Supergirl - Auction
CHAPTER ONE
Kara Danvers rubbed her eyes and leaned back in her at CatCo. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a harsh glow on stacks of press releases and half-empty coffee mugs. Another day of juggling reporter interviews, photo edits, and the occasional alien sighting disguised as a "freak weather event." She glanced at the clock: 6:47 p.m. Her muscles ached from a morning patrol that involved stopping a runaway train and an afternoon foiling a bank heist. All while pretending to be just Kara, the mild-mannered assistant. "Earth to Kara!" Natalie's voice cut through the haze. She leaned against Kara's desk, her dark curls bouncing as she waved two tickets in the air. "You look like you got hit by a truck. Or, knowing you, maybe you stopped one from hitting someone else." Kara forced a smile and adjusted her glasses. "Just tired, Nat. Long day." "Which is exactly why you're coming out with me tonight. No arguments." Natalie slapped the tickets down. "Front-row seats to Mira Vesper's magic show. Sold out for weeks, but I pulled some strings with my sources. It's gonna be epic." Kara hesitated. A night off sounded perfect, but Supergirl didn't get nights off. Still, the pull of normalcy won out. "Okay, fine. But nothing crazy. I need to unwind, not wind up in the ER." Natalie grinned. "Deal. Ditch the cardigan, though. You look like a librarian at a funeral." They stepped out into the National City streets as dusk settled. Neon signs flickered to life, painting the sidewalks in electric blues and pinks. Horns blared from traffic-clogged avenues, and the air hummed with laughter from outdoor cafes. Kara inhaled deeply, letting the city's pulse wash over her. For once, no cape tugged at her shoulders. No emergencies blared from her comms. She was just Kara, walking arm-in-arm with her best friend. "Seriously, Kara, when's the last time you went out? Like, actually had fun?" Natalie nudged her. "You're always buried in work or... whatever secret side gig you won't tell me about." Kara laughed, a real one that eased the knot in her chest. "I have fun. Potstickers and bad TV count, right?" "Barely. Live a little. Mira Vesper's show is legendary. She's got this whole mysterious vibe, like she's from another world. Illusions that mess with your head. You'll love it." They turned a corner, and the Vesper Theater loomed ahead. Its facade gleamed under spotlights, marquee letters spelling out Mira Vesper: Master of the Impossible. A line snaked around the block, fans bundled in coats against the evening chill. Atmospheric fog machines puffed mist from the entrance, swirling purple lights cutting through like search beams. Kara's skin prickled. Something about the place felt off, too theatrical, too staged. Natalie flashed the tickets at the door, and they slipped inside. The lobby buzzed with chatter. Velvet ropes guided the crowd toward the auditorium, where ushers handed out programs glossy with silver foil. Kara scanned the room out of habit. High ceilings dripped with chandeliers. Posters showed Mira in a top hat, her green eyes piercing even in print. "Front row, baby!" Natalie squealed as they found their seats. Plush red velvet cradled them, inches from the stage. The curtain shimmered, heavy and black, promising secrets. Kara settled in, crossing her legs. Relief bloomed in her chest. No one needed saving here. She could sip her watered-down soda and pretend the world didn't rest on her shoulders. Natalie chattered about office gossip, her hazel eyes sparkling. Kara nodded, half-listening, her gaze drifting to the corners of the theater. Cameras. Small ones, tucked into rafters and behind light fixtures. They whirred softly, lenses glinting. One seemed to pivot toward her. Kara shifted, glasses slipping down her nose. Paranoia, she told herself. National City had surveillance everywhere. Nothing new. The lights dimmed. A hush fell. Fog rolled across the stage, thick and cloying, carrying a faint scent of smoke and spice. Spotlights stabbed downward, converging on the curtain's center. It parted with a dramatic whoosh, revealing Mira Vesper. She stood motionless, elegant in a velvet waistcoat and silk gloves. Raven hair framed her face in a sharp bob. Her green eyes swept the audience, cold and appraising. She moved like liquid shadow, one gloved hand trailing a silver cane. The crowd erupted in applause. Kara clapped politely, but Mira's gaze lingered. Just a second too long. "Ladies and gentlemen," Mira purred, her voice smooth as polished stone, amplified yet intimate. "Welcome to a night where reality bends. Where the impossible becomes... inevitable." The show began. Cards fluttered from her sleeves, vanishing mid-air. A dove appeared from an empty hat, then dissolved into smoke. Natalie whooped at every trick, her cheers echoing Kara's polite smiles. But tension coiled in Kara's gut. Each illusion built on the last, suspense thickening like the fog. Mira's precision unnerved her. No wasted motion. Every gesture deliberate. Halfway through, Mira levitated a ring of fire, stepping through unscathed. The heat washed over the front row, singeing Kara's cardigan. Natalie gripped her arm. "Holy crap, that was close!" "Yeah," Kara murmured, eyes on Mira. The magician's smile never wavered. Cameras whirred again, one definitely tracking her now. She dismissed it. Focus on the show. Mira sauntered to the edge of the stage, cane tapping rhythmically. "You've indulged my simpler arts. Now, for the true test. An escape no one has bested." She paused, letting silence stretch. "I require a volunteer. Someone strong. Fearless." The audience murmured. Spotlights swept the crowd, dancing over faces. Kara relaxed, sinking lower. Not her. The main beam halted. Right on her. Heat bloomed across her cheeks. Faces turned. Natalie elbowed her hard. "Kara! Go! This is your chance to shine!" "Nat, no," Kara hissed, but the applause swelled. Natalie shoved her up. "Don't be a chicken. It'll be fun!" Kara stumbled to her feet, heart pounding. Suspicion nagged, but refusing would draw eyes. She was Supergirl. A stage stunt? Easy. She climbed the steps, the spotlight blinding. Wood creaked under her boots. The audience cheered. Mira extended a gloved hand. Kara took it, skin prickling at the cool touch. Up close, Mira was striking, her perfume sharp and floral. Their eyes locked. Mira's smile thinned, predatory. A promise of something unseen. "Welcome," Mira said softly, just for her. "Let's give them a show they'll never forget." Kara nodded, forcing calm. The curtain loomed behind them. Fog curled at her ankles. Whatever this was, she'd handle it. She always did. But as Mira led her center stage, the cameras zoomed in. Kara felt watched. Hunted.
CHAPTER TWO
Kara stood center stage, the spotlights bathing her in a relentless white heat. Sweat beaded on her forehead despite her invulnerable skin. The audience's murmurs filled the theater like a distant hum, their eyes fixed on her. Fog clung to the wooden planks under her feet, cool and damp against her flats. Mira Vesper circled her slowly, silk gloves whispering over the shimmering ropes coiled in her hands. Those ropes caught the light, heavy strands that gleamed with an unnatural sheen, almost alive. "Ladies and gentlemen," Mira announced, her voice a velvet caress over the speakers. "Behold the Untouchable. A binding so absolute, so impenetrable, that only the purest magic can set our volunteer free." She paused, letting the words sink in. Applause rippled through the crowd. Kara forced a smile, her heart steady. Ropes? She'd snapped chains thicker than her wrist without breaking a sweat. This was just a show. She glanced at Natalie in the front row, who gave an enthusiastic thumbs-up, oblivious to the knot forming in Kara's stomach. Mira stopped behind her, close enough that Kara smelled her perfume, sharp and floral, like night-blooming jasmine. "Arms at your sides, darling," Mira murmured, low enough for only Kara to hear. Her breath brushed Kara's ear. Kara complied, playing along. The first loop of rope slid around her waist, cool and heavy, heavier than it looked. Mira pulled it tight. Kara gasped, the air compressing from her ribs. It wasn't pain, exactly, but a deep, unnatural pressure that pinned her core like iron bands. The rope felt wrong. Cold seeped into her skin, a chill that spread outward. Kara flexed subtly, testing. Nothing. Her muscles, capable of bending steel, met unyielding resistance. She blinked, confusion flickering. Mira's gloved fingers trailed along the knot at her navel, precise and lingering. "Breathe," Mira whispered, her tone mocking. "Strength means nothing here." The audience leaned forward, hushed, as if sensing the shift. Kara's mind raced. Normal ropes didn't do this. She scanned the strands with a quick x-ray vision pulse. Nth metal. Her blood ran cold. Kryptonite's cousin from Thanagar, rare and brutal on her physiology. It drained her solar-fueled power wherever it touched, turning god-like might to mortal frailty. How? Who supplied this to a magician? Mira tugged another loop higher, crossing beneath Kara's chest, framing her breasts with deliberate slowness. The rope bit in, sensual in its constriction, molding to her curves. Kara's breath hitched, cheeks flushing under the lights. "Relax into it," Mira purred aloud for the crowd, her hands gliding over Kara's shoulders. She guided Kara's arms behind her back, positioning elbows close. The audience saw a volunteer submitting to the act. Kara felt the trap closing. She tugged lightly. The rope tightened in response, cinching like a living thing. Panic edged in. Natalie clapped, mouthing You're killing it! Kara wanted to scream, but she couldn't. Not here. Not without exposing everything. Mira worked methodically, her touch light yet commanding. She looped the rope over Kara's shoulders, down her spine, each pass deliberate, building layers. The weight grew, pressing Kara's arms immobile, her posture forced straight, chest thrust forward. The magician's fingers brushed her skin incidentally, sending unwelcome shivers. Power play unfolded in plain sight, Mira's dominance woven into every knot. "Feel that?" Mira hissed near her ear, private amid the public gaze. "Your strength betrays you. Pathetic for a hero." Kara stiffened. Did she know? Impossible. The ropes hummed faintly now, vibrating against her skin with each subtle shift. Kara strained harder, muscles bulging under her cardigan. No give. Her legs stayed free for now, but the torso bind rooted her like a statue. Heat from the spots mixed with the cold metal, sweat trickling down her back, soaking into the ropes. They absorbed it, growing slicker, tighter. The audience watched in rapt silence, mistaking her tension for performance art. Cameras whirred from the rafters, lenses trained on her face, her bound form. Mira stepped back, admiring her work. The ropes formed a chest harness of sorts, intricate patterns hugging Kara's torso, accentuating every curve. It was beautiful, in a cruel way, the shimmering cords contrasting her flushed skin peeking through gaps in her blouse. "Perfect," Mira said, loud for the crowd. "Our volunteer stands untouchable, unyielding." Applause swelled. Kara's arms ached, pinned so thoroughly circulation tingled in her fingers. She twisted her wrists, testing again. The response was immediate: coils squeezed, forcing a muffled grunt from her lips. Her powers ebbed further, yellow sun energy siphoned away. Legs felt leaden, though unbound. Mira circled once more, trailing a gloved hand along the ropes, checking tension. Her green eyes locked on Kara's, predatory glee hidden behind stage poise. "Struggle all you like," she whispered, lips close. "It only makes you mine." Kara's pulse hammered. This wasn't entertainment. It was capture, slow and sensual, stripping her control layer by layer. The public gaze amplified the humiliation, every wrap a public declaration of her vulnerability. Natalie cheered louder, caught in the spell. Kara met her eyes briefly, willing her to see the truth. Natalie just beamed, phone raised to snap a photo. The fog thickened, curling around Kara's ankles, the theater's purple lights pulsing like a heartbeat. Mira paused, drawing out the moment, letting anticipation build. The ropes pressed inward with Kara's every breath, a constant reminder: she was trapped, powers neutral, body yielding to another's will. Kara's confidence shattered quietly. She'd faced aliens, villains with god complexes. But this? Bound onstage, strength stolen by arcane metal, under watchful eyes. Mira's whispers echoed: mocking her might, her heroism. The power dynamic inverted fully now, Mira the puppeteer, Kara the doll. She stood there, spotlight searing, ropes claiming her inch by inch. Realization hit hard: too late to fight without blowing her cover. The act continued, but for Kara, the trap had sprung. The audience's silence broke into murmurs of awe. Mira bowed slightly, her smile triumphant. Kara's world narrowed to the bite of rope, the drain of power, the magician's unblinking stare. Natalie watched, thrilled by the show. Kara endured, waiting for an out that might never come. The heat built, tension coiled, every second stretching into eternity. She was the volunteer's trap, perfectly sprung.
CHAPTER THREE
Mira's gloved hands lingered on Kara's shoulders, her touch a calculated blend of stagecraft and control. The chest harness of shimmering rope hugged Kara's torso, forcing her posture rigid, every breath a reminder of the unyielding pressure. The audience's applause faded into expectant silence, their eyes glued to the volunteer who now stood like a sculpted figure under the harsh lights. Kara's arms hung pinned behind her, elbows drawn close, the Nth metal sapping her strength with every inch of contact. Sweat trickled down her spine, absorbed into the cords that framed her curves so intimately. "Now, for the true test of surrender," Mira announced, her voice smooth and commanding, carrying to every corner of the theater. She stepped behind Kara again, close enough that the heat of her body pressed against Kara's back. "Cross your wrists behind you, darling. Let the audience see your trust." Kara hesitated, her mind a whirlwind. She's good. Too good. But I can still break free if I time it right. Just need to play along, find the weak spot without anyone noticing. She glanced toward Natalie, who leaned forward in her seat, eyes wide with excitement. No choice. Kara slowly crossed her wrists at the small of her back, the motion pulling the existing ropes tighter across her chest. The fabric of her blouse strained, buttons pulling taut. The crowd murmured approval, mistaking her deliberate slowness for dramatic flair. Mira wasted no time. She uncoiled a fresh length of the heavy rope, its surface gleaming like liquid silver under the spots. The Nth metal infused every fiber, cold and relentless. She draped it over Kara's crossed wrists, looping it with expert precision. First a simple cinch, then a series of intricate knots that wove in and out, locking the hands palm-to-palm. Mira's fingers danced, pulling each strand firm. "Feel how they embrace you," she whispered, her lips brushing Kara's ear. The words sent a chill down Kara's neck, unrelated to the metal. Kara tested immediately, a subtle flex of her fingers. The knots responded like living serpents, tightening in retaliation. They squeezed her wrists, cutting circulation, forcing her hands into immobility. Pain flared, sharp and mortal. Her super strength, once effortless, faltered against the drain. It's adaptive. Damn it, how does she have this tech? She bit her lip to stifle a gasp, her body tensing visibly now. The audience clapped, thinking it all part of the act. "What a trooper!" someone called from the seats. Mira stepped around to Kara's front, her green eyes locking onto blue. A faint smile played on her lips, predatory and knowing. She trailed a gloved finger along the ropes crossing Kara's chest, downward, deliberate. "Almost there," she said aloud, drawing out the tension. Then, with a flourish, she produced another segment of rope, shorter and thicker. The crowd leaned in as Mira knelt slightly, her movements graceful, unhurried. fed the rope between Kara's bound wrists, threading it low, then drew it upward from behind. The cord slipped between Kara's thighs, pressing against the seam of her skirt with intimate pressure. Kara's cheeks burned hot, humiliation mixing with the growing alarm. Mira pulled slowly, sensually, the rope nestling tight against her most sensitive spots. It anchored the wrists at the base of her back, yanking Kara's shoulders rearward. Her chest thrust forward involuntarily, the harness accentuating the arch of her spine. The crotch rope bit in with every shift, a constant, rubbing torment that made her legs tremble. No. This is too much. Too public. Kara shifted her weight, trying to ease the pressure, but the motion only ground the rope deeper. A soft, involuntary sound escaped her throat, muffled by clenched teeth. The audience gasped in delight, applauding the apparent realism of her distress. Natalie bit her nails, grinning nervously, still buying the show. Mira rose, adjusting the tension with a final tug that forced Kara her toes. "Beautiful," Mira purred, her hand lingering on Kara's hip. The dominance was absolute, Kara's body reshaped by rope and will. With Kara's upper body secured, Mira turned her attention lower. She knelt again, rope in hand, her face level with Kara's leather flats. "Legs together now," she instructed softly, but with steel beneath. Kara complied as best she could, ankles touching despite the strain above. Mira wrapped the cords around them first, three tight loops followed by a knot that sealed them fast. The metal's chill seeped through her stockings, numbing her superhuman endurance. Kara tugged experimentally; the ropes cinched harder, mirroring the wrists. Standing was agony now, balanced precariously. Mira moved upward, binding above the knees next. She separated Kara's thighs just enough to thread the rope, then pulled them together, wrapping snugly. The pressure forced Kara's legs into a rigid column, mobility gone. Below the knees came last, more loops locking her calves immobile. Kara was a living statue, rope and silk claiming every contour. Her muscles burned from the effort to stay upright, the crotch rope shifting with every quiver, sending unwelcome sparks through her core. The spotlights intensified, heat baking her skin while the ropes held her cold. Applause thundered, the crowd on their feet. "Incredible!" voices shouted. Kara's breaths came shallow, chest heaving against the harness. She focused on Mira's eyes, searching for a tell. She's no amateur. Knows my limits, anticipates every move. Desperation clawed at her. She could end this with heat vision, blast the ropes to ash. Her eyes narrowed, power building behind them. Mira noticed instantly. She stepped close, passing a hand languidly near Kara's face, fingers waving like a magician's distraction. But her gaze was a warning, sharp and private. "Don't even think it," she murmured, so low the mic missed it. Her other hand rested on Kara's hip, thumb pressing the rope anchoring her wrists. "One flash, and your little secret burns with it. Play the part, hero." Kara's eyes widened fractionally. She knows. Or suspects enough. The heat vision fizzled, fear overriding instinct. She couldn't risk exposure, not here, not with Natalie watching. Mira circled her masterpiece, gloved hands checking every knot, every wrap. The ropes hummed faintly against Kara's skin, responsive to the slightest strain. Kara stood trapped, a tower of bound perfection, her skirt hiked slightly by the crotch rope's pull, blouse clinging damply to her skin. The audience's cheers washed over her, oblivious to the kidnapping unfolding in plain view. Natalie's face floated in the front row, proud and clueless. Kara's mind raced for escape plans, but her body betrayed her, muscles quivering uselessly against the Nth metal's grip. Sensations overwhelmed her: the deep ache in her shoulders from the wrist anchor, the relentless rub of the crotch rope with each heartbeat, the way the leg binds turned her knees to stone. Sweat slicked her skin, making the ropes glide and grip tighter. Mira's touch, light as it checked the chest harness, felt like ownership, fingers tracing the patterns that cradled her breasts so explicitly. Power ebbed further, the yellow sun's gift stolen contact by contact. Kara strained again, full force this time, body arching in slow, sensual struggle. The ropes tightened everywhere, the crotch cord vibrating subtly in response, forcing a muffled whimper from her lips. The crowd ate it up, mistaking torment for theater. "She's really selling it!" a man laughed. Mira's smile widened, triumphant. She posed Kara like a trophy, hand on her chin, tilting her head for the lights. "Behold the neutralized volunteer," she declared. "Strength means nothing against true art." Kara's blue eyes pleaded silently, but Mira only leaned in, breath hot. "Struggle more. It suits you." Kara's world narrowed to the bonds: the way the harness compressed her ribs, forcing shallow pants; the crotch rope's intimate invasion, sparking heat she fought to ignore; legs fused, ankles locked, knees bound in merciless coils. Every twitch amplified the hold, the metal feeding on her efforts. She was exposed, dominated, her invincibility stripped bare onstage. Mira's professionalism shone through, every knot a testament to her craft against Kryptonians. Kara realized the truth: this woman was built for this, a hunter of gods. The applause peaked, lights pulsing. Kara balanced on trembling feet, chest forward, wrists yanked low, the crotch rope a constant torment. Natalie's cheers rang out. Mira bowed, her control total. Kara endured, mind plotting desperately, body yielding to the slow, sensual prison of rope.
CHAPTER FOUR
Mira stepped back, her silhouette sharp against the blazing stage lights. She held Kara's chin gently, tilting it for the audience's view. The ropes gleamed, every knot a testament to her skill. Kara stood frozen, legs fused from ankles to knees, wrists locked low, the crotch rope a merciless pressure with each shallow breath. Her chest rose and fell against the harness, blouse damp and clinging. The crowd's cheers swelled, but inside, panic clawed at her. She had to hold on, play the part. "And now," Mira said, her voice a velvet blade over the speakers, "the silence that seals the magic." She reached into her velvet jacket with a flourish and produced a bright red ball gag. The rubber sphere dangled from black leather straps, catching the light like fresh blood. Gasps rippled through the theater. Mira turned it slowly, letting everyone see its size, its purpose. Kara's stomach dropped. No. Not that. Not here. She shook her head, lips pressed tight. The motion tugged the crotch rope, sending a jolt through her core. Her thighs clenched against the binds, but it only heightened the friction. Mira closed in, eyes locked on Kara's. "Open wide, volunteer," she cooed, loud enough for the front rows. Kara clamped her jaw, blue eyes flashing defiance. The audience laughed, thinking it scripted. Natalie clapped from her seat, oblivious. Mira's gloved hand shot up, fingers digging into the hinge of Kara's jaw. Pressure bloomed, sharp and precise, a spot that forced muscles to yield. Kara's mouth parted against her will, teeth parting around the invading sphere. It filled her, stretching her lips wide, tongue pinned uselessly. Saliva gathered instantly, the taste bitter. Mira buckled the straps tight behind her head, pulling hair into the leather. One notch, two. The gag seated deep, muffling any sound to pathetic hums. Kara tested it, trying to call out. Only a wet "mmph" escaped, garbled and weak. Her cheeks burned hotter than stage lights. The crowd erupted, on their feet. Mira traced a finger along Kara's stretched lips, admiring her work. "Perfect," she murmured, then louder: "Our volunteer surrenders her voice!" Applause crashed like waves. With Kara silenced, Mira leaned close, lips brushing the shell of her ear. Her breath was hot, words for Kara alone. "I know who you are, Supergirl." The world tilted. Kara's eyes widened, heart slamming against the harness. No. Impossible. She thrashed her head, but the gag turned it to futile jerks. Mira's smile was ice. "The don't lie. And neither do I." Kara's mind reeled. Exposed. Her secret, her power, laid bare to this woman. She strained, full Kryptonian force surging. The ropes bit back, Nth metal humming as they constricted. Wrists tighter, crotch rope grinding deep, sparking unwanted heat low in her belly. Her legs quivered, knees locked, unable to buckle. A low moan built in her throat, stifled by rubber. Mira produced the next tool: a thick blindfold, black cloth heavy with lead lining. She dangled it before Kara's eyes. "No peeking now." Kara squeezed her lids shut, but Mira pried them open, securing the band snug over her glasses. Darkness swallowed her. No light, no shapes. She tried x-ray vision, instinct kicking in. Nothing. The lead blocked it cold. Panic surged. Blind, gagged, bound. Helpless. The weight came last. Mira latched a gravity belt around Kara's waist, its buckle clicking like a cage door. It hummed to life, mass multiplying. Kara's body sagged, knees screaming against the ropes. What felt like five hundred pounds pinned her down. Balance fled; she teetered, heels scraping stage floor. The crotch rope shifted with the strain, pressing relentlessly, vibrations starting faint from her struggles. Her core clenched, fighting the building ache. "Ladies and gentlemen," Mira called, arms wide. "The vanishing act!" The curtain dropped with a heavy thud, sealing them in shadow. Cheers exploded beyond the fabric. Backstage lights flickered on dim, and masked henchmen emerged from wings, faces obscured by black balaclavas. They moved fast, professional. One grabbed Kara's shoulders, another her bound legs. She kicked wildly, ankles fused but heels thudding air. "Mmph! Nngh!" The gag choked her protests. "Easy, cargo," a henchman grunted, his grip iron on her thighs. They hefted her like a side of beef, gravity belt making her dead weight. Mira led, gloved hand trailing Kara's hip. "To the van. Gently now, she's valuable." Kara twisted mid-air, shoulders wrenching, crotch rope sawing deeper. Each buck sent sparks up her spine, the nano-vibes in the cord pulsing stronger. Heat pooled against her will, muscles betraying her with twitches. They dumped her on a padded bench backstage, face down. Rough hands yanked her booted heels up, threading rope from ankles to wrists. The hogtie pulled tight, arching her back cruelly. Heels kissed bound hands, crotch rope yanking vicious. She bucked, slow sensual struggles turning frantic. The vibes ramped, buzzing against slick folds through skirt and panties. A forced whimper bubbled past the gag, body arching in unwanted rhythm. Mira knelt beside her, checking the final knots. "Struggle all you like, Supergirl. It only makes you tighter." Her fingers trailed the hogtie line, then dipped to the crotch rope, adjusting with deliberate slowness. The pressure intensified, vibes hitting a peak. Kara's hips jerked, climax building unbidden. She fought it, thighs quaking, but the ropes held, merciless. Waves crashed through her, muffled cries shaking her. Shame flooded hot, mixing with aftershocks. "Load her," Mira ordered. The henchmen lifted the hogtied heroine again, carrying her through a side door. Cool night air hit her skin, then the van's metal floor. They slid her onto her side in the cargo bay, body coiled tight. The door slammed shut, locks engaging. Engine roared, tires screeching as they peeled into National City's streets. Darkness pressed in. Kara's world was rope, gag, blindfold. The van bumped over potholes, each jolt rocking the hogtie, grinding the vibrating crotch rope anew. It hummed low now, teasing her oversensitive core. Sweat slicked her skin under the harness, breasts heaving with labored breaths. Drool escaped the gag's edges, pooling beneath her cheek. Her strength, nullified. Voice, stolen. Sight, gone. She was cargo, nothing more. Internal screams echoed. How? How did she know? The whisper replayed, shattering her. DEO would come, Alex would track her. But Natalie watched, clueless. If she revealed herself now, everything unraveled. Struggles slowed to sensual undulations, body too drained to fight hard. The vibes responded, pulsing in time, forcing another slow build. She clenched against it, but release came again, softer, humiliating. Tears soaked the blindfold. Henchmen up front murmured. "Boss says auction's tomorrow. Highest bidder gets the Girl of Steel." Laughter rumbled. Mira's voice cut in from the passenger seat: "She'll fetch a fortune. Broken in just right." Kara's heart sank. Auction. Sold. The van merged onto highway, city lights distant through her void. Helplessness sank deep, bones heavy under artificial gravity. Every bump reminded her: bound, gagged, hogtied, vibrating torment between her legs. She tested bonds again, wrists flexing. Ropes tightened, crotch cord buzzing fierce. Pleasure-pain lanced through, hips bucking in the hogtie. Slow, forced climax edged closer, body no longer hers. The van sped on, carrying Supergirl into night, a silent star extinguished. Natalie would worry soon. Alex would hunt. But for now, Kara endured, struggles sensual and futile, the ultimate damsel in ropes that loved her too well. Miles blurred. Vibration built relentless, henchmen's talk fading to white noise. Kara arched in the hogtie, boots straining toward wrists, skirt hiked exposing bound thighs. The chest harness compressed with each pant, nipples hard against blouse from friction. Another peak hit, body shuddering in defeat. Drool slicked her chin, blindfold damp. She was theirs, driven to unknown fate. The van turned sharp, slowing. A warehouse district? No way to tell. Engine cut, doors opened. Cold air again. They dragged her out, hogtied form swinging. "Careful," Mira snapped. "She's premium." Kara mmph-ed weakly, last struggles ebbing as vibes lulled her core to throbbing ache. Footsteps echoed, then quiet. Deposited on concrete? No, softer mat. Door locked. Alone in dark, bound tight, the silent star waited for dawn's auction block.
CHAPTER FIVE
The warehouse smelled like rust and standing water. Alex Kane moved through its dark corridors with her team fanned out behind her, each operative silent, each weapon raised. The Nth-metal signature had led them here, a blinking point on her scanner that grew stronger with every measured step. She kept her breathing controlled, her jaw tight. Kara was somewhere inside. That was all that mattered. They found her in the back room. Kara was still hogtied on a padded mat, the gravity belt humming softly at her waist, the lead-lined blindfold still sealed over her eyes. The crotch rope had gone still, but the marks it left in the fabric of her skirt told Alex everything she needed to know about the last several hours. Rage moved through her chest like a slow tide, but she swallowed it down. Later. Right now, the job. "Kara. I'm here." Alex dropped to one knee beside her, already pulling the sonic blade from her belt. "Don't move." A sound came from behind the gag. Something between relief and exhaustion. Alex worked fast, pressing the blade's thin edge against the first rope. The Nth-metal fibers resisted for a half-second before the sonic frequency found the right pitch and they split cleanly apart. She moved to the hogtie next, then the ankle bindings, then the wrists. Each cut released a small measure of tension from Kara's body, and by the time Alex unbuckled the gag and pulled the blindfold free, the hero was shaking. "Got you," Alex said quietly. "I've got you." Kara sat up slowly, dragging air into her lungs. Her wrists were raw. Her hair was a wreck. She looked at Alex with eyes that had gone glassy from too many hours in the dark, and for a moment she didn't say anything at all. Then: "Mira. She's here somewhere. She knows—" "We're sweeping the building." Alex helped her to her feet, keeping one hand on her arm. "Mira Vesper is our primary target. Every exit is covered." She wasn't. A smoke pellet detonated in the hallway outside. By the time the operatives cleared it, the floor panel in the corner room was hanging open over a concrete shaft. Mira was gone. Alex stood at the edge of the trap door, staring down into the dark, and said nothing. There was nothing worth saying. They had Kara. The rest was a problem for tomorrow. The ride back to DEO headquarters was quiet. Kara sat wrapped in a tactical blanket in the rear of the vehicle, staring at the city lights blurring past the window. She didn't ask about Mira. She already knew. Days passed. National City moved the way it always did, loud and bright and completely indifferent to what had happened inside that theater. Kara went back to work at CatCo. She filed stories, answered emails, and drank too much coffee at her standing desk. She and Natalie grabbed lunch at the place on Fifth with the outdoor seating and the pasta that was never quite right, and Natalie made her laugh twice, genuinely, which felt like a small victory. The bruising on Kara's wrists faded. The memories didn't, exactly, but they settled into something she could carry without it showing on her face. She told herself that was enough. On a Wednesday morning, eight days after the warehouse, she ran down to the corner coffee shop for a large order — two lattes, one black coffee, a pastry bag that Natalie had insisted on through a string of texts. The line was long. She waited, tapping her card against her palm, watching pigeons argue over a pretzel on the sidewalk outside. It was almost boring. She was grateful for almost boring. She was back on the elevator with the drinks balanced carefully in a cardboard tray when her phone buzzed. She didn't look at it until she was stepping off on her floor. Then she nearly dropped everything. Natalie's cell number. A video file. The screen showed a darkened theater. A single chair in the middle of the stage, and Natalie tied to it, her wrists bound behind her back, a cloth gag pulled tight across her mouth. Her eyes were wide and wet, darting at something off-screen. The video was twelve seconds long. It looped without sound. Kara set the drink tray down on the nearest desk. She didn't remember walking to her apartment. She was simply there, standing in the open doorway, staring at the kitchen table. Natalie's phone was sitting in the center of it. The front door had been left ajar, not forced. Mira had wanted her to know how easy it had been. Kara's own phone buzzed again. A text. No contact name, no number she recognized. Old Globe Theater. Come alone. No DEO. No powers used against my people. You have two hours. If I see anyone else, or if you do anything that forces my hand — your friend doesn't come home. I don't like to lose, Supergirl. You of all people should understand that by now. She read it twice. Then she set the phone face-down on the table beside Natalie's and stood very still in the middle of her apartment, the refrigerator humming in the silence, afternoon light falling flat across the floor. Alex would have a tactical solution. Alex always had a tactical solution. But the message was clear, and Mira had already proven she was precise about consequences. Kara thought about Natalie's eyes in that twelve-second loop. Terrified and trusting, waiting for the person who always came. She went to her closet. The blue and red suit was folded at the back, the leather boots standing upright beside it. She hadn't worn it since the warehouse. She pulled the outfit on slowly, smoothing the fabric over her shoulders, straightening the crest on her chest. She laced the boots up to her knees and looked at herself in the mirror for a long moment. She looked like Supergirl. She felt like someone walking into a room she already knew the shape of. Kara picked up her phone. She did not call Alex. She put the phone in her boot, took one last breath of her own apartment, and walked out into the afternoon. Two hours. The Old Globe Theater was twenty minutes away. She had time. She just didn't have a choice.
CHAPTER SIX
The Old Globe Theater stood on the far edge of the arts district, three stories of ornate stonework gone gray with neglect. The marquee had lost half its letters. The doors were unlocked. Kara pushed through them into the lobby, the smell of old velvet and dust settling around her like something deliberately placed. She paused inside the entrance, listening. The building was quiet in a way that felt constructed, not accidental. No ambient sound from the street leaked through. The lights in the lobby were dead, but at the far end of the main corridor, a narrow glow fell through the open auditorium doors. She walked toward it, her boots quiet on the cracked tile. The auditorium opened around her, and she stopped. A single spotlight burned down from the rigging above, throwing a hard white circle onto the center of the stage. Inside that circle, Natalie sat strapped to a wooden chair, her wrists lashed behind her back, a thick cloth gag cutting across her mouth. Her curly hair was loose and disheveled. The moment she saw Kara, her eyes went wide and wet, and a muffled sound came through the gag — something urgent, something close to a warning. "Natalie." Kara moved up the aisle fast, already scanning the stage, the wings, the ceiling. "I'm here. I'm going to get you out." She was three rows from the stage when Mira's voice came through the theater speakers, smooth and unhurried, filling the space from every direction at once. "Stop there." Kara stopped. "Good girl." The voice carried no heat, only the precise calm of someone who had rehearsed every word. "You came alone. I appreciate that. It tells me you understand the situation." "Let her go." Kara's voice was steady. She kept her eyes moving, searching the darkness above the balcony, the sealed booth at the rear. "Whatever you want from me, Natalie has nothing to do with it." "She has everything to do with it. She's the reason you're standing exactly where I need you." A brief pause. "Look at the chair, Supergirl. Look carefully at the base." Kara looked. Beneath the chair, taped to the center support strut, was a small black device. Even at this distance she could see the blinking amber light, the wire running to a trigger relay. Her stomach dropped. Natalie's eyes followed hers and the muffled sounds came harder now, frantic, her shoulders straining against the ropes. "Remote detonation," Mira said simply. "If you move toward the stage without my permission, I press a button. If you contact the DEO, I press a button. If you use your strength against anyone in this building, I press a button. The device is shielded, by the way. You won't be able to freeze it or heat-vision it from that angle without risking the detonator. I've had weeks to plan this, and I don't make the same mistake twice." Kara stood very still, the spotlight throwing shadows across the empty rows of seats around her. She thought about Natalie's eyes in the video loop. Terrified and trusting. "What do you want?" Kara asked, though some part of her already knew. "I want what I was contracted to deliver. You interrupted that process and embarrassed me professionally. I find that difficult to accept." The voice was almost pleasant. "So we're going to correct it. Stage right. There's a pile of equipment at the edge of the light. Walk to it." Kara turned. At the far edge of the stage, just inside the spotlight's reach, a coil of rope sat on the floor beside a folded harness and several smaller lengths of cord. Even from the auditorium she could see the faint metallic sheen worked into the fibers. Nth-metal. She recognized it the way you recognized a smell that had been in a nightmare. She climbed the side steps onto the stage. Her boots were loud on the old hardwood. She crossed to the pile of equipment and crouched over it, and the cold weight of what she was being asked to do settled fully over her. Natalie was watching her from the chair. Tears were running freely now, cutting paths through the dust on her cheeks. She shook her head once, hard, as though she could refuse this on Kara's behalf. Kara looked at her friend for a long moment. Then she reached for the rope. "Start with your ankles," Mira instructed. "Take the longest cord. Loop it twice. Pull the knots tight. I'll know if you leave slack." Kara sat down on the stage floor under the spotlight and crossed her boots in front of her. The rope was heavier than it looked, the Nth-metal threading cool against her palms. She looped it around her ankles, feeling the familiar drag begin at once — that quiet deadening of her cells, the warmth of the yellow sun going distant and muffled. She cinched the knot and pulled. The cord held. She pulled harder and it held the same way. It would hold forever. She knew that now. She tied a second loop and a third, wrapping carefully, and every wrap felt like a small door closing somewhere inside her chest. "Good," Mira said. The word was not a compliment. It was a notation. "Now above the knee. Then below." Kara reached for the second length of rope and worked her way up her legs, the bindings stacking methodically while the spotlight held her in its circle like a specimen on glass. Natalie made a low, broken sound from the chair, and Kara kept her eyes down, focused on the knots, because looking at her friend's face right now would make her hands shake. "You're doing well," Mira said, and her voice was quiet and almost gentle in the way that a blade held flat against your throat is almost gentle. "We're only getting started, Supergirl. The chest harness is next." Kara looked at the folded leather harness at the edge of the pile and said nothing. She reached for it. The spotlight didn't waver.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Kara's fingers closed around the folded leather of the chest harness. The material was supple yet unyielding, lined with thin channels that she knew held more of the Nth-metal cord. She unfolded it slowly, the spotlight above casting stark shadows across the straps and buckles. Her legs were already locked together at the ankles, the rope biting into the leather of her boots. Every shift sent a dull ache up her calves. She glanced at Natalie, whose chest heaved with silent sobs, the gag distorting her features into something raw and pleading. "Excellent form so far, Supergirl," Mira's voice purred from the speakers, rhythmic and measured, like a metronome guiding a dancer toward ruin. "Now the harness. Slide it over your shoulders first. Buckle the main strap across your chest, just below that proud symbol of yours. Tighten it until you feel it kiss your ribs." Kara swallowed hard. She lifted the harness, the weight of it pressing against her palms. The Nth-metal weave hummed faintly against her skin, sapping the solar fire from her muscles. She draped it over her torso, the leather molding to the curve of her breasts and the flat plane of her stomach. Her arms moved awkwardly, restricted by the need to keep her balance on bound feet. She fumbled with the first buckle at her back, twisting her shoulders. Sweat beaded on her forehead, trickling down her temple. I can do this, she thought, locking eyes with Natalie again. Her friend's tears carved clean lines through the grime on her face. Kara forced a small nod, a promise in the gesture. For you. The buckle clicked into place, and she pulled the strap. It cinched tight, compressing her chest, restricting each breath to shallow draws. The harness framed the red-and-yellow S emblem, turning her symbol of hope into a framed trophy. "Perfect," Mira continued, her tone laced with clinical approval. "Now the vertical straps. One over each shoulder, down to your waist. Cross them in front if you must, but make them snug. I want to see that harness frame you properly." Kara's arms trembled as she worked the straps. The awkward angle forced her to arch her back, her bound ankles sliding slightly on the worn stage floor. She threaded one strap over her left shoulder, pulling it down across her body. The leather pressed into her skin through the thin fabric of her top, a constant reminder of her diminishing control. Her breaths came shorter now, the harness squeezing with every inhale. She repeated the motion on the right, crossing them at her sternum before securing the waist cinch. The final tug locked it all in place. Movement became a labored effort; raising her arms pulled the straps taut, limiting her reach. Natalie let out a muffled whimper, shaking her head violently. Her bound hands strained against the chair's arms, knuckles white. Kara met her gaze, drawing strength from the desperation there. Stay with me, Nat. Just a little longer. The shame burned hot in her cheeks, but she pushed it down. This was the price of loyalty. "You're a natural," Mira said, a hint of genuine admiration slipping into her voice. "Most would fumble the tension by now. But you... you understand the art of restraint. Now, back to your knees. You've done above them loosely. Take the next cord. Wrap it twice, high and firm. Cinch those knots like you mean it." Kara lowered herself carefully to her knees, the hobbled ankles making the descent a slow ordeal. She balanced on her shins, the stage wood rough against her skin. The pile of ropes lay just within reach. She selected a thicker cord, its metallic threads glinting under the light. Looping it above her knees required contorting her body, the chest harness digging in with every twist. She passed the rope around her thighs, feeling the cold seep through her skirt. Pull. Knot. The binding locked her legs parallel, mobility reduced to futile wiggles. Her face flushed deeper, a mix of exertion and humiliation. The ropes felt alive against her, responding to her efforts with unyielding grip. Below the knees came next. She repeated the process, fingers slick with sweat. Each wrap stacked the restraints, turning her powerful legs into bundled wood. the time she tied off the final knot, standing was impossible. She rocked back onto her hips, testing the limits. Nothing gave. Her strength, once a roaring sun, flickered like a candle in wind. Mira's voice filled the silence again. "Look at you. So composed, even now. The knots are precise, no slack anywhere. I admire your technique, truly. It's rare to see such willing precision in one so... formidable." Kara's jaw clenched. Admiration from her captor twisted like a knife. She focused on Natalie, whose eyes brimmed with horror and guilt. Muffled pleas escaped the gag, urgent and broken. Kara wanted to speak, to reassure her, but the words stuck. Instead, she mouthed, It's okay. A lie, but one she needed Natalie to believe. The leg bindings complete, Kara eyed the remaining cords. Her position was precarious, knees fused, ankles locked, harness constricting her core. Rising required leverage she no longer had. She inched forward on her bound legs, elbows scraping the floor, until she could hook a shorter rope with her fingers. But Mira's instructions had been clear: legs first, systematic surrender. "Don't rush ahead," Mira warned, as if reading her thoughts. "Savor the process. Feel every loop settle into place. Now, reinforce those ankle knots. Double them with this next one. Make them kiss your boots like lovers." Kara complied, her movements growing laborious. She dragged the cord to her feet, contorting to loop it over the existing bindings. The double layer bit deeper into the leather, the Nth-metal's chill radiating up her legs. Her skirt rode up slightly with the effort, exposing the taut skin of her thighs. Shame prickled, but she pulled tighter, the knots swelling into unyielding bulbs. Specialized hitches, just as the outline demanded—ones that mocked her strength, impossible to slip without tools she didn't have. Heat built between her legs from the friction, a humiliating undercurrent to the physical strain. The ropes pressed intimately, every shift sending unwelcome sparks through her core. She bit her lip, fighting the sensation. This wasn't just restraint; it was degradation, designed to strip her layer by layer. Natalie's cries grew frantic, her chair creaking as she thrashed. Kara tore her eyes away, unable to bear the sight. Almost done with the legs. Hold on. But the reality sank in heavier now. She was hobbled, chest bound, breath shallow. Her own hands had forged these chains. The once-invincible hero reduced to a kneeling figure under a merciless light. "Flawless," Mira murmured. "The way those ropes frame your form... exquisite. Your balance is impressive, even bound so. Most would topple by now. But you persist. For her." Kara's chest heaved against the harness, each breath a reminder of her vulnerability. The leather creaked softly, restricting her ribs, forcing her posture into submissive arch. She tested the bindings subtly, muscles flexing uselessly. The Nth-metal laughed silently, nullifying her power. Shame flooded her, hot and unrelenting. Yet Natalie's tear-streaked face anchored her. This was for her friend. No other choice existed. She shifted her weight, knees protesting, and glanced at the remaining gear. The process had worn her, sweat dampening her suit, blonde hair clinging to her neck. The theater's stale air thickened around her, heavy with dust and tension. Every knot had been a step deeper into helplessness, the slow pace amplifying the dread. Mira's voice, soothing yet commanding, had orchestrated it all, turning Kara's compliance into a performance. Finally, she settled back, legs fully immobilized. She was a statue of her own making—boots fused, knees strapped, harness pinning her torso. The spotlight pinned her there, exposed and diminishing. Natalie watched, broken sounds escaping her gag, horror etching her features. Kara held her gaze, willing courage into both of them. The weight of it all pressed down: she had systematically dismantled her defenses. No flight, no strength, no escape. Just the next inevitable step looming in the shadows. Mira's approval echoed once more. "You've surpassed expectations, Supergirl. Truly admirable. Rest there a moment. Feel it all settle." Kara did. The ropes dug in, the harness squeezed, her world narrowed to bound flesh and desperate hope.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Kara knelt on the rough wooden stage, her body already a prisoner of her own making. The chest harness squeezed her torso with every breath, the leather straps framing the bold S on her top like a mocking display case. Her legs were fused from boots to thighs, Nth-metal cords biting deep into the leather and her skin beneath the skirt. Balance was a distant memory; she rocked slightly, muscles straining uselessly against the unyielding weave. Sweat traced cold paths down her back, pooling at the base of her spine. The spotlight burned overhead, turning her into a solitary figure under its glare. Natalie's muffled sobs cut through the heavy air of the old theater. Bound to the chair in the center of the stage, her friend shook against the ropes, hazel eyes wide with raw terror. Kara forced herself to meet that gaze. She had to keep going. For Natalie. The alternative didn't exist. Mira's voice slithered from the hidden speakers, smooth as silk over steel. "Now the gag, Supergirl. Pick it up. Feel its weight in your hands. That's the sound of your voice leaving you." Kara's gaze shifted to the remaining restraints piled nearby. The ball gag sat atop them, a heavy silicone sphere attached to thick leather straps, its surface gleaming dully under the light. Her fingers trembled as she reached for it, the short distance feeling like miles with her arms restricted by the harness. She grasped it, the cool weight settling into her palm. It was larger than she expected, designed to fill her mouth completely, to silence the hero who had roared across battlefields. She lifted it higher, turning it in her hands. The straps dangled like promises of finality. Kara looked at Natalie one last time, her blue eyes locking onto her friend's tear-streaked face. Natalie's head jerked side to side, muffled pleas bubbling through her own gag: "Mmmph! Nnnn!" The desperation clawed at Kara's chest. She nodded slowly, a silent vow. This was commitment. Proof she would pay any price. Her lips parted. The silicone pressed against her teeth, cold and unyielding. She pushed it in, feeling it stretch her jaw wide. Saliva gathered instantly, her tongue pinned beneath the intruder. The straps went around her head, her fingers fumbling blindly behind her neck. She pulled, the buckle clicking into place. Tight. Too tight. It dug into the corners of her mouth, sealing her words away. A test whimper escaped: "Mmmph." Muffled, pathetic. Her world shrank to that sound, her voice reduced to animal noises. Heat flushed her cheeks, shame mixing with the ache in her jaw. Supergirl, silenced by her own hand. The harness creaked as she shifted, testing the new reality. No commands, no pleas for Natalie. Just the wet pressure against her tongue and the straps grinding her skin. Natalie's sobs grew louder, her chair scraping the stage as she twisted. "Krrr! Mmmph!" Kara wanted to respond, to say it was okay, but only another "Mmmph!" came out, strained and distant. The theater echoed with Natalie's grief, the only human sound left. "Beautiful," Mira purred. "Such devotion. Your lips stretch so perfectly around it. Now the blindfold. No more peeking at your friend. Let the darkness take you." Kara's bound hands groped forward again, knees grinding into the splintered wood. The lead-lined blindfold lay next to the ropes she'd left behind, a thick pad of black leather padded with heavy material that blocked all vision, even hers. She snatched it up, the weight confirming its purpose: no x-ray sight, no desperate scans for escape routes. Her fingers explored the edges, finding buckles at the back. One last glance at Natalie—her friend's eyes begged, pleading for her to stop. Kara mouthed a final "It's okay," though the gag mangled it into nonsense. She raised the blindfold. Darkness folded over her eyes as she tied it in place. The lead pressed cool against her lids, heavy and absolute. Buckles clicked shut behind her head, straps crossing the gag's own. Sound muffled further, the theater's vast space compressing into echoes and Natalie's distant cries. Kara blinked uselessly beneath it, seeing nothing but black void. Her head swam, disoriented without sight. The ropes on her legs pulled tighter with every shift, the Nth-metal humming faintly, sapping her strength like a slow poison. Blind and gagged, she knelt there, exposed. The air felt thicker, charged with her isolation. Every creak of the harness, every rub of rope on leather amplified in the silence. Natalie's sobbing painted the soundscape, ragged and broken: "Hnnngh! Mmmph!" Kara tilted her head toward it, straining to hear, to connect. Her own whimpers joined in sympathy, low and helpless. Mira's voice cut through, closer now, or maybe just more intimate in Kara's darkened world. "Last step, darling. Your wrists. Feel along the floor to your left. The loops wait for you. Slide in nice and slow." Kara's hands patted the stage blindly, fingers splaying across dust and grit. Panic flickered—where? Then she touched it: soft coils of rope, pre-tied into cuffs with a dangling drawstring. The Nth-metal threads prickled her fingertips, alive with promise. She gathered them, the material slithering like snakes. Heart pounding, she maneuvered her arms behind her back, the harness forcing an awkward arch. Her shoulders strained, chest thrusting forward against the straps. Blind fumbling began. She found the first loop, slipped her left wrist through. The cuff hung loose for now, waiting. Right wrist next—fingers clumsy, sweat-slick. It caught on her thumb. She tugged, frustration building. "Mmmph!" A muffled grunt escaped, jaw aching from the gag. Finally, both wrists seated in their loops, crossed neatly at the small of her back. The drawstring dangled within reach of her fingers. Kara grasped it, heart hammering. This was it. Total surrender. She pulled. The cuffs zipped tight, cinching like vices against her wrists. Nth-metal locked with a soft click, fusing bone to restraint. She yanked hard, testing. Nothing. Her arms pinned immobile, elbows nearly kissing, chest harness yanking taut with the effort. Helpless. Completely. She rocked on her knees, body a taut package of leather and rope. The skirt hiked higher, exposing the pale skin above her thighs where ropes dug in. Every twitch sent friction sparking through her core, the bindings pressing intimately against her most sensitive spots. Shame burned hotter than the spotlight she could no longer see. Bound, gagged, blindfolded—all by choice. For love. Natalie's sobs were her anchor, ragged pleas echoing in the void. Kara twisted subtly, the ropes groaning. Her boots scraped together, fused ankles useless. Knees throbbed from the hard floor, harness compressing her ribs into shallow pants. Drool seeped past the gag, trickling down her chin, soaking the collar of her top. The wetness cooled against her flushed skin, a humiliating reminder. She strained her neck, trying to sense Natalie. "Mmmph?" Her query came out garbled, desperate for connection. Natalie's response was a flood of sound: "Kaaa! Nnngh! Mmmph!" The chair rattled, ropes creaking under her thrashing. Kara pictured it—Natalie's slim frame fighting, curls matted with sweat, eyes locked on the bound hero. Guilt twisted in Kara's gut. This was her fault, dragging Natalie into her world of capes and crises. But she'd fix it. Somehow. Time stretched in the dark. Minutes? Hours? The theater's stale air clung to her skin, dust motes dancing unseen. Her muscles cramped, demanding movement she couldn't grant. The crotch area of bindings rubbed with every breath, a slow tease building unwelcome heat. She froze, willing it away. Not now. Not like this. But the pressure persisted, intimate and insistent, turning captivity into torment. Mira's laughter filtered through, low and melodic. "There you stand—no, kneel—a perfect statue of submission. Gagged so your heroism can't shout. Blind to the trap you've walked into. Wrists locked by your own pull. All for her." A pause, heavy with satisfaction. "Natalie's tears are your crown, Supergirl." Kara's head jerked toward the voice, blind eyes straining. "Mmmph! Hnnngh!" Protest bubbled out, furious and futile. She bucked against the ropes, chest heaving, harness biting deep. The effort only ground the leg bindings tighter, friction igniting sparks low in her belly. A shiver ran through her, unwanted pleasure mingling with rage. She stilled, panting through her nose, drool dripping freely now. Natalie's cries peaked, a symphony of despair. "Mmmph! Plleeease!" The words distorted into heartbreak. Kara focused on them, letting the sound ground her. She was still Supergirl, even like this. Even silenced, darkened, bound. Her mind raced, plotting in the void. Alex would find her. The DEO would track the Nth-metal. Hope flickered, fragile but real. Yet the reality crushed in. She balanced on bound knees, arms welded behind, jaw locked wide. The chest harness framed her like art, ropes sculpting her power into fragility. Every sense heightened: the creak of leather, the rub of cord on skin, the wet gag filling her mouth, the heavy blindfold sealing sight. Vulnerability soaked through her, deeper than any Kryptonite. She tested again, subtler this time. Flex wrists—no give. Tug legs—ropes laughed back. The Nth-metal owned her now, her strength a joke. Shame coiled tight, but Natalie's sobs pulled her back. Worth it. All of it. Kara settled into stillness, a helpless prisoner in the spotlight's blaze, waiting for whatever came next. The theater held its breath with her, tense and unbroken. In that isolation, her mind wandered to simpler nights—laughing with Natalie over drinks, the city lights blurring below as she soared unseen. Now, those felt like dreams. Reality was rope, leather, darkness. And love, binding tighter than any cord. Natalie's whimpers softened to exhausted hitches, the only sound piercing Kara's muffled world. Together, they endured, two friends caught in the scorpion's web. CHAPTER NINE
The stage creaked under Kara's weight as she balanced on her knees, every muscle locked in place by the ropes she'd tied herself. Darkness pressed against the blindfold, lead-heavy and total, while the ball gag stretched her jaw into a constant ache. Drool slicked her chin, dripping onto the chest harness that framed her heaving breasts. The S emblem on her tight top mocked her with every shallow breath, the leather straps digging deeper into her skin. Her booted ankles fused together, knees bound above and below, thighs cinched so tight she felt the pulse of her own blood trapped beneath. Arms pinned behind her back, wrists crossed and locked by the Nth-metal cuffs she'd pulled herself. She was a statue of defeat, sweat-soaked and trembling, the air thick with the scent of old wood and her own fear. Natalie's muffled cries echoed from across the stage, a ragged lifeline in the void. Kara tilted her head toward the sound, her body rocking slightly. The movement sent a fresh wave of friction through the ropes low on her hips, where the bindings pressed against her skirt. Heat built there unbidden, a shameful spark she tried to ignore. She whimpered through the gag, "Mmmph," the sound wet and broken. Natalie answered with a frantic "Krrrngh!" her chair scraping as she strained against her own ropes. Footsteps approached, slow and deliberate, heels clicking on the boards like a countdown. The air shifted, carrying a faint perfume of jasmine and smoke. Mira Vesper emerged from the shadows at last, her silhouette cutting through the spotlight Kara could no longer see. She circled her prize, velvet-gloved hands trailing lightly over the harness straps, testing their tension. The touch was feather-soft, almost affectionate, but it made Kara jerk in place. More friction. More heat. "Perfection," Mira murmured, her voice a silken caress close to Kara's ear. "You bound yourself so beautifully, Supergirl. Every knot, every strap, pulled by those noble hands. But we're not done. Not yet." She stepped back, and Kara heard the rustle of more rope uncoiling, the faint hum of Nth-metal threads awakening. Panic surged through Kara's chest. She bucked against her bonds, boots scraping the stage, but the ropes held fast, sapping her strength like a black hole. Mira's gloved palm pressed between Kara's shoulder blades, firm and unyielding. "On your side, darling. Let's finish the art." She pushed, and Kara toppled, hitting the wood with a thud that jarred her bones. She rolled instinctively, trying to right herself, but Mira's boot pinned her hip. The villainess knelt beside her, movements precise as a surgeon's. More cord whispered over Kara's skin, looping around her already-bound ankles and yanking them upward. The pull arched Kara's body, forcing her back to bow in a cruel curve. Ankles met wrists in a savage connection, the new hogtie rope cinching everything tighter. Kara's abs clenched, her skirt riding up completely now, exposing the pale undersides of her thighs where ropes bit red welts into flesh. The arch was excruciating, her body folded into a tight bow, every muscle screaming for. The chest harness yanked harder across her ribs, squeezing her breasts until each breath felt like fire. Kara thrashed, head tossing side to side, blindfold slipping sweat-slick but holding. "Mmmph! Hnnngh!" Drool flew from her gagged lips, splattering the stage. Her struggles only deepened the arch, heels nearly touching the nape of her neck, the position leaving her utterly exposed, utterly helpless. This was tighter than anything before, a restraint that turned her invulnerable form into a plaything. Mira laughed, a low, throaty sound that vibrated through the air. "Struggle all you want. It only makes you more exquisite." Her fingers traced the curve of Kara's arched back, dipping lower to the juncture of thighs. Kara froze, sensing the intent. Mira tugged at the existing ropes there, weaving in a new length of cord, thinner and laced with something metallic. The crotch rope settled into place, nestling intimately against Kara's most sensitive core, right through the thin fabric of her suit. It pressed firm, unyielding, the Nth-metal infused with tiny nano-bots that prickled like static electricity. "This is my favorite part," Mira whispered, her breath hot on Kara's neck. She adjusted the rope with slow, deliberate pulls, sawing it deeper into the cleft. "These little darlings respond to you. Every twitch, every pull against your bonds, and they vibrate. A cycle of delight, Supergirl. Struggle, and they reward you. Exhaust yourself, and maybe they'll stop." She tied it off, connecting it to the hogtie rope so any movement yanked it taut. Kara's mind reeled. No. She couldn't. But instinct overrode fear. She bucked hard, testing the full hogtie, muscles flexing in futile rage. Instantly, the nano-bots hummed to life. A deep, insistent vibration pulsed against her, radiating through her core like liquid fire. Her body spasmed, hips jerking involuntarily as pleasure crashed unwanted through her nerves. "MMMMPH!" The gag choked her cry into a garbled moan, her back arching even tighter in the hogtie. Waves of sensation built, forcing her muscles to clench and release in rhythm, exhaustion chasing each peak. Mira patted her blindfolded head like a favored pet. "There it is. Feel how they love you back? Your body betrays you already, doesn't it? The mighty Supergirl, reduced to spasms by her own fight." Kara's struggles slowed, haze clouding her thoughts as another vibration ripped through her. Her thighs quivered, slick heat gathering despite her horror. The rope ground deeper with each twitch, nano-bots intensifying, pushing her toward an edge she dreaded. Sweat poured down her face under the blindfold, mixing with tears she couldn't shed. Her breaths came in ragged pants through her nose, the gag filling her mouth with her own saliva. Across the stage, Natalie's chair rattled violently. "Mmmph! Kaaa!" Her voice cracked with desperation, muffled but piercing. Kara turned her head blindly toward it, another whimper escaping. The movement triggered more vibration, a fresh spasm locking her body rigid, pleasure coiling tight in her belly. She forced stillness, gasping, but the hogtie made even breathing a torment, the crotch rope shifting with her ribs. Mira rose gracefully, heels clicking away. "You've earned her freedom, pet. Such a good volunteer." She signaled, and heavy footsteps approached. Henchmen in dark suits loomed, their shadows falling over Kara's prone form. One knelt by Natalie, a syringe glinting. Natalie thrashed, eyes wide over her gag, but the needle plunged into her neck. Her body slumped limp, head lolling. "Sleep tight, little reporter," Mira cooed. "We'll drop you at the DEO with a headache and a story no one will believe." The henchmen unbound Natalie roughly, slinging her over a shoulder like a sack. Her curls dangled, body slack. They carried her offstage, footsteps fading into the wings. Kara heard the distant slam of a door, finality settling like lead. Natalie was safe. That's what mattered. But the victory tasted like ash around the gag. "You're the prize now," Mira said, crouching again beside Kara. Her gloved hand stroked the heroine's cheek, thumb wiping drool from the gag's edge. "Sold to the highest bidder. Imagine it: Supergirl on display, hogtied and humming for her new owner." Kara shuddered, the touch igniting fresh vibrations. Her core clenched, building toward forced release. She fought it, mind screaming defiance, but her body betrayed her, hips twitching minutely. The nano-bots purred approval, intensity ramping up, forcing a low, involuntary moan from her throat. Slowly, sensually, Kara's struggles turned inward. Each pull on the hogtie arched her tighter, yanking the crotch rope deeper. Vibrations pulsed in waves, syncing with her heartbeat, eroding her will. Her muscles burned, exhaustion pulling at her limbs, but stopping meant surrender. She bucked again, desperate to break free, and the reward hit hard: a climax ripped through her, body convulsing in the tight arch. Juices soaked the rope, the suit, her thighs slick and trembling. "Hnnnngh!" The gag muffled her shame, tears soaking the blindfold as aftershocks left her limp, chest heaving against the harness. Mira's laughter filled the stage, soft and triumphant. "First of many, I wager. Your strength feeds it, darling. The more you fight, the more you come undone." She signaled again, and the henchmen returned. Rough hands gripped Kara under the arms and knees, lifting her like luggage. The hogtie swung her body in a tight package, crotch rope shifting with every step, sparking fresh hums. She dangled helplessly, head lolling, the world a blur of motion and vibration. They carried her off the stage, through dim corridors reeking of dust and mildew. Kara's boots dragged uselessly, heels scraping stone. Vibrations built again from the jostling, her body betraying her with twitches. Mira walked ahead, heels echoing. "To the van, boys. Our girl has an auction to headline." A back exit banged open, cool night air hitting Kara's sweat-drenched skin. The van's door slid wide, and they loaded her in, tossing her onto a padded floor. The door slammed shut, engine rumbling to life. Kara lay there in the dark, hogtied arch unyielding, nano-bots humming faintly at rest. Natalie's safe. That was enough. But as the van lurched forward, vibration reigniting with the bumps, she wondered how long she could endure before her spirit broke like her threatened to. The ropes owned her now, and the night stretched endless ahead.
CHAPTER TEN
The van's engine growled low as it pulled away from the theater, tires crunching over gravel before hitting smooth asphalt. Kara lay on her side in the cargo hold, body locked in the merciless hogtie. Her ankles pressed hard against her wrists, the connecting rope forcing her spine into a deep bow that made every breath a fight. The chest harness squeezed her ribs, straps cutting across the S emblem on her tight top, while the ball gag filled her mouth, stretching her jaw until drool pooled constantly at the corners. Sweat soaked her suit, her blonde hair matted under the lead-lined blindfold. Worst of all was the crotch rope, buried deep between her legs, its nano-bots waiting like predators for any sign of resistance. The ride was endless. Bumps jolted her body, each one yanking the hogtie tighter and grinding the crotch rope against her core. She tried to stay still, but the van swerved through city streets, potholes slamming her into the padded floor. Instinct kicked in. Her muscles tensed, boots flexing uselessly as she strained against the Nth-metal bonds. The nano-bots responded at once. A low hum started, vibrating right through the thin fabric of her suit, pulsing against her clit with ruthless precision. Heat flooded her, unwanted and fierce. Her hips bucked involuntarily, deepening the, which only pulled the rope harder. No, not again, she thought, but her body ignored the plea. Waves built fast, coiling in her belly, her thighs clamping together as much as the knee bindings allowed. "Mmmph!" The gag turned her cry into a muffled groan. The vibration intensified, syncing with her spasms, forcing slickness between her legs. She twisted, trying to roll away from the sensation, but the hogtie kept her trapped in place. Pleasure crashed over her, a forced climax that left her shaking, juices soaking the rope and her skirt's hem. Exhaustion hit, but the bots didn't stop completely. They idled, a teasing buzz that promised more if she moved. Kara panted through her nose, tears stinging under the blindfold. Natalie's safe. That truth anchored her, even as shame burned hot. The van sped on, city lights flickering unseen through the lead-lined shell. Hours blurred. Or minutes. Time lost meaning in the dark, vibrating hell. Another pothole rocked her, sparking fresh hums. She clenched her fists behind her back, nails digging into palms, but the struggle fed the bots. Her core throbbed, overstimulated and raw, each pulse dragging her toward another edge. She fought it, willing her body to stillness, but the hogtie made it impossible. Breathing alone shifted the ropes. A slow build this time, insidious, until her muscles betrayed her again. Climax ripped through, body convulsing in the tight arch, heels digging into her gloved hands. Drool splattered her chin, her mind fogging with unwanted release. How much more? The question looped, unanswered. Finally, the van slowed, turned sharp, then lurched to a stop. Doors slid open, cool air rushing in. Rough hands grabbed her under the arms and thighs, hoisting her like cargo. Her hogtied form dangled, crotch rope sawing with every step, bots humming faintly from the motion. She dangled limp, head lolling, the world a sway of darkness and muffled echoes. Stone floors clicked under boots, cold air seeping through cracks in the walls. Voices murmured low, excited. They carried her down stairs, through doorways, the chill deepening. Her leather boots scraped uselessly, heels leaving faint trails on the ground. Deeper they went, the air growing musty, laced with expensive cologne and cigar smoke. A door creaked wide, and murmurs swelled into a crowd's hush. They set her down gently on a smooth surface, probably a table. Fingers tugged at the blindfold, peeling it away. Light stabbed her eyes, dim but blinding after hours in black. Kara blinked, vision clearing to reveal a plush auditorium. Velvet seats curved in tiers, filled with masked figures in tuxedos and gowns. Gold sconces cast moody glows on marble pillars, chandeliers dripping crystals overhead. Wealth screamed from every corner, but the faces behind ornate masks were shadows, predatory and eager. She lay on a revolving pedestal in the room's center, spotlight bathing her in harsh white. The hogtie held her arched and exposed, skirt hiked high, thighs marked with red welts from the ropes. Her top strained across her chest, harness framing her breasts, nipples hard from the cold and endless stimulation. Drool gleamed on her chin, the red ball gag shiny with saliva. Blonde hair tumbled wild, blue eyes wide with desperation. She scanned the crowd, pleading silently. Someone help. Please. But the masks stared back, hungry, no saviors among them. A man stepped beside the pedestal, tall and slick in a tailored suit, microphone in hand. The auctioneer. His voice boomed smooth, practiced. "Ladies and gentlemen, tonight's crown jewel. Behold the fallen Girl of Steel herself, Supergirl. Once the unbreakable protector of National City, now neutralized and primed for a new master." He gestured with flourish, gloved hand trailing over her harness without touching. Kara jerked, the movement triggering a soft vibration. Her cheeks flushed hot under the gag, a muffled whimper escaping. "Examine the craftsmanship," he continued, voice rich with salesman's glee. "Nth-metal ropes sap her Kryptonian strength completely. Hogtied in a classic bow, ankles to wrists, body arched for display. Chest harness accentuates her form, while this special crotch rope—infused with responsive nano-technology—ensures compliance. She struggles, it vibrates. Exhausts her will through pleasure. Gagged to silence those heroic pleas, lead-lined blindfold removed only for your viewing pleasure." He spun the pedestal slowly, Kara's bound form revolving like a trophy. The crowd leaned forward, whispers buzzing. She felt their eyes crawling over her, stripping away the last shreds of dignity. Bids flashed on screens around the room, numbers climbing fast. The auctioneer grinned. "We open at fifty million. Do I hear fifty-five?" Paddles rose, voices calling sharp. "Sixty!" "Seventy!" Kara's heart pounded. She twisted against the hogtie, boots flexing, knees straining. Bots hummed to life, vibration pulsing deep. Her body responded against her will, hips twitching, slick heat building again. Stop. Not here. But the spotlight amplified everything, her spasms visible to all. A few masks smirked, bids surging higher. "One hundred million!" Her eyes swept the tiers, locking on a private box high above. There, in shadowed luxury, sat Dr. Liora Voss. The Scorpion. Tailored black dress hugged her frame, scorpion brooch glinting at her throat. She sipped champagne, green eyes fixed on Kara with cold triumph. No mask for her; she owned this moment. Their gazes met, Kara's pleading, desperate. Voss raised her glass in mock toast, lips curling. The look sealed it. Defeat, total and final. Kara was no protector now. Just merchandise. The DEO wouldn't find this place, buried deep underground, shielded from scans. Alex's teams scoured the city in vain. The pedestal spun again, auctioneer's patter rising. "Look at her fight it. See how the rope rewards her? One-fifty!" Kara bucked harder, rage fueling the struggle. Vibrations ramped up, grinding mercilessly. Pleasure coiled tight, her abs clenching in the arch, breasts heaving against the harness. She glared at Voss, but the villainess only watched, amused. Bids flew: two hundred, two-fifty. Kara's body betrayed her mid-twist, climax hitting sharp and public. She convulsed, muffled moans vibrating the gag, thighs quivering slickly. The crowd murmured approval, paddles snapping higher. "Three hundred million from the gentleman in the rear! Four hundred!" The numbers blurred on screens, obscene wealth trading her freedom. Kara sagged in the hogtie, aftershocks trembling through her. Drool dripped onto the pedestal, her blue eyes dulling with realization. Life over. No more flights over the city, no rescues, no normalcy with Natalie at CATCO. Sold. Owned. The crotch rope idled, a cruel reminder humming softly. Voss leaned forward in her box, eyes gleaming. The auctioneer built the frenzy. "Do I hear five hundred? Five hundred going once..." A final paddle rose from the shadows. "Sold! To the bidder in box seven for five hundred and twenty million!" Hammer fell with a sharp crack, echoing through the auditorium. Applause rippled, predatory and satisfied. Kara's pedestal stopped turning, facing Voss's box one last time. The Scorpion nodded once, approval clear. Then hands wheeled her away on a dolly, hogtied form strapped secure, toward a side door. Vibration sparked from the motion, a parting torment. Darkness reclaimed her as they pushed through corridors, crowd's cheers fading. The winner waited somewhere ahead, anonymous and victorious. Kara's mind fractured under the weight. Invincible no more. Just a prize, wheeled into an unknown future, ropes owning every inch. Bots hummed faintly, promising endless cycles. She closed her eyes, tears slipping free. The dolly rattled on, carrying Supergirl to her new life. Back in the auditorium, Voss set down her glass, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. The Scorpion had her trophy. (To be continued …)