Supergirl Captured by the Mob 54  

By Dr. Dominator

Supergirl Captured by the Mob

Part 54 - A Loss In The Family

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.

In the darkness of the living room, immersed in the depths of the long leather sofa, Diana Prince sits with her legs crossed beneath her. She is wearing a thick pink terry cloth robe that gaps slightly to reveal a pale green silk teddy underneath. The black-haired Amazon enfolds herself in her arms, rocking methodically back and forth, staring into the middle distance and trying to ignore the gnawing pains of withdrawal that grip her stomach and twist a frown from her beautiful face.

"...uuuhhhh...." She moans softly and tries to think of Themyscira and the paradise she has lost. But strong, growling stomach cramps thin her reverie of her home island to pale insignificance. She is long overdue for her relieving dose of heroin and hates herself for the need. She despises the craving even as she listens intently for the sound of the elevator and the arrival of Sergei with her shot. Her jailor is her savior. How fucked up is that?

After a long, distressing two minutes of rocking and groaning, Diana finally hears the high whine of the elevator motor whistling through the suite as the cab comes to a stop at the penthouse and the doors draw open. From the dark interior of the elevator, a brown booted foot strides forward first. The tall blonde Russian mobster walks out, casually turning his head in both directions, taken aback by the unexpected darkness. His sharp eyes pick out a familiar shape on the couch.

"Well, princess, how are you feeling this evening?"

"You know how," Diana replies sullenly.

"Not really. I try to stay away from recreational drugs as strong as heroin. You should also, you know. They're really not healthy for you in the long run." She can see his white teeth thanks to the small light over the kitchen sink. He was enjoying her distress. Big surprise.

"I guess my willpower isn't as strong as yours," she says, playing the game so he will give her the heroin without delay.

"Tell me something I am not already knowing," he counters. "Are you ready to learn how to shoot up now?"

"Yes," Diana replies without irony.

"Excellent. Where is my pretty blonde davooshka?"

"Sleeping in the bedroom. Apparently she and Tony had quite a strenuous session together."

"Yes, the girl spreads her legs quite willingly now for all who ask. This, of course, is only right."

"Whatever you say, Sergei. Where do you want to do this?"

"The couch here is fine. I have a second kit on me so I don't have to use the one in the night table beside your bed."

Diana actually tilts her head sideways when he says this, like a quizzical puppy. She didn't have to wait for him and go through all the harsh withdrawal symptoms after all! She could have shot up at any time from the kit by her bed.

"Forgot about your kit, didn't you, Diana?"

"Yes," she murmurs with a frown of shame. She is losing her fighting edge. Simple things are getting past her. The heroin is dissipating her abilities, her warrior skills. And there is nothing she can do about it. She sighs heavily as Sergei sits beside her and pats her thigh.

"There, there, princess. It's alright. We all realize you're not half the heroine you used to be. And we are okay with that. More than okay. We expected it all along. If it makes you to feel any better, it took slightly longer than we thought it would. So you shouldn't feel bad that you are a strung out heroine junkie who will fuck for money at our command. You fought us as best you could. We were just too smart and resourceful for you. You were outmatched because you are a woman. There's no shame in succumbing simply because you are the inferior sex. Now give me a kiss and then you'll learn how to inject yourself."

Reluctantly, Diana leans forward to kiss Sergei's cheek as commanded but he turns his face at the last moment and their lips meet, pressed against each others in a sudden soft joining. Her eyes go wide in surprise even as Sergei's hand curls behind her neck to hold her head in place. His warm tongue tries to push past her lips but she resists. Sergei's other hand drops between Diana's crossed legs and firmly squeezes her crotch. This opens her mouth in shock and his tongue invades her mouth, entwining around her own tongue while his palm caresses her pussy.

Resigned to his advances, a demoralized and beaten Wonder Woman allows Sergei his groping pleasures and his sloppy kiss for several humiliating moments before he breaks away and settles back on the couch with a broad smile.

"Excellent, Wonder Woman. You know your place. Now let us get to your lesson."

Fifteen minutes later, the Amazon warrior has been adequately trained how to inject herself with heroin. The startling sight of her clenching the rubber hose tightly in her teeth as she pushed the plunger on the syringe she'd stuck into her vein was clearly caught on camera. Unfortunately, she wasn't in her famous costume but there surely would be other times when she would be. And that would be a highlight on more than one DVD, Sergei knew. It would be a classic that they might even release to the media to help crush the famous heroine's reputation to dust, among other indignities.

Sitting with her head back against the sofa cushion, her eyes drifting in small circles as the Istanbul Express carries her mind away to a lost, far horizon, Wonder Woman drools down the side of her mouth onto the shoulder of her pink robe.

Sergei slowly stands up and looks down at the stupefied heroine and smiles. She was no trouble now. Probably wouldn't be from now on. Quietly, the Russian mobster quickly moves to the bedroom door. He enters the bedroom and sees Supergirl fast asleep in the bed, sleeping on her stomach and clutching the pillow tightly as she softly purrs a lady-like snore.

"...t..tony..." The dreaming blonde heroine mumbles, her thoughts of sexual satisfaction filling her head with simple joy. Sergei reaches into the night table and takes out the leather heroin kit there, then withdraws quietly from the bedroom.

Sergei didn't want Wonder Woman having access to drugs without his control. He figured she would have forgetten about the kit and he wasn't surprised that she had. She was losing it. Big time!

He walks past the nodding Wonder Woman with a smile as he heads for the elevator. Tony would be very pleased with the progress he had made today with the beaten Amazon: very pleased indeed.

The room is pitch black but pleasantly warm. The only sound is that of a very small but powerful motor. He has to get up shortly and go on patrol. It was only right, after all. But then Lois reaches over to him and her hand finds his penis. She slowly and gently begins to stroke him and Clark smiles. Lois certainly enjoyed her sex.

Her strokes become faster and harder; quite aggressive actually for Lois. Clark moves to take her hand away. His patrol was more important than Lois' steady need for his 13-inch member, after all. But to his surprise, he can't move his arms. They are immobilized somehow and this makes Clark frown with worry. Since when did Lois pursue bondage fantasies? And when did her hand strength get so powerful? Usually her hand or arm tired pretty quickly and then she moved on to using her mouth. She was very, very good with her mouth.

Clark's breathing rapidly increases as the strokes begin to excite him intensely. His heart is beating like a drum solo in a heavy metal song.

"Ohhhh....Lois. Ughnnnnn...sl..sl...slowww downnn....suh....stoppp...."

If anything, the pace of the jerking hand increases and then another hand cups his balls and begins to tickle the small hairs there, fondling him slowly as the skin on his penis is rubbed up and down at a hellish pace.

"...wait...dohhhn't...too...too...much....too....fast...."

Clark's head is swimming with pleasure now and he is pretty sure he won't be able to hold back unless everything comes to a screeching halt immediately.

Lois slows her strokes but only by half, still keeping his rod throbbing with a skill that goes far beyond all Clark's experience with her. The slower strokes may just be enough for Clark to push his excitement back to more manageable levels. He tries to concentrate on an image of Braniac blasting him with a kryptonite pulse gun and that helps him a bit more to slow his heart beat.

But then Lois' mouth encompasses the head of Clark's penis, sucking on it with hard firm draws of her cheeks and the Man of Steel is thrown back in the deep end of the pleasure pool.

"GGUUHNNNNN!!!" He groans loudly, helplessly as the handwork and the mouth-work

quickly bring him back near his peak of tolerance. "LOIS....WHYYYY?"

He is very close now. And he thinks to himself. Why shouldn't I let go? If Lois is so hell-fire determined to bring me to climax, why should I resist? Certainly I can start my patrol ten minutes later than usual. I deserve a little pleasure, after all, with all my....

Blinding spotlights suddenly snap on and illuminate Clark's world with crossing beams of white. He winces at the sudden arc light brightness and looks down to see a very attractive brunette in a sparkling blue tube top and black leather hot pants who is definitely not Lois sucking on his dick. She has his costume briefs pulled down to mid thigh. Her brown eyes look up at him with gleeful satisfaction before she bows her head and begins sucking even harder on his cock than before.

"'Why,' you ask, Superman?" The voice of Lex Luthor behind the arc lights is filled with smarmy glee. "Well, first off, as you can tell, that's not Lois Lane sucking on your joint. I doubt Lois has the skills of young Roxie there who is famous among those in the know for her skills at oral sex."

Roxie's mouth works on the glans of the shackled Superman with a professional obsession. Her tongue flutters and strokes, lathers and nibbles, sucks and blows in a steady barrage of sensation that causes Superman's eyes to roll up into his head. He can't fight this feeling anymore. The whore was far too good and he was much too weak to resist. He was in his usual slime tub but it had been drained fairly recently so that now he was lying on the warmed steel bottom, still far too weak from the long-term effects of the kryptonite immersion.

His arms are chained over his head to bolts in the nearby wall and his legs to bolts outside the tub. Roxie continues to stroke, cup, and suck away with absolutely zealous concentration.

"Besides, Superman, I need your sperm for a long list of experiments. So do be a stand up guy and cum in Roxie's mouth now, if you please."

Roxie's hands are a blur of irresistible motion that is driving the bound and helpless hero to stratospheric heights of pleasure. She is patiently feathering her fingers up and down the full length of his rock hard cock with flying angelic hands that are doing the devil's work.

"Guuhhhhh!" Superman groans deeply as his penis is massaged and stroked and firmly pulsed in palms suddenly slick with some kind of velvety gel. The whore would just not let up. She knew exactly what to do to give him maximum pleasure and precisely when to do it. The mighty Man of Steel felt as dumb and helpless as a naive college kid in his first whorehouse.

"...ohhhhhhhh...." His thighs are trembling against the overwhelming need to release. He bites his lower lip hard to prevent himself from the pleasure circling within his brain. It helps a bit.

And then her soft, plump lips clamp down once more and she sucks him off like a vacuum hose tight around his cock. He feels his prick contracted deeply in her throat and that is all he is conscious of, overwhelmed with total pleasure of her unrelenting attentions. Her fingers play at the point where his balls touch his inner thigh, stroking him rapidly there to force his concentration to focus on all the pleasure his penis is feeling. Between the stroking, the sucking and the fingering hands tickling his balls, Superman is completely overwhelmed by the sensations. His nuts contract in spasm, beyond all his control. His brain fills with blind joy and he grunts loudly in orgasmic delight.

"HHUHNNNN!" His hips buck spastically as a thick stream of semen jets out of his dick and down into the whore's throat. She takes the first spurt easily, swallowing it immediately even as her head backs up off his penis. The second spurt fills her mouth, expanding it outward with a chipmunk quality that is exactly what's needed to save a large portion of his ejaculate. She takes her mouth off of Superman's dick and stretches her neck over a small glass bowl. Opening her mouth she lets a large measure of white cum drain out into the bowl. Her fist, in the meantime, has clamped hard over the end of Clark's prick, painfully shutting off some of the flow of his remaining cum. A large bead of it oozes out over between her knuckles which she wipes against the edge of the bowl to capture more of his essence. Then, with her mouth empty, Roxie leans over and puts it back over the end of Superman's penis and strokes him very gently and slowly as she slithers her tongue back and forth over the underside of his glans, his most sensitive spot. This causes the long hard member to jerk and shoot a final spurt of semen into the whore's mouth. Though closed to keep in the valued cum, Roxie smiles broadly, carefully keeping her lips tightly shut. It had been an easy victory against the helplessly chained superhero; much easier than she had expected.

Roxie bends over and lets the final thick glob of semen drool out of her mouth into the bowl. Her job is done here. She brusquely pulls up Superman's briefs and lets them snap back into place. His prick is obviously still engorged within the tight costume but you can see it shrinking quickly now. A small damp drop of lost spunk stains the briefs even as Superman moans in dumbstruck pleasure, limply helpless at the bottom of the tub.

"Thank you, Roxie. Fantastic job. Your diamonds are in a small cloth bag on the table near the exit station. I'll call you if I need you again for the big fella."

"My pleasure, Lex," murmurs the low-voiced brunette. Her ass wiggles and bobs as she takes her leave. But Superman is too drained to see or care.

"I guess I could have used my little erotic pleasure disc on you and suction tube to catch your jism, Superman, but then what fun would that have been? Besides, I can use the video for blackmail in the future if it's necessary. Say, you okay over there, sport?"

A blasted and bleary Man of Steel can do little more than moan after the session he's just undergone.

Lex looks at his captive and just smiles as he presses the remote to refill the tub with glowing green slime.

"Ah, work, work, work," Lex sighs as he walks over to retrieve the bowl of Superman's strongly-scented spunk. "A genius' day is never done!"

Late the following morning, Wonder Woman sits in the back seat of a limousine dressed in her full costume complete with her tiara and shiny red boots with their white vertical stripe running from toe to calf. The golden power belt and shining lasso are fakes, of course, but the casual observer wouldn't be able to tell the difference.

Sergei sits beside her, his palm stroking up and down her smooth thigh as he talks. She is his possession and he wants her to know it in her bones. She does not flinch or show anger or shame or any other outward emotion. She has geared her mind to accept whatever Sergei did in order not to incur his horrible wrath. She had enough of that to last her a lifetime.

She has finally healed, her injuries having melted away when her power belt was surreptitiously strapped on while she was blitzed out on a second dose of Istanbul Express. Sergei had supervised her second attempt at shooting up in the middle of the night. Her technique was still awkward but not dangerous. And the behavior pattern was being ingrained slowly and surely within Wonder Woman's psyche. Another line of her opposition had been successfully crossed and the pathetic sow didn't even seem to care about it anymore. 'Resistance is futile' is how the phrase went.

"These gentlemen have paid a handsome price to have their time with you, Wonder Woman," Sergei advises her sternly. "You will be showing them a good time. You will do whatever they ask you to do without hesitation. I will be there to ensure your compliance. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Sergei. Will I get my fix soon after they are done? It's been over six hours."

"If you please them, I will let you shoot up immediately afterward. I have your kit with me."

"Can I have a little taste now. Beforehand?" The whining tone in Diana's voice pleases Sergei to no end but he keeps a severe expression in place.

"Certainly not, whore. It is presumptuous for you to ask. Some junkies with little money have to wait ten or twelve hours between hits, stealing what they can to afford their precious drugs. You should be thankful if you even get any before tonight with that attitude."

"Oh, please, Sergei. I am sorry. I will do what they ask. I'll be good. Don't hold back my fix!"

"It all depends on you, Wonder Woman. Now lean over, I have to blindfold you."

"But why?"

"Because it pleases me and that is all you need to know. When we arrive where we are going, I will take it off you. Not before. Do you understand me, bitch?"

"Yes, Sergei. Absolutely." Diana bends her head forward and Sergei presses the velcro strip of the thick black double eye patches against the cottony strip at the back of Wonder Woman's head, tightly securing the blindfold in place. Diana is immersed in total blackness and her ears pick out the faint sound of traffic through the thick armored windows of the limo.

"Don't worry, Wonder Woman. It won't be too long. I will be holding your hand to guide you to where we are going. It should only take about 15 minutes or so."

"Thank you for letting me know, Sergei. That is kind of you."

"When you behave as we instruct, I am no one to fear, my dear."

"Yes, Sergei." Diana nods, her eyes covered, her heart beating slightly faster with anxiety.

Two minutes later the famous Wonder Woman, immersed in a world of darkness at the height of a sunny noon day in New York, holds her hand out and Sergei helps her step out of the limousine. It had been pulled far into a blind alley so no one even sees the famous costume or the awkward shuffle of the blindfolded Amazonian warrior as she is hustled through a steel doorway and down a long, cool hallway.

Diana hears the sound of the limo's engine and the high whine as it rapidly backs up the alley and out into traffic. And then all she can hear is the sound of her hard heels on the cement floor as she is led by the hand into a day of horror that she will never forget.

As promised, the walk takes a little over ten minutes from the time they leave the alley. There are countless twists and turns. There's the hesitant climbing up and down short echoing stairwells with the nervous fear of missing a step and falling helplessly into a bone-breaking heap. Then there's the waiting at numerous squeaking doors that must be keyed open. All in all, the seemingly endless walk in pitch blackness with only Sergei's clammy hand to guide her fills Wonder Woman with enough anxiety and adrenaline to forestall any symptoms of her addiction.

When they come to yet another door, there's no rattle of keys this time in Sergei's pocket. Instead, the tall Russian gives a double knock, a single knock and then a triple knock. Diana feels the rush of air as the door is forcefully yanked open and she is pulled so roughly into the room by a powerful hand on her forearm. The action is so sudden and unexpected that the blindfolded heroine stumbles against the man. He is forced to steady her by yanking her up by the back of her bustier before she falls to the floor. And before she can react to that, Wonder Woman is shoved backward until the back of her knees hit the seat of a chair and she falls onto with a thud.

"Uugh," she grunts, gripping the seat of the wooden chair to steady herself.

"What took you so long?" The gruff voice of the powerful man who pulled her into the room speaks over her head.

"Can you not see that the woman is blindfolded? You try walking in the dark from where we started and see how long it takes you. We are here now. That's all you should care about. Have you got the money?"

"How do we know this is the real Wonder Woman?"

"I will take the blindfold off and leave, but not before I give her permission to beat the crap out of all of you," Sergei growls from behind Diana's head. "Then you will see how real she is!"

All of you?_Diana feels a new grip of fear tighten her stomach muscles into knots. _How many men are here in this room?

"Okay, fine. I have seen her pictures in my training courses in Afghanistan. It certainly looks like her. Certainly she has the breasts of Wonder Woman. I look forward to defiling them. Here is your money."

The sound of paper being thumbed over her head fills Wonder Woman with a shame she thought she had gotten past. Her time was being bought like a cheap commodity. And what she would be required to do in that time would be completely degrading, she knew that for certain. As the thumbing of paper continues, Diana amends her thoughts somewhat. She wasn't a cheap commodity, it seemed. But that was very little consolation for what she knew laid before her.

"Fine. I will take the blindfold off now," Sergei says, folding the wad of cash and sticking it in his pants pocket. "You have her services for 90 minutes. Do with her what you will. But no permanent scars as we discussed. Clear?"

"Yes."

"And I will remain to ensure her compliance," Sergei adds. "Also as discussed."

"The whore will comply with what we ask?"

"Anything. That's why I am staying. I will ensure she does. Isn't that right, Wonder Woman?"

"...ulp...yes...sergei..." Diana's voice squeaks softly with nervous tension. There is no denying the menace in Sergei's voice.

She then feels hands behind her head pulling apart the velcro straps and her eyes squint against the light that assaults her pupils after a quarter hour of total darkness. All Diana can see for the moment is a tall man in a brown ankle-length tunic standing before her. He does not move but merely looks down at her. Slowly, Diana's eyes adjust to the six glaring bulbs dangling from power cords overhead. It was a crude room where hard things would happen, she realizes.

Looking past the tall leader standing before her, she spots a contingent of similarly dressed men against the wall behind the leader. Two tunics are faded blue, one green, another brown like the leader's. The final one, worn by the fattest man in the room by far is a bleached out yellow. All the garments are dirty with dark stains spotted across the chest area of the cheap fabric. Like the men had eaten many meals without concern of dropping food on themselves. If they cared to look in the long mirror on the side wall, they would be ashamed of their slothfulness and filth. If they cared, which she guessed they would not.

The five men stand there in a line with arms crossed, a mean hunger filling their eyes. Some lick their thick lips. Others shift from foot to foot, anxious for things to begin.

From behind her, Sergei takes Diana by the ear and snarls, "Stand up, Wonder Whore," pulling her up with harsh tug.

"Ahhh," she yelps as she quickly rises. Sergei lets go of her ear, then loudly drags the wooden chair over to the wall behind her and sits down on it backwards, crossing his arms over the back of the chair and smiling at her. He then looks beyond her to the leader standing in front of the half-turned Amazon beauty.

"It's your money and your time," Sergei drawls, "but I would be starting the fun if I were you. But that's just me."

"Of course," nods the leader who suddenly reaches out and grabs a fistful of Diana's black hair and forces her to turn and face him. She is inches away from his hawk-like nose. "My name is Amad." Pointing behind him without looking, he says, "That is Mohammed, Ishmael, Harga, Bensir and Sufa. We are terrorists from Saudi Arabia and you will be pleasuring all six of us today."

"...of....course..." Diana murmurs, her blue eyes glancing up at the dark brown pupils filled with lust gazing coldly at her. She then casts her eyes down to the floor, unable to restrain the gulp of anxiety in her throat.

"As the very symbol of American imperialism and the guiding spirit of pointless feminism, you will start by getting down on your knees woman and prostrating yourself before us."

"...yessir..." Diana answers and lowers herself down until she is kneeling before Amad.

"Bow low, Wonder Woman and stretch your arms out to touch my shoes with your fingertips."

Diana does this, bowing in humble supplication to the man before her. She has hardened her heart to avoid thinking about any of the symbolic humiliation she will be subjected to. To her, for now, this is nothing more than a simple yoga pose. Her fingers graze against the tips of Amad's old brown loafers before she feels him pull his foot back. Wonder Woman keeps her head down, trying to will time itself to speed up. If things went well, ninety minutes of this submissive bullshit wouldn't be too hard to handle.

Unseen, Amad lifts the toe of his shoe and moves it forward half a foot then slowly steps down with his weight on Diana's left hand.

"Aaaaghhhh!" She cries out as his foot presses her knuckles painfully to the hard speckled brown linoleum floor. She tries to pull her hand away but her position offers no leverage against his considerable weight. Tears spring to her eyes as she feels her hand flare with fiery pain. "Pleeeaaassseeee stopppp," she whimpers.

"Who is your master, Wonder Woman?"

"You are! You are, Amad!" The grimacing heroine yells out.

"Wrong! Filthy slut!" Amad grinds his foot against her hand, drawing a scream from the prostrated beauty. "All men are your masters. Women are nothing but cattle in the world of men. To be used and abused as we wish. Is this not the way it should be?"

"Yes. It is the way it should be," weeps Diana. And the foot is lifted. She pulls her hand back and tucks it under her armpit to provide heat and protection to the throbbing appendage. The famous heroine has no idea that sophisticated pinhole cameras in the far upper corners of the room have captured her humiliation for posterity, and will do so for as long as she is in this room.

"Good. Now use your good hand, silly female, and reach up under my tunic and fondle my penis, as your lowly station demands."

Wonder Woman looks up into the severe face of the expectant man, sees there should be no delay in her compliance there and immediately struggles to her knees with her one good hand. She then lifts the hem up, looks up under the tunic and sees a baggy pair of white briefs above her head. Raising her arm high, she finds the lump in the briefs by feel and begins to gently squeeze and fondle the limp muscle there. In just a moment, she feels the lump thicken and extend into a hard rod.

"You have soft hands, whore. You were obviously meant for such work."

Diana says nothing but continues to stare at the floor as she fondles the warm staff through the cotton fabric.

And then Amad's hand comes down and grabs her hair, forcing her face upward with a sudden, harsh twist. The other hand comes down in a low arc and knocks Diana's face sideways with a sharp, stinging slap that rattles her bright blue pupils.

"When a man compliments you, woman, you should say 'Thank you, master!'"

"...thank you, master," Diana says softly.

"You're very welcome, whore. Now put you hand in my underpants and continue to stroke me, Wonder Woman. You are pleasing me greatly."

"Thank you, sire." She looks up to see Amad smiling down at her as she reaches her hand through the loose, sagging leg band and begins to slowly jerk off the grinning terrorist. If she took her time she might get away with just giving hand jobs for all these ragged Saudi thugs.

"Faster, whore," Amad demands. The five others against the wall nod happily. They wanted their turns.

So much for Plan A. Diana picks up the pace, hoping to bring off the tall terrorist and move on to the next man.

"Good. Now stop and put your face under my tunic, pull down the waistband of my briefs and suck on my dick, woman!"

Taking her wounded hand out from her armpit, Wonder Woman gingerly lifts up the hem of the robe and maneuvers herself underneath, then rises up on her knees and grasps the waistband of Amad's sagging, stained underwear and pulls it down to reveal his large, hard mocha-colored un-circumcised penis. The smell of his unwashed groin, contained by the robe close around her head almost makes the Amazon heroine gag with disgust. She sways for a moment on her knees before reluctantly taking his prick in her fist, pulling back the fleshy sheath there and slowly putting her mouth around the large head of Amad's cock.

The taste of him is just as putrid as his smell and Wonder Woman can barely breathe as she sucks on the large stiff member before her. She bobs her head three times, taking him in deeper into her mouth and trying to keep her disgust in check. On the fourth head bob, she feels her head being held from outside the thin robe. Firm hands grab her hair through the flimsy material and keep her pinned in place as she hears Amad blurt out, "I'll take it from here, whore. I know what I want from you."

With that, Amad's hips begin thrusting back and forth, jamming his cock deep into Wonder Woman's unprepared throat. Again and again, the offensive rod jerks in and out of the heavily gagging Amazon's mouth.

"...ghlkk...hhuulgkk...ghlkk..hhuulgkk...ghlkk...hhuulgkk...." The subservient heroine opens her mouth as wide as she possibly can in order to take in air as the shaft thrusts repeatedly into her yawning orifice. But the tip of Amad's cock brushes against the back of her throat over and over, making Diana dizzy from the overpowering scent, the lack of air and her woeful inability to handle this horrendous perversion called face-fucking.

"AAWWGKKK! HAAULLGGKKK! WRAAGKKKK!" Dazed and helpless, the limp heroine dangles beneath Amad's robe, held up by the roots of her hair as her hands flail weakly at his ankles while she desperately tries to breathe between thrusts of the hard, hot muscle.

And then suddenly it's over. The hands release her head and she slides down the hairy legs of the phony terrorist and lies gasping for air at his feet. She chokes out a thick gob of cloudy pre-cum and wheezes desperately, filling her mighty lungs with all the air she can take in. Amad squats down, takes a firm hold on Wonder Woman's shoulder and flips her over on her back where she lies inert, feeble, barely able to gather her senses together.

"Pull down your top and open your knees, superhero!. I am going to sample your treasures." Amad hikes up his tunic, pulls his underpants down to mid-thigh and positions him before the sprawled, wheezing Amazon beauty

Wonder Woman weakly complies, folding down the fabric eagle and releasing her ample breast to the open air. She then spread her legs apart for the terrorist's waving prick aimed at the crotch of her famous starred costume briefs.

Despite her weakened, breathless condition, Diana looks at Amad with obvious hostility which he can't help but notice. He edges forward and reaches out to touch Diana's exposed breast. She cringes as the hand smooths over her warm flesh and the protruding nipple made firm by the cold room. Amad looks deeply into the blazing blue eyes of his angry victim and smiles. Then he twists hard on the nipple with his thumb and forefinger, drawing a yelp from the surprised heroine.

"I paid for a willing whore and that is what I expect. Is this not so, Sergei?"

"Absolutely, Amad. Diana, behave so I don't have to discipline you." The calmness in the voice is as terrifying as the threat. Filled with terror at Sergei's possible retaliation, Diana forces herself to smile and lose the attitude. All of it. Instantly.

"Here. Let me pull my costume to the side so you can enter me as you wish, master." Diana pulls the crotch aside without hesitation, exposing the pink lips of her pussy for Amad's pleasure.

"That's much better, Wonder Woman. You know, you don't have to play coy with me. I know how much you want this. Maybe even more than I, right?"

"I...i...need you inside me, sire. It...it's...my...my only....purpose," the famous Champion of All Women stutters her reply loudly."

"I thought as much," Amad replies as he edges forward on his knees and reaches out to the supine Amazon before him. She scuttles forward quickly, takes his penis in hand and guides the hard muscular tool to the entry of her most treasured asset. He fondles her swelling breasts with obvious pleasure as Diana rubs the head of his cock up and down within the crease of her labia to stimulate herself. The fingers on her other hand caress her clitoris to get herself wet so the entry of this bastard's prick won't hurt too much.

Looking up at Amad with half-lidded eyes, moist lips and a dreamy expression of pleasure, Diana hopes the stinking thug misconstrues this face as the result of all the attention he is paying her breasts. He does, wrapping his hands over the front of Wonder Woman's breasts and fondling them eagerly, dimpling the soft flesh with his fingertips. Between his clumsy efforts and her own finger work, Diana is moist enough for penetration without pain, so she quickly impales herself upon his tool, shifting forward suddenly then wrapping her legs around his waist and locking her ankles together at his lower back. At least she is doing this to herself rather than simply playing the helpless victim. It's the only measure of control she can exert.

She clasps her palms around Amad's neck, pulls their bodies closer together, puts her mouth over the thick lips of the man in her arms and slowly begins to fuck the stunned terrorist as she gives him a soul kiss he had only dreamed about before now. And every camera in the room has recorded the moment of complete sexual compliance in a permanent data stream that is sent off-site to a waiting server six blocks away.

Holding him in her tight, unrelenting embrace, Wonder Woman begins thrusting her hips back and forth in a steady rapid rhythm that pulls a groan from Amad.

"This is heaven, my friends," he exults when Diana comes up for air after her long passionate kiss. "Fucking 21 virgins when you die a martyr is utter nonsense. This is where heaven begins. Right here in Wonder Woman's pussy!"

"Shhhh," Diana hushes him. "Don't spoil the mood here, Amad." She goes in for another kiss and his tongue eagerly entwines with hers even as she increases the pace of her thrusts. Back and forth, back and forth, Wonder Woman now holds her hands around Amad's elbows and jerks her pelvis front and back, driving his penis in and out of her like a she's working a rowing machine at top speed. If the others see this, she may just have to give them all the same treatment and be done with it. She doesn't want to think about any kinky alternatives they might come up with instead.

Amad's breathing has increased to a rapid shallow pant as Wonder Woman buries his cock within her again and again. His tool is rock hard, his eyes have lost all focus, and his hands now clutch her hair as she rocks his world with her powerful body.

"Uhhh.....ohhhhhh...." Amad moans with complete pleasure as he begins to lose control. He pulls back on Diana's hair and this breaks her kiss off and pulls her head back til it faces the ceiling but she doesn't not slow down her rocking rhythm one bit.

Amad is overwhelmed by it all, and lost in ecstacy, he grimaces with all his teeth showing as his chin comes forward to rest on her Diana right shoulder as he cums in a rush within her loins.

"OOOHHHHH. Gudddamm, that is sweeeeeettt!"

Diana rocks backward against the floor, pulling Amad down with her. His knees sprawl outside her thighs. The bottom of his tunic is pulled up to his chest. His naked butt waves high in the air. The five other men all look away in horror at this unpleasant sight of their boss at a most indecorous pose. He, of course, could care less, having just visited nirvana itself. His knees spread out, he settles against the prone Amazon beauty and his ass settles low to the floor even as his dick pulses with pleasure within the confines of Wonder Woman's warm wetness.

"Who wants more of the same?" Diana asks this brightly, hoping to encourage raised hands like young school kids.

"I have somewhat different needs," says one of the men wearing the blue tunic as he steps forward. "As do my brothers here. My name is Ishmael. I will be sodomizing you today. And this, in green here, is Harga. He will be taking you from the front at the same time. Bensir, in brown, would have you give him oral sex while we two penetrate you. This is how you will service us."

Wonder Woman's eyes widen and her face pales at the thought of this abusive arrangement. Even as she contemplates this abominable scene, Amad slowly rolls off her, pulling his shrinking dick out of her. A string of leftover cum clings from his leaking dick to her thigh for a moment before thinning out and breaking off. The thin strip of fabric snaps back in place covering Diana's femininity but more of Amad's milky seed drains out of her crotch through the gaps at her inner thighs. Wonder Woman looks down at the wet spot of cum on the stained lineoleum floor, at her stained shorts and at her most unheroic pose and hides all her frustration, despair and anguish with every ounce of willpower she has. She had fallen so low. So very low down that she couldn't see where 'up' even existed.

While the tall, bleary but satisfied terrorist slowly stands up and wanders over to a door, presumably to a bathroom, Diana gathers her resolve as best she can. Amad opens the door and disappears inside, closing it tightly behind him.

"Uhhh. Okaaaayyy," Wonder Woman answers Ishmael slowly. Obviously she must comply. Sergei is sitting directly behind her. Without even looking, she knows he is smiling his nastiest grin. This day would not end well. She knew this in her heart and was absolutely sick about it. But there was nothing she could do about it. Not a fucking thing.

Stevie is bopping down Gun Hill Road in the Bronx. He is very pleased by the security tapes he found of Sergei doing Wonder Woman on the loading dock. Even though the cameras were somewhat inferior and the scene was only caught by two different static cameras, he had been able to edit them into kind of cool film noir look. Making the most of such material really pleased him, appealed to his inner artist. Sure, he was making porn, but it was good porn! He was producing interesting stuff that showed off his skill with editing, sound and in a few cases, simple effect like wipes, dissolves and fade-outs. Even the public domain music he added brought a special sense of style to the DVDs. He felt he had a right to be proud.

However, in the midst of his editing session, when he was about to save some rough cuts, he discovered he'd run out of disks. Hence, the visit to the Staples supply store for a case of 100-count packages of the DVDs he needed.

He had just placed the heavy box on the rolling belt and was just pulling out his credit card at the cash register when he looked up to see two men in trench coats come around the customer service desk from the entrance side of the store. His face went pale and he turned and ran for the exit. But he just wasn't fast enough. You can't outrun bullets if you're not a superhero. That's a fact.

From under the trench coats came a small Ouzi automatic and a 12-gauge shotgun. The cashier screamed and Stevie turned his face halfway to see how close his attackers were. Barely eight feet!

The Ouzi sprayed his legs and Stevie sprawled forward against the glass of the exit door with a jarring thump that flung the automatic doors off their tracks. The young mobster slid down the glass, smearing the bottom half of the door with the blood that was spurting from his thighs and calves.

Stevie grimaced in pain as the hail of bullets in his leg burned like hot branding irons. It was just for a short time however. The man with the shotgun strode over to him, pointed the muzzle at Stevie's back and blew his spine away. The man with the Ouzi finished the job with three quick rounds to the back of Stevie's head.

The mobster holding the shotgun shouted out to the horrified patrons crouching behind displays of Post-it Notes_ and calendars of adorable puppies, "Anybody asks, Don Tony Bonano has angered the families and this is how they respond."

The two gunmen walked calmly out of the store and into a waiting sedan that screeched away into traffic.

At the exit, lying in a pool of blood that spread out around his limp form, Stefano's art and happiness and life were now done forever.

Two hours later, when Tony heard the news and saw the blood-stained sidewalk and chalk outline as the reporter did her stand-up in front of the Staples store, the mob don broke down and cried like a baby for five minutes while Carmine drank scotch until he got very, very drunk.

End of Chapter 54

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

Supergirl Captured by the Mob part 54