Supergirl Captured by the Mob
Part 48 - A Test of Wills
By Dr. Dominator
Note: The Supergirl character and name as well as Superman, 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.
Stevie Frazano smiles as he knocks on the door of Tony's apartment and steps back, bobbing and shifting his body. His rolled up denim shirt sleeves are flopping and bouncing against his plain black t-shirt and the cuffs of his khaki cargo pants are swaying back and forth. He's got earbud headphones stuffed into his ears and he's nodding in time with the beat of Eminem's old hit "Cleanin' Out My Closet."
"I'm sorry Mama. I never meant to hurt you," he sings along. "I never meant to make you cry. But tonight I'm cleanin' out my closet."
The door swings open and Tony looks at the young man with a raised eyebrow and a look of dismay.
"What the fuck is this? You're not high are you, you prick?"
"High?" Stevie shuts off the Ipod and smiles at Tony as he pulls the earbuds out and stuffs the tangle of wires into his shirt pocket. "No, Tony, I'm not high. I'm just in a good mood. I actually got a decent night's sleep for the first time in four days."
"Okay then, kid. Sorry. Right, I know you've been working like a slave on the Wonder Woman edits. Things are a bit tense these days. Sorry for snapping. I don't know if you know what's going on, but let me fill you. Come on in." Tony puts his arm around Stevie's shoulder and ushers him into the apartment. The young man was a hard worker and loyal and that went a long way with Tony.
"You want some coffee, Stevie? There's a pot in the kitchen."
"Thanks. Think I will if you don't mind."
"That's what it's there for. How'd the edits end up? Good?"
"Fan-fuckin'-tastic!" Stevie pours the dark brown brew three quarters of the way to the top of a thick blue mug. "They're hot as hell and ready for duplication. Should I call our guy?" He puts three heaping teaspoons of sugar into the big mug and follows it up with white arc of cream.
"Can't."
"What? Why can't I," Stevie asks, sipping the coffee and finding it perfect. "Is there a problem with him?"
"We're in the middle of a bit of disagreement with the families at the moment," Tony says without the hint of the severity implied there. "Let's just say that releasing the Wonder Woman series would be counter-productive at this time."
"It doesn't have to be," Stevie says quietly.
"Oh, really. It doesn't have to be!" Tony responds, coldly furious. He ran a tight ship without being overly concerned about protocol, but he wasn't used to having his judgement questioned by underlings. His temper, shortened by the stress of the past few days, flares quickly. "What the fuck do you know about it, Stevie? You don't have a clue about what's going on, so keep a lid on yourself, huh!"
Tony looks across the kitchen at the young hood dressed in loose street clothing and feels his ire rising even more. He'd never of worn an outfit like that to a meeting with a family head, even if it was his own crew chief. Things were going to hell all around him and this kid, hard worker or not, was emblematic of the situation.
"Tony, no disrespect intended, but I was just..."
"Stevie," Carmine snaps from the living room couch. "That's enough. Clam up, now!"
Sergei simply watches the exchange from an armchair in the living room.
"...I was just thinking out loud," Stevie continues, undaunted, "because I had a feeling we were going to have some problems releasing a video of Wonder Woman right after the Supergirl series. And I've been giving it some thought."
"Have you now?" Tony's tone drips with sarcasm.
"The way I see it is this: The styles of camera work and microphone placement, hell, even the lighting and locations in the two series are very similar." Stevie takes a sip of coffee as he gathers his thoughts, then continues. "Our body types are similar as well, although I digitally obscured the faces throughout. And then there's the fact that Wonder Woman is supposed to be in the hands of terrorists."
"Tell me something I don't know, Stevie," Tony digs, angry that the obvious roadblocks, some of which are his own doing, are being blatantly re-stated by this young underling.
" I can only imagine the kind of heat on us right now, so drawing more by releasing a Wonder Woman series would get the cops beating down our door, right?"
"You say anything to him about this?" Tony looks at Carmine while nodding at Stevie.
"Not a word," Carmine replies, raising his palms toward Tony.
"Plus, the families are pissed for bringing the cops' attention to us, too, I'm guessing," Stevie adds.
"True enough," Tony growls, even as he admires the kid for working it all out on his own.
"Right," Stevie nods at Tony without fear, pressing on."So we have to take the pressure off and put it directly on someone else, I figure."
"There ain't no one else, Stevie," Carmine says sternly. "Everyone knows the mob did the Supergirl series. She said it herself at the bank heist. And, like you said, with the two series being so similar, everyone's gonna know it's us doin' the Wonder Woman DVDs. We can't get around that."
"We actually don't have to. What we have to do is shift everyone's thinking 180 degrees."
"You better explain yourself, kid," Tony says with quiet purpose. "We've got a busy day in front us, you included. So we don't have a lot of time here."
"Wonder Woman herself is the key. Everyone thinks of her as the famous Champion of All Women. Pure. Perfect. The unblemished heroine beyond reproach. Well, everyone in this room knows that's a load of crap!"
"Hmmph!" Sergei grunts in acknowledgment, thinking of her all-too-willing rhythmic movement to his thrusting while she was tied to the wooden pole." Everyone looks at the Russian who actually lowers his head with embarrassment and grumbles, "Got that right."
"The Amazon princess can be as slutty and as common as any street hooker in a cheap PVC hump-me-in-the-back-alley miniskirt," Stevie continues. "Hell, I've been watching her moan and groan and grind and cum like a leaky faucet for the past four days. I know who and what this bitch is, gentlemen. What we have to do is show that side to the public. But we have to do it live first. Before the DVD series can be released." Stevie is getting a head of steam now and the others are listening with quiet intent. "If we show the world that Wonder Woman is as much of a slut as Supergirl was in her series, no one's going to be nearly as charged up to defend her honor or seek out retribution against us. At least, that's what I was thinking." Stevie sips his coffee again and waits for the reaction of his fellow Mob crew members.
Tony's face is a study in contemplation. Carmine's scowl lessens considerably. Sergei takes on a wolfish smile. After a minute all the men are nodding.
"Sounds like a way to go, Stevie," Tony says thoughtfully. "A public display, huh?"
"I'm thinking sucking cock and taking it doggy-style in a big old display window right in the middle of Times Square!" Stevie's broad grin seems to light up the room and Tony's slowly spreads to match the kid's own.
"Son-of-a-bitch! It just might work." Tony exclaims happily. "But wait, she's supposed to be held by terrorists." His smile falters. His eyes go dark.
"And who may I ask is to be saying that terrorists don't like to fuck? We can dress her partners as Muslim terrorists." Sergei says from the couch. "Believe me, the things that go on in those training camps aren't all rifle manuals and seminars like Suicide Bomb Vest 101, my friends."
Once again, everyone looks at Sergei in shock who sticks his chin out defiantly. "Well they're not!"
Everyone cracks up in peals of laughter at this. It goes on for a bit and the release of tension in the air is palpable.
Carmine wipes his eyes with his handkerchief after two minutes. "God, I needed that," he says with a satisfied sigh.
"That's exactly what Mustafa is going to say after Wondie sucks the cum out of his knob," Stevie cracks. And everyone is back into gales of laughter once more.
When it all settles down after another couple of minutes, the men sit down to drink more coffee around the kitchen table and discuss the shipping plans for the heroines, this evening's raid on the Pleasure Dome and the details of what's going to go down in the coming few days with Don Lupenzo.
The situation with Lupenzo, Stevie is told by Tony, is very serious. He has to be careful when moving the girls and keep his eyes open for trouble from any direction. They all do until they can take the pressure off with Wonder Woman. And probably even beyond that.
Stevie has another idea in that regard that Tony likes. He suggests that the mob steal back Wonder Woman from the supposed terrorists in another very public display. The first one in the Times Square window is supposedly planned by the terrorists to show America that their famous heroine is nothing but a cheap whore. Their follow-up would be to keep the public demoralized. And that's when the mob will "recapture" her for America and for their own purposes. After that, the DVD series can be released a couple of weeks later.
"Stevie," Tony says with real gratitude as the two of them stand by a second pot of coffee brewing on the counter before them, "you've thought us out of a very tight spot here. It doesn't solve all our problems, but it takes care of a lot of them. And it can lead to a financial windfall that can smooth the way considerably down the road. You will see a major bonus from all your hard work recently and from your brilliant insights. I want you to know I respect you for having the stones to speak your mind as well as having a solid plan to back it up. You've earned a lot of money today. And you've opened my eyes about your worth. So stay sharp because I need good people like you."
"I appreciate that, Tony."
"Hey, what kind of boss would I be if I didn't bring along the best of my people. But just know that there's a lot of risk out there at the moment. There's still the release of Supergirl that I've refused to do after promising Don Lupenzo. So no matter what happens with Wonder Woman, Gino Lupenzo is still not likely to let up."
"I hear you, Tony. But why not give up the blonde?"
"I've got a bigger picture in mind that when I started. Let's just say the ante is higher and the table stakes are worth it."
"You're the boss. And I'll back your play however you want, Tony."
"Good lad," he says, rubbing Stevie's neck with fatherly pride as he steers him back to the meeting.
Back at the table with their mugs refilled, the talk turns to the raid.
"The cops will do their thing tonight, but that should be all from them for a while," the young Mafia don says. "And while the media are still harping on Supergirl's whereabouts, it sells advertising right, still the tone is not quite as urgent. The DVD series has helped in that regard, as our bright young Stefano has so aptly pointed out."
The group continues to discuss the issues on their plates, noting that the terrorist capture of Wonder Woman is weeks old now and no one in the media has any leads as to where she is. Superman's continuing disappearance is still tied to terrorists since he was taken in Bryant Park with Wonder Woman, so the pressure continues to build up there as well. Him more than either of the two women. But that ball is in Lex Luthor's court and there's nothing the Mob can do about that right now, if ever. Ever the loose cannon, Lex Luthor will go his own way until it suits his purpose to contact the mob. Tony doesn't need another shipment of the Nympho Patches for at least three months.
Tony then says that he expects Superman's, Supergirl's and Wonder Woman's names to be on all the search warrants waved in Carmine's face tonight. It's been decided that Carmine is the one who will conduct the police in their "tour" of the Pleasure Dome. Sergei and Stevie will be in Brooklyn looking after the heroines. Tony will lie low in a strip club in New Jersey and keep in contact with everyone by cell phone.
At 10:00 a.m., the meeting breaks up with everyone having their marching orders. Stevie and Sergei head for the basement to get the shipping crates ready for the two heroines, gather the gas masks and prepare everything else. After that, they'll go to the penthouse, collect the girls and bring them by elevator to the basement.
Tony will go and clean up his office and bedroom of all items he doesn't want the cops to find and put them in a box to be shipped to Brooklyn in the same van for safekeeping in the meantime.
Carmine heads out to gather the troops and arrange for security of every building and warehouse in which he and Tony have an interest. He'll put all the soldiers out on the street with a general alert to be on the lookout for Don Lupenzo's hit men. Things are going to get hairy for a while and his soldiers have to know to be prepared.
Tony stays at the doorway to his apartment in his dress slacks and pale blue work shirt, nodding goodbye as they head to the public elevators in the common hallway outside. He is thinking to himself as he sips the last of his coffee, now cool in the mug.
Not a bad meeting. I've got good people here. A good organization. Let's hope Gino doesn't fuck it up. With the Wonder Woman DVD series possible, there's enough to go around for everyone, even that fuck Lupenzo. But he'll get his before this is all over and done with. On papa's honor, I swear it!
When Kara finally wakes up for the second time after Sergei had knocked her silly the night before, she has enough sense and energy now to stay conscious. While still groggy, she finds it less of an effort to take in her situation than her earlier swim up from the deep depths of her deep sleep. During the middle of the night, she'd spent a mere minute squirming and trying vainly to focus while she struggled against tight ropes, the ever-pervasive sensation of weakness from the kryptonite collar glowing around her neck and a painful throbbing in her knee and the back of her head. After a minute, an exhausting sense of despair and tiredness overwhelmed her overtaxed brain and she collapsed into unconsciousness once more.
Now, in the morning light that pours through the thick soundproof plexiglass bedroom windows, she realizes that she had been efficiently hogtied and left in her bed on her side. Her arms are trussed tightly behind her back, the insides of her wrists press against each other within multiple coils of blue nylon rope. Her ankles are tightly coiled in blue rope as well. Looking at her red boots, she realizes that she has been dressed in the familiar and despised fake Supergirl costume. It is too tight, too short and certainly too stiff and scratchy from the semen and feminine cum stains all over the panties, her chest and the back of the tacky costume clinging to her beneath the nylon rope. A foot away on the firm mattress, Wonder Woman lies still, probably unconscious, with her back to Kara. She is similarly trussed and wearing her own cheesy knock-off of her famous Amazon outfit.
"Uughh! These guys have no sense of style whatsoever!" The Maid of Steel groans as she steadily recovers her senses. "Diana, wake up, sweetie. See if you can reach the knots in my ropes and loosen them."
"Ooohhhhhhhhhh...." Diana moans thickly and remains in place, not attempting to reach her fingers out at all yet.
"Yo! Diana? Do you hear me? Wake up, sweetie!"
"Oh...Hera....help...me....I feel....awful....!"
"Yeah, well, Sergei knocked us around like a couple of rubber bounce-back toys last night. I don't feel great either. My neck is tight and sore and feels like the worst sunburn ever from the kryptonite collar, and my knee is...
"BBBUUULLLAAARRGGHHH!" Without another second's warning, Wonder Woman vomits up a big brown puddle of puke on the bedspread, her mouth wide, gagging sickly. Then, nauseated by the smell of her own puke, she rolls quickly onto her back, closer to Kara. She is frantically taking deep breaths of air, trying to maintain control of her nausea.
"Ohhh....please...." the queasy heroine pants loudly, "...no more!"
"Di? What is it? What have they done to you?" Supergirl has the thinnest recollection of the talk of trying to get Wonder Woman hooked on heroine. Was it Tony and Sergei talking in the kitchen last night? She was so high from the crack at the time that it was all a blur. How long had they been dosing Diana? Was she overdosed in the middle of the night? Was Wonder Woman dying of an overdose right beside her in this bed while the famous Maid of Steel was too helpless to help her in any way?
"....with....drawal...symptoms...." moans the Amazon princess as she takes in more air to try to clear her head. Her jaw clicks loudly as she stretches her mouth wide to take in all the oxygen she can. Helpless, the raven-haired beauty begins to shake and tremble. Her body, now awake, announces its craving for the powerful drug with every ounce of its natural will. Her legs even spasm harshly, flailing sideways and striking the heels of her cheap boots against Supergirl's calves.
"Oww!" Kara bleats in distress. The collar has drained all her mighty powers away through the night and she's extremely weak and helpless against the mulish kick of her sick friend shivering on the bed beside her. "That really hurt!"
"...s...s....sorry....Kara!" Diana grunts through chattering teeth. The beautiful Amazon princess looks anything but regal at the moment. Her hair is pale and dry, her skin is taut and sunken at the cheeks and her costume fits poorly. Even as a shoddy imitation, it is invested with a pathetic air of sarcastic malice as it drapes loosely on the quivering frame of the miserable Themysciran, clearly demonstrating the lovely heroine's disastrous fall from grace. Her muttered words confirm the cold truth of the moment. "I can't control....my body...very...well....right now..."
"Try to turn over on your side again and I'll try to work on your knots."
"...but...the...."
"Come on, Diana, we've got to try this before Sergei comes back."
"...but...the.."
"You can do it, Di! Just turn on your side and scrunch up so your wrists touch mine"
"...but Kara...the...the..."
"Are you Wonder Woman or not?" Kara tries goading her friend into action. "Turn over and let me at those knots, girl!"
"...can't....do...it...."
A frustrated Supergirl turns on her side, her back against Diana's right side and the blonde beauty pushes hard against Wonder Woman to help her turn on her side and reveal the knots so she can work at them.
Horrified, a weak and bleary-eyed Wonder Woman is jolted harshly and she tips onto her side and then, helplessly rolls over even more, falling face forward in an ungainly spin into the brown puddle on the bedspread. It covers her face and the smell, texture and disgust immediately sickens the famous Amazon to her core.
"Waauullkkk...Blauurgghhh!" The overwhelmed brunette champion adds a second full measure to the puddle on the bed, bathing her own face in her puke. The choked sound of the ralphing beauty is smothered by the mattress as Kara realizes the horrible mistake she has made.
"Oh, Diana! I'm soooo sorry....!"
It is exactly then that Sergei walks into the bedroom with Stevie and sees this revolting tableau before him. He puts his hands on his hips, throws his head back and lets out a huge belly laugh.
"WAH, HA, HA! Oh, that is priceless, my beauties. I could not have planned it better myself to humiliate you more!"
Behind him, Stevie is merely shaking his head. "You know," he says, "people think that capturing superheroines is nothing but sucking, fucking, nipple twisting and sex games. They don't realize the bloody mess that comes with beating the crap out of a hero or exposing them to their great weakness. They have no idea of the cleaning and repairs and shit work there is in handling heroes or heroines who bleed, piss themselves or worse when they're beaten enough to incapacitate them. Really, no one has a clue about the mess involved!"
"If you are done, can we get our two charges downstairs and into their crates, please?"
"Fine. I'm carrying Supergirl. You can get Princess Upchuck there!"
Sergei's smiling face turns serious at this, but he calmly waits as Stevie hoists the ineptly struggling Supergirl over his shoulder. As the young man heads out of the bedroom, Sergei grudgingly moves forward to grab the gagging, choking, puke-faced Amazon warrior. Taking her by her hair and a clump of fabric at the back of her shoddy fake tunic, Sergei roughly drags Wonder Woman off the bed with a jerk and a thump. With her boot toes tracing dark lines through the thick carpet, a moaning Diana is dragged into the bathroom like a sack of potatoes.
"....gghuuuhhhhh..."
Holding her head over the bathroom sink, Sergei dips a washcloth under the running tap and washes off the champion's face. Wonder Woman's eyes have rolled up under her lids and her slack mouth hangs opens with a thin thread of brownish drool hanging there in the light until Sergei's swath of face cloth passes over the barely conscious woman's mouth, cleaning her haggard face of all residue.
"Pathetic!" Sergei grunts. He turns off the tap, drops the filthy washcloth into the sink and then easily lifts Wonder Woman over his right shoulder. The rump of her sagging blue panties with their cheap sewn on stars reflects in the mirror, the flashing image presenting a rare scene of yet one more disgraceful defeat of the heavily handicapped Amazon. With strong, long strides, he walks through the suite with the limp heroine and joins Stevie in the elevator with a grumbling Supergirl over his shoulder.
"Get your hand off my crotch, you pig!"
"Oink! Oink!" Stevie mimics as he playfully squeezes the defenseless crotch of the bound Maid of Steel dangling on his shoulder. He happily fondles her genitals through the stiffened fabric, drawing a string of profanity from the blonde that draws a raised eyebrow from the Russian who is slowly caressing the wide ass of a semi-conscious Wonder Woman. Then the elevator doors slide together with a soft thump.
Four hours later, a mid-sized Hertz box truck carrying a team of four men inside sitting around two seven foot wooden crates carefully backs up to the loading dock of Tony's anonymous six-story painted white brick office building and adjoining warehouse in Brooklyn. It is not an easy maneuver because the opposite side of the street has three cars double parked which leaves little room to jockey the big truck. After six adjustments, Sergei finally is able to back the truck up to the dock.
Tony's building is located on 12th Street, about a dozen blocks away from the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel entrance. Situated in an industrial area, the building is right next to a noisy auto body shop that handily covers the sounds of whatever is going on inside Tony's building during the day. Of course, the soundproofing in the inner rooms where Supergirl had been kept during her training prevents any sounds from reaching the outside during the cold heart of the dark nights. It is to this menacing area that the two heroines are to be brought until the raid on the Pleasure Dome is over and it is safe to return them to The Bronx.
Out of the cab of the truck, Stevie climbs down from the passenger side and Sergei from the driver's side.
"Let's get this done quickly," Stevie says, pulling a heavy ring of jingling keys from his pants pocket. He walks up a small set of stairs to the loading dock door, unlocks it and heaves the large, sliding roll door upward. Counterbalanced, it groans loudly in its tracks until there's an eight foot clearance from the raised dock floor to the bottom of the door. Stevie flips the keys to Sergei who unlocks the padlock on the truck's back door and then lifts that rolling door. The two- men teams are carrying each crate off the truck before the truck door stops rolling up, carefully stepping over the half-foot space between the dock and the truck. They carry the crates into the shadows of the loading area in less than 18 seconds: practiced, professional and quickly flawless. Sergei closes the truck up and hops into the cab that is now blocking two cars that have come down 12th Street and have no room to squeeze through the double parked cars and the truck cab. The second car, an old battered green Nissan with an ugly brown patch on its front hood honks, the male driver annoyed at the short delay. This is New York after all.
"I am moving. I am moving," Sergei shouts at the Nissan. "I will pull this around the corner onto 3rd Avenue and wait for the men," he turns and calls to Stevie.
Stevie just nods, pissed that Sergei has talked at all with that Russian accent to the Nissan and then to him. Dumb mistake. You never knew what could fuck up a smooth operation. Turning, he nods to the two teams and softly says "Upstairs. Follow me" and leads them to the elevator.
On the fifth floor, Stevie watches as the two teams set down the crates and straighten up waiting for further directions.
"Thanks guys," he says, pulling out a thick fold of bills. He peels off a trio of hundred dollar bills and hands it to the nearest man whose face brightens with a big smile. Easy money for half a day's work. It wasn't his business what was inside the box. Stevie goes around to the other three men, peeling off bills and handing them out to each.
"You'll find Sergei parked on Third Avenue. Get the keys, drive back to The Bronx and return the truck. And you were never here today. Capisce?"
"Sure thing, Stevie. Never here."
The quartet steps into the elevator and heads down. Stevie waits until he hears the machinery stop, giving time for the men to leave the building. Sergei should be back in five minutes or less. Kneeling beside one of the crates, Stevie picks up the hammer nearby and claws at the lid. There's a squeal of a stubborn nail being yanked out of plywood and the sound repeats as Stevie works the lid off the crate with deliberate care. Just as he finishes the final corner of the crate, Sergei steps out of the elevator. He takes hold of the lid at one end and he and Stevie pull it off, wrenching out the final half inch of the final nail with a quick heave. There in the crate lies Supergirl in her phony costume, her hands now tied in front of her. A clear plastic triangular face mask is held over her nose and mouth by a tight white elastic strap. The mask is fogged with her breath, her chest rising and falling slowly as the mini-tank of knockout gas resting in the crate by her head slowly releases its cool potency into her system.
"Peaceful as a baby," Stevie says. "Help me lift her out and get her onto the bondage table over there."
Stevie puts the small tank feeding the gas mask onto Supergirl's chest and the two hoods hoist the limp heroine by her armpits and ankles and carry her across the room, laying the limp form on her on her back on the padded table. It is the same table on which the world famous heroine had been broken and humiliated and reduced to the crack addict status she now holds. While she might be convinced or coerced to cooperate and not make any fuss over the next 24 hours if she were given enough crack, this was the safer way to handle things: strap her down, give her a steady supply of crack anyway and keep her quiet until the heat cooled down from the cops.
Wonder Woman, in the other crate was a different matter altogether. That was Sergei's job. He had to break her down quickly and get the Amazon to the stage of dopey heroin-driven acceptance of her fate. Not easy but far from impossible for a man of Sergei's talents.
After untying the knots and pulling the blue nylon rope away from her body and tossing it on the floor, Stevie says, "Strap her legs. I'll get her arms." Stevie slips the leather cuffs around Supergirl's wrists, quickly threading the tongue of natural leather through the buckle while Sergei does her ankles. When they're done, Stevie twists the vial to stop the flow of gas. He pulls the mask off carefully, pulling on the strap behind her head and pulling it away. It will be a few minutes before the gas wears off and Supergirl regains consciousness.
Looking at the skin around Supergirl's neck, Stevie frowns deeply. It is dry and peeling and a pale yet obvious shade of bright green.
"I don't like the looks of that!"
"What can you do? Got to keep her powers shut down." Sergei shrugs, preoccupied with planning how he's going to break down Wonder Woman over the course of the next day.
"I can switch her collar for something else. Hell, there's plenty of kryptonite around here to keep her weakened. I'll have to use a kryptonite dildo or something. Tony doesn't want her permanently disfigured and that collar looks like it may have already left a permanent mark."
Stevie begins pulling open drawers to look for the proper instrument he can use to replace the collar. Whips and ball gags and candy cocks all slide around the metal bottoms as he yanks open a steady succession of drawers open before slamming them shut with growing frustration.
"I know there was one in here. Marvelous Marvin I think I called it. But I don't think that had kryptonite in it, come to think of it. I need one that is filled with...ah! Here's something!"
Stevie holds up a clear plastic conical butt plug filled with swirling, glowing green slime.
"Jackpot," he says, shutting the drawer with his other hand with a metallic clang.
"Fine," Sergei states brusquely. "I will go uncrate Wonder Woman unless you are to be needing help with this blonde bitch."
"I'm good. I'll stuff this up her ass and she'll be weak as a kitten. Then I'll take off the collar and give her neck a break. Hope I'm in time."
Sergei's not even listening. He's already walked over to the second crate and is working it over with the hammer claw. The sound of the squealing nails being yanked out of rough plywood almost drowns out the groaning of a slowly reviving Supergirl as Stevie pulls aside the crotch of her panties and positions the buttplug between her soft cheeks. He has opened up the lower half of the table so her legs are spread widely apart, held tightly in the leather bondage cuffs.
"...ohhhh....whuya.....doen..." Kara murmurs, her head swimming with confusion and thrumming with a very nasty headache from the knockout gas. She feels weak and sickly, something she's never been able to get used to.
"Just making sure that the famous Supergirl doesn't get any permanent body markings that she doesn't want." Stevie is kneeling down and peering between Kara's legs to get a good read on the angle he needs to push the plug in. He's got it.
"...whuh...ya...mean...by thh....UUUNNGHH!"
The stubby conical buttplug is roughly forced up into Supergirl's anal cavity by a hard thrust of Stevie's palm. It's unique shape fills the lower cavity with a tight fit that ensures it can't be pushed out without considerable tearing of the blonde's butthole. It will take careful manipulation with some sort of salve to extract this device. Letting the crotch of the panties go, the elastic pulls back covering the buttplug and providing a second line of defense against it being ejected by the desperate blonde heroine.
Supergirl swoons in a dazed faint, her boots flopping apart as the double dose of kryptonite around her neck and sloshing within the dildo stuffed up her rear end take their toll. All she can do is moan weakly as the effects of the deadly green element completely incapacitate her. Walking around to the stuporous champion's head, Stevie studies the glowing green choker, seeing the tricky clasp that holds it tight. After four attempts, he finally releases it and is able to the pull the collar away from the inert teenager's throat. He takes a small lead bag out of the top drawer. There's a ring inside with a small oval green stone inside a slightly larger oval glass container in a bright silver setting. It could be an emerald but Stevie doubts it. He holds the ring next to Supergirl's cheek to see if she winces from the radiation but she doesn't. Maybe it is an emerald. Stevie drops the choker in the lead bag with the ring and seals it up, then stashes the tiny bag in one of the many pockets of his cargo pants.
"I'm going to call Tony, Sergei," Stevie announces, "and tell him everything's set here. I'll be in the control room using that phone. I forgot to charge my cell phone. In fact, I guess I'll charge it while I'm in there. I'll be a while if you're okay with Wondie there? How's she look?"
"Like a sick, stupid bimbo of a superhero who has to take a dump. That about right, Wonder Slut?" Sergei is sitting on the lid he had carefully replaced on top of the crate after he had removed it. Half the crate remains open, revealing the upper half of Wonder Woman's body. The lower half of her body is covered by the lid of the crate that now extends a yard past the end of the box. Sergei is pulling up on the torso of the lethargic, tightly bound Champion of All Women, drawing her up to a sitting position by holding onto the front of her tawdry tunic. Her hands are limp in her lap as his hands clasp the shabby gold fabric eagle tightly, his knuckles dimpling her ample breasts. He pulls her upper torso out of the crate so she is sitting upright but with a pronounced slouch. Her head wobbles on her neck like a bobble head doll and the mighty Amazon merely groans loudly as a wrenching stomach pain seizes her and she tries to bend forward. Sergei's fist in her chest prevents this and her head rocks away, then flops backward between her shoulder blades, her mouth stretched in a grimace.
"Yeah, well, I see you have things well in hand. I'll go call Tony." Stevie heads into the control room leaving Sergei alone with his pretty charge.
Pulling Wonder Woman's head up by the hair with his other hand even as he holds her in place by the fisted tunic, Sergei smiles broadly into the worn face of a suffering Diana.
"You know you could be foregoing all this unpleasant pain and indignity, Wonder Slut, if you would just agree to shoot up some more of that delightful Istanbul Express heroin. Imagine how lovely that would be feeling about now? No more cramps or uncontrollable sweats" Sergei lets go of her hair and Wonder Woman manages to keep her head up. Dully she looks in the Russian's blue eyes with her own. His are filled with the bright gleam of conquest and evil pleasure. Hers are filled with doubt and pain. His advantage is clear and he knows it. Gently, the beared Russian strokes Diana's cheek as he continues to categorize the long list of symptoms she has been experiencing over the last few days. "No more desperate need to move your bowels. No more puking. No more helpless leg spasms, no more feverish all-over body shakes and no more gut-wrenching stomach spasms. It's all gone with a little needle. What do you say, Diana? Want to shoot up?"
"...no....wun't...do...it..."
THOOOOOMPPP!
The caressing hand has turned into a vengeance seeking missile, delivering a thundering punch between her arms right to her belly. Only Sergei's hand holding the cheesy fabric eagle stops her face from rocketing forward. As it is, the beautiful visage that the world is familiar with as Wonder Woman's is not one they would immediately recognize. It is blanched white, drained of all color as the mouth hangs open and her eyes bulge hugely in her screeching wheeze for air.
"So. We are to be doing this the hard way, yes? Fine. Either way, you will be asking for the needle before I am finished."
Too frantic to fill her lungs with precious air they crave, the wheezing Amazon says nothing, her eyes wide but bulging less now. She looks at Sergei with a hate she has never experienced before. She wants him dead. She wants him to suffer in his dying. She wants him...
WHAAAAAAAPPP!
The back of Sergei's hand sends Diana's face around so hard she's nearly looking directly behind her. Her cheek glows red from the devastating slap and even her nose smarts sharply. She feels a wetness on her upper lip and suspects her nose is bleeding slightly.
"You are one stupid, stubborn bitch," Sergei growls as Diana slowly brings her head around to face him, her eyes still defiant.
WHAAAAAAAPPP!!
Knocked just as hard in the opposite direction, Wonder Woman is treated to almost the same view of the elevator behind her as moments before. She is dizzy from the hard spinning movements combined with the withdrawal symptoms wracking her body. Still she brings her head around. Dulled by the pain, the hate has been replaced by the shadow of fear.
She has no power belt here; no lasso or tiara for her defense. In fact, she was clad in a humiliatingly trashy reminder that she was a mere shadow of her former self. Still, the Amazon knows to her core that it is not the costume that makes the woman but her soul. Of course, her particular costume did have the power belt she longed to have. Two minutes with that around her waist and she'd be showing Sergei the effects of a punch that would shatter his jaw and send him to Hades so fast he'd think he'd taken a hovercraft over the Styx!
"This amuses you, bitch?" Sergei sees the glint of a smile on Diana's face and can't believe it. This woman had a soul of steel if not a body. She had taken his most vicious punishments over the course of his time with her and still would not break once and for all. She would yield sometimes when she was absolutely forced to by brutality or drugs or both. But afterwards, her eyes would grow defiant yet again. If he didn't hate her so much he would admire her. But he had a job to do here. Tony and Carmine and Stevie were counting on him. And he had never let an employer or a member of his team down in his life. He wasn't about to start now.
"I was just thinking how you would look if I had my real power belt back," Diana admits, "instead of this cardboard replica and had the ability to land one good punch."
"You mean a punch such as this?" Sergei says, quickly shifting backward a foot on the crate lid before he delivers a short, stunning blow to Wonder Woman's gut.
THHOOOOOMP! CAARRRACK!
Though she'd been warned of it, this crushing punch to the stomach of a bound and defenseless Wonder Woman still manages to steal all the air out of her lungs once again. But this time Sergei has withdrawn his fist from the wrinkled golden eagle and doesn't prevent her head from rocketing downward after the punch. Her face slams into the top of the wooden crate and there is a clear snapping sound as Wonder Woman's nose breaks against the unyielding plywood.
"HOOOOOOOFF! OHH! OOWWWW!" Lying with her face on the plywood lid, her nose spreading a puddle of red across the rough grain of the wood, Wonder Woman can do nothing but wheeze desperately for air through her mouth and her broken nose.
"Not so humorous now, though, nyet, Wonder Sow?"
"....guulggkkk..." The groggy Amazon is choking on her blood. Wearily she lifts her head slightly and her nose drips red in a thin steady stream to the wooden lid of the crate. She spits out a clot of blood in an act of desperation to breathe better. It splatters onto Sergei's white polo shirt. He looks down angrily at her shirt. Then he yanks roughly on her hair, pulling Diana's head up higher so he can peer into her eyes. Pain there, of course, and a flutter of confusion. And, there still, a touch of anger yet. Remarkable. And totally unacceptable.
THHOOOOOMP! CONK! Yet again, Wonder Woman takes a driving punch in the gut from the relentless Russian and once again her face slams into the crate lid. Bowing her head at the last moment, the Amazon is able to protect her nose but her forehead cracks hard against the wood, stunning her into a haze of bewildered pain, gasping wheezes and the steady dripping blood from her nose.
"This is a fun game for you? You wish to play more?"
"....ooohhhh......nuh...dnuhhh....doh more..." Through her broken nose, Diana bends her will to fight another day. Her face still pressed against the red-stained plywood, the desperate champion asks in a husky whisper. "Whuu....dju....whant...frum mee?"
"I want you to shoot heroin into your veins, Wonder Woman. Will you do it?"
"Doh!" She barks with a rasp. "Kill me first. I refoooshh." Her diction is completely screwed up by her broken nose.
"Well, if you're trying to prove you have a hard head, you are doing a great job. But I think your skull may be cracking before your will does. A pity!"
THHOOOOOMP! GACHUNK!
With this last punch, the tightly trussed Diana is jolted forward so her chin snaps against the hard wooden crate top. It knocks her stupid but not unconscious. Wheezing in long, high whistling gasps that are autonomic at this point, the famous Wonder Woman's eyes are half-lidded, dull blue replicas that perfectly match the shoddy quality of her tawdry costume. She is a pale imitation of herself at this stage of her beating. Drooling stupidly, the mighty Champion of All Women lies with her face pressed against the wooden plywood dyed red with her blood. Her nose is still dripping but more slowly now as she stares straight ahead. She doesn't respond in the least as Sergei shifts forward so his body is closer to the stunned beauty before him. He then unzips his fly and takes his penis out of the opening of his briefs and presents it to the face of his conquered foe before him..
"Lick it, Champion. Lick it or die right here!"
And he waits for the beaten woman before him, peering at her droopy eyes for a glimpse of defiance there. Or intelligence. Or intrigue.
There is nothing. The eyes simply close all the way. And then the tongue comes out slowly and licks at the tip of the penis head before it. Slowly, but willingly, Wonder Woman begins to tickle the glans before her with her tongue as directed. Stunned and helpless, trussed and beaten, the famous Amazon princess knows deeply within her blasted thoughts that she must comply with Sergei's demand so she can live to fight another day.
His smile is wide and beaming even as he savors the first delightful twitchings of his cock as the obedient Champion of All Women favors him with long slow licks of her stretched and twisting pink tongue. Shifting his crotch forward, Sergei makes it easier for the dull-eyed, raven-haired heroine to debase herself for his pleasure.
End of Chapter 48
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