Slowly she opened the box, and as the now familiar green rays began to engulf her, she once more felt the strength leave her. The invulnerability, the gift of flight, the ability to see all that she would see, all slowly slipping into the air around her. Inside of the box was little more than a collar, with a small rock of kryptonite hanging off of it. Not a large amount, but enough.
The air around her began to get colder, her costume became more constrictive, scratchy and tight. Her stance shifted slowly as gravity began to affect her more. Leaning slightly against the cold reflective metal wall of the small room, she brought the collar up to her neck and fastened it over the small red ribbon that encircled her throat.
The kryptonite thudded dully against her clavicle, seemingly innocent of it's effect on her. Reflexively, her nipples tightened from the cold and yet she was acutely aware of the heat stirred from the center of her.
She knew he was waiting, ever aware and cautious of her powers. With his quiet ways and the fear of a man walking on very thin ice, she almost wanted to encourage him. Resolutley, because it was all she knew how to do, she resisted the weakening of her own muscles and tried to stand as long as she could. Just before she was about to fall, he entered. He always knew. Even on that first day…
Letting her fall into his arms, his hands slid where they would. She resisted his touch, trying gently to close her legs when he found her heat. But she was helpless and they both knew it. The smell of her own arousal wafted up into the air, and she saw his pants tighten.
Into the next room like a dream, onto the cushions, her red boots pulled off of her- all of these seemed to take only a second. She lay now on a bed? A couch? Some sort of endless layer of cushions which never ended no matter how much she crawled away from him her back, sensing more than seeing his head disappear below her stomach.
He loved the way her feet smelled. Nice and pure. A woman who has never sweated that much in her life, being invulnerable to temperature extremes, entering his power and becoming all too human. Making her sweat, making her feel anything he wanted her to was what he thrived on. As her legs came up and her feet tried to push his face away from her crotch, the sheer red knee highs she wore under her boots feeling soft on his goatee, he gave up his slight teasing for a more forceful pressing through her skirt. His nose finding her clit and his teeth pressing her back. But only for a second. He lifted her skirt and gazed at her costume's blue answer to panties. He hadn't crossed that border yet, so all of her wetness was still building inside of her.
She had gasped when he became forceful, but usually she was so resistant to voicing her arousal. As the sensations and the smells penetrated the thickening veil of her perceptions, her mind was dragged back to the first time she had fallen under the power of this man's intoxicating spell.
As she had alighted on the roof of the building, her mind was drawn back to the sexy stranger who had smiled at her in the cafeteria of her college. Time and time again, she had shyed away from making any romantic conections with people because of her situation. Who could she trust enough to open up to completley? Even if she did, how could someone even begin to get physical with the girl of steel? What if she were to somehow magically overcome the fact that she couldn't feel a thing he did to her, and lose herself in the passion of embrace. Where would the relationship be when she literally crushed him in a loving embrace?
So she had sighed, and turned her head down instead of smiling back. The good she could do was outweighed by the good a relationship would do her. IF it were possible. Distracted, she walked down the stairs and entered into her apartment. She entered her bedroom and stripped off her costume in two easy practiced moves, out of the shoulders and down. Walking over to the shower, she turned on only the hot water and walked away, waiting for it to heat up. Her boots still clicking on the floor, she walked into the kitchen and stopped dead. On her kitchen table was a note that she had not left there, with the familiar S symbol blazoned on top.
Feeling decidedly violated and aware of how naked she was, she picked up the letter and read the simple message.
"Go to the 22nd street bridge or she dies"
Before the note hit the floor, she was dressed again and halfway across town.
The notes were a series of treasure map instructions, left in inconspicuous locations, which would lead her to the next target. Anyone trying to follow would have been unable to keep up with her. Never again did any of the notes mention a threat, simply "corner of Elm and third" or "roof of 54 Russek drive".
Finally one of them simply said "inside".
The interior of the building was starkly clean to contrast with the outside neglect. It was apparently ready for her arrival and lined with lead. Walking through doors that slid up for her entrance and closed after her. She doubted she would have any trouble flying right through them if she needed to leave. The last room was simply square, with a box on the end of it. She had the impression that she was deep inside the heart of the building now, and could hear the soft hum of machienery all around her. Curiosity and invulnerability are a wicked duo, and when she opened the box, the kryptonite surprised her but by no means incapacitated her. She kept the presence of mind to close the box again and took a deep breath.
"So you want me to put this on, and surrender myself to you?" She said softly into the air. Imagine her surprise when a voice seemed to vibrate from out of the walls.
"If you want her to live."
"How do I know you wont kill her anyway?"
"I don't want to kill her. I don't even want to hurt her. I want you. I want you so bad I can overcome my aversion to violence. I have prepared for this day supergirl. Mentally and physically, I will not be caught off guard. Do it. Put it on."
She considered her options. His voice was cold, surreal through the walls and very calculating. She believed he would and could cause harm. What did he want from her? She knew what I wanted the moment she said surrender herself. Something very primal and dark within her was feeling very melancholy about her situation. The unfairness of it all. The self pity was seeping to the surface, although she did not sense it consciously.
She opened the box and let the kryptonite embrace her. Angrily she donned the collar that signalled her surrender. Her powers, her problems, her control, and her ignorance left her. There was no going back now.
She knew what he was going to take from her, and it made her afraid. At the very least, she told herself bitterly, I saved someone.
She had run into kryptonite before, and it's effects were not pleasant to her, because the situation always involved conflict, pain, confinement and degradation. This time it was not so. There was only her, alone, with nothing but her own thoughts to assail her. As her strength drained slowly away, she filled her own head with images of what would be done to her. Would he be brutal? Weaker. Would she be stripped right away and left nude to his eyes? Yes that's it, imagine. How would it feel? She had masturbated before in the vein of exploration, but never anything too penetrating or strenuous. God, would he penetrate her? Of course, that's what all guys wanted…it was biologically imprinted in them.
She fell without even realizing she had become that weak in her musings. Fearing pain, because it was so new to her, the fall terrified her, but she was too drained to catch herself. Suddenly, she was wrapped in his arms. Sensations began to flood through her.
He's so soft and gentle. His arms are like steel. This is what it feels like to be chilly. His hair is tickling me.
Emotions.
This is humiliating. I'm glad he isn't rough with me. I have seen girls get drunk at parties before and leave themselves to the care of their companions. They seemed so weak to me. What's next?
All in the time it could have taken her to fly home to safety, she felt so many things for the first time. He carried her out of that room and into another. It seemed impossible, but the door she entered this room from took her to a completely different place then when she had entered. She was placed onto a soft surface, and slowly left there.
He couldn't believe he had done it. She was his. God, so beautiful and so fresh. Perfect in every sense of the word, she was the embodiment of male desire. Young, blond, tight, inexperienced and unable to offer any resistance. He was proud of himself and swore that she would come to no harm under his breath. She had, in all actuality, all of the power over him. He had spent much of his life dedicated to the thought of her. He would do anything for her, and yet he knew that she needed this. She had been laid down gently, on her side, with her legs crossing slightly. Now he moved to the back of her and peered up her skirt. Such an ingrained thrill, known at some point in every man's life either inadvertantly or otherwise. That gentle puckering of the skin where leg becomes a rounded curve of flesh, stopped from his view by the abrupt appearance of her underwear was poetry to him. Placing his hand in her hair, he began to massage her temples, and then her neck.
The shock and the enormity of the situation and her fall had served to sever her from consciousness for a little while, but this aroused her. Aroused her in every sense of the word. Half sleeping, and half dreaming she had never known such a basic pleasure before. Her invulnerability was gone like a bad dream, and the relaxing motions of her first massage were utter ecstacy for the heroine who had always put forth a visage of strength. She melted at his manipulations of her whole body, from the top of her head to the small of her back. Suddenly, the small of her back was not the border any more.
She bolted into full consciousness as his hand had slid over her bottom, kneading his palms into her buttocks. Fear had loaned her a small amount of strength and as she crawled away from him and turned around memory flooded back.
"How…long was I sleeping?" It was an idiotic question for the situation, but it was all she could come up with.
"About a minute" Was his terse reply. He had expected this, and to tell the truth, the next couple of minutes were going to be his favorite. He crawled toward her.
"Stop. I don't want you to…" she said in a soft voice as he approached. He said nothing in reply. She was mine a moment ago. My mental defenses down, his physical touch was the best experience of my life. She IS mine.
The crawl toward her was slow, but at the last moment he pounced, encircled her waist with his arms and drew her in. All she could do was bicycle her legs slowly away, and the sole of her boot offered more resistance on the cushion than her muscles did. He was close to her now, hip to hip, and examined her boots. They were the hardest thing on her, and had to go. His hands sliding over her stomach, down her legs, grasping her heel and pulling one boot off. Thrown. Her leg pushed at him and he smiled. Scratching her leg on the way up with her nails, she gasped. It was not pain, it was sensation, she didn't know she had an itch before he scratched it. The other boot, cast away. She, leaning back on her elbows. Weak with expectation. Pulling at the shoulders of her costume, mimicking her technique, although he had never seen it. Her soft white breasts, nipples contracting before his eyes in the air which was actually quite warm. The taste of them, salt. Her hands in his hair, gently trying to pull him away. His hand sliding down her belly, tracing her. Memorizing her with his hands.
Cupping her. Circles. Her first erotic moan. Middle finger stiff while the others squirmed. Closing her legs gently, always gently for she had no choice. Grasping at the fabric and pulling.
While no metal on this earth could cut the hair of a kryptonian, her own heat vision acted as a lovely technique for getting rid of hair that she didn't want. With the aid of a mirror, she was absolutely hairless. It had the effect of streamlining her costume, so she did it regularly. HE WAS THRILLED.
Losing himself in the center of her. His eyes his sex organ now, the vehicle of his arousal. He brought himself eye to eye with her. Holding her still. Hypnotized. He sank. Salt again. The glorious sweat of her arousal. The taste filling his senses. Her hips bucking gently. He raised her in his hands and fed on her like a vampire dying for lack of sustenance. At the peak of it her soft scream. Grabbing him with more power than she thought she had in her. Pressing his face into her. His tongue slowing.
"Stop… Oh please stop…" knowing this to be best, he complied. Her body lathered in sweat, her costume a small gathering of cloth near her belly. Legs spread wide, no attempt to close them now. The kryptonite collar forgotten. He could not have dreamed a better scenario. He unbuckled the belt on his jeans.
She was glowing with sensation. It felt like she was melting and he was drawing all of her strength to a point in her clitoris and sucking out. But there was always more to give him. Always more for him to take. It built and built until waves of power unlike any she had ever known blasted through her. Wave upon wave crashing through her. This was right. This was pure. This was good. The world was a fine motherfuckin place and her smile lit up the room. But now he was unbuckling the belt on his jeans. This was what she had feared wasn't it?
Wasn't it?
Strong and proud, his arousal a thing of boldness, while hers secretive. She began to wonder.
"Does it hurt?" she asked him, looking him in the eye.
"It is up to you to find out." He said. She was shocked in spite of herself. His control. Over her, over himself, she had to know. Realizing that her previous fears were that she would hurt any man she tried to love, realizing that she didn't have to worry about trust for he had robbed it from her, realizing that she was still very hot and very wet, realizing her own emptiness that demanded filling. Realizing that this was in fact the best moment in her life…
Without a word in reply, she got up on all fours, crawled over to him, and took him in her mouth.
The taste of him, salt. His elation running wild. It had worked! The gentlest blowjob he had ever gotten. Her mouth was warm, but it was not the warmest. She didn't last long at it, but she didn't need to. Her curiosity about it satiated, there was one last frontier left to cross. Weakened by her efforts, she collapsed. He caught her and gently rolled her over. Facing her. Spreading her. Poised.
"May I?"
"Yes" so softly.
Soft. Wet. Hot. Transported with sensation. His whole body focused on those six inches of his life. Deeper. Each inch another world.
Feeling her walls part for him. The penetration that she had feared coming to pass. Passing into a new world never to see the old one again. Each inch another level of herself. How deep would she go? His abdomen rubbing against her clit. I have all of him. Sensations assailing her from her clit on his stomach, from the walls of her pussy crying out to her to shove into him. Unable to do so because of the kryptonite. Each slow and purposeful thrust seeming to take hours until she whispered
"Faster." Faster. The friction building. His maddening gentleness.
"Harder." The pounding, rhythmic thrusts. Barley able in her weakness to put her arms around him. He possesed her. Animalistic grunts that could only be coming from him. That could only mean he was close. The knowledge itself bringing her closer. His…hips…on…my..clit.
Explosions. Grasping her. Grasping him. Burying in her again and again for all he was worth. The waves again. Hotness flooding her. Opening her eyes and wondering how could she have ever been afraid of him. He looks so silly.
The waves subsiding. EXTREME sensetivity. His final thrusts the death throes of an animal that cannot die, only retreat. Her face twisting. Wondering when he will stop. One more… Two more…Her pussy crying semen.
Collapse.
Pant. Pant. In the only thing that ever scared her again, He raised himself off of the bed with great effort, (you would think he was the one that had been kryptonited) took a deep breath and roared into the expanse of the room.
Made her jump. Made her realize her situation. Realize she was in his control.
He leaned down and kissed her. Gently. On the forehead. Love could be maniacal. Looked into her eyes. She saw intelligence. She saw gentleness. She saw nothing that could hurt her there. She kissed him back.
That was a year ago. He held her, gave her time to sleep, washed her (more fun) dressed her, and brought her back to the room. The one with the box that had held fear and weakness for her before, but now only held desire and release. Kissed her. Left her there, powerless and alone. She took the collar off and when the door slid open again, it was to the outside world. Nothing had changed except her perception of it. The sun was shining. It bathed her in warm rays which elated her spirit and lifted her body off of the ground. She had flown home and managed to stay away for a week.