Supergirl Captured by the Mob
Part 47 - Big Changes All Around
By Dr. Dominator
Note: The Supergirl character and name as well as Superman, Wonder Woman and Diana Prince are the property of DC Comics. Tony Bonano and his crew as well as Sergei Zhukovia and Don Lupenzo are properties of Dr. Dominator and cannot be used without permission. This story is simply meant as entertainment and should be read only by consenting adults of 18 years or older. Violence and rape are never an answer to any situation.
Edgar Bluchak hung up the wall phone in the dimly-lit bar with a grunt and a half-smile. The smile pushed his cheek scar sideways into a sweaty fold of a long-lost dimple that used to attract the girls when he was a lot younger. That dimple was the last vestige of the carefree days before his marriage and before the ugly unavoidable line in his face that his wife Rita gave him in an ugly kitchen fight one day. It was the day her crazed behavior and penchant for cocaine accelerated into overdrive, sending Edgar's life down the toilet.
It had been an unusually hot September day and it had nearly killed him. It certainly stopped his promotions in the sales department of a New York fashion house. It turned out that buyers of silk blouses didn't purchase nearly the same volume of goods from a man with a scar who made them nervous. They wouldn't let him linger and finesse them and let themselves be talked into trying a new clothing line by a man that looked scary and dangerous and made them tense, even though he had a baby face. The angry line in the middle of that pretty cheek made them sick and quick to send him packing with apologetic yet hasty comments like "Not this month, Edgar" and "Maybe next time but we're real busy today, Ed."
So, after the promotions stopped and the layoffs started and his salesmanship tanked, the embittered Edgar had fallen hard and long for three long years. Bottom was here in the Top Hat Bar in one of the ugliest sections of New York's underbelly. And nowadays Edgar was satisfied to keep a low profile, tend bar and go to fuck films when the inner pressures built up too high. Rita was his ex-wife now and making his life miserable with lawyers looking for money he no longer had. Fuck, the woman had scarred him and yet came after him with lawyers!
But this phone call from Carmine Vega sounded like his quiet little stifling life was going to change and change big time. Carmine was pleased with Edgar and how he'd helped him out. And Carmine said he wanted to help out Edgar. He'd never said exactly what Edgar had helped him out with but it must have been very important to him because the big Italian mobster had asked Edgar for the name of the Top Hat's owner and a phone number. He told Edgar that he was going to buy the Top Hat and fix it up nice so people wouldn't be afraid of catching a disease when they came in for a drink. Edgar would be the manager, bartender and whatever other hat he felt like wearing. And Carmine had said that Edgar was going to take Joey Target's place as the local distributor of crack. This would be much better stuff than the shit Joey sold, Carmine assured him. When Edgar protested that he didn't want trouble from the cops, Carmine assured him that he wouldn't be hassled in the least. Carmine would fix everything. Edgar would be making real money between his cocaine sales and new responsibilities in the newly refurbished bar. Carmine told him to start thinking of a better name than Top Hat which sounded like something out of a bad 1950s detective flick.
When Edgar asked why Joey Target was giving up his "dealership," the wry turn of phrase drew a chuckle and a moment of silence from the big Italian at the other end of the line.
"He chose an early retirement package, Edgar. And those type of questions are best not asked in the future. Capece?"
"Sorry Carmine. It won't happen again."
"No problem, Ed. You don't mind I call you that I hope. Edgar sounds too squishy to me, ya' know."
"Anything short of Scarface I don't have a problem with Carmine."
"Hey don't knock it," Carmine chuckled again. "That name made Al Pacino a lot of money."
"Nevertheless, as good as that movie was, I can live without the name," Edgar stayed his ground. You had to stop nicknames before they caught hold.
"Understood, Ed. We're going to get along fine you and me. I got a good feelin' about you. You got balls and discretion. Those two attributes go a long way with me. Anyway, I'll contact this guy and make him an offer on the bar and let you know what happens."
"Thanks a lot, Carmine."
"No, thank you, Ed. You saved my bacon and I remember those who do right by me. I'll talk to you soon."
Edgar knew he had a tiger by the tail with Carmine. But if he held on, he might be pulled right back into a life that was worth living again. It was probably time he started that diet he'd been putting off for the past six months. Shed some pounds, get back in shape, start feeling better about everything. And if Carmine was as good as his word, he might even shed the dead weight that was his ex-wife. That would lighten his load considerably. Edgar stood there with his palms on the smooth surface of the bar, savoring the prospect of not having to worry about Rita and her lawyers ever again.
Not far away on the same beautiful autumn Sunday evening, Supergirl is stretched out on the beige leather sofa in her suite in The Pleasure Dome, drifting in a mindless blur. Her body is now clad, at Tony's urging, in a tight silky pink "Hello Kitty" camisole with spaghetti straps, tight white leather hotpants and pink silk slippers. The blonde teenager is trying to recapture the energy that the last day and a half had drained away from her. However, between the kryptonite choker around her neck draining her superpowers and her head numbed into dizzy incoherence by her second helping of the crack pipe sitting on the coffee table beside her, her beautiful body wasn't revitalizing nearly as quickly as it could. Two minutes without the choker would have her at full strength. Instead, she lies there on the couch in a lethargic, tired and confused state. Just the way Tony wanted her. For now
The tall Italian mob boss is eating a simple dinner of a ham sandwich on rye bread and a classic New York delicatessen-style kosher pickle at the kitchen table with Sergei. The two of them chat softly in murmurs that the powerless heroine is too weak and far too disoriented to hear or understand.
"You and Stevie will be moving her and Wonder Woman tomorrow morning. I don't want them anywhere near here when tomorrow night's raid hits," Tony tells Sergei, filling in the details of the coming police search with his second lieutenant. "O'Donnell said he planned to be thorough. Don't get in his way. Or the Feds.' Let them do whatever they're going to do. I don't want heroics on anyone's part. Anything breaks, it breaks. It's just property. That's why I have insurance. I don't want anybody hurt during this fuckover. My people or theirs."
Tony takes a large bite out of the soft rye bread, then speaks through his chewing. "Keep your Russian pride in check. Let them have the run of the place. They can't hurt us. Got it?"
"Clear as crystal, Tony. Not to worry. You are not going to be here during this raid?"
"I don't need the publicity," Tony says snapping off a bite of the tartly delicious pickle. "As it is, my name will be all over the news with it. I'm sure the press will be invited for this photo op. I don't want to give Don Lupenzo any more ammunition with the families than he already has." Tony finishes his meal with a long draining gulp of his glass of ginger ale
"This is true," Sergei nods.
"So, how's the Amazon handling the withdrawal so far?" Tony asks this after wiping his mouth with a cloth napkin and folding it neatly in quarters as Sergei talks.
"Too well," Sergei scowls. "I checked in on her about six o'clock. She has the constitution of a horse. It is early yet in the process. That was nearly six hours without any smack.. Naturally there is some sweating and a groan now and then from her stomach cramps, because the drug was so powerful, but she still has her spirit. Fucking bitch."
"What is it with her and you? She's getting under your skin, Sergei. I can't afford mistakes here, you know." Tony fixes his cold eyes on Sergei. Bonano's jaw tightens as he hears the Russian's response.
"I have broken her, Tony, but she does not remain broken. This is to me a new experience. Not a pleasant one."
"What's the matter? You don't like a challenge now and then? Not everyone is a pushover, Sergei! Listen, I need your 'A' game on this! She is an important part of my plan here and you have to work her as well as you did Supergirl. This is The World Series, The Superbowl and The Masters Tournament all rolled into one for me. And for you, too! So think how you're going to get this done and get it done quick because all the marbles are on the table and I don't want to lose a single fucking one of them. You hear me?"
"Da." Sergei is taken aback at the sudden cold intensity in Tony's tone. It is most unusual. At least it's unusual to have it directed at him.
"Good, because I brought you in as my heavy hitter and so far I've gotten a double and a single from you. Now I need you to put one over the left field wall. Can you do it or not?"
"I can do it. Do I have restrictions?"
"No lasting scars. No permanent physical disabilities. Don't kill her. Get her to comply in two days to virtually anything I demand of her. Those are the rules. Any problems with them?"
"Nyet!"
"We'll get together downstairs with Stevie tomorrow morning in my apartment to talk about the arrangements for the move. Be there at ten." Tony stands up and puts the dishes in the sink. After that he heads for the elevator. As he walks into it, he turns and faces Sergei. "I need you to hit it out of the park, Serge. Bring us all home, okay?"
"Yes, Tony Bonano. I am to be...Babe Ruth."
"We'll see," Tony responds as the door slides shut and the elevator takes him down and away. Sergei picks up the cloth napkin and twists it like he's wringing water out of it. On the couch, Supergirl sighs in her blithe indifference, her drugged insensibility. Sergei matches her sigh with his own. He then goes over to a bottom drawer of the bar unit in the living room and reaching behind a silver cocktail shaker takes out a leather pouch. It is a junkie's typical syringe kit complete with a small rubber hose and capsules of heroin. He slowly unzips it as he walks past the drooling Supergirl sunken deeply and obliviously in the leather cushions of the sofa.. As Sergei walks slowly toward the bedroom for the third time that evening to check on the Amazon, a nasty plan forms in his mind as he makes his way through the hallway.
Behind him, Supergirl's lips puff out with expelled air as she dreams her coke-laced dream of flying in unison with an unknown super lover. Her panties are pulled aside and the muscular hero clad in a dark blue and purple latex body suit is pumping away at her vagina under her billowing red skirt from behind her. She can hear his heavy breathing as the sun is just coming up on the blue globe's horizon with Africa unrolling beneath them. Or is it her own breathing. She's not sure. In any case, the blonde champion is smiling in her sleep as her leather hotpants darken slightly at the crotch.
The moment the large blonde Russian thug walks into the bedroom, he sees there is a marked difference in the naked raven-haired beauty tied down on the bed from his visit an hour and a half ago. Her body gleams with sweat and her feet are kicking and jerking at the ropes tying her to the bed. A typical withdrawal symptom, this kicking motion is why junkies through the years have called it "kicking the habit" when they go cold turkey.
It is a rare and captivating sight to see the mighty Amazon beauty groaning and twisting in the throes of her withdrawal. The powerful Istanbul Express is finally extracting its toll on Wonder Woman as her body shivers and quakes with its need for the potent drug. There is also a nasty smell permeating the air. Sergei smiles broadly for the first time in six hours.
The blue eyes of the famous Champion of All Women are dulled with misery and pain as they look up to see Sergei enter her elegant torture chamber. Seeing him, though, charges those eyes with insolent fire.
"Damn you, you Russian bastard, I will see you in chains for this vile abuse of a daughter of Themyscira!"
"Big talk from a sweaty cow who smells like a shit-filled barnyard corral. What's the matter, Wonder Woman, did the mighty Amazon princess lose control of her bowels?"
"You want control of my body so much, you can clean up my shit, errand boy!" Diana turns her shameful case of involuntary diarrhea into as much of an asset as is possible, hurling this invective at the Russian mobster with all her bravado. But inside, she is filled with horror and dismay at the betrayal of her own body. Even now she cannot control the jerking feet, the relentless shivers and the repeated yawning that are the standard symptoms of major heroin withdrawal. As potent as the Istanbul Express had been, her withdrawal is likewise as powerful and devastating.
"Or I could just let you lie in your own crap like the festering pig you are!" Sergei is enjoying himself tremendously. But there is a job to do that Tony is counting on so he moves forward toward the gleaming naked woman shaking the bed with her convulsive jerks. "However, I have come to make a deal with you, Wonder Woman."
"I don't make deals with the devil," she snaps. But a wrenching spasm of stomach cramps draws a sudden blurting groan from her that dispels all her powerful fury like a mist.
"..Aaughh..."
"But didn't you tell me earlier, you had made a deal with the ruler of Hades? How much less of a formidable subject am I, I recall you saying. So making a deal with me, should be no big thing, princess."
"What do you want from me, you filthy cur?"
Placing the leather shoot-up kit on the night table beside the bed, Sergei's voice is calm and cold. "First, I am to be granted the respect owed me." Without warning, Sergei then hauls off and punches the spreadeagled Diana in the gut with a powerful driving fist.
"GHUNNFFF!" The ropes at the four corners of the bed snap tight as Wonder Woman's body tries to contract away from the pain of the devastating punch.
"I am not to be insulted by the likes of an inferior such as you. And a woman yet! A Wonder Whore! Do you understand me?"
"...oohhhhh......heeeeeze......uuuughhhh....gonna...be...sick...." Wonder Woman's face goes from pale white to slightly greenish. Her cheeks expand and, unable to prevent it, she twists her face away and pukes off to the side. A small brownish-green pool of her bile spills out of her twisted mouth and seeps underneath her back on the rubber sheet that Stevie had placed under her. The sickened princess fights off a second round of nausea. Maybe it's better I didn't have anything to eat after all.
Diana is starting to turn her head when Sergei grabs a clump of her hair and twists her head to face him. Or rather, face the fist that is coming rapidly into her vision from the side. His knuckles connect high on her cheek, right under her left eye. Her head snaps to the right and Diana's vision goes blurry from the blow even as a thin line of her spit arcs off in the distance.
"....huuuuunnhhhh...." The groaning heroine is no better than an inanimate punching bag the way she is helplessly bound to the bed by all four limbs.
"So the insults will stop, yes!" Sergei growls at his helpless prey before him.
"Nyet!" Wonder Woman foolishly barks back at him as she turns her head back to face him defiantly, her pride getting the best of her reason. For her insolence, a second thumping blow to her stomach blanches her face pasty white and snaps the four corner ropes tight again.
"HHOOONNFFF!" Fortunately, there's nothing left in her gut to puke, so the only thing coming out of Wonder Woman's mouth is a dry gag followed by a high-pitched wheezing for air that almost drowns out Serge's contemptuous harrangue.
"Just how stupid are you, slut? Do you think you can be wining this battle of wills?"
"Not much...of a....contest......you muscle-bound....stooge...." Once again, Diana's spirit spends energy that her body can't cash. Without hesitation, Sergei backhands her hard enough to draw a sprinkle of blood from her scornful mouth even as her head snaps to the left this time.
"You like this game as much as me, cunt? You must be quite the masochist."
"Guess that makes me the perfect girl a sadist like you would love to bring home to mother!"
POW!
"Unnhh!"
This punch to Wonder Woman's chin snaps the famous heroine's mouth shut, brings tears to her eyes and drowns her thoughts in milky white confusion. And it puts a end to all her defiance.
"Are you ready at last to listen to my deal, Wonder Woman? Or would you prefer I am tenderizing you a little more, meat?"
"...will...listen..." Wonder Woman stretches her jaw with a painful yawning. It doesn't feel broken but the bruises on her face and body will be a gorgeous purple and green come tomorrow. And what good did all her waspish insolence do anyway?
"Good. I am wanting you to shoot up the heroin yourself. Right in your own arm. I will show you how with this kit," Sergei says, hefting the leather case in front of her widening blue eyes. This act makes her wince from the pain caused by the earlier blow to her cheek. It drives the beating home to her senses. But this is an act she will not do. She has seen Supergirl's horrible tumble from grace at the hands of crack. She has seen the corrosion of that beautiful soul. She will not follow her down that road. They may force her into this hellish habit but she will not take up the syringe against herself as a spike to her own heart.
"I will never do that. You will have to kill me first."
"That can be arranged."
"I don't think Tony would agree with that."
"Tony ordered me to get you to comply. 'Whatever it takes' is what he said."
"You are lying."
Sergei's jaw tightens and Diana knows she is right. Still, the repercussions of Sergei's anger will be brutal. But so be it. She will draw the line in the sand here. She will not bend like a palm tree on this one. The gale force wind of it will break her if she does.
"What is the difference if you inject yourself or if someone else does, whore? The effect is the same. Addiction."
"Not by my hand, fi...Sergei." Judgement stops Diana from calling this pig out as the filth he is. She must control her pride. The price is too high for it now.
"Bitch!" Sergei slaps the Amazon again in the face but it is a short swing without real power. It knocks her head sideways but it is only a stinging bitch slap without any true heart behind it. This confirms to Diana that she is right about Tony. For all the good it will do.
"Okay," Sergei continues. "So you refuse to dose yourself. Fine. Then no one will and you will be cursed with more cramps, more pain and more...."
"What's going on in here?"
Sergei turns and sees Supergirl standing in the doorway, wavering slightly, her eyes confused and then surprised and then angry in a quick flurry of emotions that the young, naive and beautiful face expresses clearly to both Sergei and Wonder Woman.
"Diana, are you alright?" A weary and confused Supergirl asks softly, her nose wrinkling from the ghastly smell of the room.
"Leave us, you pathetic crack whore," snaps Sergei who turns back to Diana to continue his threats of her torment to come. It is a mistake.
Even with the Maid of Steel wearing a glowing green kryptonite collar and unsteady on her feet from her now quickly-retreating crack high, she hears the insult bright and clear in the quiet room. It shakes something loose inside her. Something that blossoms as heroism, as duty, and as love for her sister in combat. Her blue eyes go darker behind Sergei and she takes her hand off the door jam, steady now as the righteous anger sears the crack high away like a droplet of water on a sizzling fry pan.
"You will beg me for the drug, Wonder Woman. You will whimper and cry and plead for me to shoot it's sweet song deep into your veins. You will not win this battle, you pathetic skank! And I will linger and caress your cheek as you fold under the weight of your need, Amazon."
"Hey, Sergei. Caress this!" From behind the mobster, Supergirl drives a hard powerful fist into the shocked Russian's kidney and, though she has no superpowers, the teenager from Krypton has more than enough energy and anger to drop the stunned man to the floor in a cry of pain and a following wheezy gasp of agony. Clutching his back, he writhes on the carpet even as Supergirl rushes to the ropes restraining Diana's left arm and unties the simple knots there in seconds.
She is untying the second knot for Wonder Woman's other arm when Sergei lurches to his feet, his shock over, his breath returned.
"You will pay dearly for....GHUUNFF!" Diana's freed left hand buries deep into the big blonde thug's belly and once more, he is on the floor in breathless helplessness.
Scurrying around to the naked beauty's ankles, Supergirl unties both of Wonder Woman's lower limbs just before Sergei rises to his knees and looks out from underneath his eyebrows with blazing hatred at the two women who are the bane of his existence. Then he calms himself. He has beaten both of them before in this very room. He can do it again. He stands up slowly and shifts sideways to lessen his attack profile and smiles at the two heroines.
Diana swings her feet quickly off the bed and stands up as straight as she can under the circumstances. She is butt naked and has no weapons. She is shaky at best from her withdrawal, but nevertheless, she smiles back at her grinning foe and then asks her blonde compatriot.
"Are you ready for this, Kara?"
"Are you?"
"I would have preferred to be wearing some clothing but then again, I can't say your outfit exactly inspires confidence. A Hello Kitty top? Really?"
"Tony's fashion sense for women isn't as unerring as for himself," Supergirl says, putting her hands up in a defensive posture and shifting sideways to face Sergei.
"Are you cunts going to talk me to death or fight?"
"We weren't even talking to you, creep," Supergirl snaps. "When we're addressing you, you'll damn well know it!"
"Big talk from a crack whore."
"Yeah, that's what you want to do, Sergei. Get me angry!" Supergirl's eyes glimmer with true purpose for the first time in days. Brave talk but both women know that together, in their present state, they don't even make up one super heroine. But both beautiful faces are grim with determination.
"Who wants to be the first to get the crap beat out of them?" Sergei says, dodging forward and back on quick feet, feinting punches and withdrawing, trying to draw out one of the famous heroines.
"Basically," Wonder Woman says, nodding at Supergirl, and the two of them lunge forward together toward the big Russian thug, shouting in unison, "You!"
Wonder Woman goes high with a wide swinging arc of a punch for his face and Supergirl goes low with a quick nasty kick toward his crotch. Sadly, both women are hardly at their best and the two of them miss badly as Sergei spins away to the right. An overanxious Diana, hoping to score a quick knockout in her present depleted condition, finds her haymaker punch bringing her around too far with her back to Sergei. An eager but weakened Kara finds her kick missing her target completely which leaves her with her leg stretched out awkwardly and herself off balance. Sergei's hand grabs her ankle, raises the pink slipper high in the air and delivers a thumping punch to Supergirl's crotch.
"Ooooonnnhhhhhh!" The teenage Maid of Steel collapses forward, her ankle yanked sideways almost as an afterthought by Sergei as her body crumples upon itself in torment from the breath-stealing punch to her groin. Supergirl curls up on herself, helpless on the carpet as her hands clutch at her panties. Her bulging eyes sting with tears from the pain.
Wonder Woman decides to spin around in the same direction as her missed punch to surprise Sergei with a faster than expected reaction. But his reaction is even faster. As she completes her spin to face him, Sergei plants his shoe deep into her gut and drives his leg forward with a loud shout.
"Heeyahhh!"
"Guhhhh!" Wonder Woman is driven backward against the bed and bounces off the edge of the firm mattress. As her badly compromised body recoils, her face smacks dead into Sergei's fist that has been snapped up at the elbow like a swinging door. All sense leaves the disabled Amazon as her body falls like fallen timber straight back onto the bed and then bounces forward in an ungainly sprawl, face forward into the carpet. Once punch each and both overmatched heroines are moaning weakly on the floor before a grinning Sergei with this hands now on his hips.
"You two are pathetic. You are calling yourselves super heroes? Not in my book!" Stepping quickly to the closet, Sergei takes out a cloth sap from a hidden shelf. Filled with small lead shot, it is put to quick and nasty purpose by the smiling Russian thug. With a hard snapping motion of his wrist, Sergei smacks the heavy bag against Supergirl's exposed upper knee.
"YEEAAGHH!" As the teenage champion leans forward and grips her shin and clutches her leg in agony, Sergei follows up the knee shot with a sudden and efficient swipe of the heavy lead-filled bag to the back of Supergirl's blonde head.
THWOCK! The senseless Kryptonian beauty collapses with a soft grunt onto the carpet, dispensed with easily and without complication by the skilled Russian gangster.
"Kara?" Diana's bleeding nose gargles her voice a bit as she fights back to bleary consciousness. Her fighting skills were abysmal under her dope-deadened withdrawal and the two of them had paid dearly for her vanity. But she was damned tired of getting her ass kicked by this thug. Wonder Woman decides to play possum a bit. Not hard to do considering how groggy she was. Pretending to be barely conscious, she lets her head lag on the carpet to regain her senses to deal with a hopefully overconfident Sergei. When he walks up behind her, she figures he will drag her back to the bed and retie her. As he's struggling with her, she'll try an Amazon wrestling move that will surprise him and give her the upper....
CHOCCKK!
After the wide arc of the heavy sap, Wonder Woman's chin hits the carpet and she bites her tongue. All her subtle scheming is reduced to worthless ineptitude. Her senses slide instantly into a painful black hole of oblivion as Sergei's experience clearly trumps the heroine's drug- muddled plans of escape.
By the time the two beauties recover their senses in the early morning, both of them will be tightly bound and gagged in preparation of their being secured within layers of bubble wrap and fitted with gas masks for their transport in nailed crates out of The Pleasure Dome and over to Tony's Brooklyn warehouse where Supergirl had been broken months before. There Sergei will continue his plan of subjugating Wonder Woman to his will and to Tony's. Smiling at the ease with which he has dispatched the two bumbling heroine's, Sergei does drag Wonder Woman over to the bed as she had thought he would. Before putting her on it, he takes the rubber sheet into the bathroom, dumps the waste in the toilet and cleans it in the shower before replacing it back on the bed, still slightly damp after a vigorous, snapping shaking over the tub. He hoists the naked raven-haired Amazon back onto the bed and reties her arms and legs with much more complex knots this time.
After he completes the tie-down, Sergei smooths his hands all over the Wonder Woman's gorgeous curving figure, gliding them slowly over her tits, her washboard stomach and her wide hips and powerful thighs. As a final indignity to the unwary champion, he thumbs her vagina, rubbing the pad of his thumb in quick small circles over the hidden clit he eagerly searches out. A small groan escapes Diana's bleeding lips which draws an evil yet satisfied sneer from Sergei. Then, the big Russian stands up, turns, hoists Supergirl over his shoulder and marches back to the living room with her. He deposits her on the couch and rudely palms her breasts, squeezing their full softness in his palm as he quietly murmurs, "Hello Kitty."
The ever-present cameras have recorded the rapid, humiliatingly easy conquest of two of the world's once most powerful women. Sergei is feeling much better about himself. He also knows he has time on his side. When the Amazon awakes, she will be that much further down the road to her ruin. Her symptoms will only get worse over the next two days. He can use that to his advantage. He just has to figure out the best way to go about it.
Superman's entire body is sore. As he lies in his confined steel tub filled to just over his pelvis with glowing kryptonite slime, he feels light-years beyond weak. He feels like every last particle of energy has been drained out of him leaving him a limp, helpless dishrag of a man. Lex Luthor's attentions and experiments over the course of his captivity have been nasty and brutal. Each successive tinkering, prodding, insertion and ray beaming has been more humiliating than the last.
The famous Man of Steel holds no hope in his heart anymore. He barely has any curiosity. It has been pulled out of him by the evil in Luthor's manner and his toys. In fact, Kal El has no real idea of the location of Luthor's fortress hideout and doubts whether any of his friends knows either. Kal had been drugged and blindfolded and sealed in a lead-lined body bag during his long transport to Luthor's lair. He could be miles below the earth or miles above it. Or situated in the middle of Times Square for all he knew. Actually, he doubted that. As he thinks on it, the only clue as to his whereabouts is the prevalent appearance of corn in his menu. Corn on the cob, niblets, creamed and popped have all made their way to his plate over the weeks of his confinement. He supposes he could be in Nebraska or Iowa or some other breadbasket state among those that made up the Great Plains of America.
The fact is, Luthor's fortress is, indeed, located on the eastern edge of Iowa, just south of Dubuque. One of the few cities in Iowa with hills, Luthor's fortress occupies a bluff overlooking the Mississippi River. Except for the modest single story glass living quarters that can be closed with protective shutters, most of the facility is built underground to avoid drawing attention to itself. Built at no little cost, the fortresses defenses are hidden in converted sheds, out-buildings, silos and bunkers. The entire hideout is located within the confines of the Mines of Spain State Park. A very heavy investment by a double blind corporate subsidiary of Luthor Industries to the legislature ensured the permits required to build on what is normally restricted land. The most attractive feature of the area, besides its strategic advantage of overlooking the river and Illinois across the watery expanse, are the mines themselves. They provide a rich concentration of lead to foil pesky prying eyes of Kryptonians. Building underground with an ample supply of the mineral gives Luthor a decided advantage that he has exploited to its fullest. Access to his fortress is by a little used service road and there is a rail line a mere two hundred yards away running along the bank of the great river. He even built a private station platform for deliveries of everything and anything Lex could possibly want. There is a helipad for delivery to the nearby airport of course. For the most part, the animals scurrying about the park and the tourists visiting it leave him alone. Warning signs implying extensive security and huge personal risk to trespassers keep things nice and quiet for Lex's experiments. The latest of these is about to start.
Superman hears the familiar "kachunk" of the heavy stopper at the foot of his tub lifting up and feels the rapid draining of the noxious green slime that keeps him a defenseless pawn in Luthor's plans. During meal breaks and other extractions, a system of hydraulic arms and pulleys lift the mighty hero out of the hinged glass domed tub, lower him into a locking titanium constriction suit around his middle torso, then lower him once again to the steel table which interlocks securely with his constriction suit. Far too weak from the slime to break away, Superman has completely given up trying to think how to escape this lock-down free time. He eats his meals slowly, sometimes with Luthor's rambling company, sometimes alone except for the never-blinking eyes of half a dozen security cameras.
Meals and experiments and highly-scheduled recovery sessions are the only times that Kal is extracted from the enervating slime tub. And the first five minutes out of it, he is far too weak to attempt an escape. By the time he has the wherewithal to think about resistance, Kal is locked up in titanium and at Luthor's mercy, of which the man has precious little.
As the hydraulics whine down from the ceiling this time, enclosing his throat and biceps and shins, Kal wonders what Luthor is planning to do with him right now. He's already had dinner so it could be a recovery session. He did feel like hammered shit. But he always felt like that these days. Kal's mental capabilities are slipping from the draining kryptonite and the ruthless experiments testing his strength, his stamina and every possible aspect of his physicality and psychological barriers. Lasers, cutting tools and vises have all been applied through the weeks, often to agonizing results and high-pitched screams that used to embarrass Kal but now were released as a matter of course. Luthor's scientific bent barely noticed the shrieking peals of pain, interested only in the recovery time when the healing process of Kal's amazing Kryptonian physiology took over. But lately, the recovery time from the lacerations, bruising, punctures and burns were taking longer. Kal's system was breaking down slowly but surely. By the time Luthor was done with him, Kal was pretty certain he would be Superman in name only. The way he felt now, it couldn't arrive too soon. Hope was the name of famous dead comedian and that was all.
After he is securely locked to the steel table in his titanium constriction suit, Superman hears a whistling Lex Luthor coming in from his laboratory. He is continuously flipping a small steel disc like a coin in the air. When he comes to the other end of the steel table and faces Kal, Lex looks delightedly at the helpless hero slowly dripping glowing green slime onto the brushed steel collecting platform. It slides down the subtle incline into a collecting tub to be circulated back in the holding tank. No kryptonite is ever wasted in Lex's place. A prime rule he likes to announce to Kal to goad him. But the goading hasn't worked in a week now and Luthor has stopped playing that game. Besides, there are far too many other mindfuck games he invents on the fly that are just as fun for the mad genius.
"Hey Supie, old bean. How we feeling today? Spry? Eager to share in a voyage of discovery together?"
"We going on a field trip, Lex? I could use some fresh air."
"Sadly for you, that's not going to happen, Kal. This is more a journey of the mind. And this little disk is your boarding pass. I just finished it and I'm dying to test it."
"I'm your lab rat again then?"
"Same as it always was, Super Rat."
"I don't suppose you tested it on yourself first, just to make sure it was safe?"
"Don't be silly, sport. It could be dangerous. You're expendable. I'm not."
"That's up for debate."
"Well, as soon as you're finished dripping like a basted turkey, we can get started," Lex smiles at the grimacing Man of Steel.
"Two minutes without this slime Lex. You and me. Sound like fun?"
"Sounds like desperation, pal. The strain of all this getting to you?"
"Where are we, Lex? Nebraska?"
"Yes, that's exactly correct. Lincoln, Nebraska. Want me to text your cousin and Wonder Woman so they can come rescue you?"
"You'd love to trap them, wouldn't you? But those two may surprise you yet, Luthor."
"The only thing that would surprise me is if their IQs exceeded their bust measurements. Not likely, but I look forward to entertaining them both here one day. Wouldn't you like side by side tubs with your blonde kissin' kin, Supes? I know I would love to fuck that beautiful piece of ass again soon? Ah, good times, eh?"
"You diseased maniac!"
"That sounds familiar. Have you called me that before? Well, anyway, you're done dripping. So let's get started. We only have a twenty minute window before we have to get you back in your whirlpool bath." Lex chuckles at his own joke as he walks around the table and heads directly for Superman. Stopping four feet away from the frowning hero, Lex takes a small remote out of his pocket and presses a blue button. Instantly the metal bracelets around Superman's wrists jerk to the surface of the table, held in place by a powerful electromagnet. It's not the first time Lex has used this tool. Superman had gotten used to wearing the polished iron wrist bands, though sometimes he yearned to snap them off so he could scratch the itchy skin beneath them.
Lex walks the remaining four feet toward Superman and grabs him by the slippery hair. Twisting his head to the side with one hand, Lex then sticks the disk against the back of the struggling hero's head.
"Here? No, I think a bit more to the left. There!" Lex presses the raised button on the small disk and a set of micro-claws extend and securely grip the hairs on the back left side of Superman's head. Too light to even feel, the disk remains embedded within the dark locks of Superman's head as Lex withdraws his hand and himself away from his frowning captive.
"What sick experiment are you running now, Luthor?"
"I've come up with a new pleasure device that makes my Nympho-Patch seem like a quaint relic of a by-gone era. And you know how effective they were with young Kara and Diana. But that was a chemically-based aphrodisiac. This little number is what I would call bioharmonic.. It uses specific wavelengths to stimulate the pleasure centers of one's brain. I think it will revolutionize the sex industry. Or kill it completely. We'll have to see about that. Shall we give it a go?"
"It's your party, Lex. I just hope I'm around when you find out how your corrupt soul shatters in misery at the end of your life from a mind wasted on your sick need for vengeance."
"Apparently, you mistaking me for someone with a conscience, Kal El. And we both know that's not the way I'm wired. Can you say sociopath? I knew that you could." Lex takes a second remote from his jacket pocket. "Now, let's let the fun begin since, actually, it's your party, pal!" The bald villain presses the black center button and carefully observes Superman's reaction.
The effect is instantaneous as the blue and red clad figure jerks in his seat from a wave of unexpected pleasure flooding his mind.
"Whoahhh!" Superman gasps for breath as every hair on his body seems to stand on end from a flowing orb of energy locked onto the very heart of his pleasure center. He shakes his head to try to clear it but that merely intensifies the dizzy sensation of pure erotic bliss. Even the air currents in the room against his wet costume stimulate his libido. Superman's penis quickly expands in his trunks, straightening and stiffening in five short delightful seconds. Lex notes the expected enlargement with a raised eyebrow. The disk was functioning beautifully. Superman groans loudly as his libido lights up under the assault of bioharmonic waves directed into his brain. Kal's mouth goes dry with desire as his spine shimmies with joy.
"Ahhhh....stop.....this...."
"Oh, I don't believe you really mean that, Superman. It's quite thrilling I'm guessing. Completely irresistible pleasure on command. Who says 'No' to that except some stodgy fool from a past century with a misguided sense of right and wrong."
Gasping, Superman leans forward, his eyes shut in helpless ecstacy. Only 20 seconds from start to finish and the famous champion succumbs to disk's influence.
"OHHHHH!" Moaning loudly, Superman shoots his load in his pants, his jerking penis releasing a rush of sticky wetness that forms a dark stain on the front of his trunks.
"Well, your mouth says no but your body says yes, Superman."
"...huuunnhhh...." The spent Man of Steel sags forward in his titanium lock-down suit, his mind awash with endorphins he cannot restrain. He shivers with joy as Luthor dials down the disk's wave signals. "...you...bas...tard..." grunts Kal through shaky lips. He'd never experienced anything quite like that before in his life. The intense rush of pleasure had completely overwhelmed him. What would a superhero do if this thing were weaponized and launched like a projectile into someone's head. You'd have helpless heroes and heroines falling to their knees all over the world in trembling ecstacy at the delighted whims of their enemies. Would it work on him with his powers at full peak? He had to ask. Gathering his strength, Kal opens his eyes and looks over at a smugly smiling Lex Luthor.
"If I had my powers, Luthor, this sick toy of yours wouldn't be nearly as effective."
"Of course it would, Superman. It's not about superpowers, it's about wavelengths and pleasure centers. Everyone's got them. Now everyone can be manipulated by them. And, I've got another little newsflash for you, Super Spunk, it's my belief that this little device here is capable of generating the first male multiple orgasm. Watch!"
Luthor twists the dial back up to full and Superman's body lurches in place as his back arches and his brain is once again flooded with a bright white core of pleasure.
"GAAAHHH......don't....i.....HUUUHHNNGG!"
The swirling pleasure within the Kryptonian's brain blasts all reason out of him. It's only been two and half minutes since he just ejaculated, yet the shocked Kal El feels his penis stiffen to steely hardness once more. He cannot resist the pleasure surrounding him, enveloping him with uncontainable erotic warmth.
"Ohhhhh....Raoooo!" The famous hero groans aloud and once again, lost in a flood of pleasure, Superman creams his shorts with a lesser load of sticky jizm. And once again, his head sags forward in helpless, drooling delight, his mind floating on a silver pond of erotic bliss.
"Of course, each successive ejaculation will be less productive, the male reproduction system being what it is. But you get my point, Superman. Of course, for women, well, let's just say, they'll be like fleshy, weak-kneed putty puppets under the influence of this little number. Can you imagine it, champ: helpless, blubbering, jerking visions of shimmying spandex-clad boobs and lolling tongues just ripe for the picking of anyone holding the controller?
"You're demented....Luthor," groans Kal, recovering himself slowly. He prays to Rao that Luthor won't feel the need to show off the device's capability a third time and his prayers are answered.
"Yes, well, true genius is rarely appreciated in its time. Now let's get you back into your tub, after a quick hose down, shall we? Can't have the famous Superman's shorts all crusty and rank now, can we?"
Lex pushes the yellow button on the first controller and the slouching hero is disconnected from the steel table and hoisted in the air by his throat, arms and shins until Luthor stops the process with a sudden thumbing of the button.
"Whoops! Almost forgot to retrieve my pleasure disk. That would've been costly, soaking it in kryptonite slime. I'm not sure the circuits would fare well under those conditions."
Walking over, Luthor clicks the little button and the micro-claws retract so Lex can easily pull the two-inch metal wafer out of Superman's hair. He pushes the remote button and the hydraulics kick back into gear, lifting the drained hero out of the titanium constriction suit and over to a tiled corner with a shower nozzle. A cold jet blast of water douses the restrained champion as Luthor taunts him.
"I think I'll have another female guest come in and give you a proper bath, Superman. It's been at least a week since your last one and you're beginning to smell again. But for now, it's back to the tub for you." The whining armature assembly lifts Superman over to the steel tub and the dejected hero is lowered into it. "While your enjoying your kryptonite slime session, Superman, maybe you can think of a name for my pleasure wafer. I haven't been able to come up with anything catchy yet. I'd love your input."
The curved glass cover swings down and seals against the tub rim, the tub stopper lowers with its loud "kachunk" and yet again, the thick flood of slimy green gel fills the tub and surrounds the morose Man of Steel, draining him of the tiny spark of energy he'd accumulated in the interim and filling his soul with a fresh reservoir of absolute despair.
End of Chapter 47
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