Supergirl Captured by the Mob
Part 60 - Extracting the Goods
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.
By the time it finally finished up, the gang bang of Supergirl in Don Gino Lupenzo's headquarters was a endless, grueling exhibition of desperation and degradation. But even as the spreader bar was being cuffed to the ankles of the drugged-up heroine's slick red boots and her legs were spread helplessly apart by three feet of inflexible black iron, the blonde teen felt no fear for herself. It wasn't just the crack keeping her calm. She dazedly came to the realization that she was simply back to square one: she was high on crack, weak from kryptonite and expected to perform like a whore. And so, helped on by the drugs and the programmed behavior that Tony so adeptly ingrained within her, she fuzzily concluded that she should simply continue comply to the men's desires and commands. Why not? She had shown herself to be little more than a crack whore after all, hadn't she?
Within her, a deep-seated sense of cosmic justice filled her head as her body was abused and defiled again and again and again. Throughout every heinous act of sexual debauchery, the dazed, drugged and defenseless blonde champion repeated to herself the phrase that allowed unspeakable humiliations to be committed against her without any complaint. In fact, even beyond conscious consent, the famed champion offered more than eager assistance at times, always phrasing the same thought.
I am a worthless, gutless sack of shit who deserves this.
So, when her asshole was deeply invaded by a frosty wine bottle that Sal had been drinking from, even as the strong-bodied hoodlum pressed her thigh to the carpet and jolted his hips against her pelvis in a hard-core fucking, the blonde heroine took it all without complaint. In fact, she even complemented the thug afterward on his technique of turning the bottle just so for the maximum angle of pleasure that allowed the teenage beauty to orgasm in shivering, panting delight from the combined sensations of the bottle and his hard, pumping cock.
When Arturo gently uncuffed and removed her boot and had the dizzy blonde continually swivel her dainty foot around and around in slow, steady circles and in firm caressing sweeps of his stiff cock until he ultimately splooged his cum all over her naked toes, her ticklish sole, and her comely instep, the famous Last Daughter of Krypton merely threw her head back and giggled and grinned in foolish, moronic glee.
When Tino pulled up her blouse, sat on her stomach, plopped his swollen rod between her full breasts and pushed and pulled his dick to a frenzy back and forth between her pillowed tits until he blew his wad all over Supergirl's pretty young face, the compliant blonde had gladly held her breasts together to ensure her oily cleavage was deep enough and slippery enough for the grunting hoodlum's penis to get so excited that it jetted its salty spew up her nose and onto her forehead with room to spare.
And still she repeated to herself, I am a worthless, gutless sack of shit who deserves this.
When Basso pinned her to the carpet with his hand thrust firmly up under her breasts and slowly fingered the famous Maid of Steel's pussy until her eyes fluttered, her body jerked in place and her cum ran out between her thighs in tiny rivulets, the writhing teenage girl merely oohed and aahed her satisfaction. Even when the big bodyguard turned her over so she was face down on the carpet with her ankles and wrists securely shackled to the iron bar and her butt in the air, the blonde beauty merely shivered and climaxed like some brainless barfly while Basso endlessly fucked the shackled Guardian of Good doggy-style. Truth be told, Supergirl was more than willing to serve her part in his pleasure and her shame.
But then it got very nasty. After Basso completed his energetic fucking of the famous Maid of Steel and she was lying face down on the carpet in a purring, dreamy daze from the relentless exertion and the floaty sexual satisfaction, Don Lupenzo angrily swiped two items off the counter that he'd placed there for when he was ready for a turn. This dumb cunt was enjoying herself far too much, he concluded. She had destroyed his headquarters and, as much fun as it was to jam a dick into this famous heroine turned crack whore and pump away, she deserved considerable pain and payback as well for all the trouble she'd caused not just today but over the past few years.
So he went at her with a brown, long-neck beer bottle in one hand and a massive dildo in the other. He shoved the bottle into her already dripping cooze and the huge dildo into her greasy pink asshole. And he punished her mercilessly with both tools, pressing them with a hot vengeance far deeper than her cavities would readily accept. She screamed and cried and struggled and howled for the duration of his abuse but with her wrists and ankles securely bound to a three-foot bar of unyielding iron and the small kryptonite crystal eliminating her powers, there was simply nothing she could do to prevent the abuse. So, deserving or not, Supergirl broke down and sobbed for mercy, begged for forgiveness for any and all actions past and present and even those in the future, and ultimately, simply pleaded in raspy, hoarse whispers for him to end his punishment. She had been tortured enough. Nobody deserved this, no matter what.
But Gino went on with it for another five minutes and Supergirl's spirit shattered like a plate glass window in a tornado. Snot drained from her nose into her mouth and she didn't care. A small circle of urine puddled beneath her hips as she lied on the carpet a broken and defeated wreck and she was completely unaware of it. A splattering of blood from her orifices striped the carpet, too. And Supergirl's tears mixed with the blood as she begged for release with her last choking sob.
Finally Gino stopped. The implements were withdrawn and he knelt down beside Supergirl. His blurry face swam through the curtain of her tears to look directly into her taut and haggard face as her hands and boots laid limp in their leather cuffs and her wet cheek pressed into the carpet.
"You're never interfering with my business again, are you, Supergirl?"
"...no...never..(sob)....never....ever..."
"You see me, you fly in the other direction, right?"
"...away....yes..(weep)....always...fly away...away from you..(sob)....always..always...."
"And you don't even know my name or what I look like, do you, whore?"
"....don't....know you...(whimper)....never knew you...(sob)... wouldn't recognize.. ...you..if.. i...even...bumped...into you....(weep)... not you...never you...never....never...."
"Good, then we understand each other. Let's get you some more crack, my dear."
"...pleez...rao...yes...pleeze...more..crack....stop the...pain..."
After she raggedly drew on the smoke from pipe gently held by Tino, Supergirl dropped into a silent funk of mere dopey withdrawal. At least for a few minutes. Then the crew started in on her again and the famous Maid of Steel cried and begged to be let alone. But she was forced to suck every man's cock yet again. Her mouth was stretched painfully wide, her lips bruised and battered, her tongue grown swollen and sore, her throat scraped raw by penises of great width and length And with all that, Supergirl's nodding head was gripped in place and she was forced to swallow thick jetting streams of pasty white cum again and again and again until her belly gurgled and she was weak with indigestion.
And her sore vagina and ass were assaulted over and over by these same men with their toys and their lust and their heat and their anger. Pricks from every direction in every possible combination were thrust at her and into her, jammed though any crevice her body would provide, be it natural like her vagina or rectum or unnatural like her armpit or the nape of her neck, harshly bent and sticky with dried olive oil, as someone came on her upper chest and all down over her exposed tits. Her sore vagina and tender asshole gave her no further pleasure as they were violated repeatedly by Gino's men. It was all harsh grimaces and yelps of pain.
The final disgrace was the circle jerk. The dazed, broken and whimpering heroine was laid out on her back, arms thrown wide, her sticky costume roughly pulled back onto her sprawled body in wrinkled, slovenly disarray. Her cape was reattached and her ankles were securely re-cuffed to the spreader bar. Inertly posed in a confused, disoriented state, with her face gone green with deadly kryptonite radiation once again, the mighty Maid of Steel suffered her last indignity.
It had been discussed among them earlier and each man played his part, carefully timing his climax for the very same release point when Gino gave the signal. High arcing ropey streams of pungent semen rained down on the cuffed blonde heroine with all the venom that gravity and male domination could provide. It splattered over her figure everywhere, smacking her in the face, dropping into her gasping mouth, coating her heaving costumed chest, her bare trembling legs, her twitching shiny red boots. It clung to her famous uniform in hanging drapes of dripping white jizz that glistened on her body like the devil's own wrapping paper itself.
And then they were all done. Each man staggered to a spot, exhausted and pleased beyond measure. They swooned like girls, and fell to the carpet in exhausted sleep. Vanquishing heroes all. Except for Gino who had the presence of mind to head for his secret panic room and collapse in there. Quiet and safe and satisfied.
Supergirl was encased by pain and shame, and sick with radiation poisoning from the pendant that still clung between her breasts. In the end, she drifted away into a slowly blackening void of her own, repeating her mantra to herself as she did. I am a worthless, gutless sack of shit who deserved this.
But she didn't. No one deserved treatment like that. And maybe one day in the future, she would come to accept that fact. Maybe.
"...ake up, Princess. You, dog breath, help me to be getting her to her feet."
That's Sergei's voice. Sergei patting my face.
People on both sides of Diana are pulling her up off the floor by her arms. She slowly brings her drooping head off her chest with great effort. Her blurry vision gradually begins to clear as she is set down onto a hastily retrieved rolling secretary chair. She looks to her left to see Sergei's blonde goatee swim into view and then his piercing blue eyes, now anxious with concern.
He actually look like he cares!
She slumps against the thinly cushioned chair back with a sigh then a groan as the tenderness of her wounded head flares with a sharp stab of pain.
"Ohhhh! You get the license number of the truck that hit me?"
"Was no truck. Was this hump here," Sergei nods towards a man in a brown suit. Diana looks to her right and sees a redhead in brown standing next to a gray-haired man in blue, both nodding at her with terse, humbled anxiety, fearful about how she will react. She vaguely remembers the guy in blue popping up behind a desk but the redhead is unfamiliar. Of course, he'd clocked her from behind with some kind of blunt object, why would she recognize him.
"You the one who hit me. From behind. Like a cowardly ball-less eunuch?"
"...I...uhhm....I guess so...yes."
"You're not sure it was you or that you're a cowardly eunuch?"
"Hey," Joe blurts, "you're the one who came sneaking into our place, lady. I was just, you know, trying to protect what's ours. Anybody would."
Suddenly furious, Wonder Woman stands up rapidly to grab at his lapel but doesn't make it. Instead, instantly dizzy and nauseous from her injury, she awkwardly lurches forward with both hands out and clings to the man in brown, her knees sagging against him, her hands clutching at the crooks of his elbows, her forehead butting into his chest as she tries desperately not to faint dead away. The man manages to hold her up, his hands gripping her smooth bare upper arms to keep her from falling to the floor in a heap. He's surprised how light the raven-haired beauty is. Slipping lower against him, Wonder Woman's large, soft breasts push against his crotch and he feels his groin throb and himself stiffen as he holds the limp figure tightly in his sweaty hands.
"...uuhhhhhh...." Wonder Woman groans miserably, unused to such weakness.
Sergei bolts forward and helps Diana ease back down onto the chair. Reluctantly, the red-headed Joe guides her there as well and lets her go. Fuckin' Wonder Woman! And he's already stiff as a board. He backs up suddenly since her nodding head is about a foot from his tented pants. James, his gray-bearded associate in blue, noticing the bulging fabric, shakes his head with a mix of envy and amusement.
"Relax, Princess. You are not at your best," advises Sergei. "You need time to recover before you can be dispensing justice to these vermin. If you'd like I can kill them for you."
The color in both men's faces instantly drains away to ghostly white as they look at each other in wide-eyed horror.
"..wait..." Diana grunts with quiet urgency "...thanks... anyway, Sergei. I...I just have to take an extra moment here, I guess."
"Wonder Woman," says the red-head, horrified about even the prospect of Sergei killing him. He verbally backpedals from his earlier statement about protecting his turf. This is his life in the balance here after all. "I'm so, so sorry. I..I...lost my head. I was scared and I..."
"SHUTTHEFUCKUP!" Sergei screams and clocks Joe a good one with the butt of his rapidly pulled, hard-swinging pistol. The red-head staggers, his eyes roll up and he drops to the floor on his knees, his arms dangling limp at his sides. And then he lurches forward onto his face, completely out.
"Joe!" James shouts and leans over to give aid to his friend. Sergei gives graybeard a hardy knock all his own on the back of his noggin and the second man falls to a heap on top of his accountant friend.
"Why I should not be putting a bullet into these two men's skulls is beyond me, Wonder Woman, but if that's what you are wanting, then fine."
"Let's just get Kara and get out of here," the now recuperated Themysciran sighs.
"You sure you can walk?"
"I'll be fine, Sergei. And by the way, is it my imagination or are you actually starting to care about me?"
"Nyet. You are too valuable to lose. I am merely to be protecting my interest," Sergei blusters.
"That's good. We wouldn't want Tony to think his enforcer was getting all mushy now, would we?"
"Not mushy. Resolute."
"Right," Diana smiles at the grim-faced Russian, with her power belt on, she's back to a better measure of her traditional strength once again. "Resolute. The word of the day. Let's go find Kara and put this place in our rearview mirror!" The gorgeous Amazon stalks out of the room and Sergei follows her quickly, admiring her shapely, bouncing white-starred ass every step of the way.
Tony, Gilberto, Mario and Ricco carefully search the rooms at the opposite end of the second floor hallway from where the roomful of mob thugs and Supergirl lay sleeping in near comatose condition. Office doors are jerked open with guns drawn at the ready. Here there is no damage. Apparently Supergirl hadn't made it into this wing of the building. But there's also no one else around. Maybe everyone had come running when the commotion started and left their offices on the run. Several half-eaten doughnuts and cardboard cups of cold coffee seem to indicate that was the case.
One final office is left before they will head back in the other direction to check the other wing and Ricco, being nearest, takes a quick look inside. Once again there is one of Gino's crew waiting behind the door to surprise the searching foe but there's no lamp this time, merely an old-fashioned gray stapler. It comes swinging down towards Ricco's head but the young hood's awareness is tuned higher than Wonder Woman's was and he feels the breeze and senses the shadows shift in time to duck his head, reflexively spin around and come up with his switchblade in a harsh upward thrust directly into his assailant's sternum.
"UUNGH!"
The slight young man with oversized black round glasses and wide owlish brown eyes who stands before Ricco with a knife sticking out of his chest is a surprised as a person can be. And at a mere 20 years old, the curly haired mafioso stares in wonder as the blood seeps out around the wound and stains his shirt in an ever-expanding wet red ring. How can his life be over? It was just starting. He was actually making the first good money of his life as a fast young bagman for the Lupenzo family. He was going out on a date next week with that sexy little coffee shop waitress. Was it Patty? He can't remember. He's so tired all of a sudden. He drops the useless stapler. What a dumb weapon he'd chosen. He has to sit down and rest. And the young man who had stuck this knife in his chest so suddenly and so meanly is now nice enough to help him sit. Maybe things wouldn't be so bad. It's just that there's this real bad stain on his shirt and he's so tired. As he slumps against the wall, his head falls sideways on to his shoulder. He just has to rest, he thinks as he stares into the growing blackness. Just has to rest.
Ricco takes a step back in shock at his first kill. It was self-defense but he feels a little nauseous and shocky. The young man before him stares into the void, his head slumped sideways, his shirt doused with blood. His time over.
"Ricco, everything good in there? You coming," Tony says in a loud stage whisper.
"There's a guy in here," he replies.
Tony strides over to the office in four quick paces and steps inside to see Ricco standing before some dead young kid. The others enter the room and crowd around the scene.
"Whoa! You do that?" Tony is stunned at the scene before him.
"He was gonna brain me with that stapler."
The young don looks into the eyes of Carmine's stepson. The redhead is pale and shaky and his eyes are wide, deep and filled with a knowledge he doesn't want to possess. Tony puts his hand on Ricco's shoulder and squeezes gently.
"It was him or you, Ricco. He would have bashed your brains in with that heavy thing. Keep that thought in mind. It will help through the years."
It takes all he has for Ricco to look away from the slouching figure into Tony's eyes and he registers the advice dimly as he finds a kinship in the young don's eyes. This man has killed too. He knows the stories. He sees that shared knowledge in Tony's eyes. Ricco knows it wasn't always self-defense either. And he sees this man has made his peace with his knowledge of what it is to take everything possible away from another human being. Ricco's not sure if he can find that kind of peace.
"We've got to go," Tony urges. "We've got to find Supergirl and get out of this building. You going to be okay?"
"Sure," Ricco says softly, very unsurely. He takes a final look at the body and sees his switchblade. He bends down and tries to pull his knife out of the dead man. It won't release and he doesn't want to put his hand against that bloody shirt to yank it out. But his fingerprints are all over the switchblade and he sure as hell knows he doesn't want to go to jail for this. So he puts his hand against the body's neck and yanks hard. The blood spurts out as the blade jerks away and Ricco is fast enough to dance out of the way. He's always been fast enough in his life. It's what has helped him stay one step ahead of trouble. He hopes it will last, he thinks, as he wipes the bloody blade against the body's chinos and stands up to follow Tony out the door and away from the grisly scene.
Behind him Gilberto is scowling, shaking his head as he gives the body a final glance. He's angry that he didn't get a chance to kill anybody himself. Some guys have all the luck.
Out in the hall, as Tony and the three young hoods head toward the other wing, Sergei and Wonder Woman come down the back stairs. Sergei has led the Amazon to where he figured Tony would most likely be found.
"You okay, Diana?" Tony asks softly, seeing the troubled blue eyes and the slight tremor of the heroin addiction building in the woman.
"Fine. You didn't find Kara yet?" Wonder Woman replies in a loud whisper of her own. She is totally focused on the mission, trying to block out her burgeoning need.
"We were just going to search in there." Tony indicates the door to the right of the main stairway.
"Let's go then," Diana says fiercely, taking a long stride forward before she feels a grip on her upper arm and her body being jerked back.
"Let the men do this, Wonder Woman," Sergei hisses, his fingertips pressing white dots into Diana's flesh. "You are too brash."
"She's my friend," Diana hisses right back at the Russian.
"This is exactly my point," Sergei doesn't relent in his attitude or his grip. Tony moves on ahead followed by the three young men. Sergei follows holding onto Diana who walks angrily at his side.
When Tony and company push stealthily through the door at the top of the smashed and broken marble stairway, they are all shocked at the sight before them. Four unconscious hoods lie around the room in slouched piles of human debris. They don't seem dead, but they're certainly deeply asleep. Two of them are snoring softly. In the middle of the room is Supergirl and what a fucking mess she is! She clearly looks like she's been fucked half to death with that spreader bar cuffed to her ankles and her legs spread apart like that. Her entire body, besides being drenched in cum, is a pure emerald green that Tony knows is very, very bad. He can see that her naked breasts are rising and falling in slow, uneven jerks. She's alive!
Wonder Woman gasps aloud and Tony spins on her vehemently. He glares at her and motions everyone to be quiet and to stay in place in the doorway. He then strides over with silent speed to Supergirl's limp form. None of the four figures on the floor even stirs. Tony begins searching her body for the glowing green element he knows is there somewhere. Ruthlessly he explores her orifices with his fingers for any foreign objects. Scowling with disgust at the draining cum he has to push through, the mob boss is angry and scared at the same time.
Where the fuck is the kryptonite? The color is too bright for it not to be on her person. She'd either be dead and permanently green, he expected, or the color would have faded if the element had been removed to a safe distance. Not in the mouth. Not in her pussy or shoved up her rear. So where? He rustles through the skimpy uniform, feeling for lumps in the fabric and getting nothing. He reaches underneath her and feels along her yellow belt but there are no bulges there either. That only leaves...Of course, her boot! He pulls it off the limp eye-fluttering blonde with a jerk and up-ends it. Out of the recesses of the toe falls a silver pendant with a small glowing green jewel. At last! But it was so small. How could this little thing possibly have effected Supergirl quickly enough to incapacitate her? Tony doesn't know but he doesn't want to stay here any longer to find the answers. The foot she is holding is actually glowing with green blood poisoning. He flips the pendant over to Mario who snatches it in midair and slips it into his pants pocket.
Tony picks up the wheezy blonde champion, spreader bar and all, and quietly walks over to the doorway. With four large, dozing thugs strewn around, Tony doesn't want to push his luck. When Tony reaches the doorway with the unconscious Kryptonian hero sagging in his arms, Wonder Woman frowns deeply at the horrific sight of her friend's limp, cum-soaked body.
"Great Hera. Is she alive?" Diana is pale with terror. Supergirl is between breaths, her body deathly still.
"Barely! We've got to get her back to the Dome and see what we can do for her," Tony whispers his orders. "Diana, her panties and other boot are over by the couch. I don't know where Gino's gone off to but the four guys in there aren't dead, just asleep. Be quiet as you can and get her stuff so we can get out of here."
"Done. I just wish I could visit justice on these heartless pricks!"
Sergei's eyebrows go up. He's never heard Diana use such language with such deep anger before. At least not at anyone else besides himself. "Not to worry, Wonder Woman. They will all to be paying one day if Sergei has anything to say about it."
Diana turns to the tall bearded blond Russian mobster and actually puts her hand on his shoulder and squeezes it gently. "Thank you, Sergei. With you on their case, I know it will get done. That gives me a bit of consolation." She goes over quietly to retrieve Kara's things while Sergei stands there momentarily, glowing with pride.
After Wonder Woman silently retrieves Kara's things, the small group softly pads down the main stairway and out of the building. It's a two-minute walk back to the Escalade and a twenty minute ride back to the South Bronx and the haven of the Pleasure Dome. On the ride home, Supergirl's skin color slowly shifts away from the Kelly green that had Diana scared to death. The Maid of Steel's breathing steadies up as her soft warm body lies across the laps of the three young men, and her head in Wonder Woman's lap as the Amazon softly strokes the Kryptonian's fevered brow.
Ricco, Mario and Gilberto all have raging boners.
Gino turns onto his back and slowly comes awake in his queen-sized bed. It takes a moment for the old don to orient himself. He glances at the clock by the bed and notes it says 4:30. Is that a.m. or p.m.? He sees the stacked shelf of canned goods and realizes he's not at home but rather in the bed set in the back corner of his impenetrable panic room. What the hell had happened? Oh yes, he had captured and fucked Supergirl to a fare-thee-well. He and his crew. Exhausted, he had staggered in here to sleep. But that was two and a half hours ago! Unless it was over fourteen hours, but he doubted that. Where was the girl? Where were his men?
Groggily Don Lupenzo swings his legs off the bed and smooths out his shirt and then tucks it into his suit pants. There's one camera pointing out to the corridor just outside the room, the only camera in the building. Unlike Tony Bonano, Gino hates cameras, dislikes the frozen images they capture that can ruin a man in court as incontrovertible evidence. The only reason he abides this one is so he can see what's outside the room's door. He pushes the on switch for the monitor and sees the empty corridor so he unlocks the door and steps out to see what's going on.
Walking into the kitchen down the hall from his main office where all the action had taken place, Gino sees Basso sitting at the table eating a prosciuto and swiss sandwich.
"Where's Supergirl?" Gino looks at the big bodyguard who has frozen in mid-chew.
"Whaddaya mean? I thought she was inside that room with you."
"WHAT! NO, SHE FUCKING WASN'T IN WITH ME!" Gino is screaming at the big brown-haired bodyguard who drops his sandwich and stands up for the lack of anything better to do. This was bad.
After fifteen minutes and a thorough search of the devastated building, Gino has discovered the famous blonde is nowhere to be found. It's not quite clear what exactly happened. When he wandered off to the panic room, she'd been bright green and barely conscious. Now she was gone. And there's a lot more to concern him as well. Down the hall, his young bagman Joey is dead, a deep stab wound in his chest, the front of his torso completely red, his eyes open. In the downstairs library, Vinnie is dead on the sopping wet carpet, dragged among his prized Peruvian angel fish, his throat with a hole in it. Up on the roof, Knuckles is a twisted heap of broken bones, dead from a broken neck.
And now beside him his two accountants are suddenly mumbling that Wonder Woman had knocked them out and probably had taken the blonde heroine with her. After further rigorous questioning and gaps in their stories, Gino discovers that not only was Wonder Woman there but Tony Bonano and apparently a whole crew to help him, including some big blond Russian guy. Right there in his own headquarters! Gino is furious. He's shouting at everyone about incompetence and stupidity and ramifications but then he goes quiet. Because he knows he's as much to blame as everyone else. He'd left the blonde lying there trussed up thinking someone else would take care of watching her. However, everyone had dropped off to sleep after the circle jerk and Tony "The Wire" had just waltzed in with his people, grabbed the girl and left, after killing at least three of his people. All of Gino's men from the building are now gathered in his office, collected as he swept through the building in his search.
"Okay, everyone is gonna have to move to my building in the Village," announces Gino, calmer now, taking control and directing his troops. His fun is over. He has to regroup and figure out his next step. Despite his admiration for Tony's control of Supergirl and Wonder Woman, he now wants the brazen young don dead again, now more than ever. Nobody was going to come into his own headquarters and steal from him. No one!
He's jotting down a list on a scrap of paper of things he's got to do immediately.
Cleaning crew. Call insurance guy. New computers. More phones. Hit team. The last entry in the list, Call Luthor, is the second thing he'll actually handle, right after he gets his specialty cleaning crew to handle the bodies and get them to the funeral home on the quiet. He doesn't want to involve the police in any of this. Too many explanations.
It's going to be a busy couple of days.
"Mr. Lupenzo, I appreciate your taking the time to inform me of the results of our little experiment," Lex Luthor says from the comfort of his high-backed executive chair at his command console. "That's a bit disappointing but not completely unexpected."
"Yeah well, I'm sorry, Mr. Luthor. The bitch looked like she was going to suck my dick but at the last moment she got strong enough to resist that lipstick somehow. It was close, she was all dreamy-eyed and dopey-acting but when I mentioned your name, her spine stiffened and she said she wouldn't give you the satisfaction."
"I see," Luthor says, pondering the information.
"The kryptonite worked just like you said though, sir. Big enough to let the crack do its job and small enough not to make her violently sick. She did get green when we left it on for about three and a half hours. Anyway, I just wanted to thank you for your help and advice."
"My pleasure, Don Lupenzo. And where is the little minx now?"
"Er, she's not with us anymore. Tony Bonano's got her back."
"Really?" Lex smiles. The old fool had somehow let the Cunt from Krypton get away or get taken away from him. Such incompetence made him impatient. Luthor cuts the call off quickly. "Well, call me if you need any more consultation. Goodbye."
Luthor shakes his head with a touch of anger. He would have offered quite a lot of money to take the blonde off of Gino's hands. He knows Tony won't give her up, but the old fool might have been swayed. Frowning, Lex looks at the monitor showing a close-up of Superman's face as he lies helplessly in the kryptonite slime tub. The big guy looked bad. Even with the regular extractions from the tub, the long term effect on Superman was obviously undermining his health. His eyes are deep hollows and his breathing is rough and uneven. Even with longer times out of the deadly green glop, the famous Man of Steel was a pathetic mess.
Yesterday, the famous champion from the stars had actually soiled himself right as he was being hoisted by crane over to his dinner table. The sudden stinking bulge in those red costume shorts and the draining dark liquid splattering on the cement floor three feet below was a shocking surprise to Lex. He'd had to re-figure the equations for the slime immersion/extraction process. It was apparently an unstable situation that he'd need to track closely. He didn't want the big fella' dying on him. There were so many more things to try with the dumb slab of beef.
Two hours later, at the start of a brisk Iowan evening, Roxie is back at Lex's fortress at his beck and call, ready to do what she loves to do best: get guys off. But this isn't just any guy. It's Superman and that is always plenty of fun for her.
Dressed in a close-fitting gold spandex tube top and skin-tight black vinyl hotpants that show off her large bobbing breasts and flawlessly shaped ass, Roxie walks up to the big stud who's been strapped to a large steel X-frame bondage rack. From both sides of the X-frame, an array of blazing yellow heat lamps shines directly at Superman's tightly shackled body. For now he is wearing his blue and red uniform but Roxie has directions to peel down his shorts and tights and pull up his shirt so she can squeegee as much of Superman's sweat off his glistening body as she possibly can. The fact that Lexie needs Superman's sweat is gross and stupid but she's getting another bag of diamonds for her work tonight so she could care less if he drinks the stuff. She's going to be able to put money down on her own luxury condo in the middle of Debuque. And if that's not the high life, she doesn't know what is. Which is true.
Slinking up beside the strapping male physique bound with arms and legs spread wide, Roxie whispers in Superman's ear.
"Hi, lover. Did you miss me?"
"No," The blue eyed champion turns his head and stares at the whore with a mix of cold anger and remembered shame. She'd jerked him off to perfection the last time she was here and he expected no less from her again. And he felt even weaker now than at the previous time.
"Now be nice, stud muffin. I only want to give you a good time," Roxie leans close so her silky spandex-clad tits brush up against Superman's famous insignia even as she drags her fingernails lightly up and down the length of the penis pouched in his costume shorts. "And I know you like a good time. See, you're proving it to me already."
Indeed, Superman's penis grows rapidly in his shorts as the fingernails dance and tickle along the length of the fast-swelling rod. The Man of Steel hangs his head, not wanting the blonde whore to see the helpless pleasure in his face. Leaning down, Roxie breathes heavily on the bulge in the Kryptonian's pants, then cups his balls and gives his firm shaft a firm shake.
Looking up at Superman's face, Roxie winks at the hero who's face is grimacing, the tendons in his neck stretched tight. "Just relax, Supie and let little Roxie handle....What the fuck?"
A dark wet spot suddenly spreads all over the front of Superman's red costume shorts.
"GHUNHH!" The famous Man of Steel has prematurely ejaculated into his underpants in less than thirty seconds of sexual arousal.
Over the loudspeaker comes a deep guttural laugh from Lex Luthor even as Roxie calls out in fear.
"I'm sorry Lexie! I didn't mean to do that. He just got too excited out a' nowhere." She's afraid of losing her night's pay.
"It's not your fault, Roxie," Luthor's chuckle is long and humiliating as the Last Son of Krypton hangs helplessly on the X-frame and feels the thick wet stickiness in his shorts spread across the front of his crotch. "After all," Lex says, "Superman can't help it if he blows his wad like a virgin schoolboy. He's really not much of a man anymore. We'll just have to give noodle dick a few minutes to compose himself so we can start again. Just scrape out his jism there into the sample dish there and stick that pacifier in his mouth, the big baby."
Roxie does as she's told, pulling open his costume shorts, reaching in and scooping the jism off his dick with a smooth warm hand. This extra stimulation causes an extra fat surge of white gluey semen spreading over the girl's fist. She scrapes the pasty cum into a small petrie dish and then takes an oversized pacifier resting beside the dish. Had Luthor expected this result. In any case he was prepared. When Roxie grasps Superman's face and squeezes down on his jaw with her hard fingernails, he helpless opens his mouth in pain and the large bulbous end of the huge oversized pacifier is thrust into his mouth. Like a ball gag, it is kept in place by his teeth, the fluted baby blue ring blocking Superman's face and humiliating him to the core as a rapid-fire series of flash pictures captures his endless shame for the Internet.
End of Chapter 60
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