Supergirl Captured by the Mob 56  

By Dr. Dominator

Supergirl Captured by the Mob

Part 56 -Nasty Habits

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.

The late afternoon sunset is turning the tall towers of Manhattan a lustrous gold against a remarkably clear azure sky for late autumn. The reflective surface of the Citicorp building shows a blur of red and blue as Supergirl rockets by the famous slanted roof comprised of solar energy cells. The famous Maid of Steel is on her way toward the headquarters of Don Gino Lupenzo in the high-rent Upper East Side of New York's richest borough. Tony had given her the address and she'd memorized the picture of the four-story brownstone on York Avenue and 73rd Street that Don Lupenzo owned and used as his base of operations.

Her instructions given from Tony just five minutes ago were very straightforward.

"I want you to tear his place apart! Send his goons to the hospital within the bounds of your conscience, my dear. I would have you kill Gino for what he did to Stevie, but I know you won't. Still, if you could leave him with a permanent scar and a message from me that would be great. Tell Gino he fucked up! He could have had another 70 million bucks from me in the general fund but he had to do things his way. Now the fund gets nothing and I'll make sure that the families know it's because of him. If you want to break his wrist or something for payback, be my guest. I'll leave the details to you, Supergirl. Just make sure he suffers great mental and physical anguish and that his place is so badly destroyed that the city has to condemn it for public safety. When you come back, I'll give you enough crack to make the next two days a festival of joy for you."

Now, soaring above the New York skyline, the blonde heroine briefly considers that with all her super powers available, she could actually try to escape Tony's control. But she rejects the idea immediately. With Diana off someplace unknown under the careful watch of Sergei, her Amazon friend's very life would be jeopardized if she varied from her instructions. And the two of them had agreed not to show any resistance to Tony anymore. He was just too many steps ahead of them in his planning. If she tried something and failed, the repercussions would be terrible.

Besides, she was looking forward to getting a little revenge for Stevie. He could be a prick sometimes, but more often than not over the months, he'd treated them very well. Kara even kind of missed him. When she'd seen the news report of his death, she had been shocked and saddened. And she saw how hard Tony had taken it. After a brief drunken spree, Carmine had quickly become sternly efficient in his duties regarding security around the Pleasure Dome. He was barking orders, double checking everything constantly, and carrying his gun in a new leather underarm holster at all times. Even Tony was packing iron now in a shoulder harness of his own under his tailored suit jackets.

Below her, Supergirl spots Don Lupenzo's building. There are two huge men, each big enough to be NFL lineman, both with short curly black hair wearing baseball sweatshirts standing on the set of brown concrete stairs leading up to the front door. The one wearing a Yankee World Series winner sweatshirt looks up as he hears the snapping sound of Supergirl's cape nearing in the wind. His lifted chin is a perfect target as the heroine's fist brushes against it with a quick flick of the wrist. The man's body flies backward off the stairs and plummets down into the stairway leading into basement apartment of the building next door. It lands in a twisted heap of arms and legs and there is the cracking report of a major bone breaking, followed by a scream and then a grunt of the now unconscious thug.

The second man in the Mets sweatshirt has turned around and is pounding on the bright red front door, yelling at the top of his voice to be let inside. Supergirl hears the voice inside say "No fucking way, Vinnie. Gino would kill me. We gotta follow procedure."

"Fuck procedure, Sal! I got Supergirl out here and she's coming in one way or another. Tino is lying half-dead in the basement stairwell next door and I don't want to join him!" The nervous hood twists his head around to see Supergirl standing there behind him, her arms crossed expectantly, one eyebrow raised at him.

"Well?" she says calmly.

"You can see I'm tryin' lady. You see that, right?"

"Maybe I can be a little more assertive. Thanks for trying though." She snaps her forefinger against her thumb and flicks the Mets fan in the forehead smartly. The huge thug collapses unconscious on the spot then rolls down the stairs and sprawls onto the sidewalk in an ungainly pose. Nothing broken there but he won't be walking right for at least a week.

"Sal, you might want to stand back a bit," the blonde dynamo warns then gives the front door a straight-arm with the palm of her hand. The heavy wooden door shatters into kindling and Supergirl strides into Gino's building through a cloud of sawdust and smoke¼and into a fusillade of bullets from a trio of gunmen eight feet away in the center of wide marble foyer. Behind them a wide marble staircase ascends to the second floor.

"Boys, boys, boys. Don't you read the papers? You have to know by now that I'm invulnerable to bullets." The smirking blonde who has struck her famous heroic pose can barely be heard over the angry chatter of three ammo clips being emptied directly at her face, her chest, her stomach and her legs. The sound of clacking flattened slugs bouncing off her and against the hard white marble floor reminds Supergirl of a tap dance routine set at fast-forward. Finally the clips are empty and the trio of assassins look at each other in frowning disappointment.

"Please tell me you're not going to throw the guns at me, too," Supergirl says, scanning around the building for any traces of kryptonite in the area. She'd done it from the air when she first approached the building, of course, but didn't see the tell-tale signature of the deadly element anywhere. Still, it didn't hurt to be cautious. She had seen several locations with lead in the building so she wasn't fully in the clear yet.

One of the trio of gunmen actually does throw his gun at her and then all three turn and race up the steps to a fallback position. Grabbing the gun in mid-air, an automatic machine pistol, Supergirl throws it directly at the back of the head of the very man who threw the piece at her.

"See how you like having guns thrown at you, dirtbag!"

The gun hits the man with a harsh thud and his legs collapse beneath him and he tumbles down six risers of hard marble with a series of painful grunts. When he comes to rest on his back, his face is pale with pain as a bone protrudes from his shin.

Supergirl squats down beside the groaning hoodlum and pulls on his leg until the bone retreats back into the bleeding leg.

"Can't have you dying from blood loss now," she murmurs even as she sears the wound with a stream of heat vision. The man screams in pain and faints dead away.

"Oh, did you want some kind of anesthetic?" The blonde throws out a rhetorical barb. "My bad."

As she looks up the stairway, she sees the two men on the top landing who'd been shooting at her moments ago. They are half-cowering behind a new player, a tall, thin man with a gray mustache wearing a dark blue suit who is pulling the trigger on an army surplus bazooka.

"Ahh! Bigger toys. Great!"

The small missile screams down the stairs directly at the crouching blonde beauty who easily deflects it with a perfectly timed tap that sends the missile off to the right and into sliding wood doors that explode with a huge flash of flame and smoke. Through the hole, Supergirl sees some sort of library with several books on fire and a fish tank that has been destroyed. Water pours out of the shattered glass tank onto a fine oriental rug. Colorful angel fish are flopping around in shock, their gills flapping helplessly for the puddled water nearby.

"I can see you don't care about me or your fellow hoodlum here, but you all killed the fishies! Now that's just mean."

Supergirl purposely stomps up the marble stairway, her boots cracking every marble step as she pounds her way upward. The stairway is completely ruined and it wobbles noticeably as the blonde destroys the stairs with obvious gusto. Surprisingly, she by-passes Bazooka guy and grabs the two assassins by their collars just as they have turned to run away. She quickly bangs their heads together and lets them drop unconscious to the floor. As she turns to deal with Bazooka guy, the large cylindrical weapon swings hard against the turning Supergirl's face with a loud, percussive clank that dents the steel tube and draws a solemn frown from the blonde champion.

"The gun-tossing lesson went for naught, I see."

Bazooka guy starts to draw a long-muzzled gun from his waistband when Supergirl grabs his hand and freezes it in place.

"Uh-uh, you dumb bastard. No second chances." She crushes the man's hand into fragments that drop his mouth open in the start of a scream that never comes because Supergirl's other hand pokes at his Adam's apple and crushes his windpipe. Wavering there in wide-eyed horror, the man takes a step back and leans against the wall in wheezing agony. Supergirl puts him out of his misery with a quick light rap on the top of his head and the unconscious man falls in a slump down the stairway to the floor. He'll be in traction for months.

"Oh, Gino," Supergirl calls out playfully, "come out, come out, wherever you are!"

Turning to her right, the Maid of Steel looks through the set of double doors with her powerful x-ray vision to see a figure standing at a sideboard drinking from a large tumbler. Anyone that calm with all the noise and commotion going on in his house must be Don Lupenzo. Supergirl raises her forearm and brings it down on the set of double doors before her, shattering an ample-sized hole for her to easily pass through. Once again, she scans the room for the tell-tale signature of any deadly kryptonite but sees nothing. There is a small ornately painted red box on the coffee table in front of a burgundy leather couch that she can't see through. Since Lupenzo is across the room from it, she lets it slide for the moment but keeps it in mind if he makes a move toward it.

"Hello, Supergirl. How nice of you to stop in for a visit."

"Don Lupenzo, I presume."

"That's right," he replies, keeping calm despite his troops being rendered utterly useless to him.

"Don't go anywhere," the blonde beauty says, holding up her forefinger. "I'll be right back." With a quick flexing of her powerful legs, Supergirl springs upward, smashing through the ceiling into the floor above. And then the floor above that. There is the sound of much smashing metal and glass. His whole computer set-up is up there. He hears several shouts and groans and some gunfire. Don Lupenzo sadly shakes his head. The bitch is destroying his entire base of operations and it's going to cost him about five million bucks if not more.

"I'm going to make Tony pay for this. If I live," Gino vows softly.

Smashing down through a second hole six feet away, Supergirl lands in front of Gino with a hard thump. She brushes plaster dust and other debris off her shoulders as she looks straight at Gino."

"So, you're working as Don Bonano's enforcer now, huh, Supergirl. Quite a drop in pay grade for you, ain't it? I thought you super types didn't associate with criminals. Oh, but you're different, aren't you, Supergirl. Bit of a crack whore, I heard."

The Maid of Steel takes a quick step forward and easily lifts Don Lupenzo by the throat until his feet dangle a foot off the floor.

"..ilgk...gonna...kill me..now...?" Gino chokes out in a hoarse whisper. "br..breakin' all...your rules....today....huh...blondie..."

"You deserve to die, Lupenzo, but I'm not going to be the one to do that. I don't want to get my hands dirty."

"How 'bout...auk... lettin' me....urgk...down then, toots," Gino rasps out.

"Not before I deliver a message from Tony, old man," Supergirl growls. "You played your hand wrong, Lupenzo. Tony says you could have had another 70 million bucks from him in the general fund. But since you had to do things your way, that fund gets nothing. In fact, Tony says he'll be sure that the families know it's because of you that they're not getting squat. How do you think they'll like that turn of events?"

"That...ehgk... the whole.... message?" Gino's eyes begin to lose their luster as the lack of oxygen begins to take its toll on his elderly body.

"Not quite. This is something to remember Tony by," Supergirl says coldly. She pulls Gino closer to her body and lifts her other hand to his face, the fingernail brushing against his pockmarked right cheek.

"No! Don't!" Gino's eyes grow large as saucers at this shocking development. "You can't...do... ...shouldn't do this! You're a superhero!"

The blonde teenager continues to easily hold Gino up by the throat with one hand as the fingernail on the other slowly draws a slanted line down the cheek from well below the eye to near the corner of his mouth. The skin parts easily and blood wells up from the lower layers of the three inch gash. The wound is deep and will definitely leave a scar.

"Hero? Me? Nah, I'm just a crack whore. Everyone knows that. Besides, who'd believe I do such as nasty thing like this?" Finished with the final part of her assignment, Supergirl snaps the light blue handkerchief out of Lupenzo's breast pocket and presses it firmly to the shaking man's cheek to stop the blood flow. She then gently lowers him to the floor. He raises his hand and takes hold of the handkerchief himself now, continuing to press it against his face as Supergirl releases his neck and steps back.

"Well, that'll do it for today, Don Lupenzo," Supergirl says. Then steps closer again to the rattled mob boss. "But... if anyone else on Tony's crew gets hurt by any of your men, I will be back. And next time I won't be so nice."

"I understand Supergirl," Gino says with a tremble in his voice. This hadn't gone anything like he thought it would.

I have to try to turn this around somehow.

"I'm glad you do, Don Lupenzo. "Be sure you stay away from Tony's turf and everything will settle down."

"Agreed...agreed..and..and...why don't we share a little crack to seal the deal," Gino suggests.

Supergirl, who'd been turning to smash directly through the wall in one final act of destruction before flying back to Tony's place stops in mid-turn. She glares at Gino.

"You must think I'm really stupid, Lupenzo," she snarls.

"What? Why? What are you talking about?"

"Let me guess, we'll just saunter over to the table and share a nice old pipe from that handy little box on the coffee table there, right?"

Gino looks at the box and then back at Supergirl. "Well, yeah, that's right. Did you use your x-ray vision to see the pipe and crack in there?"

"Gino, you know very well I can't see into that box. It's lead lined. Your little trap isn't going to work."

"Lead lined? I don't think so. It was my great grandmother's. She gave it to me when I visited her in the old country just before she died. Why would it be lead lined?"

"Hand painted in Italy, huh? An antique that could have lead paint I suppose," Supergirl muses aloud. She could certainly use some crack. It had been over seven hours since she'd last had any and this was one of the hardest things she ever had to do. She'd never purposely scarred anyone before or treated so many thugs with such cold brutality. Besides, with her powers, the crack would barely do anything to her. Still, it would feel good even if it only got her a tiny bit high.

"Let's do this the smart way, Gino. I'll smoke your crack but I'm standing here while you go across the room and open that pretty red box. If you produce a pipe and crack, we have a deal. But if you pull out a piece of kryptonite, I will burn your hand to ashes before you have a chance to throw it. Got me?"

"It's no trick, Supergirl. I didn't know it was lead paint. It's just my grandmama's decorated box.." Gino walks over to the coffee table, carefully showing Supergirl he wasn't obscuring her view of the box in the least. He sits on the couch, opens the box and pulls out a bright orange glass crack pipe. And then he pulls out a small baggie filled with tiny white nuggets. He even tilts the box to show Supergirl the now empty box, holding it up so she can see it clearly.

"See! No kryptonite. No tricks. Just a little crack to confirm our agreement. Come on over."

Cautiously, the mighty teenage heroine crosses the room and sits down beside Gino. He is clumsily trying to put the nuggets of his finest crack in the small pipe with one hand while his other holds the bloody handkerchief to his face. Supergirl picks up the box and looks inside and shrugs before putting it back on the glass table.

"Here let me finish that," Supergirl takes the pipe from the awkward elderly mob boss and arranges the nuggets in the bowl with a careful shake. "You should go wash that cheek of yours, Don Lupenzo, and put some antiseptic on it. It will scar but at least it won't get infected."

"Thank you. A good idea. I'll be right back."

Supergirl places the pipe on the table, crosses her legs, brushes her breasts to clear some of the plaster dust from her famous red and yellow insignia on her chest, then smooths her skirt into place and settles back in the couch. Her cape is draped neatly behind her and her long muscular thighs catch the light from the track lighting overhead. The red boots will need cleaning after smashing through two feet of plaster. She buffs the toe of the boot with her thumb.

She knew this wasn't in Tony's script but she didn't care too much about that. She'd just tell him she ran into a little more opposition than she expected. He couldn't know for sure how long it would take for her to finish the assignment.

The moment Gino walks back into the living room wearing a broad wide Band Aid on his cheek Supergirl scans him for any kryptonite he might have stored elsewhere in the apartment. There is nothing in his hands or on his person anywhere. Good, he was playing it straight.

"A pretty heirloom like that and you keep crack in it, huh? Real classy," Supergirl snorts.

"Well, I'm a classy guy," Gino replies, ignoring the insult as he sits beside her, taking the pipe off the glass table. He leans over and hands the pipe to the stunning blonde beauty before him then produces a lighter.

"Ladies first," he smiles. What a gorgeous piece of ass! That Tony Bonano is a lucky prick.

"Thank you." Supergirl smiles back at the mob boss who appears to have calmed down now from the destruction and pain she'd inflicted upon him. She leans forward as the flame from the lighter hovers over the bowl of the orange crack pipe. Drawing in lightly, Supergirl pulls the flame deep into the bowl and the crack pebbles ignite with small crackling clicks. Taking the smoke deep into her lungs, Supergirl holds her breath to allow the drug to circulate as much as possible within her lungs.

The psychological enjoyment of the very act calms her down but with her superpowers intact, the drug has only the most minimal effect. She feels a light gladness at best. But that could just be the placebo effect. She drops her head back on the soft back cushion and slowly lets out a long stream of crack smoke into the air above her. She watches the swirling gray cloud rise slowly to the ceiling waiting to see if there's any more effect from the drug. Not much of anything really. Beside her, Gino leans forward to take the pipe for his turn. His arm brushes against the box knocking it to the carpet. He leaves Supergirl holding the pipe out.

"Oh no! Grandmama's box," he says with a frown, quickly bending down to pick it up. "I hope I didn't damage it."

"Falling on the carpet, I doubt it," Supergirl says, turning her head casually to look at him.

"No, it's fine," he says, carefully replacing the box on the table. He then leans forward and reaches with his left hand for the pipe that Supergirl is still holding out. He takes hold of the pipe with a strong grip, pinning her knuckles against the pipe as he holds it firmly in place. His other hand reaches behind her neck and clasps her shoulder firmly in an overly chummy hug.

"I'm glad we're doing this. It's very civilized," Don Lupenzo says, smiling directly in her face a very uncomfortable half a foot away from the startled heroine.

"I...i...guess it is," Supergirl replies. "But back off a lit..." Supergirl feels a sudden wavelet of dizziness. Couldn't be the crack, could it? "...uhhhnnnn.... what've...ya...dun..?"

"Just this," Gino leers. Supergirl hears a soft jingling by her opposite ear and turns away from Gino to see the tiniest pendant on a long silver chain being swung and dangled by her head. It is a glowing green crystal. Kryptonite!

She turns her head back to stare in shock at Gino.

"..but....where..." And then the crack really hits her. Weakened by the deadly green remnant of her home planet, Supergirl's brain is suddenly inundated by a huge blooming flower of pleasure that is far too powerful for her to resist. Her mouth drops open and her head falls back onto the couch cushion for real this time. The Maid of Steel is blasted by the powerful drug, the strongest Gino had ever procured. With her arms limp at her sides, her face wiped dull with stupidity and her mouth twisted into a wan smile of warm bliss, Supergirl can do nothing as Gino quickly clasps the necklace around the sighing teenager's throat, pulls her tunic open and lets the glowing pendant drop down between her ample breasts.

"Uuuuhhhh," she moans, depleted and dumbfounded.

Knowing his timing is critical, Gino then stands up and takes Supergirl's hands in his and says, "Upsy daisy, Supergirl" He pulls the drugged, addled blonde to her feet and says, "Take a little step over here. That's good."

The dully nodding champion complies, taking small unsteady steps away from the cocktail table as directed by Gino, then stands in place, swaying in slack-jawed confusion.

"..wheah...we...goen...?"

"Right here, Supergirl. I didn't want you to break my coffee table."

"...why.. wud....that...hap....UUGGHNNNN!"

The sudden devastating sucker punch to her belly drops the famous champion to her knees with a huge gasp of startled pain. She then falls over and curls up into a fetal position and tries to draw air into her lungs.

"WHHHEEEEZZ...WHHHEEEEZZ!".

Gino is shaking his fist and frowning in pain himself. The girl wasn't nearly weak enough from the small crystal. It was like hitting a leather clad stone wall.

"Fuck this," Gino says and strides over to the opposite wall, reaching past the archway to the other room, he grabs an aluminum baseball bat and returns to stand over the wheezing Maid of Steel.

"You ignorant cunt! You destroyed my gorgeous building. Now I'm going to destroy you!" With a huge two-handed overhead downswing, Gino brings the wide gray and blue bat down onto Supergirl's hip with a stunning thump of metal on flesh.

"EEYOWWW!" The blonde teen's leg spasms outward in pain. The follow-up battering golf swing to her exposed knee draws a scream of agony from the overmatched heroine.

Reaching down, Gino roughly grabs a bewildered, frightened and grimacing Supergirl by the hair and turns her onto her back. Her eyes, half-open and dulled by pain and the crack, the defenseless heroine can't begin to defend herself from another pile-driving jab to her abdomen, this time from a thick end of a solid aluminum bat. Doubling over onto the end of the hard club, in near fetal position once again, Supergirl has all the wind knocked out of her. She doesn't comprehend why this is happening or how to protect herself. One moment she was on top of the world and the next, she can't breathe, and can't understand the situation. Lying on her side, she feels the bat yanked away from her mid-section. That seemed bad.

The next thing she knows, Kara feels her hair yanked again and gives a high keening shriek when it feels as if it's being pulled out by the roots. She is twisted around onto her back again. Looking up, she sees Gino kneeling over her, bat raised high over his head, his eyes blazing with hate.

"...preeze...dun't..."She tries to raise her hands for protection but realizes she's lying on one and the second one is much too slow to stop the downward arc of shiny aluminum vengeance. The barrel of the bat slams down on her forehead.

THHUUUD

"OWWW!" It's true, you do see stars! Glimmering shiny dots fill the air. They surround the bat as it swings down again, knocking brutally against her exposed forehead.

THHUUUD

"AAGHHH!" That pain was very bad. Must be a crunchcussion. Why's he swinging... THHUUUD

"UUNGHH!" Everything spirals down like a lens. It goes from very wavy dark gray to very, very black. And that is the last thing Supergirl knows for a while.

"Damn this bitch is tough!" Gino stands up, wavering with exhaustion and dizziness for a moment. He can't remember the last time he got this kind of cardio workout.

On the rug by his feet, Supergirl is completely limp, her legs entangled at the ankles, one hand pinned beneath her, the other thrown off to the side like a broken doll. Unconscious at last. Her forehead is swelling hugely, but the skin isn't even broken. Still, she's drooling down her cheek and her hand falls limply back onto the carpet when he lifts it and releases it. Definitely out for the count.

Gino wonders if the kryptonite pendant he got from Lex Luthor was big enough to do the job. Sure he didn't want her dead. Hell, for what he planned, he didn't even want her in horrible pain. So maybe Lex was right about the amount of kryptonite. The man was a genius. Everything he said would happen from the moment she drew her first breath on the pipe occurred just like Lex had predicted. Gino wondered if the experiment Lex wanted him to conduct would work. He certainly hoped so.

"Better get on with it. Don't want her waking up until I'm ready."

Going to the cardboard box that was next to the baseball bat on the other side of the wall, Gino takes out a coiled length of bright yellow nylon rope and two sets of handcuffs. He drops the stuff on the floor by the unconscious heroine and then lifts her up by her arms and drags her body face down over the wide surface of the glass coffee table. In doing so, he knocks the red box off the table again. Picking it up this time, he slides the bottom halfway open to reveal a very shallow secret compartment where the locket had been hidden until he palmed it before.

"See, Super dunce, a lead-lined false bottom compartment. Box looks empty, but it isn't!"

Don Lupenzo tosses the box on the sofa then lifts up Supergirl's skirt and lays it over her lower back, revealing her panties. The tight, silky red fabric clings to her shapely rear like a second skin. It confines and defines her rounded buttocks with shiny allure. The sweep of fabric accents the luscious rounded glutes while a simple seam down the center with gathering wrinkles in the fabric separates them into perfect half spheres. It is a heavenly ass! The panties mold themselves against her crotch flawlessly, showing the merest dimple in the fabric to suggest the feminine treasure beneath.

Gino lets out a long happy breath that he hadn't been aware he was holding and delicately pulls down Supergirl's panties. Slowly, half moons of soft, sensuous flesh are revealed as the famous heroine is stripped of her costume briefs. The dark shadows of her crotch steadily become visible as the smiling mob boss continues to pull on the underwear. With her pert teenage rear now fully exposed, Gino eagerly pulls the panties completely off her smooth thighs, down her legs and over her boots. He brings them to his face and inhales deeply with a pleased sigh, then tosses them under the table so Supergirl can see them staring her in the face when she regains consciousness. How humiliating.

Once the panties are off, Gino picks up the pace, quickly binding Supergirl's legs to the coffee table legs. He coils the bright yellow rope tightly around the right boot from the ankles to the shins. He then coils the rope around the table leg so there is no give at all in the bright nylon strands. Gino binds the left boot the same way so that the silent blonde's legs are spread widely apart. Gino kneels down and looks up at Supergirl's body from underneath the glass table. Pressed against the glass top, Supergirl's thin blonde bush looks like a tiny yellow steel wool pad from below. Her breasts are spread wide by her body weight, the nipples like flattened coins beneath the bright blue top.

Standing up, Gino walks around the table surveying his work. Delighted with the view, Gino sees Supergirl's pussy clearly displayed. He leans over and gently caresses the puffy pink lips and the blonde teenager's calves quiver and flex in reaction. Smiling, Gino pulls down her short red skirt to cover her naked rear for now, a semblance of modesty that won't last long.

Leaning over, Gino picks up a set of handcuffs that he fastens around Supergirl's left wrist, securing them to the table leg. He repeats the process with her other arm. The famous Maid of Steel is now safely secured with a power-draining kryptonite crystal wedged between her tits keeping her weak and completely vulnerable to his every whim. Now he is ready for fun. And so is the famous Maid of Steel although she is blissfully unaware of it for now.

Calling the scene "pandemonium" within the large room facing Columbus Circle would be a misnomer since everything was meticulously planned out by at least half the parties involved. Those left out of the complete planning sessions might have agreed on "clusterfuck"if not pandemonium. But within 30 seconds, their opinions on the semantics of the situation wouldn't matter at all: being dead and all.

In fact, the only person who could get away thinking the scene was a clear case of pandemonium would have been Wonder Woman herself. She was in the middle of it all and, miraculously it seemed, escaped without a scratch. Actually, scratch that. She did get a bruise on her hip when she was thrown roughly to the side during the first few seconds of the capture of the phony terrorists..

The crowd of onlookers outside the window who observed and photographed the moments right after the door burst open would have called the scene horrific but it looked pretty damned organized to them. Three men of Italian descent who were wearing broad brimmed hats, dark suits, black shirts and white ties flooded into the room when the door burst open with a resounding bang of doorknob against the wall. The terrorists in dirty robes were shocked. This wasn't part of any plan they knew about. The pair standing by the wall who'd been watching Wonder Woman being gangbanged by their partners just moments before put their hands up as the team of mobsters waved Uzis around the room shouting, "Get over by the wall."

"We're already by the wall," the two men, a head-shaking Mohammed and the sullen, sumo-sized Sufa yelled back.

"Not you two, you three," said the lead man of the mobster hit team, waving his machine pistol at Bensir, Harga and Ishmael who were entwined around a prostrated Wonder Woman's body in varied states of disrobement. Hurriedly they gathered themselves and their dignity together. Harga, underneath the bleary, drugged Wonder Woman, pushed her off him with a harsh shove, rolling her awkwardly onto her hip. She grimaced as the three men rose up and walked over to the wall.

"They must have changed their plans," thinks Mohammed. "This is much more dramatic with guns, obvious Mafia costumes and without the police uniforms as they'd said would be the case. That Tony is damn smart. Their part was done, now came payday." Mohammed guessed they'd be marched out with talk of taking them to the police and American justice and all that, only to be sequestered away in a safe house til things quieted down. It was just good theater.

When the bullet hit his gut, he couldn't have been more surprised. Beside him, his fellow companions from the Little Baghdad neighborhood in which they'd been recruited for an easy couple of grand each collapsed in wide-eyed horror as they were mowed down by the hit team who were firing silenced bullets into their torsos with practiced precision. Tony was leaving no trail behind for the cops. Amad, their leader who'd left earlier, would be dealt with in under an hour, his throat slit while he sat in a movie theater back in Queens. A final bullet to Mohammed's head dropped him like a stone. The room smelled of cordite and shit.

Sergei, who'd immediately stepped out of the room after unlocking the door and letting the hit team flood inside, was making his way down the hallway back to the waiting limo. Wonder Woman would be taken back to the Pleasure Dome after the rest of her performance. Everything had gone exactly to plan.

The spectators outside were stunned by the violence they'd just witnessed. Some puked. Others used their camera phones. Others called loved ones and friends to share the big news.

Businessman, Yellow Blouse and Brian the bike messenger stood near the window in quiet silence and utter amazement as they watched Wonder Woman go back to work on her new set of captors, her mouth open, her eyes eager, her knees scuffed. It wasn't until the sirens got nearer that the mafia men finally took action, roughly hoisting the Champion of All Women to her feet and pulling her out of the room to a safer destination.

"Un-fucking-believable," Brian said as he stared at the room and the five dead terrorists. "You never realize how screwed up this planet has gotten."

"That's because it's filled with people. And a lot of people are seriously screwed up."

"What an incredible whore Wonder Woman turned out to be," Yellow blouse says, shaking her head.

During the police questioning, the news trucks pulled up with tires screaming and satellite uplink dishes spinning. Once they were done with the police, the spectators were permitted to talk to the news teams with their bobbing microphones and shouted questions. The trio had a lot to tell them. None of it good for Wonder Woman's reputation. Yellow blouse even had a camera video of key moments in the Amazon's busy degradation. A lot of it made the news. Heavily edited of course.

Sitting on the plush leather sofa in his bedroom suite in the Pleasure Dome after an incredibly long and exhausting day, Tony is sipping scotch and watching NewsCenter 4, a broadcast by the flagship NBC affiliate in New York.

Standing in front of the Brighton Building at Columbus Circle, the petite, curvaceous and stunning blonde reporter Heather Wells is summarizing the incredible events involving Wonder Woman and the terrorist cell that had captured her earlier that year.

"Jim, the remarkable string of occurrences involving Wonder Woman continues to stun and puzzle not only New Yorkers but the entire world tonight. In a shocking turn of events today, the famous Amazon heroine was seen in this building behind me through this plate glass window having sex with the very terrorists that had captured her nearly two months ago. Onlookers who captured the event with cameras, cell phone pictures and videos have shared those media with this NewsCenter 4 reporter. They have been heavily edited but if you have small children in the room watching, we suggest you remove them promptly. These scenes are quite explicit."

Tony chuckles as he rattles the ice and slowly sips his drink from the heavy tumbler. "I'll just bet they are, Heather!"

"As viewers may recall, the Amazonian princess was captured in Bryant Park this past summer in a nasty attack that severely wounded the famed heroine. A terrorist group called Afghan Jihad claimed responsibility for that attack shortly afterward, but in the subsequent weeks, little was heard from the cell. The U.S. President refused their demands for five million dollars as well as their demands for U.S. withdrawal from Afghanistan. And then the world waited and Afghan Jihad seemingly disappeared, along with all news or sightings of Wonder Woman until today.

"At approximately eleven a.m. this morning, a shutter slid open on this window revealing Wonder Woman with the alleged group of terrorists who had abducted her. She was spotted first by this bike messenger, Brian Knox."

A talking head shot of Brian with his bike helmet under his arm fills the screen. "When I first saw what was happening, I thought, 'No way. Not Wonder Woman. She's not like that."

"Like what," Heather asks from off-screen.

"Like a...well, there's no nicer word I can think of. Like a slut."

"What was she doing, Mr Knox?"

"Well, uh...everything you could think of to...uh please the guys in the robes."

"The terrorists?"

"That's what they looked like to me."

"How was she servicing them?"

"She was giving them bjs for one thing." A cutaway shot to Wonder Woman's boots pointed at the camera, the hem of a faded blue robe and a pair of elbows fills the screen. Along with a fuzzy pixilization that blocks out all details.

"Wonder Woman was performing oral sex on the terrorists?" Heather's inflection is perfect. Cool indignation, like she would never think of committing such a heinous act. Certainly not on a terrorist.

Tony laughs out loud, yells "Yes!" and gives a fist pump in his suite.

"Oh yeah," Brian smiles, then realizes he's on camera and gets serious again. "And then it got...uh...even nastier."

"How so?" Heather is unrelenting. Her producer when watching this interview before air time was popping Extra Strength Tums like candy.

"Well, she was doing a four-way with three guys. Uhhh....one for each...orifice?" Brian's voice goes up at the end like a question, hoping Heather would approve his choice of vocabulary.

"Really?" Heather's voice gets husky for a beat. "And did she seem to be attempting to withhold herself with these men or fighting back in any manner?" A choppy video fills the screen with more pixilization and a bobbing head of black hair, a man leaning over a blue and red blob and a pair of feet sticking out on the floor toward the camera. Nothing clear but you got the idea that someone was definitely having fun.

"Oh no," Brian shakes his head back and forth vehemently. "No, she was an active participant."

"Was she hesitant in any way or sluggish. As if possibly that she had been brainwashed somehow, Mr Knox?" Heather is trying to give Wonder Woman the benefit of the doubt.

Tony scowls at the televison at this suggestion. She was undermining all his work here. "Fuck you, Heather. She's a slut. Go with the lead story, bitch," Tony shouts at the tv.

"If she was brainwashed, I'd like to introduce those guys to my girlfriend," Brian says. Then his mouth drops open and he mumbles, "That's all I have to say for now," puts his hand in front of the lens, jostling it and then walks off camera. The cuts shifts back to Heather's standup at Columbus Circle.

"When that sex act was over, things got even stranger here, Jim. Apparently a team of three mobsters broke into the room, lined up the alleged terrorists and executed all five of them in merciless gangland style hit reminiscent of the St. Valentine's Day Massacre."

"And in a bizarre ending that stunned this seasoned reporter, Wonder Woman proceeded to provide oral sex to those men who "saved" her." Heather air quotes the "saved" and scowls noticeably at this crude behavior on the part of the Amazon champion that the world had to seriously reassess at this point. "For now, Wonder Woman seems to be, to put it bluntly, at the services of the Mob."

The scene cuts to another shot of Wonder Woman's boot soles pointing to the camera, now posed in front of men in dark suits with their elbows visible and the pixilated view of a red and blue blur bobbing in the middle of the screen.

"Heather," breaks in the anchorman Jim Brantley, "Mr Knox is not an expert in psychology in any way. But my question, like yours, remains: Is there any way it can be interpreted that Wonder Woman was coerced into doing this?

"Jim," Heather replies in complete deadpan, "if I had to guess, I'd have to say that the famous Amazon has probably blown that chance!"

The scene cuts to the anchorman at this desk, also deadpan. He can be as professional as that Wells bitch any day of the week. Cooly he intones seriously, "I'm Jim Brantley. We'll be back with more after this."

End of Chapter 56

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 56