Supergirl Captured by the Mob 42  

By Dr. Dominator

Supergirl Captured by the Mob

Part 42 - In A Bad Way

By Dr. Dominator

Note: The Supergirl character and name as well as Superman, Lex Luthor, Wonder Woman and Diana Prince are the property of DC Comics. Tony Bonano and his crew as well as Sergei Zhukovia and Don Lupenzo 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.

The full moon of an early autumn night casts its pale light through the dirty windows and against the ragged shades of the beaten down South Bronx apartment that hides a helpless heroine from the world. The sound of raspy breathing from the sleeping blonde teenager is the only sound in the dimly lit room for now. Slumped forward on her knees in troubled sleep, the beautiful nineteen year old champion known as Supergirl is tied to the cold radiator with both arms stretched backwards behind her around the cold curves of the white painted metal. Her wrists are heavily circled with thin cotton cord that had been stripped out of the old plastic Venetian blinds and tied securely to the steam valve. In her mouth is the sweat-sock gag held in place by the duct tape from earlier on.

In the cold light, the half-toppled teen's head seeps with a dark liquid that runs slowly through her matted hair and drips onto the shoulders of her costume blouse. The blow from a flashlight has broken the skin at the back of her head and drawn blood. It has also jarred loose a fair share of jumbled memories that spin through Supergirl's dreams with a kaleidoscopic frenzy of confusion and frustration. The Maid of Steel murmurs uneasily as her brain struggles to feed her lost information through the red fog of her kryptonite poisoning.

Her arms behind her strain futilely in cramped discomfort, reflecting a lost moment from her life when she'd been tied to a chair with her arms similarly restrained and a cord pulled tight around her throat. This image is projected into her dream. Subconsciously, the troubled teen wheezes for air and settles lower, relaxing slightly as her body is reassured by the breath it has surprisingly been allowed. From nowhere, a reassuring hand from a dark-haired friend reaches through to her in this dream. "Rest easy, Kara," says a voice. "You shall survive this." And the lilting laughter of the woman in red and blue, the owner of the voice, is a calming joy in her heart. Her head nods as she breathes easier still. And then she feels a wetness between her legs. That and the image of a strange gun in her face spouting green slime that cakes her eyes shut and fills her underpants at the same time somehow causes a hard shudder that draws the sleeping blonde from the depths of her disturbing dream state. Slowly she opens her eyes, shaking her head to try to clear it. This makes her woozy, sparks a painful headache and draws a low moan out of the blonde's dry lips.


From one of the bedrooms, the sound of squeaking bedsprings announces the movement of another body wrested out of sleep. There is a fumbling and a click and a sliver of light reaches out from under the door ten feet away. The additional light fills the shadows in Supergirl's face with a soft pale yellow glow. She looks drawn and confused. Slightly more awake, the young blonde feels her stomach cramp severely and she tilts forward as far as her bonds allow and groans even louder and longer than before.

"..Uuuhhhhhnnn.....errrrhhhhh..." Her damp gag muffles the pained groaning of the teen heroine. There is something wrong here. Terribly wrong. She feels her body helplessly releasing liquid from between her thighs. It's a bit of a relief in pressure but it doesn't make her feel good.

The bedroom door opens and Luiz pads out in bare feet toward the slumped over blonde with an angry scowl. "Shut the fuck up you noisy bitch. It's three in the morning. And who the fuck tied you up like this? You legs gotta be cramping something awful in that position. I'm guessing Paul came out and here and had some fun with...What the fuck is that? Why's the floor wet? Did you piss yourself, bitch?" Looking down he sees the gag in the minimal light and tugs the used duct tape off without much effort, then pulls out the white sweat sock. "Answer me, blondie. Why'd you piss on my floor?"

"Help me, Luiz," whispers the blonde plaintively. "I feel really sick."

Reaching over to a nearby table lamp, Luiz turns the knob under the lampshade. The sudden cone of light glares harshly in the darkened room and both Luiz and Supergirl squint with annoyed reluctance at the hard illumination. And Luiz's mouth drops open in shock as he sees a bloody red pool flowing out from between Supergirl's thighs.

"Holy fuck! What the hell is wrong with you?"

Supergirl's eyes focus and she too sees the broad pool of blood that is seeping out of her vagina, staining her panties a deep dark red and scaring the shit out of the gasping blonde.

"Oh, Rao! What's happened to me? What did you do?" She whispers in dark horror, her wide blue eyes dart accusingly to Luiz's terrified brown ones.

"Me? I didn't do shit, girlie! Looks like you're having you're period right on my floor, Supergirl. Jesus, didn't you know it was your time of the month? Don't you chicks know to get pads and shit for this when it's close?"

"I don't...I don't think this is that!" She eyes a particularly dark clot on the floor nearby. "I..mean..I I.....just.... had a miscarriage..."


"Ohhh!" A secondary swell of blood flows out from the gap in Supergirl's underwear at her inner thigh and she bends as low as the ropes allow as her cramps steal her breath away with another moan. The blonde teen's face is as pale as the window shades glowing with the moonlight.

"Fuck me. I can't believe this. What the fuck am I supposed to do?" Luiz throws his hands in the air angrily. Glancing around the room for anything he might use to stop the flow of blood, all Luiz sees is a dented flashlight beside the lamp base, an old throw pillow on the couch and a tennis trophy on the couch end table, none of which will do a thing. The dented flashlight is new to the decor.

"...owwww....untie me," Supergirl begs with a groan. "Please, Luiz. Let me get to the bathroom. I feel more cramps coming. Please...."

In less than one minute, Supergirl's wrists are freed and Luiz has guided her to the toilet. She sits there hunched over clutching her stomach and groaning while Luiz stands outside the closed bathroom door and leans in to talk softly to the anguished young woman. Supergirl is weeping and sniffling between groans. She is a maelstrom of emotions as she expels what she feels are every inch of her insides into the bowl beneath her. She is relieved that she would not be carrying what she somehow knows must be a child of rape. She is despondent over the horrific loss of a living being inside her. She is frightened that she didn't have any super powers to heal quickly enough in what could be a life-threatening situation, and she's bewildered as to how she came to be in this condition in the first place. With no memory of who she was, where she belonged, what she would do from here on out, scared out of her wits after the horrible anal abuse and painful clubbing by Paul, the overwhelmed heroine, woozy from loss of blood and dizzy from a mild concussion helplessly vomits on the floor as she is doubled over on the toilet.

"Jesus Christ, did you just puke in there, too?" The voice through the door sounds dismayed and angry and frightened in equal measure.

"...uhhhh....yeah..." Supergirl responds. "..s..sorry."

"Hey. Do you need a hospital?"

"Don't know. My whole body hurts. Paul raped me the behind. Then he hit me in the head and now I feel dizzy. I think I'm done in here. I...i...need to lie down, I...i...think..."

"You done puking?" Luiz cocks his head and listens for the sounds of ralphing. All he hears is whimpering and sighing.

"Think so."

"You better know so before you get out of there, girl. I'm telling you right now that Paul is cleaning that bathroom out and the floor by the radiator. I'm sure as fuck not going to do it!"

"Gonna try to stand up now," Supergirl announces weakly.

"Yeah, well, take it easy. If you feel nauseous, lean over the sink or sumthin', would ya?"


"You want me to come in there?" The sound of the flushing toilet issues from behind the door.

After a moment's silence Luiz hears, "Not yet...I..don't..feel so..Rhuulgkk...Wrrghkk.." There is the sound of gagging and the splash of water into water. After a moment's silence in which Luiz shakes his head and thinks how he's got to ditch this blonde now before she keels over and dies on him. Fun is fun but this girl was starting to be more trouble than she's worth now. Super fuck or not.

"...puked again..." the weak voice admits from behind the door.

"Yeah I heard," Luiz responds glumly.

"But it in the toilet this time."

"Whoop dee fuckin' doo!"

"What's goin' on?" Paul is standing behind Luiz wearing only a pair of green NY Jets boxer shorts. For such a large man, he can be very stealthy. Luiz jerks in surprise and turns to see his huge roommate looking down at him.

"What's going on, Paul? Oh not much," Luiz sneers with a jolting burst of sarcasm. "You apparently clocked our blonde friend in there so hard you gave her a concussion so she's puking all over the place. Oh and she bloodied the floor by the radiator when she had a little miscarriage just now. Just another day in paradise."

"You blaming all this on me?"

"Fuck yeah I'm blaming you, you giant oaf. You don't know your own strength. If this bitch dies, what the fuck are we supposed to do? We're looking at Murder One and I ain't taking the heat for that."

"Calm the fuck down, Luiz. Nobody's dying here. A concussion ain't gonna kill her."

"You don't that for sure, Paul. Don't go taking the high road on this. You fucked her ass and then you fucked her up. We got to get this place cleaned up spotless and get her out of here."

"And where we supposed to take her and in what. We don't have a car. We just gonna walk her outside and give her bus fare? You don't think she'll attract attention?"

"I don't know. But we got to think of something."

Just then the door opens and Supergirl glances out. She sees Paul, flinches badly and shuts the bathroom door with a hasty bang.

"Get him away from the door, Luiz. Please. He scares me. I need to lie down now. I need to sleep. I'm dead tired. I don't feel well at all."

"Maybe you shouldn't sleep right now, Supergirl. Maybe it's not safe with a concussion."

"...don't know...I'm just too tired to care...get him away from the door. Where can I sleep? Couch? Bed. Not the floor. Please...." Supergirl begins to whimper loudly through the door again, her blubbering gaining strength as all her emotional reserves have been drawn down to nothing.

"Alright, just calm down, blondie. We'll clean you up and get you settled in my bed."

"...(sob)" Small. Girlish. Quiet and forlorn.

"Go back to your room, Paul, would ya?" Luiz cajoles him but with respect.

"I gotta use the john."

"Well you'll just have to fuckin' hold your water til I get her cleaned up and in my room. In the meantime, you can clean up the floor over there of her blood. There are sponges under the kitchen sink. And after she's in my room, she puked on the floor in the bathroom, so you can clean that up, too!"

"When the fuck did I become the goddam maid around here?"

"When you started swinging flashlights around like billy clubs. That's when, genius!"

"What makes you think I caused her fuckin' miscarriage that I have to clean it up?" Paul looks petulantly at Luiz.

"What makes you think you fuckin' her in the ass with that monstrosity of a cock and then beatin' the crap out of her with a flashlight didn't cause it, Einstein?"

"I'm just saying it ain't a sure thing."

"You telling me you won't clean it up?"

"No. I'm just saying...Fuck it. Hurry up and get her in your room. This piss won't wait forever."

"Wuz' all the racket out there?" Rico shouts from the room he shares with Paul.

"Go back to sleep, Rico," both men shout simultaneously.

"Alright. Alright. I'm just askin' is all." The sound of Rico punching his pillow is followed a mere moment later by his raucous snoring. A man with a clear conscience has no trouble sleeping. Neither does one who's downed a pint of vodka celebrating the fucking of Supergirl.

Paul stomps off toward the kitchen to get the sponges and paper towels and a bucket. With the sound of his heavy footsteps, Supergirl slowly opens the door a crack and peeks out.

"He gone?"

"He hasn't left the apartment, but he won't bother you again tonight. I told him off," Luiz looks at the drawn face and then down at the messy costume. "You want to clean yourself up a little?"

"I guess. I'm just so tired." Supergirl opens the door wider and simply stands there slouched against the door frame, looking blank and confused.

"Turn around, let me take a look at your head.," Luiz says with quiet authority. Supergirl turns, wavers slightly and settles into standing slouch. Gingerly touching the wound at the back of her head, Luiz feels the matted blood, the small gash and the sizable lump around it.

Supergirl hisses in pain. "I better sit down," she mumbles and turns halfway around before plopping down unceremoniously on the closed toilet seat. Grabbing a small hand towel, Luiz runs the tap water until it's hot as it gets and pulls the stopper to fill the sink halfway before turning off the spigot. Dipping the corner of the hand towel into the steaming water, he then places it over the wound on Supergirl's head and dabs it as gently as possible with soft pats. More hissing from the blonde and some tiny tears as the corner of the towel is dipped back into the sink. Thin filaments of pink spread and circle within the clear pond of steaming water in the sink, shading the water a dull pink with her blood. Supergirl looks into the water with curious confusion which Luiz picks up on immediately.

"Guess you're not used to seeing your own blood, huh?"

"I....don't know. I guess not. But I can't remember anything like this. It's all so empty inside my head. Like all my memories leaked out of my cut like air out of a balloon. Aghh!. Easy please."

"Sorry. I don't want this to get infected."

"Thank you. I....appreciate you intervening with...him."

"Oh, he's nothing but a big bully. You just have to know how to handle him."

"No he's not. He's a vicious, dangerous maniac who should be put down like a rapid dog!" Supergirl's eyes are piercing and tightly focused with venomous rage as she looks past Luiz to where Paul is kneeling, sopping up the red puddle by the radiator with a huge yellow sponge.

"Keep your voice down or we'll have real trouble on our hands," Luiz snaps with soft vehemence that draws her eyes to him and cows her slightly. "You're in no position to start any fights right now, Supergirl."

"Yes. You're right. But if I had these so-called super powers you claim I do, I assure you, your friend would be in that Attica place before he could blink twice."

"I'll keep that in mind." Patting her head wound lightly one last time, Luiz says, "I should probably put a gauze bandage on this but all I have are Band Aids so that'll have to do. Reaching into a drawer underneath the sink counter, Luiz pulls out a box of adhesive strips in assorted sizes and removes two of the largest ones. Stripping them out of their wrappers, Luiz carefully makes an X of the two strips on the counter and gingerly places the crossed strips over Supergirl's head wound, pressing down around the wound and over the soft raised bump on her head.


"Sorry," he apologizes.

"Can't be helped. Thanks. I'd like to go to sleep now."

"Take off your panties first."

"S'cuse me?"

"They're a mess and, frankly, they smell funky. You should wash the skirt, too. I'll leave the room. They should be scrubbed before those stains set in."

"What am I supposed to wear in the meantime?"

"Just wrap that towel around your waist while I dig up a pair of old pajama bottoms for you to wear. It's no big deal."

"Fine. Go get the pjs."

When Luiz returns, he's carrying a pair of soft gray running shorts.

"Couldn't find any pajamas. These should do."

Looking askance at the wardrobe choice, Supergirl shrugs. "Hope they fit," she says.

"They're from my high school years on the tennis team when I was thin as a rail. The elastic waistband's still good. Should be fine. Try 'em on. If they don't fit, I'll find something else." He stands there quietly, just looking at her in her famous blue tunic with its "S" emblem spotted with puke. A threadbare yellow towel is wrapped around her waist. Beneath the towel, she's wearing her shiny red boots. He's caught up admiring her shape and not moving.

Putting her hand on here hip, Supergirl says, "I'm not changing in front of you, so forget it."

"Oh, uh...sorry. Don't know what I was thinking," Luiz murmurs absently.

"I do," she smiles weakly then gives him a push toward the door. "Now leave."

"You should clean your top too. There's vomit on it."

Supergirl looks down at it and then turns and looks in the mirror. She is indeed a mess. Her hair is in total disarray. Her face is colorless and strained with tired blue eyes that have dark circled shades of gray beneath them. Her blouse is spotted with greenish clumps that almost make her want to retch all over again. She turns around and looks at him directly.

"I look awful!" She whines.

"Yeah, well, you have had a bad day," he says with a shrug, not disagreeing with her assessment.

"The hell with it!" She blurts this out in anger. After all, she had given this guy a blow job in a foursome sex scrum only five hours ago, bled like a stuck pig on his floor and tossed her cookies not three feet from where she was standing. The time for false modesty seemed past, even for a superhero. She crosses her arms, grabs the hem of her famous costume tunic and pulls it up over her head in one quick movement, revealing her beautiful creamy white breasts in all their bouncing glory. If Luiz was transfixed before, he's now grown roots into the tile floor at this view. This girl has the most beautiful set of tits he's ever seen. In his entire life. In the entire life of his family, he thinks to himself, going back three generations to a tin shack in Puerto Rico. They were ample without being huge; soft fleshy mounds that had no regard for gravity whatsoever. Her luscious pink nipples are surrounded by flawless areolas. These breasts are the very picture of female beauty in its purest form.

Skewing her mouth with an ironic twist, Supergirl says with the resignation of every female who's ever been ogled, "You can get me a t-shirt any time, big guy." There are some memories that are hard wired in the genetic building blocks of the fairer sex no matter what radiation they've been exposed to.

"Huh? Oh...uh....yeah....right." Backing out of the bathroom without turning to look where he's going, Luiz backtracks all the way down the tiny hall until he gets to the door to his bedroom. Finally he shakes his head with a quiver and turns the doorknob and retreats into the room to find a top that will cover up 'Heaven on earth' as he thinks of those incredible ta-tas.

He returns with an old black Sex Pistols t-shirt from decades earlier. It's clean at least. The door to the bathroom is closed so he knocks.

Opening the door a fraction, Supergirl's hand snakes out through the crack and she murmurs, "Just pass me what you've got. I'm doing laundry and trying to fix what passes for a face."

He put the soft cloth in the waiting feminine hand and it disappears back in its hole, the door bumping shut with a thump.

"Shit, Luiz, is she done in there yet or what? I really got to take a leak!" Paul is dumping a bucket of red water into the kitchen sink, the messy job at the radiator completed.


"Tell her to move her gorgeous ass before I goose her with my prick to get it in gear."

"Yeah, yeah. Settle down. And you got puke in the bathroom to clean up too, don't forget."

"Can't clean it up if I can't get in there, numb nuts."

When Supergirl opens the door two minutes later, Luiz sees that the black t-shirt is filled out nicely by those miraculous breasts. The Sex Pistols never had a better advertisement than this in all their days as a premier Punk band. The gray running shorts do fit, accenting her figure nicely as he eyes the curve of her rear. Her hair has been arranged and smoothed down to a decent appearance. Her face has been washed and even without makeup and strained as she is, the blonde teenage champion is still beautiful to look at.

"Well, at least everything fits okay," she says, dismissing the look of wonder in Luiz's eyes with a self-deprecating wave of her wrist. Behind her, the red panties, skirt and blue blouse have been rinsed and are hanging over the shower rod. The boots have been removed and are standing at attention beside the tub. "Now can I please go to sleep."

"Follow me," Luiz says, leading her and her silent bare feet into his bedroom. Just as she enters behind him, Luiz calls out, "Bathroom's free!"

"Fuckin' finally!" Paul says dashing straight to it from the kitchen.

Alarmed, Supergirl quickly shuts the door as the big man clomps by in a rush.

Shuddering with a tremble of fear, the blonde beauty turns away from the door and sees a decent sized room. Yellowed, torn posters are tacked to the wall featuring rock bands from when vinyl albums were just disappearing from the shelves of record stores. A faded playboy foldout is taped up near the corner with beige masking tape. In the center of the room a thin, stained green blanket is spread over an old double bed with a wood headboard that's missing one of its crowning wooden globes.

"You've done wonders with the place," she cracks.

"You want the fucking couch with Paul roaming around out there with his prick at attention, you're welcome to it, smartass!"

"Sorry," she mumbles. "I'm just exhausted. Thank you for the bed."

"Don't thank me yet, you haven't lied down on it." He pulls the beige sheet down, revealing a triangle of comfort into which Supergirl eagerly crawls.

"It could be made of slate. At this point, I'm too tired to care," she yawns.

Three minutes later, the exhausted blond is fast asleep while Luiz looks at her from his standing position over the bed.

"Fuck it!" He shrugs and climbs in bed with her. After five minutes he's cuddled up behind her, spooning her and she's dead to the world. He smiles broadly, enjoying the warmth of her body and getting hard against her. And then, tired, he slowly drifts off to sleep as well. His planned late night rendezvous of crack and sex have been postponed for caring and support. And he's all right with that for now. As for the famous, mighty superheroine, she's simply too exhausted to know or care about his smile, his contentedness or his boner.

"Thank you so much, Sergei. It was the fuck of a lifetime. I'll never forget it." Silvio is pumping the big Russian's hand up and down rapidly, his face beaming, still a bit flushed from his evening with Wonder Woman.

"You are welcome, Don Corronado. Of course, you will receive a DVD copy of your time with the Amazon whore just before the series is to be released for sale to the general public. Security concerns prevent me from telling you at this time when that will be, I am sorry to be saying. But it will not be long I would be thinking."

"That's excellent. I had forgotten about that. I will treasure it for years to come, I'm sure. Will there be any chance for me to get another session with the marvelous creature in the future?"

"It is possible, Don Corronado, but there are so many who will be wanting such pleasures as you have enjoyed. The wait may be two years or more. But if I can be giving your name as a reference to future interested parties, I could be moving you up the waiting list a bit I think.

"Anytime. I'd be happy to do so."

"If we print up brochures, your comment just now would be something for the cover page, I am seeing. 'The Fuck of a Lifetime!' It works well, yes?"

"Actually, it does. If you need anything at any time, call me or have your boss call me. I'm always happy to help out a fellow who treats me right."

"Thank you, Don Corronado. I will be keeping you in mind. Goodnight."

The ecstatic Mafia Don almost hops in the elevator when it arrives at the penthouse with a soft chime. As the outside door shuts and the inside doors slide closed, Sergei sees the Don rock on his heels and raise his eyebrows in boyish delight at the memorable night with the famous Wonder Woman.

Sergei turns after the cab heads down to the casino level and walks into the bedroom. As he enters, he sees Diana still hanging limply against the wall, her unconscious body sagging inertly in the grip of the powerful arm manacles. The rubber catsuit clings tightly to the naked heroine, sealing her in her own sweat. Running down inside Wonder Woman's right thigh and down the leg into the rubber sheathing, Sergei sees a bright white trickle of cum. It is being fed from the source of the white stream, the dozing woman's dripping pussy. The famous Champion of All Women had been thoroughly fucked over yet again. Her mind and body had been totally controlled, used, manipulated and debased at will by a smart, resourceful man.

Sergei smiles with delight at the slut's humiliating disgrace at the hands of his client. He might even take a duplicate DVD of this session for himself. Silvio had completely demoralized the haughty bitch even as he'd taken her most precious treasure and filled it to overflowing with his manly essence. It had been perfect and would make an excellent conditioning tool when properly used to beat down any psychological resistance the pathetic tramp might try to mount.

Taking a syringe from a leather holder clipped to his belt, he holds it up to the light and checks the level of the pale yellow liquified heroin prepared within. This was the absolute finest 'horse' that Tony had in his supply. It came from his Turkish connections and was called 'Istanbul Express' because the high was so powerful, so fast in coming and so smooth in its effect. Sergei was told it was like having your head suddenly filled with a warm rushing current of briny water that buoyed the brain and pickled it with a glowing feeling of absolute joy and relaxation. It was so relaxing that you were fascinated with your own breathing, the air currents in the room and the feeling of warmth from the very heart of the earth itself. Perfect peace through a needle.

Of course, such a feeling would be wasted on the exhausted, sleeping beauty hanging before him. Any cheap street heroin would be enough to keep the Amazon dulled and docile for the next few hours. But the extra powerful effect this stuff would have on Wonder Woman's addiction to heroin was much greater than what a normal street dose of "H" would provide. What would take a week or two of steady use with normal heroin to generate a serious addiction would only take three days at most of using Istanbul Express even as little as twice a day to hook into Wonder Woman's psyche and her physiological systems. After that, even this world-famous, prideful Amazon princess would be easily commanded into performing the nastiest sex act so she could experience the erotic surge of euphoria that a hit of this enslaving concoction would provide.

Sergei squirts a tiny measure of the drug through the needle tip to clear any air bubbles and taps the outstretched arm of the fitfully slumbering champion to raise the bluish vein to easier prominence for injection. Too tired to wake, Wonder Woman only feels a pinching sensation in her arm as Sergei pushes the deadly brew into her vein, emptying the syringe barrel into the famous heroine with slow pleasure. Diana remains in her dangling, deep slumber as the heroin surges through her bloodstream until it reaches her brain.

"Uuuuhhhhnnnnnnn..." The raven-haired beauty's head rolls slowly on her shoulders. Then her left eyelid gradually opens and she looks up at Sergei without recognition. Diana tries to focus on the blurry man's face but her brain is filling with a gluey thickness that for some reason only allows the Amazon warrior to focus on the shiny silver medallion hanging around the big blonde man's neck: a Russian sickle that glimmers and gleams in the light in a way that slices off Diana's awareness of everything else in existence. Her head slumps to her chest and her mouth drops open in fat-tongued drooling bewilderment. Only her eyes, half-lidded and dulled, stay locked on the gleaming pendant.

"...pwettty...." she mumbles, her entire life force beaten down by this overwhelming drugged stupor into flat simple entrancement by sunlight on silver. And the dangling, hypnotic silver crescent moves closer and closer until Wonder Woman's view is blocked by an arm that crosses before her eyes.

"Let's get you into your bed, Princess," Sergei says, unlocking each manacle with the touch of a magnetic key. Easily hoisting the drug-addled champion over his shoulder, the big Russian carries Wonder Woman over to the bed and pours her boneless figure off his shoulder so she is lying flat on her back, her wrists dangling off the side edges of the bed.

Fifteen minutes later, Wonder Woman is stripped of the rubber catsuit which is tossed over by the bedroom door in clear lump of damp, pungent latex. All four limbs of the completely naked Amazon warrior are secured to the bedposts with thin, virtually unbreakable titanium shackles.

After a quick, irresistible caress of Diana's easily available jutting breast, Sergei shuts off the lights and leaves the room, quietly closing the door behind him. It is 4:00 a.m. and Sergei wearily walks to the elevator to head down to his suite two floors below. He tosses the rubber catsuit into a hamper in the living room closet for the maid to clean. He's got about four hours before he's got to get up and face what he expects will be a long, hard day, especially if Supergirl doesn't show up and they have to deal with Don Lupenzo going ballistic. Should be a memorable day, he thinks.

As the digital clock on the table by the bed clicks over to 5:30 a.m., Supergirl stirs in bed, her thoughts bleary in her half-sleep, half-waking consciousness. She'd been dreaming about standing naked in front of a television camera. She was reporting on the sudden disappearance of Supergirl from the streets of New York. For some reason her hair was brown, nicely coiffed and she had a microphone in her hand. Why would her hair be brown? Why would she be reporting on her own disappearance? And why would she be stark naked in front of what she dreamily recalled was a live television audience due to the fact that the station had broken into regular programming for this special report? The cameraman had just finished zooming in on her rock hard nipples jutting brazenly from the tips of her bare breasts. She remembered hearing the motor of the zoom in the dream. And then he'd panned down to her crotch. Her vagina had been stuffed with a dildo and she was leaking with pleasure even as the cameraman whispers, "Spread your legs a little, Linda. I want to get in tight on your pussy."

As she wriggles in bed, murmuring softly in psychic confusion, the muddled blonde suddenly realizes that there actually is something filling her vagina. Something very big, very hard and very warm! Besides that, her breasts are being held firmly in someone's hands. Blearily she recalls the name Luiz and then the incidents of the evening before. She'd crept off to his bed, exhausted after all the events of the previous day and night. Apparently Luiz had joined her somewhere along the way. And now he was holding her body close to his, enfolding her 5' 8" body within his slightly larger frame. She feels the cotton running shorts bunched around her thighs, pulled down in the early morning hours without her awareness or any protestation from her. His hands are up inside the t-shirt she's wearing, his wide, sweaty palms pressing her nipples flat as his fingers dimple into the sides of her breasts.

The sensations are not at all unpleasant to the teenage heroine but the situation is not tolerable; certainly not something she wants to encourage in the least. She's not this guy's property and subconsciously or not, he's certainly acting as if she were. Bringing her hands up into her t-shirt, Supergirl takes Luiz's wrists and begins to pull them away from her body. Reacting instinctively in his deep sleep state, Luiz grips the breasts harder and, with unconscious awareness, senses the pleasure in his cock. He's got a huge morning rod that pulses with warm blood. It's a normal physiological attribute that virtually every male experiences on a regular basis. Usually though, it's not within the pussy of one of the most desirable females on the planet. Being that this is the case with Luiz, however, he's subconscious mind sees no reason not to take advantage of the situation. Luiz wriggles his hips with soft, bleary pleasure even under the influence of his still undisturbed sleep and his penis shifts and prods deeply within Supergirl's heavenly cavity.

"Whaah!" Supergirl gasps with pleasure. That was a delightful surprise! Wrong in every way but wonderfully exciting. And now the hands are pulling her tighter and enclosing more firmly around her breasts. And the penis goes for a double stroke.

"Haah......aaahh!" Supergirl's hips jerk in response, her eyes widening with alarm and excitement. Man that penis was fat and hard!

"Mmmmhhh," a satisfied Luiz moans softly in his sleep as the warm friction jitters into his sleep-dulled brain. He instinctively snuggles closer, starting to come awake now, shimmying his penis back and forth and grinding the tip of it deep into the blonde teen's body, pressing against her cervix.

"Ohhhhhmygod.....oh...god....thats...uhhhhnn!....damn.. you, Luiz...stop that!"

Luiz finally comes awake after Supergirl bucks her hips violently against his larger, encompassing physique. But for the Maid of Steel, her rough bucking motion only serves to impale her sensitized snatch with a harsh sliding cock back and forth within her vagina. This takes Supergirl's breath away with a rushing wave of pleasure throughout her body. Huge quivers run along the entire length of her from her bare toes to her shivering fingertips. Disabled by her shuddering joy, the blonde beauty is unable to prevent Luiz from rolling her on to her stomach, pinning her to the bed and thrusting back and forth three times with his huge morning boner.

"Aieyahhh!" Distracted by a mighty surge of pleasure, and giving away at least thirty pounds to her now grinning wrestling opponent, the disadvantaged Maid of Steel is helplessly pinned to the mattress. She's completely unable to dislodge Luiz from his powerful grip of lust. Having made matters worse and overexcited herself with her last effort to buck him off with a hard hip thrust, Supergirl is loathe to try that maneuver again. With her chin pressing into the soft pillow, the teen hero takes a deep breath within the cool air pocket to try to figure out her next move.

"Good morning, sunshine. It's a great Sunday morning, ain't it?" Three more fast strokes followed by a firm nipple squeeze jerk an open-mouthed gasp of delight from the deeply frustrated blonde. "There's nothing better than morning sex, is there?" Luiz chatters glibly even as he gives his beautiful bed companion four more hard thrusts of his huge cock.

"Ohhh……much…" Supergirl bleats shrilly from inside the pillow, her body jingling with erotic sensations, her mind stunned into confused inaction by the pleasure coursing through it; jumping across neurons with giddy delight that makes the blonde wet between her legs.

Luiz loves this morning boner. It's like the Perfect Storm of swirling blood, warm embracing pussy and incredible timing. He is enjoying the hell out of this maelstrom of sexual opportunity presented to him like a gift from the gods.

Seizing the moment, Luiz begins to rapidly pump away at the beautiful girl's body beneath him, drawing out and thrusting in his overly-engorged tool with a singular purpose that has been proven through time immemorial to satiate the female into docile acceptance. And so it is with the famous Maid of Steel. Stripped of her powers and addled by overwhelming pleasure, she cannot fight the sensations subduing her resistance. She relents silently in her submissive position and accepts the inevitable conclusion with a throaty groan of delight. Luiz's rocking form bumps back and forth against the blonde champion's body, his balls bumping her groin with every deep and satisfying driving thrust.

"Hoh…hoh…. hoh…. hoh…. hoh…. hoh…. hoh…." The pitch of her delighted moans increases with every thrust as the teen champion is deeply satisfied with every building moment of this slippery, sliding, overwhelming battering ram of a cock. The couple's heavy panting is perfectly matched in rhythm.

With her tits being fondled and tweaked, her vagina stretched and rubbed with unending, fantastic friction, Supergirl loses all her senses and shrieks with unbridled ecstasy as her orgasm sweeps through her like a hurricane.

"Yaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh….oooooohhh…..aaaiiiiiieeeeeeeehhhaa…..!" Her knuckles are white as she grips the sheet in absolute pleasure.

"Ohhh….uuuuuhhhhhhnnn…ah…ha…ha…ha…ha…!" Luiz's jerky, fluttering laugh of total pleasurable release accompanies his own orgasm as he shoots a copious stream of hot spunk into Supergirl's cavity. She feels the jetting cum and this triggers a secondary spasm of delight that swells into a shivering mini-orgasm of its own. The shuddering snatch jerks a spastic spurt of extra cum from the panting Puerto Rican who then settles down with a heavy sigh, pressing a lethargic Supergirl deeper into the mattress and her face far into the pillow.

"…eh….erfff….." The muffled voice of the blonde teen barely makes it out of the soft prison of puffy comfort. The unheeding Luiz is finally jarred into complying by a flying elbow from the girl beneath him. Why didn't I think of that before he fucked me?

With a wincing groan, Luiz rolls off the Maid of Steel and flops onto his back, sweaty and fulfilled. Supergirl lifts her head out of the depths of her crushed pillow and draws a huge gulp of air.

After ten seconds of fresh oxygen, Supergirl vents all her anger at the act she'd disturbingly relented to and her near asphyxiation. "God, you dumb prick," she swears with startling venom. "You could have suffocated me!"

"…sorry…" he breathes, spent and listless.

And then the dragon snaps its long barbed tail into Supergirl's brain without warning. Her system, energized by the sex, shouts its need to her and she poses the question without hesitation.

"Luiz, how about that second bowl of crack!"

"Yeah, sure. Why not."

Only twelve minutes later, behind the closed bedroom door, a laughing, pawing Luiz and a giggling, sweaty Supergirl are both soaring on a on pretty damn good crack high courtesy of Joey 'Target.'

The sex-stupefied blonde is on her back on the bed completely naked now with her ankles beside her ears as Luiz holds them in place and drives his cock in and out of Supergirl's wet tight snatch with athletic fervor. Only minutes after that, the two of them are gasping and panting and draining their wet warm pleasure all over the beige sheets. One minute later, they're back to spooning and sleeping deeply on the sweat-stained bed, oblivious to the world.

Back at the penthouse suite in the Pleasure Dome, Wonder Woman gets a 6:00 a.m. shot of Istanbul Express from Sergei. She sinks into her private oblivion with just the softest of moans. Right after Sergie does his customary fondling of her bobbling breasts and leaves, Diana savors the wide, spreading warmth she feel move across her body. Pathetically, the drugged Amazon champion is too out of it to even realize she's just pissed the bed. She's in a bad way now, a very bad way.

End of Chapter 42

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Supergirl Captured by the Mob part 42