Supergirl Captured by the Mob
Part 37 - No Day In The Country!
By Dr. Dominator
Note: The Supergirl character and name as well as Superman, Lex Luthor, Wonder Woman and Diana Prince are the property of DC Comics. Tony Bonano and his crew as well as Sergei Zhukovia and Don Lupenzo are properties of Dr. Dominator and cannot be used without permission. This story is simply meant as entertainment and should be read only by consenting adults of 18 years or older. Violence and rape are never an answer to any situation.
All Saturday afternoon an angry and demanding Tony Bonano watches the television news for updates on the 'shocking' story of Supergirl's bank robbery and loudly barks orders at Carmine and Sergei. He tells them to have men search the area with a fine-tooth fucking comb. He suggests through clenched teeth that they send one of their brightest young men over to the bank so he can saunter up to the witnesses and try to find out what the fuck happened. Tony growls that he'll stay at crisis central and monitor the news reports and keep tabs on everyone's progress.
A nervous and distraught Carmine Vega and a sullen and simmering Sergei pass down the stress of Tony's vehemence to their own lieutenants. Carmine has never seen Tony this upset and he gets his men fired up and sends them out to beat the bushes for every snitch and drug-hungry addict who might have seen Supergirl. They have about 24 hours before Don Lupenzo wants confirmation of Supergirl's release and that possibility seems to be in serious doubt.
Tony does not want to go to the mattresses on this and he doesn't want to give up Wonder Woman, if even that would appease Don Lupenzo. Having gone back on his word to deliver Superman first and then, possibly Supergirl, Tony doubts whether even releasing Wonder Woman would quell the old man's fury. There could be a war among the families and Tony's name would go down in the history of the New York Mob as the one who caused all of it.
"I try to do a little something different to help build the general fund and look what troubles you get for it," Tony says disingenuously to the momentarily empty room. Well, he was riding high for a while. It had to end sometime. Then again, if they find this blonde bimbo then things would cool down and he wouldn't have to go to war.
Throughout the afternoon, Tony's suite in the Pleasure Dome building is a beehive of activity with Mafia soldiers coming and going, giving reports of their efforts in searching the area. Nobody has seen her. Nobody knows where she is. Everyone will keep looking.
By 3:00 p.m. Tony is morosely watching the television now, sunk on the leather couch with a straight scotch in the tumbler in his hand, taking in the bad news before him.
"Thank you, Jim," the red-headed reporter who had broken the story on Channel Four says with a smile, this being the biggest story he's ever covered. "I've been talking to the people inside the bank at the time of Supergirl's attempted robbery. After she had broken into the bank's three-foot thick vault, punching through it like it was nothing more than a wet paper bag, and stolen hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of cash and bearer bonds, I'm told she began to rant and rave about how the Mafia had abducted her over a month ago. According to the witnesses, Jim, they all tell me that she was waving her arms, yelling in frustration and, at one point, even crying that an unnamed Mob Don..."
"Thank the Lord for small favors," Tony snaps.
"...and his henchmen had tortured her, sexually abused her, forced her to use crack and made her commit this robbery, all under the constant application of kryptonite so that she was utterly defenseless. There was speculation at the time about the possibility of Mafia involvement some of you may recall, but with no substantial proof forthcoming, that supposition was dropped. The famous young caped wonder's comments bring that supposition back into the limelight."
"You shit-eating son of a bitch," Tony is screaming at the television. "are you trying to get me whacked?"
The reporter gives a small smile and continues, "By now, many of our audience has probably seen the famous DVD collection of Supergirl's capture and imprisonment. It is, after all, the best-selling series in the short history of DVD entertainment. However, while there does exist that still shocking scene where Supergirl smokes a crack pipe, to many observers, she did not appear to be coerced to do so at that time. And certainly the sexual activities following that scene could be said to be entirely voluntary on the Supergirl's part. With that being said, her emotionally-charged statements today would seem to indicate that the possibility of her being coerced through long-term torture may well explain some of the radical behavior we've seen from the once-beloved super heroine. For Channel Four News, I'm Dean Powers."
"You can suck my cock, Dean Powers," yells Tony. "Just the way Supergirl did. Long and slow and...oh, fuck it!" Tony hoists his glass to his mouth swallows a large portion of scotch, grimacing from the heat of the liquor in his gut and the grinding sensation within that same gut that he was definitely screwed big time here. When Channel Four starts pointing fingers at the Mob, Gino Lupenzo would be coming after him now, no matter what. No grandkid's birthday party, no quiet weekend, no force on earth would stop Gino from coming after him now, once he heard the news reports. Tony decides he's got to get ready for war now. He didn't think there would be any chance to stop it. Even giving up Wonder Woman wouldn't satisfy Don Lupenzo at this point. He flips open his phone to call Carmine. He needed to get organized and to get more protection in here for him. Lots of it.
For his part, Stevie had left Wonder Woman watching the same television news in her suite and gone back to Tony's headquarters in Brooklyn to his editing booth. There he resumed working on the material for the DVD collection of Wonder Woman's conditioning sessions. He hadn't even gotten to the raw footage of the Lex Luthor sessions yet.
God help me if Tony decides to try to capture another heroine. I'll die of exhaustion in this editing suite and won't even be able to enjoy the 1.75 million I've made on the Supergirl series. And there's probably at least that much more to come on the Wonder Woman set.
Carefully, he watches the scene in which a naked, very beaten-looking Wonder Woman is tied with her arms and legs wrapped tightly around a pole as Sergei enters her pussy from behind. Scanning between monitors of the multiple images recorded by three cameras with good views, he decides against using a fancy split screen shot of the two faces. While Sergei's look of triumph and carnal sexual delight was interesting, Wonder Woman's image of a drugged, drunk and sexually excited super heroine with lust in her eyes is the one he goes for, because, after all, that was what the people wanted most.
Checking the clock, Stevie sees that he's still got four good hours before he has to head back to the Pleasure Dome to oversee the recording of Wonder Woman's session with Don Corronado. He was looking forward to capturing the famous Amazon princess' voluptuous body stuffed into a clear rubber catsuit. He wanted to be sure his microphones were properly focused and tuned to catch the delightful sounds of squeaking rubber and soft, feminine moans and whimpers as the heroin-dosed Wonder Woman wriggled, writhed and strained in ecstacy from the sexual delight of dildo's inserted in two out of three orifices, as the Don had requested. The lucky Don's cock being placed in whichever remaining orifice he chose, of course.
The same Wonder Woman is back in the penthouse suite drinking diet cola and watching the developing story of Supergirl's robbery attempt. Up to a point, things had gone pretty much as the two of them had planned after Tony surprised them with the news that he wanted Kara to rob a bank. She'd implicated the mob in her torture and her drug habit and in her sexual behavior, beginning the process of rehabilitating her reputation. She'd done that without naming Tony. That was their ace in the hole if things went wrong. If they had to backpedal, not implicating Tony might save their skins.
But something had gone wrong. The rival robbery team was a stunning development to Diana. The chances of such a thing happening were minuscule. She had a gut feeling that Tony had organized this for some reason. The fact that the crooks had kryptonite with them, all ready to take Supergirl down, was just too convenient to be a coincidence. Tony must have wanted to let Supergirl go even without the money from the robbery, she thought. He didn't need it with the fortune he'd made from the DVD series. He simply wanted a way to save face while letting her go so that he didn't look like he was bending to public or, more likely, inner pressure from the Mafia upper crust. The crooks would escape with the money, the bulk of which would be funneled back to Tony no doubt, and a kryptonite-weakened Supergirl would be in the hands of the police facing attempted robbery charges and out of his hands. Whatever pressure was on Tony to let Supergirl go would be let up completely and he could go on to create another series of DVDs with Wonder Woman as the star. Diana nods her head slowly as she plays out the scenario in her head. Pretty neat thinking, Tony. Pretty neat indeed. But something happened to screw everybody's plans up big time.
According to the reports filtering in from eyewitnesses in the bank, apparently the bank manager and her young daughter had thwarted the team of rival crooks somehow. The two of them had gotten the kryptonite away from Supergirl and had been able to get her untied so she could take out the crooks. After that, things got a little confusing to everyone. The reporter had said that Supergirl had told them she was going to take the money and use it somehow to help Wonder Woman get away from the Mob. How that would happen she had not said. But then she had suddenly and surprisingly flown up out of the bank without the bundle of cash wrapped in her cape, smashing through the ceiling. She was gone in the blink of an eye.
One witness said that Supergirl had spoken softly to the young girl who'd helped foil the robbery but nobody could hear what she said and the girl was now with her mother in a closed office in the rear of the bank sorting out the details of the robbery with the police.
Why did you leave the money and your cape, Kara? What happened to you? You were going to bring back the loot, dump it in Tony's lap and fly away with a demand that he release me in two weeks or her promise not to interfere would not be binding. So why did you change your plans? Did the little girl or her mother say something? I don't get it!
It is the foul smell that finally seeps into Supergirl's dulled thoughts to rouse her from the deep black pool of unconsciousness in which she had been immersed for the past 90 minutes. The fetid, reeking aroma of old garbage and urine makes her nose twitch and her eyelids to flutter with wincing disgust. She moans, gags and manages to stop herself from puking as she opens her eyes and turns her body over clumsily so she's wavering on all fours on top of a huge pile of plastic bags. She wobbles side to side, trying hard not to sink down into the huge pile of stinking filth. She decides the only way to get off this pile is to roll off, despite the fact that she'll get this uniform she's wearing covered with garbage. Holding her breath, she rolls to her left and tumbles down the four-foot high pile in a barely-controlled sideways roll through torn black plastic, rotten black banana peels, moldy hollowed out grapefruit halves, empty tuna cans and crushed old cereal boxes. With a yelp, she lands on her tailbone and then falls forward, grazing her head against the dark green dumpster from which all the uncollected garbage has overflown.
"Oww...ohh....damn...what the hell. That hurts!" She blurts angrily, holding her palm against her head and slowly rising to her feet. And then she realizes she is surprised that it hurts. Why would that be? She pulls her hand away from her forehead and sees a small smear of blood stretched across her palm. She feels the cut on her head and decides it's just a tiny cut, more of a bruise. She got off lucky in the fact that her head just grazed the peeling side of the painted dumpster. She brushes the grit of the paint shards out of the wound and looks around for any kind of fabric to tend to the wound. Everything is dirty and unusable, so she just uses a clean area of her sleeve, near her wrist to blot the wound as clean as possible. She had to go home to clean up and...
"Where is home?" Spoken aloud, the blonde beauty shocks herself with the question posed in her own voice. And the bewildered girl follows it up with three more thoughts that she has no answer for, "Who am I? Where am I? Why am I wearing this costume?"
Looking around she sees she is in an abandoned lot in some city that she doesn't immediately recognize. Turning in a circle she gazes at the horizon searching for anything that strikes a familiar chord within her. Nothing she can see looks remotely recognizable to the west where the sun is high in the sky sending waves of heat to cook the garbage pile to a simmering stew. Nothing to the north or east either. Turning south she sees a skyline that does spark a glimmer of hopeful excitement.
"New York. That's New York City. The Umpire State Building, I think? And the other tall one is...The Krypton Building, no, not Krypton, Chrysler Building. But Krypton is something else important. But I don't recall why. Do I live in New York City?"
Deciding she should head toward the city, she heads southward at a steady gait. She is thinking she should try to find a water source and clean up as much as possible since the smell of herself is making her queasy. And she's not feeling all that well in other ways either. She's got a nasty case of stomach cramps and her mouth is dry. She is trembling more and more as she walks south. Her steady pace has slackened and she's walking in a confused, wavering saunter that's anything but straight anymore. She's gone for a full city block, passing several decrepit brownstones without seeing a soul. She stops and doubles over for a moment, clenching her arms around her stomach and breathing out a huge sighing grunt.
"Uughhnn...What's wrong with me? I need something, my body's not right somehow. There's something I have to get to make myself better and I don't know what that is?"
"I might know what you need, Supergirl."
The surprised Maid of Steel turns to the side suddenly to see a man standing next to the brownstone she just passed. He's wearing a blue paisley bandana tied around his scalp staring at her with a mix of awe and desire. He looks to be in his mid-20s, rough-looking with a three-day growth of dark beard. A black t-shirt with the arms cut off and small white skulls imprinted all over it hangs on his thin but quite muscular frame. He's wearing dark gray cargo pants and blue sneakers with a swoosh logo on the side.
"What did you call me?"
"Supergirl, why?" He walks closer to her and stands five feet away.
"I...I...just wanted to be sure I heard you right. What do you think I need?"
"Why did you look surprised just then, when I said your name?" The man ignores the young blonde's question.
"You snuck up on me. That's all."
"Uh huh."
"What's your name?" She asks, her hips tilted, her arms folded at her chest, protectively.
"Luiz."
"Well, Luiz, what do you think I need?"
"Crack, girlie. Lots of crack."
"Crack? What's that?"
"You don't know what crack is?"
"No, I'm afraid not."
"What happened to you? How come you smell so bad? Why you all dirty?"
"I fell down. Into some garbage. I'm going home to clean up and change."
"Uh huh." He looks over the dirty costume admiring the figure even while crinkling his nose at the smell.
"Why don't you fly home. How come you're walking?"
"I'm looking for clues, close up, so I don't miss them."
"Uh huh. Where's your cape?"
"I decided not to wear it today," lies the blonde. "Why do you think I need crack?"
"You don't seem to know much, lady. You don't remember robbing no bank this morning? Cause I think that's where your cape be. I saw you on the news. You split so fast you forgot it. And now you show up here all dirty and not knowing much about anything. And not flying. I think you need help. Do you mind if I try to help you?"
"I...no. I wouldn't mind. I...I'm kind of confused about things right now. You're right. I was surprised when you mentioned my name. And I certainly don't remember robbing any bank. That doesn't sound like something I would do."
"Uh huh. Well, uh, maybe because you need the crack to..um...get your superpowers back. Then your memory might return."
"Really? You think that's what it is?"
"Yeah! Everything I read about you is that, uh, your super strength and everything comes from taking crack every day or so. With that in your system, there ain't nothing that can stop you."
"And you have some of this crack. It's easy to get?"
"Hell no, it ain't easy to get. It's expensive and not that easy to find. I do happen to have some in my apartment. We can go there, you can clean up, I'll give you the crack and maybe your memory will come back."
"Wow! That would be great. You would do that for me?"
"You look like you could use a break and I got a kind heart. I'm outta work so, like, I understand how rough things can get."
"Well, you are very kind, Luiz. I will repay you as soon as...Ohhhhh.. Ungghh. I feel so bad inside. I guess I really need that crack. Is your apartment nearby?"
"It's just up the street. Let me get a hold of you and we'll walk right on over there." Sliding his hand around the moaning girl's waist, he puts her arm around his shoulder and helps her walk toward his apartment.
"Whew! You sure do reek, Supergirl."
"Sorry," she mumbles, embarrassed.
As they walk, Luiz's wide palm slides from her waist to her shapely rear end but the pained, confused and grateful heroine lets it pass as he helps her along, squeezing her butt with constant pressure as they make their way, unseen, up the street to Luiz's place. It is the first of many inappropriate concessions that the famous heroine will allow before the day is done.
Carmine is cruising slowly through the streets of the South Bronx with three of his crew in the back of his Escalade. The tall man in the passenger seat to his right, Benny, is peering out the window at the passing scene, scanning his eyes for any movement, any random site that seems suspicious or out of place. The two men in the back, Glen and Stick, are concentrating just as fiercely. Carmine has offered a reward of $1000 to any man who spots anything that leads directly to Supergirl's recovery. So far the foursome has seen nothing. Considering it's a Saturday, the streets are very quiet on this hot summer day. Carmine has the air conditioning turned up high although his window is open with his elbow stuck out as he peruses the neighborhood. He shakes his head slowly back and forth muttering quietly, "Not a thing. I don't see a fuckin' thing!"
As Luiz presses the buzzer in the vestibule of the small three story building that houses his father's loft apartment, Supergirl is taken aback when she hears a voice through the intercom.
"Yeah. Who izzit?"
"It's Luiz. Let me in, Paul"
"Why didn't you use your key?"
"I left it on the dresser again. You'll find it in the bowl with my loose change."
"Again? You gotta take a memory course, Luiz," the voice replies.
"I can't afford no fucking memory course. Open the damn door!"
The buzzer sounds and Luiz pulls the door open and ushers Supergirl into the tiled lobby. The young heroine is entirely unaware that the two men have just exchanged coded messages that Luiz was bringing up a stranger and that Paul should stand behind the door ready to overpower whoever came in with Luiz. Paul's comment about the memory course was a question about the level of force he needed to overcome the stranger. Luiz's answer that he couldn't afford the memory course was code that no gun would be necessary. Paul's large build and quick hands would be enough according to Luiz. If he had said that he would sign up for a memory course next week, Paul would have retrieved his revolver from his bedroom and set himself up for a more violent scenario.
"You...you don't live alone?" Supergirl asks, grimacing as her need for crack bends her slightly at the waist, her face sweating and her head lowered as the old elevator slowly makes its way to the top floor.
"Nah, I share the rent with Paul and Rico. Rico's bagging at D'Agostino's these days for chump change. Paul's outta work like me. Place used to be my old man's but he got sent up to Attica last year so me and my friends are keeping it for him til he gets out in five years. With good behavior."
"Attica's a jail, right?"
Luiz just looks at this naive bitch and shakes his head. "Yeah. It's a jail. You should remember it since you sent a lot of guys there who don't think too highly of you, I'd bet."
"Sent guys there? What do you mean?"
"I mean when you stopped them from robbing banks like you did today, or caught them in a mugging or like, during some kind of, you know, criminal activity, you handed them over to the cops and the system put 'em away, in Attica upstate, or the Tombs downtown or anyone of a hundred different places, depending on their crime and their priors."
"Priors?" The elevator door opens and Luiz ushers Supergirl to the right down to the fourth door from the elevator.
"Previous records. Prior arrests, that kind of shit. This is us." He knocks on the door with three quick knocks which tells Paul that the stranger will be entering first.
"I unlocked it, you dumb fuck," a voice from inside the apartment shouts.
"After you, Supergirl," Luiz bows and gestures with a grand sweep of his hand toward the door, blocking it momentarily with a show of courtesy that allows Paul time to get in place behind the door.
Pushing through the black steel door, Supergirl enters the apartment and feels a large, stand up fan blowing directly in her face from six feet away. There's also a bright spotlight shining directly in her eyes. Confused, she squints, and turns her head slightly to the right and from behind her a fat, heavy leather bag of steel ball bearings swings in the air and snaps into the back of her head with dull thud.
"Gunnhhh!" The blonde heroine drops like a rock to her hands and knees, her head low, her eyes unfocused as she moans softly from the hard blow to her skull. And then a leg sweeps under her arm and knocks her left hand out from under her. The overwhelmed Maid of Steel falls onto her face with both hands sprawled out in front of her as a heavy weight falls onto her back, pinning her to the thinly carpeted floor.
"Hoooffff!" She gasps out loudly as she feels both wrists grabbed and pulled behind her back by a very big, very strong person. In fact, both wrists are then held in one hand by the huge brute and the other grabs her by the collar and hoists the dazed teen up to her feet. Luiz steps in front of the unfocused teen and firmly grips her jaw as her eyes flutter as Supergirl tries to keep herself conscious. Her tongue drapes out of her mouth, a thin string of clear drool hangs suspended from the tip of it as the famous heroine's head wavers in Luiz's grip.
"Well, Supergirl," the muscular Puerto Rican says, "Welcome to my home. I'm sorry we had to rough you up but I wanted to be sure you stayed with us until I figured out what to do with you."
"...wha...you...whuunt...?" The stunned blonde mumbles.
"That's the part I want to figure out. But I do want to be sure you get your crack some where along the line. I did promise you that after all."
"God," Paul says with gagging bark, "this bitch smells like crap!"
"Well, that's the first thing we take care of, I guess," Luiz says. "Let's get blondie cleaned up. Paul, why don't you escort Supergirl in the bathroom and make sure she gets nice and clean. I'm gonna call Rico and tell him to come home early. He's not gonna want to miss this."
"I heard that. Let's go, girlie girl." Lifting up the dazed blonde heroine, Paul carries the near senseless girl by the collar through the living room, the teen's feet dangling inches off the muddy brown rug as she is hauled toward the bathroom off to the left and in the back of the large loft apartment.
Luiz turns off the fan and the spotlight lamp and moves them back to their corner positions in the apartment, pleased with how well their system worked with the unwary blonde. He picks up the receiver of the phone on the wall of the good-sized kitchen and dials Rico.
"Hey, Luiz," Rico answers the cell phone. You know I'm not supposed to take cell phone calls while I'm working. What's so important?"
"I got a guest at the apartment you're gonna wanna meet."
"A guest? Who's so fucking important that I got to take a chance on losing my job?"
"Supergirl is paying us a visit. I thought you might like to join the fun."
"You're shitting me!"
"No lie. I found her walking down College Street with major crack shakes. I think she might be willing to trade favors for whatever crack we can scrounge up."
"Be there in 10. Thanks." He flips his phone shut. Stops bagging an elderly woman's order and waves to his manager. "I got a call from my sister, Pete. My mother just broke her hip. I gotta go now!"
"Rico, your mother died last year. You leave, you're done with D'Agostino's for good."
"I'll miss you guys." Rico dashes out of the store and jogs out of sight. The elderly woman grumbles about irresponsible young people today and the manager apologizes profusely as he finishes bagging her Depends diapers and cans of Ensure.
Back in the Luiz's apartment, Supergirl is being held under the shower and soaped up by Paul. The large blonde brute stands in the tub with the dizzy and grimacing blonde. He is six feet four and weighs 285 pounds, so when he grips a dazed Supergirl, who weighs all of 122 pounds soaking wet, by her hair and scrubs the bar of soap all over her wet uniform, there's nothing she can do to prevent it. The big man enjoys the feel of sudsing up the helpless blonde's breasts, passing the bar soap over the famous emblem in the middle of her chest and feeling the rubbery orbs bounce and shimmy under his touch. The water streams down her body, carrying away the disgusting garbage scent down the drain. Next the large male pushes Supergirl against the wall, his forearm pressed to the bulge-eyed girl's throat as his hand slides between the heroine's legs and, pushing up under her short skirt, soaps up the crotch of the blonde beauty's panties. He rubs them briskly with the soap, making sure the red underpants are foamy with suds as his knuckles scrub into the cleft of her sex, drawing a strangled moan from the befuddled and overmatched girl.
"Gotta make sure you smell good enough for Luiz, Supergirl. He's particular about his women. I'm a little more tolerant but even I'm glad to clean you up from this stink!"
"...feel...sick..." complains the blonde beauty with a wheezing gasp, the forearm still pressing firmly against her throat.
"Yeah, I heard you need crack," Paul says, turning the drenched girl around now and pressing her face into the wall, scrubs her back with soap, then slowly slides the bar up and down her bare legs as he talks. "The TV said the Mafia got you good and hooked. I even bought one a' your DVDs where you're smoking a nice big bowl of it before you give head to one guy and fuck another one silly. I'm lookin' forward to sharing some of that energetic lovin' with you." As a final insult, he palms her ass and scrubs her rear end in slow, humiliating circles before he drops the soap into the tub and holds her under the showerhead.
"...you...got crack...?" Supergirl gurgles through the water flooding over her. She doesn't even hear, or at least doesn't acknowlege, the threat of this sexual predator. Supergirl concentrates only on her need for the rocky cocaine that her system is screaming for, even as she's subjected to this final rinsing. The streaming water washes off the last of the suds and filth and slowly circles down the drain of the tub.
"I'm pretty sure we can get some. Nothing's too good for you, Supergirl."
Paul lifts the dripping teen out of the tub and sits her down on the lidded toilet. He hands her a towel and watches her as she dries off.
"When will you get the crack?" Supergirl rubs her scalp briskly with the towel, drying her hair with barely a thought to how she looks. She then rubs her body all over with the towel, trying to at least soak up the excess water from her near transparent costume. Her nipples poke through her shirt, clearly defined from the coolness of the air and the roughness of the towel. Unheeding of her stunning beauty, Supergirl looks earnestly at Paul's face, eager for his answer about the crack.
"I don't know. Talk to Luiz. He's the smart one. I'm just the muscle."
"Well, let's go talk to Luiz then. I really need this stuff."
"Yeah, I can tell. But you ain't getting nuthin' unless you put out, you know."
"Put out? What do you mean?"
"I mean like giving all of us a blow job and letting us screw you. A lot."
"Blow job? Screw me? You mean, like, having sex in different ways?"
"Yes. Many different ways."
"And if I do this, you will give me the crack?"
"That would be my deal. Again, Luiz would be the final say on that."
Standing up without warning, Supergirl ducks under a surprised Paul's outstretched arms. She runs into the apartment's living area to find Luiz straightening up next to an old worn coffee table set before a pale yellow and brown checked sofa. Striding up to Luiz, she stands before him, still dripping wet with every curve of her amazing body enhanced by the wet costume clinging to every inch of her.
"Paul says that if I give you sex that you will give me crack. Is this correct?"
Luiz looks with raised eyebrows at Luiz who comes lumbering up behind Supergirl with chagrin about her easy escape from him.
"You make this agreement with our blonde friend here?" Luiz is calm and clearly entranced by the shapely beauty dripping on his rug before him.
"Kinda. Yeah," Paul answers.
"Sounds good to me!" Luiz smiles and looks directly in Supergirl's eyes. "Why don't you get on your knees and put my penis in your mouth and you'll get your crack."
"Do you have it here?"
"I think I have one pipe's worth here," Luiz lies smoothly. "If you're as good as your reputation makes you out to be, I will go out and buy you more."
"I want to see the crack first."
"Nope. Sex first. Just a quick blow job to show me that you're sincere. And I'm getting impatient, blondie," sneers Luiz. "But I can wait all day. Can you?" He gives her a meaningful look and the stymied teen scowls. She is trembling again from need for this demon drug and she knows she can't make a stand here for long. So she tries to bargain.
"How about one puff first, before the sex. One little puff?"
"No. But I'll show you the stuff so you know I'm not lying." Luiz goes to the bedroom and comes out half a minute later with a yellow glass crack pipe. In the bowl is a white nugget.
"That's the crack," Supergirl asks. "Is it, like, good?"
"It got me high with one puff," Luiz says dramatically.
"Okay, then," Supergirl licks her lips and nods. "I agree to give you a...blow job?"
"Great!" Luiz beams.
"And then you will give me the crack. Correct?"
"Absolutely," Luiz grins wider. "Now just put on this little dog collar and then get on your knees."
"You didn't say anything about this humiliating collar."
"It's part of the package. Take it or leave it!"
Hesitating and looking at the pipe that Luiz has handed to Paul, Supergirl grimaces and then snatches the collar from Luiz's hand.
"Okay, fine!" Supergirl growls and puts the collar around her neck. Studded with tiny spikes along its full length, the thin leather collar is bright red. The now desperate blonde tries to fasten the buckle behind her with shaking hands. She can't do it. Paul pockets the pipe and, pushing her hands out of the way, buckles the small spiked collar carefully and then drops his hand to his sides.
"Done," Paul says.
"Great," Luiz says again. "Okay, Supergirl. Get on your knees and show me what you've got."
With disgust and shame, the crack-addicted super heroine gets on her knees and reaches for Luiz's fly. She pulls the zipper down and reaching in to his underpants, pulls out the large, fleshy member and leans forward with a wide open mouth.
End of Chapter 37
If you like this series or have feedback that you'd like to share, you can contact the author at drdominator9@live.com