Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco

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DrDominator9
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Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco

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Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco


By Dr. Dominator


Important Note: The Supergirl character and all mentioned DC characters are properties of DC Comics. All are used herein exclusively for the purpose of parody. There are no claims of ownership of these characters and no profit will be seen from the publication of this work. All the other original characters in this story are the property of this author and any use of them requires permission from Dr. Dominator.


Chapter 1

Supergirl’s thoughts were a torrent of conflicting emotions: apprehension about the possible glitches that could happen during this crucial mission, excitement about the possibility of successfully rescuing 19 teenage girls from a sex slavery prison, a flush of embarrassment about having allowed three dildoes to be inserted into her mouth, vagina and rectum and a tinge of sexual pleasure at the thought of such devices within her. Clearly the actual dildoes were having no physical effect on her since she had all her super powers intact, but the mental thrill of every major orifice filled to capacity was giving her a slight buzz of interest.

Dressed in a tight-fitting yellow tube top and a chocolate brown miniskirt, yellow knee-high socks and low-heeled brown pumps, the attractive blonde lay completely still on her back within the foam-lined box in which she was tightly secured. With her hands at her sides, her wrists are tightly cinched with steel manacles that are clipped to the wide metal belt locked around her waist. Matching metal clamps surround her calves with a steel spreader bar keeping her legs a vulnerable two feet apart. Inside the large pine shipping box in which she’s been secured, Supergirl’s brown miniskirt is hiked up enough to reveal her bright yellow panties. The fabric is stretched out, highlighting with taut wrinkles the dildo buried between her thighs. Unseen beneath her, her panties bulge slightly in the back as well, the dildo there poking out two inches against the soft yellow fabric. Her mouth, too, is filled by short four-inch red rubber dildo that is strapped securely around the back of her head. A thin cylinder with a purple iced solution occasionally sends a pulse of cold liquid down the throat of the immobilized woman.

Standing over the seemingly unconscious beauty is a large cornfed middle-American male with muscles bulging through his tight black t-shirt. Black chinos and black sneakers complete his wardrobe. He sports brush-cut blond hair and a thick nose that had been broken somewhere in his past. Only in his mid-20s, the overall effect gives the young man roguish good looks that are a big help in his profession. He charms the ladies before he surprises them with his cruel abduction plans.

Looking down at his lovely prize with concern, Derek Gray pushes his hand into the tight area of foam pressed up against the blonde teen’s thigh, feeling around for something important that had gone missing. The other three captives had already been secured with their tops locked on the pine shipping boxes. Each of the three girls already had all their special inserts prepared and locked into each dildo’s crevice. These drug-infused inserts assured a trouble-free transit after his crew loaded the four containers on the plane for the short flight to the island prison to which these new “recruits” were headed.

“Well, what the hell happened to that third narco-pulse insert we had ready for you, Miss Chambers?”

“Forget about it, Derek, says the red-headed pilot nicknamed “Crash” Dolan. “Takeoff is scheduled in 10 minutes. You know this client is crazed about punctuality!”

“I know it’s only a two-hour flight, Crash,” the hulking blond laments, “but I sure would feel better if this bitch’s a-hole was filled with the same insert the rest of this girls have. Better to be safe than sorry, right?”

“Well, I’m going wheels up in 10 whether her butt’s got her druggy load or not!” Crash headed toward the cockpit to do his pre-flight check.
Not finding the missing insert anywhere inside the box, Derek pulls out his hand, frowns and stalks off quickly toward the rear of the plane where the supply chest is located.

It won’t do you any good even if you find it, Derek. You’re dealing with Supergirl here…not some helpless coed. And when we get to the destination and I’m brought before the mastermind behind this enterprise, people are going to pay for all the brutality you’ve unleashed upon all those innocent girls!

Thinking of that, Supergirl calms herself with a quick meditative adjustment to enhance her feigned unconsciousness. For now, she simply needs to pretend to be Chrissy Chambers, lacrosse scholarship beauty from Stanhope College and the twentieth victim of a nasty sex trafficking ring. Slowing her heart rate, the young heroine feels intermittent pulses as the icy gelatin inserts in her mouth and vaginal dildoes are delivered into her body. Designed to incapacitate the girls in transit with a pulse of drug every three minutes, the cold toxic liquid has no effect on the Maid of Steel whatsoever. If anything, the cool liquid doses are a bit refreshing. Supergirl knows however that her three other boxed friends on this flight are completely out of it and the heroine thinks back to what brought her to this precarious circumstance in the first place….



Deborah Collins had been smart enough and lucky enough to escape the sex traffickers a month earlier. By then, she’d been missing for eight months, taken off the campus of Stanhope, Chicago’s upscale suburb that was home to a highly-respected small college of the same name. Four Chicago area colleges had suffered similar disappearances over the course of a year and a half with a total of 16 coeds gone missing. A task force had been organized by Chicago PD but despite a flurry of administrative activity, significant funding and police shoe leather, there hadn’t been any significant breaks in the case until Deborah Collins showed up back at Tipsters, a popular bar just south of the Maywood campus of Loyola University. Bedraggled and confused, she was helped by the bartender who took the lovely young woman to the campus clinic. They reported her arrival to the police and, since she was deemed one of the missing girls, the task force shepherded to their headquarters and proceeded to debrief her about the hellish nightmare of her existence since her disappearance eight months earlier.

It was a tale of horror that the distraught young woman had explained in detail. Or at least with as much detail as she could recall. The capture had been a stupid mistake on her part. She been in a nasty verbal confrontation with her boyfriend and subsequently had stormed out to Tipster’s bar and order several rounds of drinks. It was on a trip to the ladies’ room where she was accosted by good-looking guy with bad manners. They had barely got into a verbal altercation when she suddenly felt a sting to her hip and some other male stranger, clearly a cohort in retrospect, had one arm around her waist while his other arm circled her upper torso even as his hand was squeezing her tit. Deborah struggled valiantly but felt very faint all too quickly and passed out in the second man’s arms.

The next thing she knew she was bound in chains inside a foam-lined pine box with a dildo shoved into her mouth, her cooz and up her rear end. She barely regained consciousness before she went under again. When she awoke, she had been delivered to a humid locale in the middle of the ocean wearing nothing but a silver halter top, matching hot-pants and silver sandals. That was when the indoctrination began.
The full debriefing had been taped by the task force. Deborah had even worked with a police artist to help create likenesses of the two men who abducted her in Tipsters but nobody recognized the drawn portraits and they came up blank on the national facial recognition database. After two weeks of frustration, the task force called in Supergirl. Could she act as bait and possibly stop these abductions by tracing the ring back to its leadership. There was a big risk here but so many girls had gone missing and the media finally put the stories together that the pressure to get results ramped up significantly. Supergirl agreed. Naturally, she didn’t like the idea of subjecting herself to such indignities as the dildoes described by Deborah Collins but if it meant breaking up this horrific ring, she would acquiesce to the humiliation if it meant being taken to the ring leaders.

They would be quite shocked to find who was the hunted and who the hunter.

Just as another pulse of icy drug spits down her throat and up into her vagina, the Maid of Steel hears the thug Derek walking back to her.

“Yes! Found an extra one. Lucky for me,” Derek declares. “Now we’ll have a truly quiet transit to Harmony Island with you drugged to the gills.” Derek grabs the spreader bar with one hand and lifts the limp beauty’s legs high in the air, exposing the full crotch of the maiden’s yellow panties, both bulges showing. “After that, you can get busy learning your new life as a high-end whore for the privileged elite upper crust. Only the finest looking girls will do for these one percenters!” Supergirl uses every ounce of willpower not to flinch or give away any semblance of consciousness. She feels the man’s hand pull aside the gullet of her panties, exposing both dildoes. She feels the plastic insert bump against the edge of the dildo before it is properly centered. The insert is then cleanly slid forward, nesting inside the dildo with a quiet affirmative click. The spreader bar is dropped and Supergirl’s legs flop back into the preformed foam area allotted to them.

“There, that’s the final fail-safe in place,” Derek beams. “Now everything’s tightly snug and doing it’s job, eh, girlie girl?”

As if, jerk! When we land at our destination, it won’t be long before…be..fore….whuh? Weak? Sleepy? How can…?...

Supergirl’s body jerks in place she tries to lift her upper body out of the tightly-constraining foam all around her but Derek’s right hand is pressing down hard on her chest, palming her left breast. His left palm grips hard on the spreader bar pushing downward with all his might.

“Uh, uh, Supergirl. That’s about nine doses by now of NarcoStun already delivered into your system, champ. Along with a special final dose of liquified kryptonite to ensure it all works perfectly!”

Faint, confused and far too weak from the toxic tranquillizing infusion in all three orifices, the powerful blonde beauty is overwhelmed by Derek’s leverage against her and the final surprise of the day.

“That’s nth metal for you, you moronic bitch. You ain’t getting out of these restraints. Man, you were just too easy!”

That’s the last thing Supergirl hears before she slides deep into a black of hole of despair and nothingness.
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Re: Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco

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Really? My favorite author is back in service! And with Supergirl who is my favorite superheroine. "Supergirl Captured by the Mob" is my favorite fanfic. It's a big day. Hopefully it will be a very long story with lots of chapters and I hope she soon will be in her Supergirl outfit.
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Re: Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco

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Ooof, there's a start to get the pulse quickening! Nice to see the Doc writing again!! But did I miss him finish off Sue's adventure? Must check ....
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Re: Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco

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Abductorenmadrid wrote: 1 year ago Ooof, there's a start to get the pulse quickening! Nice to see the Doc writing again!! But did I miss him finish off Sue's adventure? Must check ....
No, sadly, no Sue yet, but working on her chapter as well as Amazos. But this little tidbit wouldn't drop out of my head so I just had to write it up.
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Re: Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco

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jigoku wrote: 1 year ago Really? My favorite author is back in service! And with Supergirl who is my favorite superheroine. "Supergirl Captured by the Mob" is my favorite fanfic. It's a big day. Hopefully it will be a very long story with lots of chapters and I hope she soon will be in her Supergirl outfit.
Thanks, jigoku, for the very kind words. I wasn't seeing this as a long story. As a matter of fact, I was only planning a couple of chapters at most. The fact is, I have a file filled with a huge number of Supergirl take-downs (and a few Wonder Woman as well) with no fully plotted stories behind them. My mind comes up with these quick hit concepts and so I may begin a separate series of what I'll call "One Hit Wonders" which will simply feature the take-downs of the heroine with no follow-up at all. What do people think of that idea? Of course, if other writers feel like they want to add on to the One Hit Wonder scenario that I start, they're welcome to add a chapter of their own. Sort of a round robin concept of writing like we are doing with the Amazos series (except with a lot more sexual peril than that one. ;) ) Let me hear back from newbie authors, established hands and any other visitors to this site that have an opinion. I will copy this reply post and put it in a new thread for discussion.
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Re: Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco

Post by tmon »

Yes she was and aren't we glad!!
DrDominator9 wrote: 1 year ago
“That’s nth metal for you, you moronic bitch. You ain’t getting out of these restraints. Man, you were just too easy!”

That’s the last thing Supergirl hears before she slides deep into a black of hole of despair and nothingness.
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Re: Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco

Post by Steazil »

Anything that starts with 3 dildoes stuck inside Supergirl and ends with all three filled with tranquilizers can only get better (Or worse) from here.
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Re: Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco

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DrDominator9 wrote: 1 year ago
jigoku wrote: 1 year ago Really? My favorite author is back in service! And with Supergirl who is my favorite superheroine. "Supergirl Captured by the Mob" is my favorite fanfic. It's a big day. Hopefully it will be a very long story with lots of chapters and I hope she soon will be in her Supergirl outfit.
Thanks, jigoku, for the very kind words. I wasn't seeing this as a long story. As a matter of fact, I was only planning a couple of chapters at most. The fact is, I have a file filled with a huge number of Supergirl take-downs (and a few Wonder Woman as well) with no fully plotted stories behind them. My mind comes up with these quick hit concepts and so I may begin a separate series of what I'll call "One Hit Wonders" which will simply feature the take-downs of the heroine with no follow-up at all. What do people think of that idea? Of course, if other writers feel like they want to add on to the One Hit Wonder scenario that I start, they're welcome to add a chapter of their own. Sort of a round robin concept of writing like we are doing with the Amazos series (except with a lot more sexual peril than that one. ;) ) Let me hear back from newbie authors, established hands and any other visitors to this site that have an opinion. I will copy this reply post and put it in a new thread for discussion.
Personally, I prefer stories with a good development. If the heroine is jeopardized from the beginning without a minimum of development, I don't really know. I like it when the heroine is very strong at first, performs feats and gets victories after a slight peril by showing off her powers, then gradually falls down to total defeat. I also like when we develop a minimum of interaction between the heroine and the public. How she is seen by the media, by ordinary people, by criminals, by the police, etc. And I also like when her private life is developed.
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Re: Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco

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Finally another story from my favorite author. I was eagerly waiting for it for such a long time.
It is waved very sophisticated. I loved the jump into the past after the first paragraph to explain the current situation. Very exciting and promising story.
Thank You for drawing Your pen again Dr. D.!
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Re: Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco

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That was very good. I hope more is coming.
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Re: Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco

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Chapter 2

Disoriented, exhausted and achy all over, Kara blearily raises her head with a quiet groan. Face down on a cushioned table, the once-mighty blonde heroine notices through half-lidded eyes that she is wearing her Supergirl costume and that her wrists are shackled to the top corners of the table.

…wasn’t in costume b’fore…how’d dat happen?

A fat pillow under her pelvis hikes her butt into the air as the familiar sensation of debilitating kryptonite radiation floods every muscle. Even the energy to raise her head drains her. Her forehead drops to the cushion with a noticeable thump.

“She’s conscious.”

“Already? Man, she’s got some constitution, this bitch! It’s too early. Dose her out again.”

Kara feels someone from behind her use a warm palm to pull wide her left ass cheek. Some sort of device is quickly screwed onto the exposed end of the anal dildo embedded deep in her cavity. She helplessly tries to wriggle away but the palm firmly squeezes her left buttock and pins her in place.

“No super powers, blondie. Don’t bother trying. You’re ours now!” The voice is unfamiliar to Kara but the menace comes through.

Suddenly, a tiny sting deep in her rear jerks the helpless beauty’s body forward with a rough grunt.

“That will shut you down for a few more hours, champ,” the menacing voice declares. “Try not to drool too much, eh,” he adds with a chuckle. He lets the red panties snap back in place over the specially designed butt plug and its attachment. The wireless device stretches out the silky fabric noticeably. A hand caresses the butt cheek and hikes the red skirt up a bit higher, showing off Supergirl’s very exposed crotch.

…perverts…too well prepared…fur me…gotta bide…my tiiiii…uuugghhnnn…

A hard wave of dizziness overwhelms the girl from the stars and her eyes flutter rapidly as she passes out cold from the drugged mini-dart shot up her butt.


* * *


In a room not far from where the heavily drugged Maid of Steel lies in a limp dreamless state, three men confer around a large dark walnut conference table. Paintings by world famous artists adorn the walls of the elegant room with an original garden pond artwork by Monet holding the prominent position behind a man with a mane of silver hair. His dark blue suit with its tiny burgundy pinstripes and matching pocket handkerchief costs almost as much as the table at which he sits. His face is uncharacteristically smiling at the other two men sharing the table with him.

“So, everything went exactly as we planned,” gloated Clayton Hughes. The billionaire shipping magnate nodded at his sole heir, Russell Hughes. Russ gestured at Derek Gray, the wet work expert who’d taken down Supergirl back at the storage facility near Stanhope College.

“Derek’s success rate with our sex worker procurement has been 100%, including Super Cunt herself!”

Gray’s blue eyes gleamed at the success but he carefully deferred the acclaim back to Hughes Senior.

“Well, it was your plan that deserves the kudos, Mr. Hughes. It was a trap masterfully set by your use of Deborah Collins. They bought her story lock, stock and barrel, from her terrifying escape story right down to the use of three dildoes to ensure that Supergirl would have to subject herself to that for the undercover operation to work.

“I was pretty proud of that,” Clayton smiles. “We’d never used it before but I wanted some sort of failsafe for our special guest."

“It worked like a charm, Dad,” Russell Hughes noted. “Derek said he couldn’t believe it worked so fast.”

“It’s true,” Derek affirmed. “Once we planted those in her, adding the kryptonite NarcoStun serum to her butt plug sealed the deal. She went out almost immediately. And she was fine during transit to the island as well.”

“If it was that effective with not just her but the other three girls shipped with her, we should consider expanding the procedure on an international scale.”

“I’m all over that,” Russ declares. “Consider it done.”

“Good,” Hughes Sr. said. “And where do we stand now with our special guest and the rest of the shipment? Since she’s undercover, she must have some way to communicate back to her team once she takes us out…” Clayton’s self-satisfied smirk is too obvious to ignore and the two other men chuckle along at the concept and Supergirl’s surprise failure. “Have you found her device she’ll use once she rescues all 20 sex workers on our little island here.” The sarcasm is obvious.

Russ fields this question since he’s second in command for all the island’s operations. “As far as the three other students we took from the Stanhope area, they’re all about to awake in their training cells, very disoriented and very confused, as per usual.”

“Yes, yes, and Supergirl’s communication device?” Clayton asks impatiently.

“We’ve ransacked the heroine’s purse that she took with her to the storage facility but we haven’t quite found the communication device yet,” Russell admits to the frowning face of his father. “We found her full costume and boots as we all anticipated. It was in a false bottom of the purse. We dressed her in her full costume, Dad.”

“Why would you do that? It’s going to give her a sense of power and emotional support. I don’t like it!”

“Hear me out, please,” Russell says with a cool serenity he doesn’t quite feel. “We have subdued this supposed champion completely. What’s more, we have in our means the ability to continually maintain her in a state of helplessness. By that, I mean severely handicapped both physically and mentally. Derek and I thought it would be a powerful emotional jolt of reality for all our sex workers to see the famous Supergirl so badly abused right before they’re eyes. If she can’t defeat us, what hope will they have. They’ll all be kept in line much more easily, we believe.”

“Hmmm,” the silver-maned scion taps his fingertips together, considering the risks. After a moment, he breaks into a smile. “I like it! Good thinking, gentlemen! Also, it will be an even more effective demotivator when we beat the answer out of her of where that communication device is and crush it right in front of everyone.

“Yes, that would be a very effective teachable moment, I’d say,” smirks Derek Gray.

“Indeed,” Russell smiles back. “Of course, I’m thinking Bruno should put his enforcer skills to this task.

“Who better?” Clayton smile is broad but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “When can we get this underway?”

“We have a few minor details to attend to, but I’d say a few hours should work. About 2 pm.”

“Excellent! Let’s have lunch now then,” Clayton suggests. “I’ve had chef prepare a special meal as a celebration of our successful endeavor so far.”


* * *

It’s only 75 minutes after being darted that a dazed Supergirl struggles into a very weak state of consciousness. A puddle of drool caught in a cushion seam lingers in a shimmying circle beneath her slack lips.

…whuhh….where’m i…wuz hap’nin’…?...

She barely registers being awake before the sensor lead stuck to her temple signals to a biorhythm monitor that a specified level of brain activity has been reached. This activates its programming which results in a coding subroutine that triggers the anal dildo targeting program. Consequently, Supergirl anus receives a second mini-dart of NarcoStun.

“Guunnhh!” Supergirl grunts and jerks in place. The tenuous consciousness which she struggled to attain is drenched in a thick wave of unavoidable exhaustion and confusion. The powerful heroine’s brain and body are forcibly submerged into a drugged darkness of untold depth yet again.
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Re: Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco

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A trap truly devious, a trank shot up the butt every time her bio-monitor detects consciousness. There's really no escaping that unless the villain's slip up. Sooner or later though they're going to want to play with a fully conscious captive heroine.... Fun story.
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Re: Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco

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Wow! Super fast response. Thanks, jojanus, for the great feedback. Oh, yeah, she won't be under all that much longer. Bruno is going to have a go at her. Big gent. Ex-NFL linebacker who got banished from the league after three instances of severe unnecessary roughness.
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Re: Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco

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Again a very well written story. Thank you so much Dr. D!
Was great to read a story from the master of literature again. I'm happy you are going to continue this story.
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Re: Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco

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nearkos wrote: 1 year ago Again a very well written story. Thank you so much Dr. D!
Was great to read a story from the master of literature again. I'm happy you are going to continue this story.
Thanks Nearkos. Can't seem to quit this blonde beauty. Her siren song keeps drawing me in.
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Re: Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco

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Well we now know somebody who can't escape and needs rescuing!!! :) :)
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Re: Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco

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Excellent!! That was amazing. Like how you explain how they trapped her and I assume that they will brainwash her to do their bidding.
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Re: Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco

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Thanks, Bronson. I appreciate your long-time loyalty and regular feedback. And yes, I wanted to ensure that Supergirl putting herself in such a compromised position of allowing all her orifices to be filled was believable. Thanks for noticing.
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Re: Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco

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Very cool idea. I guess there wont be more?
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Re: Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco

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SiarX wrote: 6 months ago Very cool idea. I guess there wont be more?
There will be more eventually.
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Re: Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco

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Kudos my friend. Really enjoying the read.
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Re: Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco

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And you thought I'd forgotten about this little gem! Hardly. Enjoy!


Chapter 3

Devastating radiation floods an exhausted Supergirl’s mouth, vagina and anus with a sickening familiar greenish glow. The three thin kryptonite inserts secured tightly within the clear plastic dildoes crammed down her throat, implanted in her pussy and shoved deeply within her rectum accomplish the job they’ve been designed to do; drain the famous superheroine of every iota of strength and mental acuity she possessed. All her huge reserve of energy that would normally give her the ability to easily escape her desperate situation, that was completely gone! The extensive flight time from Chicago to the tiny Caribbean island ensured that the mighty powerhouse Kryptonian had all the energy of a ten-year old car battery in mid-winter. Drained of everything.

Now, she can barely fight off the lethargy that inundates her and threatens to dump her back into black oblivion. Strapped face-down on some sort of lab table, the famous Girl from the Stars mumbles a barely intelligible “leh me…goh…” at the massive hulking figure she now senses standing off to her right side. He’s been walking around singing way-out of tune the demeaning lyrics to “Under My Thumb” by the Rolling Stones the entire time she’s been lying there trying to regain her control, her confidence. Even as his hands unshackle her ankles from the lab table leg, he’s onto the verse…

“It's down to me, yes, it is.
The way she does just what she's told.
Down to me, the change has come
She's under my thumb.”

“…ohn…ooo…iss…” Far too weak to try to pull away from the man’s grasp, Kara pleads in a strained whisper around the hard plastic throat gag.

“Oh, but I want to do this, babe. It’s what gets me out of bed in the morning! The chance to inflict pain on another human being…well, not quite a human…on a defenseless alien who goes around showing everybody up every chance she gets, why that’s my skill set, sweetie. As you’re about to find out.”

The large man chuckles at the limp heroine as he easily hoists her off the lab table and drapes over the black leather cushion of a rolling bondage sawhorse. Her wrists are firmly forced into unyielding nth metal circles welded to the rolling sawhorse’s black nth metal legs. Her ankles follow, tightly forced into place without any resistance from the world-famous heroine. Dazed as she hangs limply in place, Supergirl’s short red skirt is folded over her waist by the humming man while her shiny red panties are exposed, stretched out of shape by the bulky dildoes embedded within her vagina and ass.

“I’m guessing this is a first for you, Supergirl. Helplessly strapped into a bondage apparatus with no hope of escape. Well, you better get used to it, girly. We’ve got your number now and there ain’t nothing you can do about it.”

Leaning over, the huge enforcer unbuckles the strap holding the clear, gagging dildo tightly within Supergirl’s throat. The man’s been told the face dildo could be removed without risk of the powerful heroine regaining her strength. The dildos in her other two holes are more than enough to keep the renowned Maid of Steel completely powerless. With a sneer, he roughly pulls the mouth dildo out, scraping the blonde’s raw orifice as he withdraws the offensive sex toy. A long silver string of drool hangs in mid-air between her lips and the tip of the plastic tube until it lengthens and snaps, whipping against her cheek with a warm wetness that flushes the face of heroine to an embarrassing pink hue.

“You’ll just have to learn to take your medicine like the rest of the young ladies we’ve gathered on this island. You’ll soon be showing the men folk who show up here how pretty little twats like you are all about pleasing them with every crease, fold and orifice of your body.”

“That’s never going to happen,” growls Supergirl, working her jaw side to side to relax the muscles there.

“You’d be surprised at just how quick it WILL happen, you pathetic cunt. By the way, my name’s Bruno Mathers. You may have heard of me from my glory days in the NFL…when I roamed the football fields like a warrior and took out all those who opposed me.”

“Mathers. Right…” Supergirl murmurs softly. She remembered Bruno, a dirty defensive lineman who couldn’t handle opponents like a real man. Instead, he’d used cheap shots and blind-side hits to put three men in a hospital. And then, two years ago, there was the time he flung an underweight 156-pound wide receiver far off the playing field and into a bench on the sideline in a mad rush to the quarterback. That receiver had hit his head on the bench and was taken by ambulance to the hospital where the player died on the operating table from massive hemorrhaging. Ultimately that got Mathers kicked out of the league. Clearly, the huge dufus was proud of his record. And now he was looking down at her with a look of mixed maliciousness and anticipation. He even licked his lips.

“Time to meet your many admirers, toots. Although I suspect the admiration won’t hang in long once I start tuning you up. You’ll be getting your ass kicked in front of all the lovely girls you were coming here to rescue. That ought to dash all their hopes to smithereens, watching the famous Supergirl get face fucked, roofied and raped, just the way all of them were treated when they arrived. Seeing you manhandled just like them with the same abuses, the same humiliating degrading sex acts and cum-dribbling endings, well, it’ll be a lesson they won’t soon forget.”

“You can’t! You wouldn’t!” Supergirl’s blurted defiance draws the biggest smile on the face of the brutish ex-football titan yet.

“Oh, sweet cheeks, it’s absolutely happening. Right now!” With an ominous snicker, Bruno grabs the handles of the rolling bondage sawhorse and pushes Supergirl through an open doorway, down a short corridor and onto a stage of a large auditorium. From her humiliating position of being hung over a leather-clad sawhorse and wheeled out on stage like some piece of furniture, the blonde hero looks out at a crowd of young, beautiful women, every one of them clad in uniform silver blue short shorts and tight red t-shirts with fancy white script lettering that declares each wearer to be a Harmony Island Sex Toy…and proud of it!

The many faces looking back at her while all quite attractive show severe strain; tight jaws, poor eye contact and quivering lips. A drained and miserable Supergirl spots a variety of emotions in the crowd including disillusionment, anger, fear, even horror. Other faces showed blank confusion. Noticeably, none of the twenty young women she sees seated in a semi-circle of chairs in the first three rows of the auditorium exhibit anything close to hope in their eyes.

It seems impossible but the wan, exhausted blonde heroine’s face gets even paler as Bruno announces into a microphone set up at a nearby podium,

“Ladies. You all know me of course…intimately. But as you see, I’ve wheeled in a special guest who’s here to save you all! That’s right, it’s Supergirl herself and she is going to be saving each and every one of you today… right after, that is, she beats me up and shows me who’s boss!”

A bare murmur of snorts and clucking tongues among the women greets this announcement with obvious disdain.

“Of course, if this amazing Princess of Power can’t find it within herself to beat me up, well, then I guess that puts her in her place right with the rest of you. And will be made to don our “camp” t-shirt and shorty shorts. But let’s see how it goes, shall we?”

“First though, full disclosure,” Bruno speaks into the podium mike as he wheels the rolling device around and points Supergirl’s exposed rear end at the audience. “Naturally, the management realized that we had to take away Supergirl’s powers so we could even the playing field. We’ve done that with kryptonite dildos buried in her cooz and her butthole. You can see them stretching out those famous red panties of hers that she likes flashing crowds with in her teasing fly-bys all over Chicago.”

This statement draws a noticeable wave of cynical agreement from a significant contingent of the crowd. The many abused young woman had been treated to loops of Supergirl inadvertently flashing her panties during a rescue of two goggle-eyed teenage boys from a cracked dam, putting out a warehouse fire on a windy day when her skirt was blown up while she was using her super breath on a particularly resistant conflagration on a second story storage area.

The final loop the captive women had been shown over the past two days was Supergirl’s fight with a white Martian. The creature had managed to hold the famous beauty upside down by her calves while repeatedly shaking her up and down. It was unclear in the endlessly repeating loop which aspect of the attack caused Supergirl’s agonized expression during the battle: the pain of having her thighs yanked apart so roughly or the obvious camel toe displayed for everyone’s appreciation. It was all part of Derek Gray’s plan of psychologically undermining the Maid of Steel’s support among the captured sex workers. The plan was working based on the reaction of many of the women to Bruno’s comment about ‘teasing fly-bys.’

“Anyway, I’m sure that the famous Maid of Steel here can handle a mere mortal like me even without her super powers, natch? She’s a highly accomplished martial arts fighter after all, right?”

Unlocking the black nth metal cuffs that hold Supergirl’s wrists and ankles to the bondage horse, Bruno undoes the final remaining cuff on the heroine’s right wrist, yanks hard on her arm, and the world-renowned beauty falls off the horse in an ungainly flop on the auditorium stage.

“Oopsie daisy. Supergirl go splat! Not a great start. Come on, champ. Lay one on me. Give me a hard right cross and take me out with just one punch. That’s your trademark move, isn’t it? The Power Punch I believe the media calls it. Let’s see that!”
Helplessly sprawled on her back on the floor of the stage with her thighs akimbo, the gusset of Supergirl’s panties face the audience, the pale green glow emanating through the shiny red fabric draws a loud moan from the helplessly prone heroine.

“Ohh, too weak already to make a good effort, SuperTwat?

Kneeling next to the listless blonde heroine, Bruno cups his massive hands over both dildos between Supergirl’s thighs and shakes both toys roughly.

“These little toys causing you some great discomfort, are they, champ? You’re limp as a boneless chicken, little lady. I’d say you might even be too weak to stop me from feeling up these plump young knockers of yours, eh?”

That truth is clear to everyone as Bruno’s hands squeeze and fondle the firm mounds beneath her red and yellow emblem of hope. The beleaguered blonde’s flailing hands are incapable of defending her honor as Bruno easily knocks them away and manhandles the heroine’s soft lumps with complete impunity, squeezing, mauling and pinching at the nipples that grow and accentuate the impressive chest of the defenseless beauty as she is pressed down and raucously fondled in front of all the women she was here to protect. If only she weren’t so sick she could barely move. And when Bruno’s huge hand unclasped her sore tit and then blasted directly down into her belly, driving all the air from her lungs, Supergirl retched loudly and then lay there in total defeat, gasping desperately for air that refused to come to her aching lungs.
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Bronson881
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Re: Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco

Post by Bronson881 »

I had long ago thought you had abandoned this story. That was amazing. I hope more is coming soon to see what they have planned for Supergirl. I am guessing some type of brainwashing as to make sure she serves them.
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Re: Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco

Post by DrDominator9 »

Glad you liked it, Bronson. As I get on in years, sadly, I'm not nearly as productive as I once was, churning out a dozen pages or more at a clip. No longer. Nevertheless, I do try to keep the quality of my work consistent at least. More to follow on this, Amazos and Invisible Woman as the month progresses.
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Re: Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco

Post by DrDominator9 »

Since my Invisible Woman story is all about brainwashing and sex training, this story won't play that card nearly as much. It's more about control this one, and less "willingness" to freely participate.
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Re: Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco

Post by tmon »

Nice continuation!
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Re: Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco

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I'm getting into the groove on this story now. Enjoy!

Chapter 4

The coffee machine in the Chicago Police’s task force headquarters was a 12-year-old model Keurig K155. Its huge water reservoir could handle coffee for the whole 8-man task force, almost all day long. At 7:45 in the morning however, only Jim Dietz and Carter Lloyd were present in the break room, waiting for the machine to spit out their watery brews. After taking his cup of black, the sandy-haired Lieutenant Dietz stepped aside so the FBI profiler could put in his K-cup of Mountain Brew into the round opening and waited for his light and sweet caffeine and sugar fix to drain out into the thick cardboard cup he’d pulled from the stack beside the Keurig

“Any word overnight from our girl undercover?” The worried expression on Carter Lloyd’s cherubic face was becoming a standard feature over the past two days since Supergirl had allowed herself to be captured. Normally, the short and stocky FBI agent took a backseat and let others talk, weighing motives and insights with a steady sense of calm and calculation as others ran through the details of the investigation. That calmness was now wearing thin. Perhaps he had a small crush on the famous Girl from the Stars, but, hell, who didn’t? She was movie star gorgeous and could drop kick a SWAT van the length of a football field. What was not to like?

“Not a peep. We did a signal test yesterday with the communication device we gave her and it’s working fine. She just hasn’t initiated contact yet. Maybe she’s playing it cool to get close to the big fish? Who knows,” Dietz muttered as he sipped his java.

“A possibility,” Carter sighed, taking his own cup from under the unit’s nozzle. “What’s going on with the Collins girl? The one who escaped?”

“We’ve put her up in a safe house for now,” Dietz stated. “Detectives Vasco and Cray are rotating between babysitting her and showing off the police sketches of the men she said abducted her around the Stanhope campus but no hits so far. And I don’t expect any progress there.”

“Why? The police artist wasn’t good enough?” The profiler sipped at his coffee as he listened to the veteran cop explain himself.

“No, the artist is fine. Great, in fact. I just don’t trust the girl. I think she’s playing us,” Dietz said with frown

“So do I,” Carter Lloyd declared. This raised one of Dietz’s eyebrows in a show of respect and satisfaction: the profiler agreed with him. “I’ll go over to the safe house later today for a secondary interview. Things were happening too fast the first time we talked. Too many cooks. Bad broth. Glad we’re of the same mind.”

“Meanwhile we’ve got a lot of scared and angry parents of all those missing teens wanting answers,” Dietz declared.

“None more than I do,” Carter Lloyd replied. “Let me have that address for the safe house. I may as well get started. Only plodding analytical police work is going to solve this case, I think, but let’s see if I can pull some information out of our ‘special source’ that she might not be willing to share without some psychological slight of hand.”

“You can do that?”

“That’s why I’m here actually,” the profiler said with a smile that never reached his eyes.


* * *

Normally, the lack of air in her lungs usually wasn’t an issue for Supergirl. She could hold her breath for hours when traveling through the vacuum of space. But with two crippling kryptonite dildos embedded in her body’s lower cavities, the punch by the ex-NFL player had Supergirl gasping and flopping helplessly on the stage in front of the auditorium of the very women she was supposed to be here to rescue. Now she was the one who needed rescuing. She was just getting her wind back when Bruno Mathers reared back and belly punched Kara again with very malicious intent.

“Goooofff!!” Supergirl’s eyes bulged widely as she twisted on the floor, trying to roll over to protect herself. Bruno was not having it. He grabbed her wrist and harshly yanked her up to her knees, ripping matching holes there in her dark pantyhose as the helpless blonde hung limply from her upraised arm. The heroine’s blue eyes flashed with fear and confusion as a wave of weakness overwhelmed her. She moaned through parched lips as she struggled to fight for her freedom.

Another yank and twist and Supergirl was shocked to find herself dragged to wobbly legs as her arm was forced up high behind her back,

“Oww! Stop. Let me g….OOHHH!”

Yet another thundering belly punch to the defenseless teen’s midsection had Supergirl bending in half and splattering a puddle of bile on the floor between her boots. Her jaw dropped open, her soft pink lips trembling as a thin line of mucus and phlegm drained out of her mouth. The sound of her wheezing and groaning filled the air as Supergirl collapsed to the floor the moment Bruno released her wrist.

All the young women were far too familiar with Bruno’s heavyweight fist bruising their stomachs and rib cages with his merciless battering of them over the past month of captivity. They listened to Supergirl’s noisy bleating distress and knew her pain, remembered their own initial training sessions. And waited for the frantic pleas that they knew would fall on the ears of the man who knew not mercy.

Hunched over on her knees with her arms crossed over her belly and her long hair draping over her closed eyes, Kara just wavered in place, trying to find an inner core of strength. There was none to be found.

The only thing that found her was Bruno’s double-fisted hammer blow to her kidney that sent Supergirl sprawling in an ungainly face-plant to the stage, one arm stretched out before her with the other bent backward, trying to massage her lower back. With her legs spread slightly apart, the famous Kryptonian’s cute round butt was thumping and twitching as waves of pain coursed through her, rendering Kara’s body unable to defend itself from Bruno’s follow-up move. He squatted direct behind her, caught her neck in the crook of his elbow, pulled backward, sitting on his rear and pulling the wide-eyed beauty into his lap. His elbow tightened as Supergirl’s eyes flew open. The relentless pressure on her windpipe caused her lids to flutter like wounded butterflies as her oxygen was effectively shut off.

“….puh…leeeze…don’t…” blurted Kara in raw, unchecked panic. She could be killed here, she knew. She doubted they do that but she didn’t know for certain. Plus, with Bruno’s anger issues, any miscalculation on his part could have lethal consequences for her.

“Well, seems we’ve arrived at the cry and beg section of your program, ladies.” Bruno’s leering smile drew a mix of resigned head shakes and cynical nodding. “What was that, Supergirl? Are you asking me to stop? Is that what you want?”

“…yes…yes…stop…stop…” croaked the sprawled blonde as she helplessly twisted and strained in Bruno’s sleeper wrestling hold, unable to extract herself. Without her powers, Kara was slowly being choked into unconsciousness. “…hep….help…” The pitiful cry was choked off to a painful squawk as Bruno tightened up some more.

“Oh, you silly stupid girl. Didn’t you know? You’re supposed to be the one here to help…and you can’t do shit, sugar tits. And now it’s time I took things up a notch, isn’t that right, ladies,” Bruno waved his free arm at his female audience. “Time to climb the stairway to heaven, girlie girl. Say, ever have anyone stick their hand down your panties and twiddle your twat?”

Every woman in the room knew what was coming next. The thumb treatment. Bruno’s specialty. Could he really pull it off with the actual Maid of Steel? Based on how badly Supergirl was handling the punishment being doled out, most of the young women concluded that Supergirl was about to be sent into an orgasm of untold intensity.

The elbow around her throat kept her helplessly pinned in place on the huge man’s lap even as his other hand fondled her tits for a moment of public humiliation that the famous heroine was barely cognizant of. Bruno’s legs now pinned Kara’s own in a spreadeagle position. After a slow and luxurious squeeze of Supergirl’s frantically rising and falling breasts, Bruno’s hand moved down to her belly and smoothed that in a simple circle before coming to the belt of her famous skirt. In a quick movement, the hem of the short red skirt was rudely tucked into the belt, revealing Supergirl’s shiny red panties. As she twisted and strained to free herself, the creases and folds of the heroine’s pussy gleamed in the spotlights focused on the stage. Her exertions during her treatment at the hands of Bruno Mathers had darkened the red fabric and caused it to adhere tightly to her labia. Except perhaps for being straight naked, Supergirl’s sweaty pussy was clearly displayed to one and all. Every detail of her sex was boldly outlined by her clingy panties.

Bruno eased his palm past the waistband of Supergirl’s costume underpants and slid his thumb over the main crease of her twat and began to rub up and down with a practiced frenzy that every female in the room recalled with a mix of shame and need. Bruno’s thumb was big and his technique was flawless. Up and down. Up and down, the thumb moved against the moistening opening with relentless agility, searching very fold, every crease, every sensuous nerve ending that linked directly to the heroine’s brain.

“….uuhhhh…uuhhnnhh….my…dear … dear rao…i…i…can’t…don’t…no….”

No air! Can’t breathe! My body, my vag…too much feeling…sensation…please…too much!

“Come on, champ. Let go. Enjoy yourself. Nobody expects you to hold out. Feel the motion. Feel the friction. Feel the heat.” The wide fat thumb continues its invasion, rolling, rubbing, stroking and teasing. Back and forth. Over and over and over.

“can’t…handle this...you…no more….nuh more….”

“Almost there, sloppy girl. You’re very wet down there. Ready on my count?”

“…won’t…cum…for you…” rasps Supergirl defiantly. But the choking, the elbow, the thumb grinding away with almost robotic precision, it’s all much to much pleasure heaped on the mighty blonde beauty.

“Three, two, one!” Bruno calls out even as his thumb twists, grinds and then purposely grazes against Supergirl’s vibrating clit.

Her eyes go blind as her world drops away into white nothingness. The Maid of Steel’s body jolts in place as she comes to a massive orgasm. Jerking her hips and spreading her legs a bit, Supergirl’s vagina floods her panties and Bruno’s palm with warm juicy pleasure she cannot resist. Twitchy, befuddled eyes and her lolling tongue demonstrate without a doubt that the mighty Supergirl has climaxed in the hold of a man who wishes her nothing but ill will.

“Yeah, I thought so, Supergirl,” taunts Bruno. “Just another gash in need of a good cleanout. Princess of Power? More like Princess of Panty Creaming. Man, I love my work!”
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Re: Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco

Post by nearkos »

Thanks Dr. Dominator! That has been a great continuation of this fantastic story. I simply loved it.
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Re: Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco

Post by DrDominator9 »

Starting to find a rhythm on this story finally! Enjoy.

Chapter 5

Deborah Collins sat on the cast-off blue and gray striped couch in the safe house on Chicago’s South Side, sipping her Zero Sugar Coke from a red and white striped plastic straw. She was giving Carter Lloyd a very exasperated sigh.

“Oh, come on, Agent Lloyd, not again! I’ve told this story a dozen times already to at least eight different police officers.”

“I’m aware of the duplication of effort, Ms. Collins, and I know how difficult it is to keep going over the same ground with so many different cops, but we all have our specialties and some of us may be able to pick out important information that can lead to the whereabouts of this island you were held.”

“How long are you going to hold me here? I have a life, you know! One I’d like to get back to. I’ve been away from it for almost a year now.” The pretty face morphed into that of a petulant child as the young woman loudly sucked on her straw, emptying the cup and churning out a noisy slurping sound that sounded suspiciously like a pointed rejection of the profiler’s patience.

“I realize this is an inconvenience,” Carter Lloyd presses on, ignoring the prolonged dry slurping sound that the grumpy beauty continued to produce from the empty cup, “but until we’re certain that these desperate men don’t want to recapture you, we feel it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re not the one bored to tears day after day.”

“So, you say the temperature was moderate the entire time you were there? No hot spells or cold snaps?”

“Not that I recall,” Deborah answers bluntly.

“Uh huh. And what were you wearing most of the time, when you weren’t servicing the guests? Shorts? Skirts? Loungewear?”

“Why the fuck does that matter? You trying to picture me in flimsy lingerie, Carter? You here to get your jollies?”

“There are now about 20 women your age captured by sex traffickers and forced to perform every possible sort of perverted sex act imaginable, according to your own sworn statement. One might think you didn’t care about your lost sisters on that island. That can’t be, can it, Debbie?”

“I don’t like being called Debbie. I told you this.”

“I apologize. Again, however, the clothing helps narrow down the climate so we can zero in on likely latitudes and possibly the longitudes for this island.”

“I told you I was asleep the entire flight so I don’t know how long we were in the air. As I said, the day was too bright and sunny when they lifted off the lid of that transport crate. My eyes adjusted to the darkness. I was encased in foam for Christ sake! They had to slap me awake just to get me moving.”

“So, you were walked across the tarmac and into a building? All the girls or just you?”

“All four of us girls at the same time. We were lined up and chained together and then marched into some kind of really elegant but tiny terminal.”

“Let’s back up a bit. When they unpacked you, did you notice any writing or markings of any kind on the shipping container?”

“No, not really. Unless you think ‘This End Up” is important?”

“So, no destination indicated on the crates. Just those three words. In black, red, white? Were all the boxes the same?”

“Who knows? Who remembers? Can I have another can of this, Donny?” Deborah asks the long-haired, pretty Detective Vasco with a three-day stubble. She pointedly shakes the empty can at the officer.

Resigned to baby-sitting duty, Vasco rises off the dining room chair he’s been sitting on at a card table with a solitaire hand spread out on the pale, yellow tablecloth. He walks to the table-top mini-fridge and pulls out another can of Coke Zero, snaps open the pull tab, then walks the can over to Deborah, handing it to her with an exaggerated bow.

“Your refreshment, princess.”

“You’re a doll, Donny. Thanks!”

“Any sign or name of any kind on the terminal?”

“Nothing on the way in. We were all bundled into a van, seat belted in as well as chained at the waist with our wrists shackled. Dark privacy tinting on all the windows. I was nauseous and not top of my form. I remember that. Hell, I was trying my damndest not to puke.

“Fact is, the only sign I noticed was on the way out of the airport. There was a blue sign with white arrows going around in a circle. That’s the last thing I recall before I just fell asleep in the second row leaning against Jackie, I think it was?”

“Hmm. That’s interesting.”

“What is? The sign or that I fell asleep against Jackie?”

“Both actually. Thanks for your time, Deborah. I’ll be back in touch if I have more questions.’

“Yeah, sure thing, Agent Lloyd. Looking forward to that like root canal.”

“Me too,” answered the profiler. Over at the card table, there’s a noticeable snort from Detective Vasco who was busy putting a king into an open space on the table before him.


* * *.

Back in the auditorium in the main lodge at Harmony Island, the world-renowned Maid of Steel lies sprawled out between Bruno Mathers’ legs on the stage in front of two rows of women she’s come there to rescue. She is breathing heavily, her body quivering every so half-minute or so as her body tries to calm itself after a very recognizable orgasm.

She’s having trouble regaining her composure with the outline of Bruno’s hand moving up and down inside her cum-drenched bright red panties, his huge thumb caressing her slit and occasionally brushing against her clit. The dildo which had been buried deeper into SG’s vag with all the rubbing and attention there doesn’t even show as a bump in her panties. But it’s size and kryptonite core create the weakness that devastates the young heroine. Add to that, the anal dildo with its own k-core poking against the panties from below, and the powerful champion has been reduced to a bewildered incompetent joke.

Her fluttering eyelids and slack-jawed expression registers as a familiar sight to the women looking at the stage in head-shaking understanding of the stunted mental capability of the softly-moaning heroine. They’d all been there before. Bruno’s training regimen was as formulaic as it was effective. Constant stimulation combined with highly-compromised brain function equaled hip-jerking spurts of cum in countless pairs of tightly clinging panties, followed by a drained acceptance of their fate.

To a woman, they all succumbed to Bruno. They’d all relented their will and now performed unspeakable sex acts with the resorts many prestigious clients without hesitation. Supergirl would do no less, clearly. The blonde on the stage was a pathetic drippy mess. It was a demoralizing revelation to every woman present. This savior was little more than a pathetic loser! Even Supergirl could be incapacitated, abused and forced to comply with the many noxious rules of life on this island.

That sad fact was driven home to the audience of woman when Bruno shoved the listless blonde off his legs in an ungainly roll away that left the famous heroine face down on the stage, moaning softly as her vagina drained out a thin, shimmering puddle of cum onto the stage through a gap between her panties and her right thigh.

When Bruno spoke, it was to call on Russ Hughes, the son of the island resort’s owner, to come out of the wings.

“Russ, I know you want a piece of this gorgeous tail. Come on out and tell us what’s next up for the mighty Maid of Steel lying here like some moldy sandwich tossed out of a car window on the side of a highway.”

Russ, like Bruno, was well known to all the women present. He was part of their training. Russ loved having his cock sucked by beautiful females. Almost any age would do for him, but here on the island that meant legal age meat. Who needed the legal hassle of underage girls? The sex trafficking violations were bad enough. No need to add to any possible prison time with some inexperienced talentless girl scouts when college girls were just fine with cock-gobbling when properly motivated.

And now they had the queen of all college-age coeds, Supergirl herself. Russ was already ‘board certified’ as he liked to describe his hard-ons just looking at the helpless beauty dripping cum before him. He knew how to motivate her and he had the means to do it.

“Greetings, Supergirl. I’m thrilled that you could join us here at Harmony Island’s Pleasure Palace. You’re our first actual superheroine, so that’s an honor for us and you, right?”

“…leh…me…go….”

“Comedy? Right off the bat. What a trouper, eh? Yeah, no, that’s not happening, bitch. But I’ll tell you what IS happening. You’re going to tell us where you’ve hidden the communicator you planned to use to contact the authorities once you rescued all these lovely ladies here.”

“…don’t…have…one…” murmurs the blonde, trying to raise herself up by her arms but collapsing down in a grunt of failure.

“More comedy. Look, my dad’s got contacts in Chicago. We’re all aware there’s a task force behind you, ready to swarm here on a moment’s notice. We’re smarter than you figured, champ. So, just tell us where that communicator is and we may go easy on you.”

“…no…device… plan was … load everyone onto a bus or truck or plane and fly them home myself….”

“Lying cunt! I don’t believe you. Where is the communicator? Is it in this oversized purse of yours?” Russ walks off into the left stage wing and returns with a brown sequined purse the size of a small beach bag. He drops the bag on the floor by Supergirl’s face. The loud smack jolts the teen but her body remains in place. Only her wrist flails impotently at the bag beside her head.

“…not in….there….doesn’t exist….” Murmurs Supergirl.

“I see. Doesn’t exist. Well, that’s unfortunate for you. I don’t cotton to lying cunts and I make them pay for their deceit. Big time!”

From the second row in the audience, a wan brunette with huge brown eyes, a close-cropped helmet of straight hair and an expression of pure fear yells out, “Tell him, Supergirl! Tell him what he wants to know. The pain, the degradation: it’s not worth it!!”

“Listen to Josette, blondie. She knows the score. She’s been here for four months. Tell me, where’s the communicator?”

“…isn’t one…” answers Supergirl faintly. Yet again she pushes off the floor with her elbows and now is able to stay there on her hands and knees, facing away from the audience and looking at Russ through the bedraggled bangs hanging over her eyes, fixes him with an angry stare. The kryptonite dildos in her panties have surged outward a bit with the heroine’s move to her hands and knees. The devastating tools catch the eyes of the audience. They know the devices buried in her body make it hopeless for this stupid girl. She actually thought she was smarter and better than her captives. Facts were proving otherwise. Other women from the audience begin to chant out in unison now.

“Tell him. Tell him. Tell him!!”

“Now, now, ladies. Calm yourselves. Clearly the Maid of Steel feels she has a point to make. Well, so do I. Let’s see who wins this debate, eh?”

Russ Hughes walks off stage but quickly returns with a very large black and gray glove in hand. It has black rounded knobs on every knuckle on every finger. Moreover, when Russ slides a switch on the wrist piece, the glove gives off a bluish glow. Sliding on the glove and then holding it up so the audience can see it, Russ then kneels down before the wavering beauty and waves the fisted glove before her eyes. He declares loudly, “This little fashion accessory of mine is called “The Convincer, blondie. It’s never failed to live up to its name. Shall we get started?”
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Re: Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco

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Agent Lloyd seems to be almost on the track of the kidnappers. But Deborah Collins turns out to be a tough nut to crack. I loved the countless details of the interrogation.
The start of Supergirl's interview whets the appetite for more. Can't wait for the next part.
Thank you again for a great chapter!
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Re: Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco

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Great story! Can't wait to see what Russ is going to do with 'The Convincer'. :)
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Re: Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco

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Chapter 6


“Just so you’re aware, champ, Russ Hughes mentions, “the Convincer here packs quite a wallop with a power source that generates 500 volts and about 15 milliamps of power – the full flow of it connected to these protruding black iron knobs. In normal humans, such electrical current would be nearly fatal. For you, it won’t kill you but it will be surprisingly painful.” The teen gulps noisily at this, drawing a smile from the degenerate pig leaning over the heroine with his cruel taunts.

“What’s more, the glove’s construction has been rigorously tested by Bruno who smashed it into concrete walls, brick planters, and steel drums without losing a single knob or lessening the formidable shock power of the glove. You may experience nausea, confusion and the need to vacate your bladder. Maybe even your bowels.”

The shadow of fear dances across Supergirl’s expression but the grimace and her thin lips show her resolve in the face of this rude threat.

“Now, just to be fair, I’m going to remove your anal dildo, sweetie, to make this fight a tad more even. Don’t worry, ladies, that remaining dildo in her twat is still potent enough to keep the mighty Maid of Steel susceptible to injury. After all, we can’t have Supergirl running out there and using one of you poor ladies for a human shield.”

“…would never…” moans the blonde heroine petulantly at the suggestion even as Russ approaches her from behind and kneels down. The intense orgasm that Bruno had forced out of the defenseless heroine was still reverberating potently through Supergirl’s brain, dulling her ability to plan, to judge, to fight back.

Russ wraps his left arm around the dazed lovely’s waist as she wavers listlessly on her hands and knees. His right hand hikes up the hem of the drained teen’s skirt and then jerks hard on the waistband of Supergirl’s underwear, pulling down the bright red panties to mid-thigh. There’s a gasp from Supergirl but only token resistance. After all, she wants the dildo out of her anus more than anyone in the room!

Firm fingers grasp the end of the dildo and Hughes draws out the devastating glowing green rod from the depths of Supergirl’s butt cheeks. The teen wonder merely groans in relief as her butt drops low, her eyes flutter and her bare-ass cheeks face the audience, showing off the end of the remaining vaginal dildo with its poisonous green glow emanating from within the devastated heroine’s glistening pink pussy.

Rising to his feet, Russ walks over to the podium and lays the dildo down on the stand before walking over to the wobbly blonde until he stands before her. Russ gives the audience a playful wink before shouting out, “Ready or not, blondie, try and defend yourself!” This barely constitutes a warning as the violent young man chops down hard with the glove onto Supergirl’s upraised face. Her head jerks around hard to left and the wide-eyed heroine’s expression reveals total shock to the audience of women watching her. Then her eyes roll up under her lids and Supergirl collapses heavily to the floor in a drooling sprawl.

“Warned you, didn’t I, champ? Told you what to expect and then delivered it. You might try to stand up and fight back, you pathetic wimp!”

Limp arms, a painful throbbing in her cheek and no strength in her legs whatsoever, Supergirl merely lies on the stage and groans. Once more the chant comes from the audience of women, “Tell him. Tell him. Tell him.”

“Oh no. Nope. That window has shut for the moment, ladies. Supergirl needs to learn her lesson now, just like all of you had to, right? That’s only fair, isn’t it? Training regimens must be consistent to reach maximum effectiveness. And as you all know, training at this stage means a brutal beat down.”

The sound of quiet weeping begins to emanate from a few of the women sitting in the padded chairs watching Supergirl’s torment. They’ve all experienced a version of what’s going to happen to the helpless blonde on the stage. They’re aware of the hopelessness of Supergirl’s plight. Some hope for a better outcome than their own. They’re just falling back on the heroine’s reputation, not what they’re actually seeing before them.

Russ grabs the collar of Supergirl’s tunic and yanks her to her knees with a sneer. “Since you seem unable to stand on your own, hero, guess I have to help you up. Now, show a little spine champion! Come on now, try to hit me. Lay one of your ‘super’ punches on me, girl. And send me into next week.”

A pawing feeble swing of Supergirl’s right arm is easily knocked away as is her second pathetic attempt at an uppercut. A harsh backhand from the younger Hughes once again jerks Supergirl’s head to the side, her eyes widening like saucers before they go flat and stupid. Just as the heroine starts to collapse to the stage yet again, Russ snags her collar, holds her up in place and delivers a massive forehand to Supergirl’s opposite cheek that pulls a harsh grunt from the Maid of Steel before knocking her senseless to the floor. Shockingly, a thin split in Supergirl’s cheek leaks a trickle of blood that leaves tiny droplets on the stage.

“…uuhhnnnhh….” The Convincer is living up to its name as Supergirl suddenly pleads for Russ Hughes to stop. “..no…don’t… hit me…agai….GUUNFFF!” The man’s power punch to Supergirl’s lower back, directly to her kidney, has the blonde jerking in place as her palm reaches back to try to soothe the hot stabbing pain there. Before she even can find solace by rubbing her back, the once illustrious Princess of Power is hoisted unceremoniously to wobbly legs before a thundering stomach punch doubles her over with a loud retching sound and a splat of pinkish bile on the stage between Supergirl’s boots.

For an endless fifteen minutes, Supergirl has the crap beat out of her by Russ Hughes’ skilled and relentless battering. Every opening the outmatched heroine allows is met with the devasting power glove delivering bruising blow after blow. Black and blue bruises, welts, cuts and a multitude of split wounds now show all over her face, her arms, her legs and through the ripped fabric of her tunic, on her belly. Lying on her back in a swoon of agony and confusion, Supergirl tries to protect a very nasty purplish bruise the size of a salad plate on her stomach in a futile attempt to cover her belly with her hand. When Russ peels the hand away, the panicked young heroine’s eyes bulge in horror as she sees him drive his fist down into her solar plexus. Rolling on her side, Supergirl pukes up a splatter of vomit and whimpers in place as her cheek presses flat to the floor inches away from the brownish puddle.

“I’m having a little trouble imagining you lifting an Abrams tank, hero. Those babies go 60 tons. Right now, I don’t think you’re capable of holding up a single artillery shell, little lady. Your reputation seems pretty badly overblown to me.”

“…when I …get… free….you’ll see… my…power…”

“When you get free? Yeah, not going to happen, cunt. We’ve got your number now. You’re going to be our number one cocksucker from here on out.”

“…won’t…do that….”

“Like you’ll have a choice, bitch. Anyway, let’s ease up on the kryptonite dosing for now. Can’t have you dying on us. We’ve got big plans for you, sex worker!”

Taking the pussy dildo remote from his pocket, Russ dials back the radiation lens and the agony that the Maid of Steel has endured in this hellish predicament eases up somewhat. She’s still incapable of creating any kind of offense against Hughes as he pulls her to her feet only to knock her down over and over with a variety of kicks, spinning hits to her temples and plain old fashioned belly punches. But slowly, Supergirl’s defense allows her to block more and more of Russ’ formidable attacks.

Finally, in a sudden lunge of desperation, Supergirl launches from a crouch and swings for the fences, trying to land a knockout blow to Hughes’ chin. Unfortunately, she telegraphs the move, allowing the man to dodge away from the left cross while planting a mule kick into that huge bruise just above Supergirl’s yellow belt. The gaping mouth and gasping wheeze tell the story: Supergirl has lost this fight completely. She sags helplessly to the stage and lies there in utter misery.

“Care to go another round, sugar?” Russ asks malevolently of the slumped and beaten figure before him. “Or will you tell me where that communicator is?”

As one now, the audience of young women chants out, “Tell him! Tell him!”

“…go to hell…Russ…” the heroine mumbles.

“Ten points for grit. Minus ten points for stupidity. Anyway, the training continues, correct ladies?”

“No, don’t. NO!” The outcry from the two rows of woman is thunderous. It brings a wide smile to Russ’ face.

“Ah, you all remember what comes next, don’t you? That sweet elixir you’ve all sampled. That powerful potion that I suspect even this young lady here won’t be able to resist. Naturally we tinkered with the formula – adding a pinch of kryptonite to ensure maximum effectiveness. No female we’ve ever tested this solution on has been capable of withstanding its effects. I’m sure you will find our little cocktail devilishly potent as well, Supergirl. A double-dose of Whore will have you bending over backwards to please me, champ.”

Supergirl’s face goes ashen as she cringes in torment from not just the mule kick that brought her so low but the concept of a drugged drink that could mess with her principles.

“You may not know much about me but the ladies out there certainly do, and they know from very upfront and personal experience that I rather enjoy getting blowjobs. And you, little lady, will be giving me the mother of all blowjobs!”

“Stop this, you bastard!” A brunette beauty in the second row rises from her seat and screams in frustration at the stage. “You’ve won. You’ve proven you’re better than her. Let her go.”

“Now, Wendy, you’re letting yourself get all worked up. You know the punishment for getting worked up. Stop now or it won’t go well for you.”

The brunette shuts up and sits down.

“Good girl. You remembered your training. Now just watch while Supergirl learns the beauty and wonder of everything her body can do when it’s properly motivated.”

Having said that, Russ waves Bruno back on stage from the wings. The huge ex-football player carries a generous snifter of thick clear liquid, swirling it slightly in his right hand. It’s imbued with a very faint greenish hue that has actually causes Supergirl to whimper aloud as Bruno walks toward her. The matching smiles on the two men are anything but friendly. Once again, there’s a murmur of weeping in the seats near the stage. The women know what’s coming. Some of the women are not weeping. Some are just watching with cynical resignation. Others with a touch of anticipation. The mighty Maid of Steel is going to be behaving in a very unheroic manner and some of the girls are warming up to that idea…big time!
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Re: Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco

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Excellent work as always. I liked that the description of the violence didn't get out of hand. You know I'm a wimp in regard to brutality. I'm curious how the poison will affect her.
Thank you for the great work Dr. Dominator!
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Re: Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco

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I tried to temper the brutality to a fine point without going overboard. It's a different line for everyone. Glad it worked for you. Thanks, as always, for your quick response, Nearkos.
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Re: Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco

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Great chapter! Can't wait to see how the double-dose of 'Whore' will affect the Maid of Steel! :)
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Re: Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco

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Chapter 7

Sat before the slim computer laptop on loan to him, Agent Lloyd is sequestered in his office at the Chicago task force headquarters. The softly cursing detective is scrolling through a variety of websites searching for islands in the vast Caribbean that were settled by the British. Across the way, Detective Dietz is working on his own laptop in pursuit of possible leads of his own.

That blue and white road sign that Deborah Collins had described to the FBI agent was a sign indicating that a roundabout was somewhere near the airport she’d been flown to when she was first captured many months ago. That clue she gave Carter narrowed it down to any of a hundred or so locations across the vast area of ocean that a plane might have reached given the time frame Deb had described in her many statements to the task force. It was a daunting task to try to determine where the sex traffickers had taken the 20 young women. Collins hadn’t provided any other useful information to help narrow down the search area.

The only other obvious clue to the people who took Collins was that they were clearly well financed. Neat little private airports, fancy multi-row vans with privacy tinting and her description of the resort where she was kept all indicated big money behind these sex traffickers. Was it good detective work to be squinting at satellite shots of Caribbean islands for well-healed airports or just a colossal waste of his time? Such was the nature of plodding police work.

Jim Dietz was highly skeptical about Carter’s chances for success but he had kept his mouth shut for the last 45 minutes while the FBI profiler grumbled and scrolled and pinched his nose or rubbed his neck. Finally, Dietz spoke two words.

“Any luck?”

“I might be narrowing down things a bit but unless Supergirl activates that homing device, it’s like trying to hit the lottery using birthdays, numbers in song titles and your weight. You might feel some good mojo but you know for damn sure it ain’t going to work!”

“You ever win any money in a lottery?” Dietz’s question has Lloyd pausing a moment in his scrolling to think.

“Barely. My best break was catching the words “Bonus Bux” on a crossword scratch off ticket to nab $150 dollars,” the profiler replies. “I gave it back over the course of a year buying more tickets trying to recapture the magic. Should have gone out for a fancy steak dinner instead! What are you working on?”

“I’m cross-referencing the girl’s locations at their time of capture and see if there are any commonalities of any descriptions of individuals in the area from canvasses by the patrol cops doing door-knocking follow-ups.” Dietz turns from his laptop to look directly at Lloyd. “Two prospects pop out: a tall gaunt albino in a worn leather Pink Floyd jacket and some good-looking blond guy with lots of charm but dead eyes.”

“You got addresses for them? Any way to interview them?”

“Nada there, but both come up too often in witness reports to be coincidence. They could both just be from that neighborhood. The albino just seems like the noticeable type to me but I’d sure like to chat with the dead-eye guy.”

“Should we go back to that area and see if we can dig him up?”

“He’s probably long gone but we may as well take a ride out there. Maybe get lucky? Shoe leather time,” Dietz says, rising and pulling his suit jacket off the back of his chair.

“Nature of the job,” confirms Lloyd as he shrugs on his own jacket before following the detective out the door.


* * *


The dead-eyed blonde man in whom the Chicago task force has a keen interest just happens to be the very person being introduced in the auditorium on Harmony Island in the Caribbean.

“Ladies,” Russ Hughes announces as he stands over a badly-stupefied Supergirl laying prostrate on the floor at his feet, a drool puddle gleaming under her cheek. The heroine’s eyes are mere slits. Russ’ face beams with satisfaction at just how well things are proceeding, “I want to invite onto the stage now someone to help us with the next important training stage of Supergirl’s passage into your sisterhood of the gobbling cock: You all know him as the man who turned your nightmare into our dream scenario. I give you Mr. Derek Gray.”

Several women in the audience shudder at the name while others grimly stare at the man with obvious loathing as he bounds onto the stage like some game show host. They all know Derek as the man who led them astray with promises of fame, money, a luxurious lifestyle and more, only to be unceremoniously drugged and dragged into a life of unending sexual abuse. Half of the young women hate the man more than the clients for whom they’re forced to spread their legs and subject their gaping mouths to cocks of all lengths and widths.

“Good evening, to all the young women here and thank you, Russ. I wouldn’t have been able to achieve all we’ve done here on the island without the generous financial and tactical support of you, Russ and your father, the remarkable Clayton Hughes.

“When the three of us sat together in that small diner in suburban Skokie and shared the idea of creating this pleasure palace for the rich and powerful elite class on this planet, who would have dreamed we would get so far so fast? And now, we have captured the most famous and powerful female on Earth to lead our team of dedicated sex workers into the brightest future imaginable. It takes men of vision like you and Clayton to bring about this reality. I’m just pleased that I could be an important contributor to this venture. Really, it’s been my pleasure!”

“You’re being much too modest, Derek. Without your charm, your style and your ruthless exploitation of the gullibility of every single woman here, I’d dare say none of this venture would have been nearly as successful. But enough patting ourselves on the back, let’s get this pathetic example of blundering blonde stupidity into a chair so we can begin the next phase of her training.”

“Here, hold this for me, Derek,” Bruno says as he hands the man the glass snifter filled with the thick silvery green dose of Whore. He calmly walks over to Supergirl, bends down and grabs her by the wrists. He drags the nearly oblivious 19-year-old champion across the stage like he’s lugging a decrepit rolled-up carpet. With his brute strength, of course, it’s not any kind of effort and as the boots of the famous heroine scrape along the wooden boards, all Supergirl can do is moan quietly as she manhandled into a heavy wooden dining room chair provided from the wings by Russ.

Bruno squats behind the chair and maneuvers Supergirl’s arms around the back of the chair and pins them there using his left hand to grip both wrists and his right hand to cup her neck in his palm and force the lethargic teen to look up directly into Derek Gray’s face. Supergirl has finally begun to regain some of her senses and a pittance of energy. She glares up at Gray’s face with obvious hostility.

“Nice to see you again, Chrissy…uhm…Chambers was it? Lacross scholarship at Stanhope. Possible valedictorian and quite the looker. Shapely, so cute and so absolutely moronic! How’s your little undercover assignment going, Chrissy? You about ready to bust out of here and round up all us evil doers?”

“It’ll happen soon enough, Gray. You’re going to be spending about 20 years of your life in a prison cell when all is said and done.”

“The sad thing is that you actually believe that, you naïve buffoon,” Gray declares with total contempt. “Fact is, you’re the one who’ll be trapped in a cage when you’re not sucking off or fucking whatever privileged client that we command you to satisfy. Now, drink up. This elixir is going to fuck you up!”

Derek steps to the side of the chair, then reaches out and pinches the cute upturned nose of the famous Maid of Steel with one hand while he holds the snifter ready in his other. In the meantime, Bruno’s palm closes over her mouth to cut off all oxygen to the wide-eyed blonde. Weakened as she is, the defenseless beauty can’t hold out more than 45 seconds of this before she begins to thrash in the chair, struggling for air. Her legs kick out, her calves waving frantically, but both men are out of the way of those shiny red boots.

Russ Hughes takes a look at all the fuss Supergirl is making and walks over to the podium. He slips The Convincer over his right hand, walks up to the flailing teen and punches her in the gut. Her eyes bulge out and, as Bruno moves his hand away from her mouth to her throat, she gasps out with a painful wheezing, her mouth gaping wide for any air. Derek Gray tilts the snifter to Supergirl’s lips and dumps the contents down the defenseless girl’s throat.

“That’s a good girl, drink it all up,” Derek says, keeping the snifter tilted until the last thick drop of the Whore elixir slides down Supergirl’s gullet.
The warmth of the devilish brew surprises the Maid of Steel. Like a very strong yet sweet-tasting brandy, the double-strength elixir creates a rush of potency in the young woman. She shakes her head to try to dispel the breath-taking effect of the drugged drink but whatever ingredients are in it, they send a shower of sparkles behind Supergirl’s eyes and she sags in place, just trying to regain her composure.

She licks the sweetness off her lower lip and rests in the chair, pinned in place still by Bruno clamping firmly on her wrists.

Whoa! This stuff is really powerful…dizzy…but gotta’ fight it. Gotta be strong!

Without warning, Bruno pulls Supergirl’s arms from behind the chair back and presses them against the arms of the heavy chair. From his pocket, Derek Gray pulls out two pairs of handcuffs and the blonde dynamo struggles to pull her wrists out of Bruno’s powerful grip. Even with all she’s been subjected to, Supergirl’s straining effort to free herself from Bruno’s grasp is going much better than Russ had imagined she’d be capable of.

“Oh fuck this!” He declares, taking the vaginal dildo remote from his pocket and opening up the kryptonite lens to 75%.

“Gaaaahhh!” The blonde champion screeches in agony. Every once of fight vaporizes out of the girl and she slumps in the chair, panting heavily with her legs askew, her head on her chest and her entire body quivering like a baby kitten. “….ooooohhhhhhhh…” she sighs, crippled and beaten as the steel handcuffs are closed around her wrists and the chair arm. Then her other wrist is shackled. She can barely rattle them at the moment with the kryptonite flooding through her.

Finally, Russ lowers the kryptonite lens back down to 40%. The heroine groans but the relief she feels shows.

“Gotta’ give you credit, bitch. You’re a gamer,” says Bruno as he backs up a step. “Russ, we need to cuff her ankles to the legs. I think. She could do some real damage if she kicks any of us.”

“Good thinking, guy,” says Derek. “I don’t have any other sets on me but there are plenty in the storage room off the main lobby.”

“I’ll have the concierge bring them,” says Russ. He goes over to the podium and picks up a walkie talkie from the shelf there and makes arrangements with Paco, the concierge, to bring two sets of cuffs.

“While we’re waiting, let’s play a game. Let’s decide which perverted sex acts we can get Supergirl here to perform,” Russ suggests. “The three of us have our own ideas but any of you women out there who want to see this comely little ingenue act like a depraved slut in one particular way, just call out.”

“…you people…monsters…” the blonde softly murmurs. Nobody onstage responds or cares what she says or thinks.

“Well, without a doubt,” Derek states categorically, “those hooters need loads of attention.”

“Breast play. A time-honored tradition, Why don’t we start with that to get our girl’s motor running? What else?”

“I’m not leaving here without fucking that prime super ass!”

“Heavy anal for the young man with the NFL expulsion. Done,” smiles Russ, who continues, “Naturally, I’m getting my blow job because, well, I’m Russ and you know that’s my thing.”

From the front row, the hand of a blonde with long flowing locks shoots up and she calls out, “Doggie style for the uppity bitch!”

Russ laughs loudly for almost a full 15 seconds, shaking his head and pointing to the Farah Fawcett lookalike. “Suzy McMichaels. I should have known you’d ask for that. You just seem to adore that frenzied impersonal cock drilling, don’t you?”

“You know it, Russ. And I’m guessing this newly-minted whore will too!”

“Okay, good suggestion,” Russ nods. “I’m sure all the cameras positioned around the auditorium will be able to catch some very unflattering expressions from this lovely lass from that particular position. Some of them, me thinks," he grins, "will be fucking indecent.”

Supergirl’s head rises up abruptly when hearing this, her face a mask of horror at the news.

Cameras! …course there are cameras…idiotic of me…to think they wouldn’t record this.

From offstage, Paco comes in with two sets of handcuffs. “Who gets these?”

“I’ll take those,” says Derek. He walks over to the slouched blonde in the chair, squats down to look under the lowered angry brow into the eyes of the young woman. “You’re not going to give me any trouble about this, are you, blondie?”

“…t..try…m..me…” Supergirl says darkly.

“Russ, please put this cunt’s vag dildo on 100% exposure,” Derek growls. “She still thinks she’s a threat to us. Twenty seconds at full radiation ought to convince her once and for all, she needs to behave or die.”

“I won’t do one hundred percent, Derek. Killing her helps no one! I’ll go up to 85 but that’s it!”

“No! No, don’t,” pleads Supergirl. “I’ll behave. I won’t kick you. Look, I’m wrapping my feet behind the chair legs. Put on the shackles… but please, please don’t hurt me anymore. No more vaginal radiation! Please!”

“Okay, champ, that’s much better. Just relax,” Derek advises as he clicks the handcuffs closed around the right ankle of Supergirl’s shiny red boots. A second click locks the cuff to the chair leg. He repeats the procedure with Supergirl’s left ankle as he smiles up at the morose face looking back at him. “Cheer up, sport. You’re actually going to enjoy yourself once that Whore kicks in.”

In fact, the elixir is working its way through Supergirl’s system and she’s beginning to feel its effects. The world seems too bright, the colors somehow wrong, overly saturated. Her thoughts also feel sluggish. It was hard to connect them and focus. Pinned in place, the Maid of Might is anything but mighty. She slumps in the chair in helpless resignation. These men held all the cards and she was the one who put herself in this position. Undercover? That was a bitter joke. They were onto her from the get-go. It takes everything Supergirl has not to let the tear fall from her liquid demoralized eyes.
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Re: Supergirl: Undercover Fiasco

Post by nearkos »

Loved the new sequel. Very little violence but quite a pre-taste of the humiliation ahead. It has also been very entertaining to read of the detectives' investigative work. Thank you for a further great chapter Dr. D!

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