, nothing kinky, just a blowjob and a fast fuck. Well, maybe not so fast for five grand. That depended on Frankie, didn't it. Tony had all the recording equipment cued up and had told Frankie to lay out a measly ten bucks for the girl before she started to let her know she was appreciated. Frankie didn't even question it. He was drooling already.

When Supergirl comes into the living room, Frankie is leaning against the railing separating the two-step walk up dining area from the living room. He's wearing a brown plaid sport jacket and khaki chinos. He's sipping on a drink that he'd made from the bar. Something light brown with ice. The crystal cocktail glass alone weights a couple of pounds. Everything is first class in this suite at the Pleasure Dome.

Supergirl walks right up to Frankie and takes the drink out of his hand, stirring the ice slightly.

"What is this?"

"Gold tequilla."

"Uh huh," she grunts and knocks it back with a quick tilt of her head. "Tasty." She smacks her lips and drops to her knees. She then puts her palm on Frankie's crotch and says, "Well, let me guess, you want me to suck..."

"Whoa! Slow down there, lady! I paid good money for this. I'd like it to last a little...Ow. Stop that!"

She's squeezing his balls too hard and kneeding his prick like a roll of cookie dough.

"Can I help it if you motivate me, big boy?"

"Motivate you, We haven't even said hello."

"What's the problem, Frank. Having trouble getting it up at your age already?"

"What? No, not me, darling, but you've got all the finesse of a dump truck."

"Oh, Frankie, wants to be fucked like a girl? Let me open your fly and see what color your panties are, Frankie." Ziippppp. "What do you know, regulation whites. Slightly stained and smells like..." she sniffs him. "Blue cheese. Ah well, let's take Frankie Jr. out for a little air and see if we can't get him to grow a pair."

"Fuck you, Supergirl. I got a pair and..."

"Fucking comes later, Frank, if you're up to it. But I got to be honest with you, it doesn't look good here, buddy," she wags his dick back and forth between her thumb and forefinger like she's opening a combination lock in a big hurry.

"Ow...Hey, bitch, knock that off. Haven't you ever given a blowjob before? You suck at this."

"Yeah, that's how I remember the directions reading, too, Frank. Except I read mine in The Joy of Sex, whereas I'm guessing you picked up a copy of the Dummies Guide to Gay Blowjobs on the way to your stretch in Attica. That about right?"

"What? Fuck that. I'm nobody's bitch, bitch."

"Right! But you gotta give me something to work with here, Frank. I'm getting zilch on the boner meter. How about some nice stroking action to get you hard enough so I'm not sucking rope, sound like a plan?"

"How about you slow down for a second and..Ow...that's too tight, too rough...and hey.. ...what's with the teeth? There's no biting in blowjobs. That's rule number one. Didn't anybody ever tell you that, blondie?"

"Muthta thkipped thath clatthhh," the blonde with the limp dick in her mouth replies. She takes her mouth off his glans just as he starts to show signs of interest.

"Oh, yes. Here he comes, Mr. America," she sings then goes into a lower voice. "Ladies and Gentlemen, the Pride of the Yankees. And who's a good boy? Who's the best boy? What a big boy you are. Yes, you are. Yes. Oh no...Uh oh...ohhhh. Houston, we have a problem." Sitting back on her haunches, Supergirl looks up at Frankie's grim look of anger, embarrassment and frustration.

"You can see the management about your refund at the door." She stands up and turns to head back into the bedroom. "So sorry no jolly. Maybe next time, soldier." She throws him a wave. "You make me so horny. I would have loved you long time. Oh well. See you around the ladies room, Frank." Walking briskly into the small hallway that leads to her bedroom, Supergirl gets half way when she suddenly stumbles sideways to the right two steps and puts her hand against the wall to steady herself.

"Ahhh....what the...hell....Owww.....ohhhhhh....." She spins awkwardly toward the wall and puts both palms against it now, but that doesn't help. The dizziness and stomach cramps are overwhelming. Now her whole body sags and presses against the wall. She begins to slide down the smooth surface, her head nodding forward with a thump, until she's on her knees, pressed against the flat surface trying to keep herself up.

This can't be the collar. It's too much kryptonite. All around me!

Frank Rozzo walks up to the moaning teen and looks down at her without pity. Not after the humiliation she just put him through.

"I'm sorry about this, Frank." Tony's voice over the intercom speaker in the ceiling raises Frank's eyebrow and earns a tilt of the head, but he's still looking at the girl in the tight red and blue costume with heat in his eyes. She's collapsed onto all fours and is swaying feebly in the hallway, her crotch plainly visible beneath that almost nothing skirt of hers. Christ, he can see the outline of her pussy through the thin red silk!

"You will, of course, have all your money refunded and it would be my pleasure to comp you to a room, dinner and a two grand of chips for the casino on the main floor whenever it's convenient for you."

"Not so fast, Bonano. I paid my money and Supergirl looks like she can use a good fucking right about now." The bookie with the hair plugs licks his lips. Little Miss High and Mighty sure didn't like so haughty now.

" up....Frank..." Having said that, she completely collapses to the floor with a loud thump, her cheek on the polished wood of the hallway, her arms at her sides, palms up.

"We'll talk, Tony, after I'm done teaching this little blonde cockteaser just what Frankie Junior is really capable of.

"Play it out, Frank. It's your call." The speaker clicks off even as Frank Rozzo advances on the defenseless blonde.

Kneeling behind the prone blonde, Frankie places his palm against the blonde's exposed crotch, squeezing the silky red fabric and fondling the teen's outer and inner labia roughly.


"Hmm. Let me guess, Supergirl, you want me to finger your cunt!"

"...nuhhh...pleeeze...nohh..." Frankie slides his hand under the legband of Supergirl's panties, finds her hidden clit and quickly diddles the nub with his middle finger for ten seconds.

"..OH..." A little wetness there. Not much. Nevertheless Frank thrusts his forefinger up the blonde's vagina without waiting any longer.


"Hey, can I help it if you motivate me, little lady?" He spins the forefinger around one way and then the other deep within the grimacing girl's twat.


"Oh, what's the problem, Supergirl? A juicy young whore of your age should be excited and wet and ready to go already. Suffering vaginal dryness at your age so soon? I'm not sure you're going to do very well in this profession with that kind of problem." He rubs her dry clit and she yelps in pain.

"Yahhh....ow...please don't...."

"Oh, Supergirl wants a big man to teach her how to be fucked from behind like a dog? Well, let's just pull these panties off to the side and see what color your cunt is, shall we?" Pulling the crotch of her panties away with one hand and exposing Supergirl's snatch, Frank now spreads her labia with the same fingers he'd been manipulating her with earlier.

""What do you know, regulation pink. Slightly puffy and smells like...clam sauce. Ah well, let's take Frankie Jr. out for a little air and see if we can't get him to fuck your sorry cunt!"

"...ohhh....don' this....I' can't...."

"Oh no? Try to stop me, Supergirl, if you're up to it. But I got to be honest with you, it doesn't look like you can from here, sweet buns. He pushes his dick up and down against her tender labia like he's plowing a field.

"Ow....too...rough....hurts me..."

"Yeah, but I got to tell you, bitch. I've never been harder. Come to papa."

Grabbing the blonde teenager's hip with one hand and putting his arm around her waist with the other, Frank Rozzo leans forward and drives his cock into Supergirl's unresponsive vagina with a hard thrust.


He holds her tight and slowly pulls his cock halfway out of her hole. "Ready for the greatest hits of Frankie Jr., Superslut?"

" ready....make me hurts..."

"Yeah, that's how I remember the directions reading, too, bitch. Except I read mine in the Hustler Forum when I was ten and I'm guessing you learned your technique by reading the bathroom wall in your college dorm. That about right?" He thrusts again into the limp blonde's body, enjoying the humiliation and payback if not the dry sex. He slowly picks up his pace, lifting the sagging blonde's hips for deeper penetration. His size is average but as he continues his movements, Supergirl's sensations of his width and depth barely begin to bring a moisture to her loins.

"Come on, you pathetic whore, give me something to work with here, bitch. I'm getting zilch on the pussy juice sponge test. How about I go back to rubbin' the nubbin to get you at least wet enough so I'm not pumping a dry hole, sound like a plan?"


"Must have skipped that class," he says, fingering her clit as he pushes his cock in and out of the helplessly splayed teen. Her head bobs up and down helplessly as she is ruthlessly fucked by a now smiling Frank Rozzo.

"" His fingering speeds up and Supergirl's vagina finally gets wet enough for some really rapid stroking from Frank. With the kryptonite weakening her willpower, she can't fight the sensations as the steady friction bombards her brain.

"...uh...uh...uh....uh....uh...." she grunts with each thrust of his hips now. He's building momentum and having the time of his life with the famous blonde grunting helplessly in his arms. Who would have thought he'd be fucking this world class piece of ass?

"You're not the fucking smartass superhero anymore, are you blondie? Not with a real man showing you how to take it doggy style. Well, it would be doggy style if you were on your knees, but you're not even whore enough for that, Supergirl."

".oh...that's..better...ohh...oh...ohhhh...yess....." Supergirl is getting tremendously excited as Frank's prick grows to its full measure, filling her tightly with his stroking tool with each rapid thrust.

"Why listen to Supergirl starting to get off on Frank's big bone. Why, you're just a pathetic whore giving it up for money. That's what you are, yes. A whore. What a whore you are. What a big whore. Yes. Who's the biggest whore? It is you? Yes. Yes it is." Frank has pumped himself and talked himself onto the righteous edge of his orgasm.

"Oh...Houston, we....!"


Together the bookie and the blonde cum in matched harmony of groans as Frank shoots his wad thickly into the helplessly climaxing superheroine. He pins her to the floor as he grunts and swivels his hips against Supergirl's ass to make the very most of his pleasure. Their juices slime the floor below their bodies as they lie in damp exhaustion.

After five minutes of just holding the moaning blonde, Frank finally pulls his limp dick out of the tight hole and gets up slowly from the hallway floor. "What a fucking great snatch you have, Supergirl. Tight and warm and, finally, wet. I'm gonna pass on the blowjob this time, champ. You wore me out. Give me a rain check, love. Or I'll talk to Tony about it." The smiling bookie starts to head for the door, when he turns and takes out a five and five singles from his wallet. "Almost forgot, Tony said to give this to you. Thanks for everything."

"...whuhhh...." The dazed and exhausted blonde feels paper being forced into her hand and then hears receding footsteps down the hall until the carpet silences all the noise of Frank Rozzo's exit. Confused, Supergirl opens her tired eyes and sees a thin stack of dollar bills clutched in her sweaty hand. Her hand springs open and flails to the side as if it had been burned by an open flame. The bills go flying around the hallway and Supergirl breaks into tears laid out in her tawdry outfit on the floor of Tony's penthouse suite. A whore after work!

For another ten minutes Supergirl lies there, wracked by sobbing gulps of shame. Whatever source the kryptonite came from, it's been lowered significantly. Only the jewel around her throat keeps her powerless now. Finally cried out, she weakly gets to all fours and makes the long journey to upright status. She's going to go to bed and try to forget she's alive. She doesn't even care about crack right this second. She's too exhausted for anything but sleep. Teetering toward the bedroom, her back is to the front door, which is why she doesn't see Sergei come out of the elevator with a purposeful stride and wearing the face that gave him his nickname, "The Mad Bear." He heads for the bedroom and the lesson he's about to give to the unwary blonde.

End of Chapter 17

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Supergirl Captured by the Mob part 17