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Supergirl remains the property of DC Comics, CBS and CW. This is a fan fiction offered without cost.
Supergirl knew the nature of the trap when Brainiac 8 failed to dodge, and took Supergirl’s full power charge as she flew into the building where Brainiac had her sister Alex and her boss Hank Henshaw beaten and bound. Charging in at full speed was a mistake against an enemy as intelligent as Brainiac 8, but the indigo female android was poised to crush the throats of her two closest allies before Supergirl could even get to the entrance; so she went through the wall just under the speed of sound. Using her heat vision to destroy the debris that might hit the vulnerable Alex, she let her boss, secretly the Martian Manhunter take his chances with the shrapnel as she pounded into Brainiac 8 with an impact greater than the heaviest tank cannon in history.
Brainiac should have dodged, should have metamorphed a shiled, should have used her mechanical control to pull up some drone or mechanical defense to take the hit, but instead, she took the hit and blasted through the back wall into a heavy shielded vault big enough to contain a full sized fighter plane. Brainiac hit the back wall and stuck in. If she had needed to breathe, she would be incapacitated as her chest was visibly pushed in, but Brainiac was a full android, and although badly damaged, was still functional. Supergirl flew in, ready to end the fight before the android was free to activate whatever she had waiting for Supergirl, but it turns out being slammed through the wall was the only trigger the trap needed.
Two 30mm Gatling guns waited in the back corners of the room, designed to kill main battle tanks, they would hurt, but Brainiac knew they could not kill Kara Zor-El, Supergirl. Stepping forward Supergirl prepared to end Brainiac 8’s rampage with a single punch, determined to absorb the cannon fire rather than risk deflecting it where Alex and her boss were still bound in the next room.
“That won’t be enough to stop me, and you know it” Supergirl stated moving forward to deliver the coup de grace.
“That isn’t designed to stop you. This is.” Brainiac 8 sneered, one eye flashing, one eye blazing as reduced function from the hit slowed the planned response just enough for Supergirl to see it begin. A pillar rose from the floor, with a lead box and heavy lead plated titanium iris opening. There was only one thing that could be locked inside a lead box and present a threat to a Kryptonian simply by opening. Green Kryptonite. If it opened when she was inside the firing arcs of the two tank killing gatling guns, she would be rendered vulnerable before she could flee. The guns could not just hurt her, they could kill her.
Brainiac was slowed by the damage to her chest, so the trap was opening more slowly than planned. Kara had heard her cousin talk about doing this, but had never tried it. She locked her head vision on the lead box and tried to fuse the iris closed, and heat the box up enough to cook the green kryptonite, exciting its radioactive decay enough to render it harmless. If she went too hot, the box would melt and she would weaken. If she didn’t go hot enough, Brainiac would open the box herself and the kryptonite would still be active. The cannons began to roar and the hammering impacts hurt Supergirl worse than Brainiac’s own fists. It took all of her willpower to keep the beams on target, and under control.
Brainiac 8 howled “NOOOOO!” and pulled herself out of the wall to cut open the box, morphing one arm into a wicked axe blade.
The blade tore through the front of the box, exposing the crimson glow of the superheated kryptonite.
Supergirl dove out of the way, turning her heat vision onto the sensors in the walls, melting them to scrap. This caused the guns to fall back to their manjack mode, firing on the only moving target in the room. Brainiac 8 held together for almost five seconds before coming apart. Her invulnerability shattered by Supergirl’s initial attack, and her healing blocked to metamorphose her hand into an axe to finish her trap, she had not rebuilt her carapace enough to withstand the tank killing rounds. The miniguns emptied their ammunition hoppers and spun in silent exhaustion before retracting into their mounts and deactivating.
Supergirl rose, feeling the effects of the Red Kryptonite wash over her, feeling her emotions beginning to run wild like she was drunk, and feeling her scalp burn and a heavy weight begin to pull on her. Without time to think about it, she stepped forward and used her heat vision and boots to stamp the last of Brainiac 8’s processors to slagged scrap before freeing her sister and boss.
“Kara, your hair!” Alex whispered as she ripped her free of the machine clamping her in place.
“What about it Alex? Did it turn pink or something?” Kara asked, afraid of what the unpredictable effects of Red Kryptonite had done to it.
“No, its still gorgeous and blonde, but its growing right down to your calves!” Alex said.
Supergirl stomped her foot in anger. “Stupid Red Kryptonite. If I had a few more seconds I would have cooked it from green all the way to spent, but noooooo, stupid Brainiac ripped it open while the Kryptonite was only red and now I have turned into a Kryptonian CHIA PET!”
Turning her eyes on the red kryptonite, Supergirl blasted it full force for several seconds. The radiation spilled back stronger for several seconds before the Kryptonite went from red to black, and then shattered as nothing more than harmless inert black shards.
Her hair now glowed a soft golden colour, and reached the floor. Kara sighed. “How are we supposed to cut this?”
Back at DEO headquarters, Hank Henshaw looked at Kara and broke the news.
“We can’t cut it. We tried everything we had in the arsenal. It is actually stronger than any other part of you right now. We tried the one experiment with Green Kryptonite, but as you recall, it weakened you before it weakened your hair. It won’t stop growing, there is nothing science has to offer that can help you.” He said.
Supergirl sat as Alex worked her hair into a braid that she could at least not step on as it trailed behind her like some Princess’s wedding dress. “That’s not fair!” She cried, slamming her hand down and shattering the heavy multi ton scanning array that she was seated upon. “oopsie!” She giggled, then blushed.
“Sorry, sorry. It’s the Red Kryptonite. My emotions are all over the place and my filter is like totally off. I have less impulse control than a spring break frat boy on his second keg, or Alex doing physicals on the new female recruits.” Supergirl blurted.
“Hey!” Said Alex, yanking her sister’s hair. Not happy with her sister sharing her fears that she enjoyed doing physicals on the other hard bodied women of the DEO more than she should.
Director Henshaw sighed.
“I hate to suggest it, but we know that your cousin is vulnerable to magic. We track and have used a number of powerful magical workers in the Eastern US. There is one group, they are very low key, that might agree to help. They have very quietly shut down some very powerful operators who preyed on women, and turned them over to us. They don’t work well with men, but as you are another woman, they should probably agree to help.”
Supergirl frowned. “Magic isn’t real.”
Director Henshaw smiled grimly. “You could tell that to Wonder Woman. I did once. Then she punched me through a mountain, threw her lasso around me and used it’s magic to make me sing “I’m a little teapot” nursery rhymes while she sipped her tea, floating six feet in the air.”
Supergirl giggled, Alex covered her face with Kara’s hair so as to not get caught giggling at the image.
“Fine. Where are your magicians?” Kara asked.
An hour later, Kara found herself out front of a Pagan book store. “Temple of Diana Nemorensis”
Kara whined at her sister. “Witches? Your solution to my problem is to bring me to a bunch of Wicked Witches? Seriously, a sewing circle of middle aged women is your answer. What are they going to do? Sell me some scented candles and teach me to ride a broom?”
Alex sighed. “These are Wiccan’s. There whole thing is harm none. I don’t know why you are so upset. From Mom and Dad’s point of view your worshipping Rao is just as Pagan as they are. Open the door, your hair is HEAVY.” Alex argued.
Kara pushed open the door, and five heavy set women were waiting. In the center was a woman clad in a formal Roman Stola, her wide hips and heavy breasts coupled with the silver in her hair and proud dark eyes gave her the aspect of a queen. A short rotund black woman sat beside her, the image of an African fertility goddess given life. The rest of the women ranged from pale blonde to clearly middle eastern ancestry, with a heavily muscled raven tressed brunette who looked like a mechanic or truck driver rounding out the set. All of them were variations on the theme of large or full bodied.
Kara snickered. “Not Wiccan’s; Thiccans!”
Alex whispered “Kara, do not piss them off. I can barely hold your hair now.”
The central woman looked coldly at Kara.
“Science holds no help for you. All the power of man holds no help for you. This is a women’s mystery alone. The goddess Diana Nemorensis, Diana the Huntress, holds power over the living and the dead, she is the Huntress, she who holds the power to end all things. Hers is a power that is shared only among women, and her rituals are not for the faint of heart. Your body, I am told, is so strong that no tool or weapon can cut it, and your hair is stronger. That means nothing. The power of the goddess can work miracles on those who submit to her will, submit to her rites. We have the power to draw her down, but what you ask requires us to risk much, for what you ask requires more power than any one mortal can hold. What you ask has risks, what you ask has costs, so what you ask will have a price.”
Kara waved her hands “Totally can pay. I mean, I got a chit from the DEO that could buy a building if I needed it. Price is no object. I swear I will pay whatever it takes, just fix my hair.”
The central woman rose. “I am Belladonna, this is my second Aconite” the roman looking woman pointed to the short heavy black woman.
“What we will require from you as price is only three things. Your hair once cut will be ours to keep and use. It will be an offering to Diana, a material strong enough to make her a bowstring strong enough to hunt the stars in the sky themselves. You will keep the rites we practice here a secret, no man or woman not of the coven may ever be told what goes on this or any other night we practice.”
Kara rolled her eyes. “Sure, sure. No problem. And the third thing, the money?” Kara asked.
Belladonna strode to Kara, grabbed a fist full of her long blonde hair and bent her neck to the side. Aconite moved to nibble at Kara’s exposed neck and earlobe. Looking into the widening eyes of Supergirl Belladonna spoke firmly, cupping Supergirl’s breast through her top and pinching her growing nipple hard enough to draw a groan from her.
“You will obey every instruction given. These rites are a sacred mystery of women, a sacred celebration of women’s bodies and women’s love. We are her priestesses, and you are only an aspirant who comes to beg for our intercession. You will obey us, you will endure the testing of the Goddess, for the Huntress has no place for weak women, do you understand super-GIRL?” Belladonna hissed, pinching Supergirl’s nipple as hard as she could, as Aconite sucked and licked at the vulnerable girls neck.
Supergirl knew about her sisters lesbian nature, and respected her life choices. She had never been tempted or drawn to women in that way. The Red Kryptonite was working on more than just her hair, and her out of control hormones had made her body a dozen times more responsive than ever before. The magic of the women gathered together in circle on ground holy to the Dianic Wiccans, witches who worship the goddess of the hunt through lesbian ritual magic bypassed the physical immunity that Kara was used to protecting her. She arched her back, offering herself to the two women unconsciously.
“Yes, I swear, I swear!” Kara gasped.
They let her go, and the muscular black haired butch turned to Alex. “You can go now. We will take good care of her. When we give her back to you, she will have her hair taken care of.”
Alex swallowed, her own lusts barely controlled by the combination of what was just promised, and the echoes of pure lesbian magic that had been roused by what had just been oathed before the altar of Diana. “That is not all that is going to be taken care of.” She whispered, then turned and bolted for her car. She would be headed home for a long session with her vibrator before calling in to report.
Supergirl’s Wiccan Wicked Hair-day
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Valleyvixin
- Henchman
- Posts: 69
- Joined: 3 years ago
The Ritual: Part 1 Dedication
Supergirl in her iconic costume was lead by the classic Roman matron High Priestess Belladonna and her partner the short round motherly African priestess Aconite to the ritual room below the book store.
A five pointed star covered the floor. At the point of the star was an altar with a naked goddess Diana standing in triumph over the slain stag (once a human male who chanced upon her bathing and was transformed into a stag and hunted as punishment).
Clockwise around the star at each point were an unstrung cornel wood recurve hunting bow, a spindle and spinning wheel, a carved wooden whip handle carved in the shape of a naked woman with hands bound above her head, and an antler handled bronze hunting knife.
Supergirl stood in the center of the circle, at the heart of the pentagram. The priestesses took their station at each of the points and chanted a hymn to Diana in Latin that rolled off the tongue in a way that Christian churches could not hope to match, for this was the living language of the pagan past, not the dry dead thing of the Christian book. As they chanted, they stripped.
Kara was not shy about women’s bodies, she was part of the DEO, and changed often with the commandos that were part of that organizations strike groups, but those were all young fit girls, these were each in their own ways icons of mature womanhood, not aping the manner of the male troops to downplay their gender, but openly and proudly feminine.
Belladonna took her place before the altar of Diana and stepped from her clothes like a goddess emerging from the sea. Standing proud before the statue like a queen, she looked down upon the fascinated Supergirl.
The blonde, Rue, stripped her clothes with an almost balletic innocence and grace, she ended with her pale skinned body crouched before the unstrung bow, hands caressing it, eyeing Kara with the stillness of a predator. Supergirl felt her body still like a terrified deer, even knowing she was invulnerable to any mortal weapon.
The dark middle eastern priestess Vervaine danced and stripped like a Hetaria of old, her every motion an erotic art, her rich curves showing the promise of a womanhood whose richness mocked the youthful Supergirl and hinted at a feminine power the girl had never dared explore. She paused, posed for display that was both invitation and challenge. Behind her was an ancient spinning wheel and in her hand a simple spindle.
The rich ebony form of Aconite was not conventionally beautiful, being heavy and full bodied, but her dance was wild and untamed as she stripped as if transformed in ecstasy, heavy breasts heaving, eyes wild, and in her hands the pale wood of a whip handle carved into the shape of a bound woman. She eyed Kara like so much helpless prey, and Supergirl shivered.
The short haired pale butch brunette Myrrh tore her clothes off in a dance that was aggression and rage, in her hand the antler handled bronze hunting knife caressed her flesh as she danced, a hard body made of slab like working muscle not the fine aesthetics of the gym, her tiny breasts and wide chest should have made Kara feel more feminine, but the raw challenge as she posed, heavy muscled legs spread and dark furred mound thrust boldly forward made Supergirl feel suddenly small and weak.
Belladonna spoke richly, her words seeming to echo as the green pillar candles of the altar flashed to life on their own without a touch.
“Do you come as a woman to offer your soul before the goddess as her priestess, or do you come before the goddess as a warrior offering only your flesh?” Belladonna asked, staring down her Roman nose like a Domina passing judgement upon a household slave.
Before Kara could answer, Aconite spoke with a lilting creole accent. “She stinks of man gods, she stinks of the sun, she is no priestess called by moon.”
Supergirl felt her anger rise. “I am sworn to Rao, the sun god of my birth, but I am a warrior for this world.” She threw the challenge in all their faces.
Rue picked up her bow and raised it. “Then as a warrior let her be taken.”
Vervain took her spindle and caressed it, “Then as a warrior let her be bound.”
Aconite slapped the whip handle into her dark palm. “Then as a warrior let her be tested.”
Myrrh took the knife and ran the flat of its bronze blade over her mound of Venus and purred “Then as a warrior let her serve.”
The women took Supergirl’s costume off of her, descending from each point of the star to converge on her. Kara felt herself being stripped and caressed, kissed and fondled. When she tried to resist, Belladonna captured her chin with her hand and glared at her, asking.
“Do you have the power to free yourself? Does any object on earth have the power to free you? No? Then you will give the only thing you can, warrior, your body, to the service of the goddess and through the power she takes from your body will be gain the power over your hair so that we can free you from this curse.”
“I thought you just had to chant or wave your hands or something. I studied the files on wizards, and that is what you do, right?” Supergirl protested as Rue sucked one of Kara’s nipples into her mouth, making it harden. On the other side, the muscular Myrrh pinched her nipples hard enough for the Kryptonian to feel it. A harsh slap of the whip handle on her ass cheeks made Kara squeak, even though it did not hurt her as Aconite answered.
“That sort of magic is nothing. This is the magic of Diana, the goddess of the moon, the goddess of the hunt, the goddess of women’s mysteries. Her magic is made of women’s flesh, women’s hunger, women’s desire, woman’s anger, and women’s pride. You are Supergirl, but no woman. You have only a woman’s flesh, and nothing else. We will take that flesh and pull from it a woman’s hunger, a woman’s desire, we will teach you to bow before a woman’s anger, and to humble yourself before a woman’s pride. When that is done, when Supergirl has been broken by the power of the goddess, we will cut the hair that curses you and the curse that comes with it. Then you will be cursed no longer, then you may, perhaps, be a girl no longer. Perhaps even a woman.”
Supergirl was breathing heavily as mouths kissed her, finger’s probed her.
“That is just some nonsense you sickos made up to make young girls strip for you old perverts!” Kara shouted, her breath coming fast, her power gathering to launch her through the roof the cellar, then the building, to escape. Before she could do that, the High Priestess Beladonna dropped to her knees and kissed Supergirl’s innocent pussy.
The shock of that contact caused her to freeze, Aconite pressed her lush black body to the young blondes back to support her as she placed the whipstock in her mouth like a horses bridle. Myrhh and Vervain took a nipple each in their mouths and sucked on the girls gravity defying pert breasts as Belladonna’s tongue worked the magic of women across the most ancient of Her altars.
“Oh Rao, Oh no, oh, oh, oh. Please no. I’m not a LESBIANNNNNNNNNN!” Kara begged as her body arched like a drawn bow as Belladonna worked her tongue feverishly on the girls tender labia, before pillaging inside her depths with the power and knowledge of a lifetime’s practice. Supergirl may have trained her body in combat, but her shy nature had caused her to run screaming from her sexuality and her bodies ignorance of its own needs delivered her as trussed prey to the priestess of the Huntress. As Supergirl’s body began to buck against her will, seeking further and deeper contact with the darting tongue, Belladonna at last claimed her clit and sucked it into her mouth. As the Kryptonian screamed loud enough to shake the walls, Belladonna’s tongue flickered like captive lightning over Supergirl’s vulnerable clit. With the wide helpless eyes of a hunted doe, Supergirl climaxed all over and into Belladonna’s knowing and wicked mouth.
As the helpless Kryptonian hung from the arms of the supporting Priestesses, Belladonna held up Supergirl’s endlessly growing invulnerable hair, and cut off a strand with her teeth, and then another, then another. As she cut them, Vervain took them upon her spindle and worked them until a bowstring was woven. Rue and Myrrh had sucked Supergirl’s nipples to painful prominence, and the Priestess Rue now took the fine blonde bowstring and wrapped it around the base of each nipple, then with a practiced motion, strong the recurve bow with the bowstring still attached to Kara’s nipples.
Supergirl’s orgasmic daze was broken with a shock of pain as her nipples were clamed by the taut bowstring. The most powerful woman on earth found herself led like cattle on a lead chain as the priestess with the bow dragged her around the perimeter of the pentagram with the bow like a puppeteers rod and her nipples making her the puppet. Arousal and pain filled her, humiliation and lust blinded and confused her as she was led to the feet of each woman, and the bow pressed to the ground, causing Supergirl’s face to be pressed to each Priestesses foot in order.
“Submit to us, beg us to be bound, beg us to be tested, beg us to serve” Each priestess asked, presenting her foot to be kissed.
As the Maid of Might felt the cut of the tight bowstring made of her own hair inflict the sort of pleasure and pain she had no experience with, she tried to summon her will to resist. Fingers pushing into her pussy from behind as each priestess pillaged her depths and laughed as they licked the taste of her initial subjugation from their fingers shattered her resistance and Kara found herself kissing each proffered foot.
“Please bind me” Kara begged.
“Please test me” Supergirl begged.
“Please let me serve” The strongest woman on earth begged five middle aged matrons as her bound tits pushed into the ground, and she sucked the toes of women she prayed were not just predators, but possible saviours.
Supergirl in her iconic costume was lead by the classic Roman matron High Priestess Belladonna and her partner the short round motherly African priestess Aconite to the ritual room below the book store.
A five pointed star covered the floor. At the point of the star was an altar with a naked goddess Diana standing in triumph over the slain stag (once a human male who chanced upon her bathing and was transformed into a stag and hunted as punishment).
Clockwise around the star at each point were an unstrung cornel wood recurve hunting bow, a spindle and spinning wheel, a carved wooden whip handle carved in the shape of a naked woman with hands bound above her head, and an antler handled bronze hunting knife.
Supergirl stood in the center of the circle, at the heart of the pentagram. The priestesses took their station at each of the points and chanted a hymn to Diana in Latin that rolled off the tongue in a way that Christian churches could not hope to match, for this was the living language of the pagan past, not the dry dead thing of the Christian book. As they chanted, they stripped.
Kara was not shy about women’s bodies, she was part of the DEO, and changed often with the commandos that were part of that organizations strike groups, but those were all young fit girls, these were each in their own ways icons of mature womanhood, not aping the manner of the male troops to downplay their gender, but openly and proudly feminine.
Belladonna took her place before the altar of Diana and stepped from her clothes like a goddess emerging from the sea. Standing proud before the statue like a queen, she looked down upon the fascinated Supergirl.
The blonde, Rue, stripped her clothes with an almost balletic innocence and grace, she ended with her pale skinned body crouched before the unstrung bow, hands caressing it, eyeing Kara with the stillness of a predator. Supergirl felt her body still like a terrified deer, even knowing she was invulnerable to any mortal weapon.
The dark middle eastern priestess Vervaine danced and stripped like a Hetaria of old, her every motion an erotic art, her rich curves showing the promise of a womanhood whose richness mocked the youthful Supergirl and hinted at a feminine power the girl had never dared explore. She paused, posed for display that was both invitation and challenge. Behind her was an ancient spinning wheel and in her hand a simple spindle.
The rich ebony form of Aconite was not conventionally beautiful, being heavy and full bodied, but her dance was wild and untamed as she stripped as if transformed in ecstasy, heavy breasts heaving, eyes wild, and in her hands the pale wood of a whip handle carved into the shape of a bound woman. She eyed Kara like so much helpless prey, and Supergirl shivered.
The short haired pale butch brunette Myrrh tore her clothes off in a dance that was aggression and rage, in her hand the antler handled bronze hunting knife caressed her flesh as she danced, a hard body made of slab like working muscle not the fine aesthetics of the gym, her tiny breasts and wide chest should have made Kara feel more feminine, but the raw challenge as she posed, heavy muscled legs spread and dark furred mound thrust boldly forward made Supergirl feel suddenly small and weak.
Belladonna spoke richly, her words seeming to echo as the green pillar candles of the altar flashed to life on their own without a touch.
“Do you come as a woman to offer your soul before the goddess as her priestess, or do you come before the goddess as a warrior offering only your flesh?” Belladonna asked, staring down her Roman nose like a Domina passing judgement upon a household slave.
Before Kara could answer, Aconite spoke with a lilting creole accent. “She stinks of man gods, she stinks of the sun, she is no priestess called by moon.”
Supergirl felt her anger rise. “I am sworn to Rao, the sun god of my birth, but I am a warrior for this world.” She threw the challenge in all their faces.
Rue picked up her bow and raised it. “Then as a warrior let her be taken.”
Vervain took her spindle and caressed it, “Then as a warrior let her be bound.”
Aconite slapped the whip handle into her dark palm. “Then as a warrior let her be tested.”
Myrrh took the knife and ran the flat of its bronze blade over her mound of Venus and purred “Then as a warrior let her serve.”
The women took Supergirl’s costume off of her, descending from each point of the star to converge on her. Kara felt herself being stripped and caressed, kissed and fondled. When she tried to resist, Belladonna captured her chin with her hand and glared at her, asking.
“Do you have the power to free yourself? Does any object on earth have the power to free you? No? Then you will give the only thing you can, warrior, your body, to the service of the goddess and through the power she takes from your body will be gain the power over your hair so that we can free you from this curse.”
“I thought you just had to chant or wave your hands or something. I studied the files on wizards, and that is what you do, right?” Supergirl protested as Rue sucked one of Kara’s nipples into her mouth, making it harden. On the other side, the muscular Myrrh pinched her nipples hard enough for the Kryptonian to feel it. A harsh slap of the whip handle on her ass cheeks made Kara squeak, even though it did not hurt her as Aconite answered.
“That sort of magic is nothing. This is the magic of Diana, the goddess of the moon, the goddess of the hunt, the goddess of women’s mysteries. Her magic is made of women’s flesh, women’s hunger, women’s desire, woman’s anger, and women’s pride. You are Supergirl, but no woman. You have only a woman’s flesh, and nothing else. We will take that flesh and pull from it a woman’s hunger, a woman’s desire, we will teach you to bow before a woman’s anger, and to humble yourself before a woman’s pride. When that is done, when Supergirl has been broken by the power of the goddess, we will cut the hair that curses you and the curse that comes with it. Then you will be cursed no longer, then you may, perhaps, be a girl no longer. Perhaps even a woman.”
Supergirl was breathing heavily as mouths kissed her, finger’s probed her.
“That is just some nonsense you sickos made up to make young girls strip for you old perverts!” Kara shouted, her breath coming fast, her power gathering to launch her through the roof the cellar, then the building, to escape. Before she could do that, the High Priestess Beladonna dropped to her knees and kissed Supergirl’s innocent pussy.
The shock of that contact caused her to freeze, Aconite pressed her lush black body to the young blondes back to support her as she placed the whipstock in her mouth like a horses bridle. Myrhh and Vervain took a nipple each in their mouths and sucked on the girls gravity defying pert breasts as Belladonna’s tongue worked the magic of women across the most ancient of Her altars.
“Oh Rao, Oh no, oh, oh, oh. Please no. I’m not a LESBIANNNNNNNNNN!” Kara begged as her body arched like a drawn bow as Belladonna worked her tongue feverishly on the girls tender labia, before pillaging inside her depths with the power and knowledge of a lifetime’s practice. Supergirl may have trained her body in combat, but her shy nature had caused her to run screaming from her sexuality and her bodies ignorance of its own needs delivered her as trussed prey to the priestess of the Huntress. As Supergirl’s body began to buck against her will, seeking further and deeper contact with the darting tongue, Belladonna at last claimed her clit and sucked it into her mouth. As the Kryptonian screamed loud enough to shake the walls, Belladonna’s tongue flickered like captive lightning over Supergirl’s vulnerable clit. With the wide helpless eyes of a hunted doe, Supergirl climaxed all over and into Belladonna’s knowing and wicked mouth.
As the helpless Kryptonian hung from the arms of the supporting Priestesses, Belladonna held up Supergirl’s endlessly growing invulnerable hair, and cut off a strand with her teeth, and then another, then another. As she cut them, Vervain took them upon her spindle and worked them until a bowstring was woven. Rue and Myrrh had sucked Supergirl’s nipples to painful prominence, and the Priestess Rue now took the fine blonde bowstring and wrapped it around the base of each nipple, then with a practiced motion, strong the recurve bow with the bowstring still attached to Kara’s nipples.
Supergirl’s orgasmic daze was broken with a shock of pain as her nipples were clamed by the taut bowstring. The most powerful woman on earth found herself led like cattle on a lead chain as the priestess with the bow dragged her around the perimeter of the pentagram with the bow like a puppeteers rod and her nipples making her the puppet. Arousal and pain filled her, humiliation and lust blinded and confused her as she was led to the feet of each woman, and the bow pressed to the ground, causing Supergirl’s face to be pressed to each Priestesses foot in order.
“Submit to us, beg us to be bound, beg us to be tested, beg us to serve” Each priestess asked, presenting her foot to be kissed.
As the Maid of Might felt the cut of the tight bowstring made of her own hair inflict the sort of pleasure and pain she had no experience with, she tried to summon her will to resist. Fingers pushing into her pussy from behind as each priestess pillaged her depths and laughed as they licked the taste of her initial subjugation from their fingers shattered her resistance and Kara found herself kissing each proffered foot.
“Please bind me” Kara begged.
“Please test me” Supergirl begged.
“Please let me serve” The strongest woman on earth begged five middle aged matrons as her bound tits pushed into the ground, and she sucked the toes of women she prayed were not just predators, but possible saviours.
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Valleyvixin
- Henchman
- Posts: 69
- Joined: 3 years ago
The Ritual Part 2 Bound and Tested
She came here because Red Kryptonite had made her hair grow uncontrollably, it now ran behind her like a Princess wedding train in a Disney wedding, and worse, the hair was uncuttable. Green Kryptonite would kill her before it would weaken the hair enough to cut and it just kept growing. When Director Henshaw told her there was a magic solution, she expected something flashy like Gandalf or Zatanna, but what she got were four overweight middle aged soccer mom’s and a butch lesbian that looked like she lifted trucks when she wasn’t fixing them. She didn’t take it seriously. Their so called magic was nothing more than an excuse to get young girls who didn’t know any better naked for their perverse games!
But orders made her go along, humour them, just for the chance it would work. I mean, magic was just science we didn’t understand yet right? There was no goddess given sex magic, they just didn’t understand what they were doing. She would go along with the charade long enough to get her hair fixed and fly out before the perverts could lay a finger on her!
Lay a finger on her?
Fingers in her! Worse. The magic worked. The priestess had aroused her so her mind, already fighting the Red Kryptonite hormone surges, was too confused to flee. Worse, her tongue had brought Supergirl to a soul shattering climax. Just as she was about to flee a situation running out of control, the priestess had CUT HER HAIR with teeth still shining with Kara’s own juices. Covered with Supergirl’s cum, she had bit off strand after strand that were used to bind her painfully erect nipples and then strung to the bow of Diana the Huntress.
Sweet Rao the pain! Her hair was stronger than her skin since the Kryptonite exposure, and the painfully erect nipples were clamped by the twined bowstring crueler than any nipple clamps science could construct. Worse, the bow kept flooding her entire body with desires of submission and service, images of countless women broken before the goddess for daring to carry the faith of a man god into her bower. Sweet Rao, her Kyrptonian body was immune to most damage and healed at an inhuman rate, so her experience with pain was limited to battle or the minutes after. She had no ability to handle the pain as she was lead by her nipples like an ox from its nose ring, an animal lead to sacrifice.
Worst of all, her body, her trained Kryptonian weapon of a body made her feel so much less a woman than her tormentors. She had barely even dared to masturbate, even then only with shattering guilt. She feared to give in to any of her base desires as her power made her too dangerous to ever lose control. That path lead to villainy too easily. The pleasure these middle aged women ripped from her was worse than the pain. Only the pain allowed her to hold onto any sanity at all as the pleasure threatened to break her pride in a way no beating or even near death had ever done. She was Supergirl, but these were women, and commanded her body in ways she never dreamed.
Lead by the bowstring on her nipples, she was forced to kneel and beg. Beg to be bound, beg to be tested, beg to serve.
The shame of it burned her cheeks like the pleasure of it burned her loins. Only the matching burning in her painful nipples allowed her to draw upon the teachings of Rao and call upon her battle spirit to resist. She was Supergirl, she would not be broken!
The women laughed, the archer Rue held Supergirl face down to the ground kneeling as she pressed the bow into the ground with her foot. Her other foot she raised to Supergirl’s lips.
“Kiss my feet, Supergirl. Show the goddess your devotion by sucking and licking my toes in repentance for your arrogance.” Rue demanded. Behind her the short haired muscular butch Myrrh tried to force her fingers into Supergirl’s pussy, but the Maid of Might clamped down so hard a pile driver couldn’t force her. Supergirl glared up at her saviour/captors and shouted back.
“NEVER!”
Then Rue rolled the bow along the ground with her foot causing Supergirl’s vulnerable and inexperienced nipples to be nearly garrotted by the bowstring. Her body curled to the ground to avoid pain, all other thought shattered. Myrrh laughed as she forced first one then two fingers into the vulnerable Kryptonian and she began to finger the young girl’s clit in time with the savage fingering. Rue laughed as Supergirl lapped and sucked on her feet obediently.
As she lapped and sucked at her captor’s toes, her long hair was braided into ropes to bind Supergirl’s hands behind her head, then around her ankles and finally back around her throat. Now she was bound kneeling, and any attempt to rise would strangle her with her own hair. Limited to shuffling on her hands and knees she was led around by the bowstring like a puppet on the strings as each Priestess sat upon a stool at her point of the pentacle.
Rue lead her to her own seat, bringing her nose to mons with her captors womanhood as Supergirl shuffled in a fog of sensation she used all of her warrior training to hold even a shred of control through.
Rue spoke, her voice that of the school teacher she was. “Do you know what the rule of three is?”
Supergirl shook her head.
Vervain tugged on the hair rope around Supergirl’s throat, forcing her gasping to lean backwards in a painful arch. Vervain let an olive skinned hand trail down the hard ridges of the Kyrptonian’s sculpted abs to her aroused and open sex. She traced a finger lightly around her labia, teasing, arousing, but not allowing the tortured girl desperately raising her hips to those fingers to reach satisfaction.
“When we give you pleasure in her service, you receive from us the gifts she gives us. This is one. This is holy, but it is only enough power to cut a hair or two.” She released Supergirl’s hair and stepped back, pushing her face into Rue’s equally blonde but untrimmed bush.
Rue laughed throatily. “When you who beg to serve make an offering of your service to us, the goddess will repay you three, and with that power we can cut your hair, we can break the unnatural forces that drive you out of control, with that we can bind you safely again, back in control.” Rue rasped, her voice husky as she humped herself on the captive superheroine’s face, getting her scent in her nose and lips.
“If you would be free of this curse, then please me. Please us all. IN DIANA”A NAME!” Rue cried, pulling forward on the bow painfully to cause Kara’s mouth to open in shock. Open, and fill with the taste and feel of a mature woman’s pussy.
Need and instinct took over, and Supergirl found herself remembering all those dirty things she heard Alex tell her lovers to do. Those long lonely nights she cursed her super hearing as she used all her willpower to do no more than hump her pillow while listening to her lesbian sister on the other side of the house telling her girl of the night how to please Alex with her mouth.
Supergirl dove into her pussy like a starving woman. She lapped at her labia, tracing each fold with her tongue as she explored with a sense of wonder and awe, truly worshipping at the altar of a mature woman. She was the aspirant, the girl who knelt before the woman, and she felt the urge to be worthy, to please, to serve rise in her. She sucked gently, lapped, as the taste began to fill her senses. There was wild magic in the circle and power roared through the Kryptionian’s veins, power that was rooted in the flesh and desire of women and she gave herself to it. Her tongue now darted into the depths of Rue’s blonde furred pussy like a striking serpent. A tongue stronger than any on earth ravaged Rue lovingly and endlessly, for unlike human women, Supergirl did not have to breathe for hours at a time if she chose.
“Oh goddess, oh goddess. She is a born slave. Oh my goddess, you have not been eaten until you have been eaten by a superheroine who does NOT HAVE TO COME UP FOR AIR!” Rue cried, then screamed and came so hard she bent in half and almost fell from the stool. Only hands gripping Supergirl’s hair like safety bars kept her upright. Kara was lost in her lust and did not stop, she lapped and lapped, sucked and devoured like a starving woman as Rue went into a second orgasm more shattering than the first.
Then it happened. Rue screamed again and the pleasure given to her shot back into Supergirl three for one.
Kara screamed, and bucked. Had she been human, the force she spasmed with would have torn muscles, tendons and ligament. Had she been bound by steel or the most advanced carbon fiber nanotubes she would have torn free, but she was neither human, nor bound by the chains of science. Her flesh shattered in orgasmic bliss but she took no harm. Only her Hair flashed pale silver of moonlight as Rue rose, unstrung the bow from Kara’s abused nipples and restrung it with a swift natural motion. Taking the bowstring of golden hair, she reached down to where the hair ran another ten feet past her bindings and cut it free as if it was so much cotton candy.
Vervain laughed, and grabbed Kara by the nipples. The returning blood caused the pain to shock her from her orgasmic state, and she whimpered like a dog as Vervain dragged her to the bench of the spinning wheel. It was not a normal chair, it was a Queening chair. Kara was forced on her back, face up, legs bent painfully under her.
Vervain sat on her chair and began to spin the fine hair just cut by Rue, spinning them into a whip knotted with the goddesses beloved jade, amethyst and moonstone.
Kara found herself not faced with Vervain’s pussy, but her puckered rosebud. She cried out in defiance.
“No, not that. Not that. I am not a whore!” Kara cried out, shutting her eyes to block out the sight of the olive skinned woman’s asshole and the rising need she felt to kiss it.
Vervain laughed again, feet pumping and hands flying on her spinning wheel as she crafted the lash of the Goddess from Supergirl’s own hair.
“Of course you are not a whore. Diana does not tolerate such. You are a slave. Her slave. You will show your devotion by kissing my ass. You will show you understand your place by making me cum without touching the pussy you have not earned the right to touch.” Vervain wiggled and pressed her ass to the Kyrptonians moaning mouth, but leaned over and asked Aconite, “Could you instruct the slave, My Lady?”
Taking spindle in hand, Aconite used her hand to begin to finger Supergirl’s pussy, getting them nice and wet before running her fingers along the girl’s virgin bum hole. Supergirl tensed her ass cheeks, denying the black woman entry to that most vulnerable spot, but Aconite was waiting for that and slid the spindle that she had been caressing Kara’s sex with deep into the girls pussy. As she relaxed in shock, Aconite worked her first finger into the aroused Supergirl’s asshole.
Kara opened her mouth to scream, and her nose brushed Vervain’s asshole. Aroused beyond reason, she began to kiss it. To suck it. As fingers worked into her own asshole, she began to probe Vervain’s with her tongue. As fingers were replaced with a spindle, Supergirl drove her own tongue into Vervain’s asshole with unconscious echo of the spindle now being worked into her virgin asshole.
Soon she was lost in the worship of the other woman’s ass, a fever of need taking over her. A need to serve, a need to please. A girl among women, she needed to earn her place, to prove her devotion. She would die before speaking the words aloud, but she felt in the darkness of the Queening chair that she had found her place beneath these women.
Vervain struggled to tie off the last of the whip and thrust it into the waiting hands of Myrrh before she had to grab the arms of her chair and let her own breathing stop as she hung in endless resistance against the orgasm to come. The longer she held it, the more powerful it would be, but the tongue of the Maid of Might was working magic in her darkest depths that no human with a need to breathe could equal. At last, she screamed like a Maenad and came.
Aconite grabbed the Supergirl by the hair ropes and dragged her out before the shattering orgasm of the threefold law forced her into convulsions that might well have shattered the chair and injured Vervain. Watching in awe as Supergirl was bathed in moonlight, she pulled the spindle handle from her tight pink little rump, and offered it to the whimpering Supergirl.
“Clean your nasty ass off my tool, slave.” Aconite cooed to Supergirl, stroking her face.
Supergirl opened her mouth to the tool just removed from her ass and looking deep into the dark eyes of Aconite with her shining blue ones, she worshipped the spindle with her mouth like the finest of Aphrodite’s own prostitutes.
Taking the spindle from her, she wound it in the hair that was already growing a foot since the start of the ceremony, and wound it tight. Gesturing for Myrrh to step forward with the knife, she cut the hair at the first bind of the braid, freeing Supergirl from the long and binding hair.
Aconite embraced the trembling Supergirl for the first time. She stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. A small fat black woman cupped the athletic white girl as she shuddered in uncontrollable spasms post orgasm. She pulled her to her heavy black breasts and chanted the goddess chant softly and slowly, rocking her as she would a child. Soon Supergirl stopped whimpering, stopped weeping.
Kara was lost. So lost. Her body was shattered, her mind, her pride. All she had was sensation. She heard the heartbeat of the black woman and slowed her own to match it. She heard the motherly crooning and felt safe, felt protected. She felt loved. She turned and took one of the heavy black breasts into her hand, and let her mouth suckle upon the dark plum like nipple with reverence and awe.
Aconite caressed the blonde as she nursed at her heavy black breast. Soon she felt the girls hands begin to caress her body. So different from her own. Old not young, black not white, soft and plump not hard and unyielding. A woman, not a girl. Soon, cautiously, as if afraid of being denied, she let her fingers trace down to the other woman’s pussy. Slowly she stroked, feeling the other woman arch into her touch and sigh. She stroked, caressed, then at last, slid a finger in.
Daring to look up now, she sucked and nursed at the heavy black breast while looking upward for approval as she began to finger her, first slowly then faster.
Feeling power of a sort strange to her, she brought Aconite to the edge first once, then twice, then a third time with her fingers, before Aconite took her hair in her hands and pulled her up for a fierce kiss.
Their tongues dueled as Kara stroked her fingers into the black woman, then she felt Aconite pull Kara’s head back, and push it down to her purple edged flower of perfection.
Kara whimpered in her own need as she knelt before Aconite and worshipped her pussy with all the love and reverence she could muster. It wasn’t long until Aconite came, and Kara found herself drowning in her womanly essence. This time the shattering was not as terrible, as Aconite held her, staring into her eyes and staying with her through the three fold orgasm.
There was the crack of a whip on her back, and Kara felt the welt raised in her skin, a mark in her flesh no bullet could produce. A whip made of her own hair, powered by the sacred magic of Diana, it cut her flesh as it would that of the softest fruit.
Whimpering, Kara turned to see Myrrh, the black haired butch lesbian had breasts smaller than hers, but muscles and frame far larger. In any rational respect, Supergirl was ten thousand times stronger, but Myrrh was every kind of womanly power, while Supergirl was just that, a girl before her.
Myrrh wrapped the whip around Supergirl’s neck and walked her around the pentagram like a dog before settling her on all fours facing the altar.
“You aren’t going to be as lucky with me. I don’t get my kicks from little girls like you serving me, I get them by making them whimper and cry. I am going to make you love this whip, and then I am going to give you to it.” Myrrh rasped in her ear, voice harsh and throbbing with lusts too dark to examine closely.
Kissing Supergirl fiercely, she worked the blonde while caressing her body with the whip. Finally, she began to rub the end of the whip shaft against the girl’s overstimulated sex.
“NO!” Said Kara, eyes pleasing, voice shaking.
“A woman says no once and means it. A girl like you says no while pushing her twat against me begging for it.” Myrrh said pulling Kara’s head down to see where her hips were indeed seeking to deepen the contact where the whip touched her pussy.
“Beg for it.” Myrrh growled as she began to chew upon the ravaged girl’s breasts.
“Please” Supergirl begged, probably meaning stop.
“Please” Supergirl begged, arching into the masterful tit sucking she was receiving and the raw dominance of the experienced butch.
“Please” Supergirl begged, thrusting against the shaft pushing just into her sacred self, but always retreating short of going deeper.
“Please what, slave?” Myrrh asked, face suddenly pressing into Supergirl’s, eyes blazing with hunger.
“Please fuck me, Mistress.” The Maid of Might begged to be fucked with the whip that would be used on her.
Looking her right in the eyes, Myrrh worked the shaft into Supergirl’s ravaged pussy. She was surprisingly gentle, waiting for the girl to push for more before beginning to thrust it into her.
This should have been impersonal, should have been brutal, but Myrrh was looking at her so fiercely, so deeply, so hungrily that Kara knew that Myrrh needed her and what she was giving as much as Kara did. She let her face show the pleasure of every thrust, she chose to be helpless before it. To be nothing but a fuck toy for Myrrh. Rolling her eyes back, she cried out in ecstasy, then reached out and twined her own hands around Myrrh’s neck and kissed her softly, lovingly, as the butch whip fucked her through an orgasm that was as much a willful offering of submission as it was a conquest. Tears in her eyes, she whispered “Thank you” to the priestess whose eyes were still full of hunger, but no longer of contempt.
At last she was led to the altar. Belladonna and woven ropes of golden hair to link to the heavy iron ring that hung from the roof.
Belladonna stood tall and proud, heavy in body and years, silver and black in the hair on her head, and on her pussy. Her skin shone in a pale moonlight that should not be possible in this underground chamber, but Kara no longer questioned the ways of the Goddess.
“In ancient Sparta, the Spartan warriors were only men, and all they could offer the goddess was their devotion of suffering. They would show their devotion by standing and receiving the whip in joy and not suffering, crying out never in pain, never for it to stop, but only to glorify the goddess. It wa all a warrior could offer, but the Lady loved them for it. She would grant them miracles. All you are is a warrior, so this is the only path to her favour that is open. The goddess can empower us to cut your hair, but even now it grows back. Only she can stop it, and only if you earn it. Will you ask to be tested child?”
Kara felt the welt at her back and knew the potential cost to be like no suffering she had ever felt. Yet too she had felt the power of these woman and their goddess. For all their cruelty, there was love too, and the promise of protection for those who submitted. Kara could not put it into words, but she needed this.
“Please High Priestess, let me be tested.” Supergirl asked.
Myrrh took her place behind the hanging Supergirl with the whip, the other priestesses began a song/chant that seemed to fill the room with power until all she could see before her was the shining body of Belladonna.
The whip cracked and a line of fire cut her flesh. She felt blood, a thing unheard of save for the most dire battles, to flow down her back.
Again it cracked, and Kara cried out in pain.
Belladonna asked, “Will you stop?”
Supergirl shouted back “NO!”
Again the whip cracked,
Again
Again
Weeping uncontrollably, using the hair ropes to support her weight, her chest rising and falling uncontrollably, she was barely conscious. Her body strove to push away from each new stroke like an animal in a trap.
Belladonna asked, “Will you stop child. One word, and it ends.”
Supergirl looked at her in desperation. “Please, no. Don’t stop.”
Belladonna kissed her, hard. Supergirl pushed into her body as the next three strokes hit. She screamed into Belladonna’s kissing mouth, then sucked her tongue in frantic submissive need as her hands sought, not to be free, but to reach down and hold the Priestess.
Myrrh had watched the girl as her strength was torn from her, as her pride was torn from her, until she was nothing more than a wounded animal begging for release and yet she still refused to stop. At the end, she rode the stroke of the whip by pressing her naked perfection into the high priestess in mindless slave need. It was more than she could take.
Throwing the whip down, she pressed her naked body into the bloody and visibly healing back of Supergirl and ground herself against her blood covered young ass. Reaching down, she fingered the little Super-slave’s pussy until the tormented girl reached her own orgasm. Myrrh humping the whipped girls blood covered ass like a mating Hyena matriarch, she lost herself in her own shattering climax.
As the three fold law hammered the orgasm of a lifetime into the broken Supergirl, the chains of her hair binding her to the iron ring of the altar broke and the two fell into a hugging heap, the butch clasping the bloodied and broken girl to her in strong protective arms until her mind recovered from the last shattering.
Belladonna sat at her chair before the altar and smiled down at Supergirl.
“You have offered enough. Your curse is broken. The goddess has blessed you. You are free.” She said smiling down at the abused superheroine.
Kara rolled to all fours, and looked up at Belladonna and shook her head.
“No Mistress, I am not free.” Kara said as she crawled of her own free will to kiss the feet of the Arch priestess. Kissed her feet lovingly, caringly, worshipfully. Kiss by kiss she traced up her unshaven legs to her thighs. Kissed and stroked along the length of those smooth thighs until she reached the altar of the goddess. Kneeling before her Mistress, she looked up.
“Please Domina, let me serve.” Supergirl asked.
With a regal nod, she parted her legs, and Supergirl began to worship the pussy of the High Priestess with every art this long night had taught her. There was no temptation for her hands to stray from the body of the priestess to play with herself, because bound by the three fold law, there was no pleasure she, or anyone else could give her that would ever be a third as powerful as the pleasure she got from pleasing these women. Rao help her, she would rather die than be free.
In the morning, a short haired Supergirl floated in her own window to the shocked gaze of her sister Alex. They hugged, and Alex was shocked at how her sister’s body reacted with instantly hardening nipples and the flush to her face that argued a total body response to the touch of a woman.
“Rough night?” Alex asked, pulling back to a more comfortable distance.
“Life changing.” Supergirl said with a haunted smile.
The End
She came here because Red Kryptonite had made her hair grow uncontrollably, it now ran behind her like a Princess wedding train in a Disney wedding, and worse, the hair was uncuttable. Green Kryptonite would kill her before it would weaken the hair enough to cut and it just kept growing. When Director Henshaw told her there was a magic solution, she expected something flashy like Gandalf or Zatanna, but what she got were four overweight middle aged soccer mom’s and a butch lesbian that looked like she lifted trucks when she wasn’t fixing them. She didn’t take it seriously. Their so called magic was nothing more than an excuse to get young girls who didn’t know any better naked for their perverse games!
But orders made her go along, humour them, just for the chance it would work. I mean, magic was just science we didn’t understand yet right? There was no goddess given sex magic, they just didn’t understand what they were doing. She would go along with the charade long enough to get her hair fixed and fly out before the perverts could lay a finger on her!
Lay a finger on her?
Fingers in her! Worse. The magic worked. The priestess had aroused her so her mind, already fighting the Red Kryptonite hormone surges, was too confused to flee. Worse, her tongue had brought Supergirl to a soul shattering climax. Just as she was about to flee a situation running out of control, the priestess had CUT HER HAIR with teeth still shining with Kara’s own juices. Covered with Supergirl’s cum, she had bit off strand after strand that were used to bind her painfully erect nipples and then strung to the bow of Diana the Huntress.
Sweet Rao the pain! Her hair was stronger than her skin since the Kryptonite exposure, and the painfully erect nipples were clamped by the twined bowstring crueler than any nipple clamps science could construct. Worse, the bow kept flooding her entire body with desires of submission and service, images of countless women broken before the goddess for daring to carry the faith of a man god into her bower. Sweet Rao, her Kyrptonian body was immune to most damage and healed at an inhuman rate, so her experience with pain was limited to battle or the minutes after. She had no ability to handle the pain as she was lead by her nipples like an ox from its nose ring, an animal lead to sacrifice.
Worst of all, her body, her trained Kryptonian weapon of a body made her feel so much less a woman than her tormentors. She had barely even dared to masturbate, even then only with shattering guilt. She feared to give in to any of her base desires as her power made her too dangerous to ever lose control. That path lead to villainy too easily. The pleasure these middle aged women ripped from her was worse than the pain. Only the pain allowed her to hold onto any sanity at all as the pleasure threatened to break her pride in a way no beating or even near death had ever done. She was Supergirl, but these were women, and commanded her body in ways she never dreamed.
Lead by the bowstring on her nipples, she was forced to kneel and beg. Beg to be bound, beg to be tested, beg to serve.
The shame of it burned her cheeks like the pleasure of it burned her loins. Only the matching burning in her painful nipples allowed her to draw upon the teachings of Rao and call upon her battle spirit to resist. She was Supergirl, she would not be broken!
The women laughed, the archer Rue held Supergirl face down to the ground kneeling as she pressed the bow into the ground with her foot. Her other foot she raised to Supergirl’s lips.
“Kiss my feet, Supergirl. Show the goddess your devotion by sucking and licking my toes in repentance for your arrogance.” Rue demanded. Behind her the short haired muscular butch Myrrh tried to force her fingers into Supergirl’s pussy, but the Maid of Might clamped down so hard a pile driver couldn’t force her. Supergirl glared up at her saviour/captors and shouted back.
“NEVER!”
Then Rue rolled the bow along the ground with her foot causing Supergirl’s vulnerable and inexperienced nipples to be nearly garrotted by the bowstring. Her body curled to the ground to avoid pain, all other thought shattered. Myrrh laughed as she forced first one then two fingers into the vulnerable Kryptonian and she began to finger the young girl’s clit in time with the savage fingering. Rue laughed as Supergirl lapped and sucked on her feet obediently.
As she lapped and sucked at her captor’s toes, her long hair was braided into ropes to bind Supergirl’s hands behind her head, then around her ankles and finally back around her throat. Now she was bound kneeling, and any attempt to rise would strangle her with her own hair. Limited to shuffling on her hands and knees she was led around by the bowstring like a puppet on the strings as each Priestess sat upon a stool at her point of the pentacle.
Rue lead her to her own seat, bringing her nose to mons with her captors womanhood as Supergirl shuffled in a fog of sensation she used all of her warrior training to hold even a shred of control through.
Rue spoke, her voice that of the school teacher she was. “Do you know what the rule of three is?”
Supergirl shook her head.
Vervain tugged on the hair rope around Supergirl’s throat, forcing her gasping to lean backwards in a painful arch. Vervain let an olive skinned hand trail down the hard ridges of the Kyrptonian’s sculpted abs to her aroused and open sex. She traced a finger lightly around her labia, teasing, arousing, but not allowing the tortured girl desperately raising her hips to those fingers to reach satisfaction.
“When we give you pleasure in her service, you receive from us the gifts she gives us. This is one. This is holy, but it is only enough power to cut a hair or two.” She released Supergirl’s hair and stepped back, pushing her face into Rue’s equally blonde but untrimmed bush.
Rue laughed throatily. “When you who beg to serve make an offering of your service to us, the goddess will repay you three, and with that power we can cut your hair, we can break the unnatural forces that drive you out of control, with that we can bind you safely again, back in control.” Rue rasped, her voice husky as she humped herself on the captive superheroine’s face, getting her scent in her nose and lips.
“If you would be free of this curse, then please me. Please us all. IN DIANA”A NAME!” Rue cried, pulling forward on the bow painfully to cause Kara’s mouth to open in shock. Open, and fill with the taste and feel of a mature woman’s pussy.
Need and instinct took over, and Supergirl found herself remembering all those dirty things she heard Alex tell her lovers to do. Those long lonely nights she cursed her super hearing as she used all her willpower to do no more than hump her pillow while listening to her lesbian sister on the other side of the house telling her girl of the night how to please Alex with her mouth.
Supergirl dove into her pussy like a starving woman. She lapped at her labia, tracing each fold with her tongue as she explored with a sense of wonder and awe, truly worshipping at the altar of a mature woman. She was the aspirant, the girl who knelt before the woman, and she felt the urge to be worthy, to please, to serve rise in her. She sucked gently, lapped, as the taste began to fill her senses. There was wild magic in the circle and power roared through the Kryptionian’s veins, power that was rooted in the flesh and desire of women and she gave herself to it. Her tongue now darted into the depths of Rue’s blonde furred pussy like a striking serpent. A tongue stronger than any on earth ravaged Rue lovingly and endlessly, for unlike human women, Supergirl did not have to breathe for hours at a time if she chose.
“Oh goddess, oh goddess. She is a born slave. Oh my goddess, you have not been eaten until you have been eaten by a superheroine who does NOT HAVE TO COME UP FOR AIR!” Rue cried, then screamed and came so hard she bent in half and almost fell from the stool. Only hands gripping Supergirl’s hair like safety bars kept her upright. Kara was lost in her lust and did not stop, she lapped and lapped, sucked and devoured like a starving woman as Rue went into a second orgasm more shattering than the first.
Then it happened. Rue screamed again and the pleasure given to her shot back into Supergirl three for one.
Kara screamed, and bucked. Had she been human, the force she spasmed with would have torn muscles, tendons and ligament. Had she been bound by steel or the most advanced carbon fiber nanotubes she would have torn free, but she was neither human, nor bound by the chains of science. Her flesh shattered in orgasmic bliss but she took no harm. Only her Hair flashed pale silver of moonlight as Rue rose, unstrung the bow from Kara’s abused nipples and restrung it with a swift natural motion. Taking the bowstring of golden hair, she reached down to where the hair ran another ten feet past her bindings and cut it free as if it was so much cotton candy.
Vervain laughed, and grabbed Kara by the nipples. The returning blood caused the pain to shock her from her orgasmic state, and she whimpered like a dog as Vervain dragged her to the bench of the spinning wheel. It was not a normal chair, it was a Queening chair. Kara was forced on her back, face up, legs bent painfully under her.
Vervain sat on her chair and began to spin the fine hair just cut by Rue, spinning them into a whip knotted with the goddesses beloved jade, amethyst and moonstone.
Kara found herself not faced with Vervain’s pussy, but her puckered rosebud. She cried out in defiance.
“No, not that. Not that. I am not a whore!” Kara cried out, shutting her eyes to block out the sight of the olive skinned woman’s asshole and the rising need she felt to kiss it.
Vervain laughed again, feet pumping and hands flying on her spinning wheel as she crafted the lash of the Goddess from Supergirl’s own hair.
“Of course you are not a whore. Diana does not tolerate such. You are a slave. Her slave. You will show your devotion by kissing my ass. You will show you understand your place by making me cum without touching the pussy you have not earned the right to touch.” Vervain wiggled and pressed her ass to the Kyrptonians moaning mouth, but leaned over and asked Aconite, “Could you instruct the slave, My Lady?”
Taking spindle in hand, Aconite used her hand to begin to finger Supergirl’s pussy, getting them nice and wet before running her fingers along the girl’s virgin bum hole. Supergirl tensed her ass cheeks, denying the black woman entry to that most vulnerable spot, but Aconite was waiting for that and slid the spindle that she had been caressing Kara’s sex with deep into the girls pussy. As she relaxed in shock, Aconite worked her first finger into the aroused Supergirl’s asshole.
Kara opened her mouth to scream, and her nose brushed Vervain’s asshole. Aroused beyond reason, she began to kiss it. To suck it. As fingers worked into her own asshole, she began to probe Vervain’s with her tongue. As fingers were replaced with a spindle, Supergirl drove her own tongue into Vervain’s asshole with unconscious echo of the spindle now being worked into her virgin asshole.
Soon she was lost in the worship of the other woman’s ass, a fever of need taking over her. A need to serve, a need to please. A girl among women, she needed to earn her place, to prove her devotion. She would die before speaking the words aloud, but she felt in the darkness of the Queening chair that she had found her place beneath these women.
Vervain struggled to tie off the last of the whip and thrust it into the waiting hands of Myrrh before she had to grab the arms of her chair and let her own breathing stop as she hung in endless resistance against the orgasm to come. The longer she held it, the more powerful it would be, but the tongue of the Maid of Might was working magic in her darkest depths that no human with a need to breathe could equal. At last, she screamed like a Maenad and came.
Aconite grabbed the Supergirl by the hair ropes and dragged her out before the shattering orgasm of the threefold law forced her into convulsions that might well have shattered the chair and injured Vervain. Watching in awe as Supergirl was bathed in moonlight, she pulled the spindle handle from her tight pink little rump, and offered it to the whimpering Supergirl.
“Clean your nasty ass off my tool, slave.” Aconite cooed to Supergirl, stroking her face.
Supergirl opened her mouth to the tool just removed from her ass and looking deep into the dark eyes of Aconite with her shining blue ones, she worshipped the spindle with her mouth like the finest of Aphrodite’s own prostitutes.
Taking the spindle from her, she wound it in the hair that was already growing a foot since the start of the ceremony, and wound it tight. Gesturing for Myrrh to step forward with the knife, she cut the hair at the first bind of the braid, freeing Supergirl from the long and binding hair.
Aconite embraced the trembling Supergirl for the first time. She stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. A small fat black woman cupped the athletic white girl as she shuddered in uncontrollable spasms post orgasm. She pulled her to her heavy black breasts and chanted the goddess chant softly and slowly, rocking her as she would a child. Soon Supergirl stopped whimpering, stopped weeping.
Kara was lost. So lost. Her body was shattered, her mind, her pride. All she had was sensation. She heard the heartbeat of the black woman and slowed her own to match it. She heard the motherly crooning and felt safe, felt protected. She felt loved. She turned and took one of the heavy black breasts into her hand, and let her mouth suckle upon the dark plum like nipple with reverence and awe.
Aconite caressed the blonde as she nursed at her heavy black breast. Soon she felt the girls hands begin to caress her body. So different from her own. Old not young, black not white, soft and plump not hard and unyielding. A woman, not a girl. Soon, cautiously, as if afraid of being denied, she let her fingers trace down to the other woman’s pussy. Slowly she stroked, feeling the other woman arch into her touch and sigh. She stroked, caressed, then at last, slid a finger in.
Daring to look up now, she sucked and nursed at the heavy black breast while looking upward for approval as she began to finger her, first slowly then faster.
Feeling power of a sort strange to her, she brought Aconite to the edge first once, then twice, then a third time with her fingers, before Aconite took her hair in her hands and pulled her up for a fierce kiss.
Their tongues dueled as Kara stroked her fingers into the black woman, then she felt Aconite pull Kara’s head back, and push it down to her purple edged flower of perfection.
Kara whimpered in her own need as she knelt before Aconite and worshipped her pussy with all the love and reverence she could muster. It wasn’t long until Aconite came, and Kara found herself drowning in her womanly essence. This time the shattering was not as terrible, as Aconite held her, staring into her eyes and staying with her through the three fold orgasm.
There was the crack of a whip on her back, and Kara felt the welt raised in her skin, a mark in her flesh no bullet could produce. A whip made of her own hair, powered by the sacred magic of Diana, it cut her flesh as it would that of the softest fruit.
Whimpering, Kara turned to see Myrrh, the black haired butch lesbian had breasts smaller than hers, but muscles and frame far larger. In any rational respect, Supergirl was ten thousand times stronger, but Myrrh was every kind of womanly power, while Supergirl was just that, a girl before her.
Myrrh wrapped the whip around Supergirl’s neck and walked her around the pentagram like a dog before settling her on all fours facing the altar.
“You aren’t going to be as lucky with me. I don’t get my kicks from little girls like you serving me, I get them by making them whimper and cry. I am going to make you love this whip, and then I am going to give you to it.” Myrrh rasped in her ear, voice harsh and throbbing with lusts too dark to examine closely.
Kissing Supergirl fiercely, she worked the blonde while caressing her body with the whip. Finally, she began to rub the end of the whip shaft against the girl’s overstimulated sex.
“NO!” Said Kara, eyes pleasing, voice shaking.
“A woman says no once and means it. A girl like you says no while pushing her twat against me begging for it.” Myrrh said pulling Kara’s head down to see where her hips were indeed seeking to deepen the contact where the whip touched her pussy.
“Beg for it.” Myrrh growled as she began to chew upon the ravaged girl’s breasts.
“Please” Supergirl begged, probably meaning stop.
“Please” Supergirl begged, arching into the masterful tit sucking she was receiving and the raw dominance of the experienced butch.
“Please” Supergirl begged, thrusting against the shaft pushing just into her sacred self, but always retreating short of going deeper.
“Please what, slave?” Myrrh asked, face suddenly pressing into Supergirl’s, eyes blazing with hunger.
“Please fuck me, Mistress.” The Maid of Might begged to be fucked with the whip that would be used on her.
Looking her right in the eyes, Myrrh worked the shaft into Supergirl’s ravaged pussy. She was surprisingly gentle, waiting for the girl to push for more before beginning to thrust it into her.
This should have been impersonal, should have been brutal, but Myrrh was looking at her so fiercely, so deeply, so hungrily that Kara knew that Myrrh needed her and what she was giving as much as Kara did. She let her face show the pleasure of every thrust, she chose to be helpless before it. To be nothing but a fuck toy for Myrrh. Rolling her eyes back, she cried out in ecstasy, then reached out and twined her own hands around Myrrh’s neck and kissed her softly, lovingly, as the butch whip fucked her through an orgasm that was as much a willful offering of submission as it was a conquest. Tears in her eyes, she whispered “Thank you” to the priestess whose eyes were still full of hunger, but no longer of contempt.
At last she was led to the altar. Belladonna and woven ropes of golden hair to link to the heavy iron ring that hung from the roof.
Belladonna stood tall and proud, heavy in body and years, silver and black in the hair on her head, and on her pussy. Her skin shone in a pale moonlight that should not be possible in this underground chamber, but Kara no longer questioned the ways of the Goddess.
“In ancient Sparta, the Spartan warriors were only men, and all they could offer the goddess was their devotion of suffering. They would show their devotion by standing and receiving the whip in joy and not suffering, crying out never in pain, never for it to stop, but only to glorify the goddess. It wa all a warrior could offer, but the Lady loved them for it. She would grant them miracles. All you are is a warrior, so this is the only path to her favour that is open. The goddess can empower us to cut your hair, but even now it grows back. Only she can stop it, and only if you earn it. Will you ask to be tested child?”
Kara felt the welt at her back and knew the potential cost to be like no suffering she had ever felt. Yet too she had felt the power of these woman and their goddess. For all their cruelty, there was love too, and the promise of protection for those who submitted. Kara could not put it into words, but she needed this.
“Please High Priestess, let me be tested.” Supergirl asked.
Myrrh took her place behind the hanging Supergirl with the whip, the other priestesses began a song/chant that seemed to fill the room with power until all she could see before her was the shining body of Belladonna.
The whip cracked and a line of fire cut her flesh. She felt blood, a thing unheard of save for the most dire battles, to flow down her back.
Again it cracked, and Kara cried out in pain.
Belladonna asked, “Will you stop?”
Supergirl shouted back “NO!”
Again the whip cracked,
Again
Again
Weeping uncontrollably, using the hair ropes to support her weight, her chest rising and falling uncontrollably, she was barely conscious. Her body strove to push away from each new stroke like an animal in a trap.
Belladonna asked, “Will you stop child. One word, and it ends.”
Supergirl looked at her in desperation. “Please, no. Don’t stop.”
Belladonna kissed her, hard. Supergirl pushed into her body as the next three strokes hit. She screamed into Belladonna’s kissing mouth, then sucked her tongue in frantic submissive need as her hands sought, not to be free, but to reach down and hold the Priestess.
Myrrh had watched the girl as her strength was torn from her, as her pride was torn from her, until she was nothing more than a wounded animal begging for release and yet she still refused to stop. At the end, she rode the stroke of the whip by pressing her naked perfection into the high priestess in mindless slave need. It was more than she could take.
Throwing the whip down, she pressed her naked body into the bloody and visibly healing back of Supergirl and ground herself against her blood covered young ass. Reaching down, she fingered the little Super-slave’s pussy until the tormented girl reached her own orgasm. Myrrh humping the whipped girls blood covered ass like a mating Hyena matriarch, she lost herself in her own shattering climax.
As the three fold law hammered the orgasm of a lifetime into the broken Supergirl, the chains of her hair binding her to the iron ring of the altar broke and the two fell into a hugging heap, the butch clasping the bloodied and broken girl to her in strong protective arms until her mind recovered from the last shattering.
Belladonna sat at her chair before the altar and smiled down at Supergirl.
“You have offered enough. Your curse is broken. The goddess has blessed you. You are free.” She said smiling down at the abused superheroine.
Kara rolled to all fours, and looked up at Belladonna and shook her head.
“No Mistress, I am not free.” Kara said as she crawled of her own free will to kiss the feet of the Arch priestess. Kissed her feet lovingly, caringly, worshipfully. Kiss by kiss she traced up her unshaven legs to her thighs. Kissed and stroked along the length of those smooth thighs until she reached the altar of the goddess. Kneeling before her Mistress, she looked up.
“Please Domina, let me serve.” Supergirl asked.
With a regal nod, she parted her legs, and Supergirl began to worship the pussy of the High Priestess with every art this long night had taught her. There was no temptation for her hands to stray from the body of the priestess to play with herself, because bound by the three fold law, there was no pleasure she, or anyone else could give her that would ever be a third as powerful as the pleasure she got from pleasing these women. Rao help her, she would rather die than be free.
In the morning, a short haired Supergirl floated in her own window to the shocked gaze of her sister Alex. They hugged, and Alex was shocked at how her sister’s body reacted with instantly hardening nipples and the flush to her face that argued a total body response to the touch of a woman.
“Rough night?” Alex asked, pulling back to a more comfortable distance.
“Life changing.” Supergirl said with a haunted smile.
The End
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VegaTaxeca
- Sargeant 1st Class
- Posts: 212
- Joined: 1 year ago
What a beautiful story, full of intense and interesting images.