Supergirl Captured by the Mob

Part 61 – Wet Work

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.

The elevator doors to the penthouse suite in the Pleasure Dome slide open and Wonder Woman walks out backwards. She is carrying Supergirl with a firm grip on her wrists as Sergei follows her out, holding the blonde beauty’s limp dangling legs by the backs of her knees. They rapidly carry the moaning superheroine over to the couch and lay her down on the soft cushions that huff loudly as if in protest as she settles into a gentle encompassing valley of cool leather.

Tony strides rapidly over to the bar and reaches into the middle of three drawers and pulls out a syringe. Quickly he fills it with the contents of a small brown bottle and then walks over to the couch and kneels down beside the groaning teenager. Her eyes are shut and her lips are fluttering as she breathes roughly through them.

“I had this special serum made up for emergencies. It’s a mix of vitamins, amphetamines, and painkillers. It should revive her and ease any pain she’s feeling. It’ll help her body fight the shock she’s experiencing”

“....nuh...more....pleeze....” The Maid of Might softly whimpers.

When the group had pulled into the Pleasure Dome’s garage, Supergirl wasn’t even close to being able to walk. In fact, she could barely be roused awake. As Wonder Woman and Sergei lifted her sagging body out of the Escalade, Tony sent off the three young mafia lads with his heartfelt thanks and promises of extra work and extra pay for their help in the afternoon’s rescue efforts. Carmine, who had greeted them all in the garage when they arrived, gave his stepson Ricco a surprising kiss on his head and a palm stroke of his face before bidding the boy goodbye. He barely made it back to the elevator before the doors thumped shut.

Now Sergei, Wonder Woman and Carmine stand in a circle looking down at the famous Maid of Steel, their faces taut with worry.

“Her color is better at least,” says Tony as he puts the needle against her inner elbow and prepares to inject her.

“Hey,” blurts Carmine, “shouldn’t you swab her with alcohol or something so she don’t get infected?”

“Infection’s the least of her worries,” Tony replies calmly. “Damn it! The needle broke. I can’t inject her. She’s gotten her invulnerability back.”

“If that’s the case, she may be in the clear already,” Diana says hopefully, looking down at her friend with deep concern.

“And she is not to be breathing as badly as before,” adds Sergei. “There is no whistle in it now. Less wheezing.”

“Kara’s a fighter. She’ll pull through this,” Wonder Woman says, stepping forward and kneeling by the couch after Tony stands up and backs off. Diana takes Kara’s hand in one of her own as she strokes it slowly with her other.

“You guys gonna tell me what the fuck happened over there?” Carmine is asking this for the third time since he’d met them in the garage. No one had answered him during the rush to get her upstairs. Everyone was tense and staring at Supergirl’s gaunt face and trembling body with deep anxiety as the elevator seemed to take forever to reach the fourth floor. Tony had merely waved Carmine off when he’d asked what had gone on.

Even now, as Carmine looks down at the teenage champion nestled in the couch, he can’t believe it’s even the same person who flew off so determinedly that very morning to attack Don Lupenzo’s headquarters. She was a vision of confidence and beauty then in her famous red and blue uniform. Her long lean legs propelled her upward into the air like some gorgeous tropical bird taking flight. That lucky glimpse of her beautiful ass under her flapping skirt was a bonus as the famous heroine turned away and gained speed and altitude.

But the blonde lying here before him is a mess. Her costume is stiff everywhere with dried crusty white cum. Her cheeks are pale white with the merest hint of green in the hollows under her eyes and between the fingers splayed across her slowly rising and falling stomach. He’d never seen the girl look so beat down before, even during all her early training. If she looks better to these people, Carmine can’t imagine what she looked like when they found her.

“Supergirl had been abused by Gino and at least four of his men,” Tony finally answers Carmine. “When we found her she was bright green and nearly comatose. We walked into Gino’s office and there were four huge goons lying around the room, sleeping, if you can believe it. Supergirl had been cuffed to a leg spreader bar. I can only imagine what she was subjected to. She’s still leaking their stinking jism out of her crotch.”

“Did you kill Gino?” Carmine’s eyebrows are peaked as he looks at Tony with trepidation. Killing Gino would have major consequences with the families. Not many of them good.

“Gino wasn’t even there.” Tony is frowning. “I don’t know where he was. We searched the place but we were moving fast. Could’ve missed him. I didn’t go upstairs. Wonder Woman did but she didn’t see him before she ran into her own trouble.”

“Trouble?” Carmine looks at Tony.

“I’ll fill you in on everything later, Carm.” Tony looks down at his blonde prize with deep worry. Carmine sees a bond there that probably isn’t healthy for any of them.

“Kara. Wake up, sweetie. It’s Diana. Come on, Kara, open your eyes.”

“....yes...i...will....suck that....fur you..” the blonde cries softly, “...just don’t...hurt me...again...” The slurred, terrified words drop out of the delirious teen’s mouth like fat beads from a broken necklace. Wonder Woman’s quiet squeak of pity and horror at her friend’s condition and what she must have been forced to do draws worried glances between Sergei and Tony. The Amazon is starting to shake very badly herself. The symptoms of heroin addiction have been manifesting more and more since they first loaded Supergirl into the Escalade back in midtown Manhattan.

“I can’t give Supergirl a shot,” Tony says from behind the kneeling brunette, “but I can give you one if you’d like Wonder Woman.”

“I don’t need any of your special serum right now,” She replies brusquely.

“I wasn’t talking about that. I can hook you up with some heroin to ease you out a little.”

“While my friend is lying here near death, you would suggest this!” Diana snaps her head around and gives Tony a cold stare. “Don’t you care about her at all? Or are you too concerned with keeping your property in line?”

“I care about both of you, believe it or not, Princess!” Tony growls back. “You look like you need the stuff. I offered. No judgements. No sinister plan.”

“...fighting...’bout me...?” The blonde champion’s murmurs from the depths of the couch.

Wonder Woman snaps her head back around to see Supergirl’s blue irises staring back at her with true awareness since they had first seen her in laid out on the floor in Don Lupenzo’s office. She is obviously strained and tired but that’s Kara’s personality coming through at her.

“Kara, you’re back!” Wonder Woman bends her head and kisses Supergirl’s forehead and holds that kiss as a series of salty tears drain down her face onto the blonde’s cheeks. “You’re all right!”

“...that’s....up for....debate...I am...awake...at least....” Supergirl’s attempt at a smile turns into a wince as a number of pains bark at her from her strained thighs to her beleaguered vagina and ass to her angry stomach. “But...I feel...like 200 miles of bad road...”

“What can we be getting for you, davooshka?”

“A month’s vacation in Kandor would be a start.”

“I am not to be knowing this place. Is it near here?”

“Not even close, blondie,” Kara smiles. “Uhhh, Di, you’re drowning me here. And could you stop squeezing my head?” The joyously weeping Wonder Woman finally releases her crushing headlock on Kara and backs off a bit, her face a twisted grin of embarrassment and delight, her cheeks wet with happiness.

“I’m sorry, Kara. I just thought we’d lost you,” Wonder Woman kisses the back of Supergirl’s hand and pours love from her red-rimmed blue eyes into the blonde’s own blue ones.

“Hey, I’m tougher than I look,” Supergirl says with a pained smile..

“That’s for sure,” Tony jokes from three feet away. “I’m glad I don’t have to pay for the repairs on Don Lupenzo’s headquarters. Probably have to knock the whole thing down and start from the foundation up. You sure put a hurt on his operation, young lady.”

“Yeah, well, he paid me back in spades. He and his men. But I guess I deserved it.”

Everybody freezes at this comment. Wonder Woman’s mouth is actually agape with shock. Tony, Carmine and Sergei exchange puzzled looks.

“Deserved it?” Diana is aghast at the very thought. “Why on earth would you think that, Kara?”

Suddenly realizing she probably said too much, Supergirl tosses her head so her hair swirls in a circle around her face, hiding her expression. “Oh, nothing. I’m just, you know, tired. I could use a little quiet time and shower, definitely a shower. And a nap in the bedroom, I think. If that’s okay with you, Tony?” Kara looks up at Bonano with bright eyes filled with imploring youth.

“Uh, sure. Whatever you need, Supergirl.”

“Thank you, Tony. Diana, why don’t you join me. You look pretty beat, too.”

“Well I, uh, am a bit tired.”

“Great.”. Kara sits up and starts to stand when Carmine reaches his hand down and helps her up.

“Why thank you, Mr. Vega. Always the gentleman. It’s nice to be back among....friends... again.”

“Ditto, Supergirl,” Carmine says with a warm smile.

“Come on, Di,” Supergirl says, taking Wonder Woman’s hand and pulling her toward the hallway that leads to the sleeping quarters. Halfway to the bathroom, Kara half turns her head and calls out, “And Mr. Bonano, please send Sergei in with hits of your finest crack and heroin for me and my friend.”

Tony is the one who looks shocked now as he and Sergei share wide-eyed amazed stares with each other. Carmine simply stands alone looking down the hallway at the two beautiful retreating figures.

“What the fuck happened to her over there at Gino’s?” Carmine asks the question but neither of his associates can give him an answer.

* * *

Dressed in a tight-fitting gold spandex tube top that barely contains the ample curves of her bobbing breasts, Roxie moves in close to the sagging Man of Steel. He hangs helplessly on the metal X-frame, his head drooping on his chest, his breathing labored through the small gap between his lips and the oversized baby blue pacifier jammed into his mouth. Roxie’s hard nipples poke through the stretchy fabric in a way that advertises sex with the showy eagerness of political buttons.

Over 20 minutes has elapsed since Superman’s humiliating premature ejaculation. During that time, the blonde hussy quietly talked with Lex in the control room about the varied techniques she planned to use on the tall muscled man. Now the bottle blonde is back in the main room and ready to start the process anew of milking Superman of his cum and his sweat. Six bright heat lamps, three on either side of the blue-and-red clad captive, snap on, startling a weak and dazed Superman momentarily and throwing shimmering waves of heated air at him.

Roxie sidles up close to the dark-haired hero securely cuffed with titanium manacles. She efficiently removes the humiliating oversized pacifier from his mouth. Not only had Lex Luthor emailed the flash pictures of Superman strapped to an X-frame with the ridiculous wavy-ringed pacifier to the news desks of every major media outlet around the world, but the criminal genius also sent out a viral mini-video of the famous Man of Steel prematurely cumming in his shorts and then having the infantalizing pacifier crammed in his mouth. That three-minute video had circulated through the Internet via a YouTube video. It garnered 285,000 hits in 16 minutes. The famous Kryptonian hero’s lofty reputation had taken the nastiest hit since his capture at Bryant Park months and months ago.

Pulling up on his chin, the buxom whore firmly presses her soft lips against Superman’s pouting mouth as she presses her curvy figure against his slouching physique. After half a minute of her tongue overwhelming the dizzy hero’s own tongue with twisting dominating maneuvers, Roxie finally breaks the kiss off and softly murmurs into the champion’s ear, “Is the pitiful overeager spunk-sprayer ready for another attempt at being a real man?”

The dull-eyed champion answers her in a raspy whisper, “It’s hard to get excited when your breath smells like low tide, bitch.” If he makes her mad, maybe she’ll lose her concentration or do something stupid or just not care about getting him off again.

“By my reckoning, getting you excited is way too easy for anybody with a pussy and about 70 seconds of free time, you dumb crotch-staining cum-puddler. Here, let me demonstrate.”

Roxie lightly drags her fingernails up and down the length of Superman’s pouched bulge in the front of his famous red shorts and in less than fourteen seconds, the Man of Steel has nearly a foot of hard wood in his pants and a sulky frown on his face. Roxie turns around and rubs the cleft of her ass up and down against the massive hard-on. Her slick, skin-tight black vinyl hot pants create a warm friction that draws a low moan from the helplessly aroused Man of Steel.

Turning her head around, Roxie flashes a waxy, superior smile at the blue-eyed hero, her eyes showing triumph. Superman tries to keep his gaze on her, acting as if her movements don’t affect him but she continues to rub her ass in slow sultry strokes against his hard muscle until he looks down in mortified disgrace. He’s hard as a steel rivet and already close again to reaching an orgasm. He has no stamina of any kind: sexual, mental or physical after all the kryptonite-based captivity, experiments and tortures that Lex Luthor has put him through.

“See what I mean, you pathetic excuse for a hero,” Roxie purrs as she turns back around and gently, slowly and sensually caresses her palms across the junk in his trunks. “You’re already rock hard and ready to gush after less than 30 seconds, Superman. I think we both know just how pathetic your charade at male bravado is, don’t we? ”

“..get your hands...off me...you....sleazy....whore...” Superman growls as his forehead begins to drip with sweat from the heat lamps glowing a bright orange a mere four feet away.

“What’s the matter, are you getting a little overheated, stud?” Roxie asks as she slowly pulls the tightly tucked costume shirt out of Superman’s trunks and pulls it up to reveal his abdominal muscles slick with a sheen of sweat. His armpits are equally damp with dark rings of sweat spreading through his costume.

Roxie lets her fingertips trace over the soft ridges of his six pack, still impressively defined even with all the torment the mighty hero has endured. Her fingers leave an empty trail through the beads of sweat clinging to Superman’s abs.

“Well, if my breath is so bad, let’s see if it bothers your cock, big guy.” The bleached blonde undoes Superman’s belt with quick, eager hands and pushes the waistband of his trunks down just enough so that the bulging mushroom tip of his penis pokes up out of his shorts. Leaning in, Roxie blows a soft stream of warm breath over the tip of Superman’s cock. The mighty muscle shifts in his trunks slightly, the head extending up a bit more. Superman’s head turns up, his eyes looking off into the distance as he grimaces and moans slightly with helpless pleasure.

“...errrrrgghhh....”

“Your penis doesn’t seem to mind my breath at all, Supie baby. But maybe my mouth isn’t close enough. Let’s try this.” Roxie puts her lips directly against the top of the Man of Steel’s cock and slowly begins to encompass the tip with her lips until the whole large cap is hidden within her mouth. Then she gradually pulls back, leaving the head glistening with her carefully drizzled drool.

“...ohhh..ohhh....uuhhhhhhhh....” Superman clenches his eyes tight and tries to fight the arousal. For now, he succeeds, pushing down the wave of spontaneous joy creeping up from his groin.

“Nope. Your super schlong doesn’t seem to mind my breath in the least, Superman. Guess you were wrong about that.” Roxie’s hand takes a firm grasp of the throbbing pole through the fabric of Superman’s trunks and squeezes lightly along his full length, hardening him up even more so the head of his cock pokes further out of his trunks like a prairie dog checking the weather. She moves her palm up and down in rapid breath-quickening strokes until her hand slides between his thighs and Roxie grabs his nuts from outside the hero’s trunks. She cups his nads and gently fondles them as she smiles up into his now drooping face.

“...guuuhhhh.....don’t....” he moans.

“You’re so fucking easy,” she chuckles, massaging him more and more. He moans ecstatically from her hand work. Then she clamps down hard.

“EEYAAGHH!!” The groggy champion yelps in sudden pain from her sudden violent crushing of his balls. He strains against the manacles, jerking them with his wrists with all his strength but Superman is far too weak to even flex the titanium one little bit. Rivulets of sweat run down Superman’s face and his abs. His teeth are clenched as a wave of nausea sweeps through him from Roxie’s ball-busting squeeze.

“We don’t want you getting overly excited again, you faggot jizz-pumper, do we. Not before we get what we need, beefy boy!”

“...ow...ow..ow...ow....” Superman whimpers as he tries to recover his breath, his pride and his manhood. He fails miserably as he whines in a falsetto. “...it...hurts....”

Roxie reaches over to the tray beside the X-frame and picks up a thin square of blue and red cotton imprinted with the famed “S” logo on it. “Yeah, well, suck it up hero. We’ve got more work to do here. Look, see, Superman, you’ve got your own special wash cloth, with your famous emblem on it.”

Roxie sees that the dark-haired heroes eyes are drifting lazily from the pain. She slaps his face hard and he looks dully at her, his eyes tired and glazed. “Hey! Focus douche-wad. Lex went to all the trouble to make this wash cloth especially for you, just to soak up all that sweat pouring off you from those damn heat lamps. Why don’t you say thank you to the man.”

Roxie waits but Superman says nothing, just tries to gather himself. So the trollop puts her hands over the once mighty champion’s balls again and squeezes them just enough to make her point.

“Say it, douche bag. Say ‘Thank you, Lex, for making me my own special washcloth to soak up my special super sweat.’”

Still nothing from the rawly panting Superman.

“Say it NOW, beeatch!” Roxie applies even firmer pressure on the hero’s ball sack and the Man of Steel relents.

Choking with shame, Superman complies haltingly. “...thank you... Lex.... for making..a special....washcloth to soak up....my....super...sweat...’

“That’s a good boy.” Roxie gently pats Superman’s nads like he’s some kind of pet and then picks up the washcloth and swabs his face and stomach with it. She then wrings the cloth out over a large bowl, filling the bottom surface with pale greenish liquid. Superman has been subjected to so much kryptonite over so long that his pores now exude the deadly element in trace amounts. The Last Son of Krypton has been out of the slime tub now for over 35 minutes and he still is weak and helpless from the constant barrage of radiation he’s been forced to endure since Lex first brought him to his headquarters. Lex figures at this point he’s good for an hour before his strength begins to be close to an issue. He’s got a timer set on his control board so he doesn’t forget. Watching on the monitor from the control room and checking the recording equipment, Lex couldn’t be more thrilled with how Roxie is handling herself and the big dumb lummox.

Roxie rolls up Superman’s shirt higher and higher until it forms a ring around his upper chest armpit to armpit.

“Boy those lamps sure are throwing out a lot of heat, aren’t they, guy? You as hot as I am?”

Roxie’s own costume is drenched with her perspiration, the tube top showing her breasts more clearly than ever with large sweat stains below and around her tits. Her face shines with her own moisture. Superman just stares at the floor saying nothing.

“Oh, what’s the matter, guy. Feeling blue? No more snappy chatter from the super hero?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Me?” Roxie’s eyebrows go up at this ridiculous question. “For money, shithead. And, frankly, ‘cause I like fuckin’ over goody two-boots like you who think they’re better than everyone. But when it comes down to your pecker, Superman, you’re no different than the lonely businessman who pays me to fuck him in some hotel room because his wife doesn’t get him hard anymore. You’re like all men. Driven by what their cocks need and let the world be damned. Even you can’t stop yourself from getting hard, stupid and sleepy once a woman gets her hands on you. Your equipment may be bigger but it works the same way as any other man’s and that’s why I can lead you around like fuckin’ pony ride, Superman. That answer your question, dimwit?”

“Who made you so angry....at men?”

“Pricks like you did, Superman. People who think the world owes them gratitude just for gracing us with their presence. You know what I’m grateful Superman? The size of your cock. That’s all. Nothing else. Not your mind. Not your heroism. Not your goodness. Just the size of your 13-inch cock and the nice expanse of your sweaty chest to rub against. Let’s get to it, super rod!”

Roxie reaches over to Superman’s waist and pulls down his trunks and tights until they can go no lower. They stretch between his spread legs, tight around his thighs. His penis, shocked by the abuse to his nuts, now sags between his legs like a dead chicken. But Roxie knows how to fix that. She’s been doing it for six years now. She’s a pro. She takes Superman in her palm and begins to pulse her hand slowly until the large muscle begins to expand. Leaning in, she takes the growing rod into her mouth drools on it, then uses her pink flat tongue to slather the wetness all over the glistening head of Superman’s penis. She licks him like an ice cream cone in every possible direction until the Rod of Steel is back to its proper attitude, flag pole straight and pointing to the heavens.

“See there,” Roxie says as she pulls her head back. “Just like Old Faithful and ready to spew.”

“...ohhhh.....” Back to the sexual tension he can’t withstand, Superman groans with pleasure yet again. His dick is in this bitch’s total command. Why was Lex doing this. Why did he need his semen and his sweat? Why this particularly humiliating torture?

“...why...is...Lex..doing this..?..”

“Like I fucking care!” Roxie wraps her palm around his shaft and wiggles her tongue against the penis tip. The rod jerks in her hand like a live snake. “I’d say you’re ready.”

Reaching over to the tray once more, Roxie picks up a small foil condom packet and tears it open. She pulls out the condom, positions it on the head of Superman’s cock and unrolls it down the long length of his pecker as she holds his cock still with her other hand. Even constrained, Superman’s prick bolts and shakes in Roxie’s fist.

“We don’t want to lose any of your super syrup there, boy scout,” Roxie smiles as she steps onto a step stool. “Now let old Roxie mount this pole of yours and have herself a ride, eh?” The bleached blonde unbuttons the fly on her black vinyl hot pants and spreads the fabric apart. With no underwear on, it’s obvious that Roxie is actually a brunette. She twiddles herself a bit but she’s already pretty wet from all the foreplay with the stud of steel. Her pussy shines with a combination of her own lubrication and her sweat.

Slowly, the leering whore carefully guides her body onto the angled muscle stretched out before her. She puts both palms over Superman’s shoulders and lowers herself inch by delightful inch onto his trusty sword. At seven inches, she has to take a break. She leans her head forward and kisses Superman on the neck, tasting the salty sweat there. Apparently she has found an erogenous spot on the Man of Steel who’s neck tightens up as he cringes with sudden pleasure and moans loudly. His penis jerks within Roxie and she savors this for five seconds before she resumes impaling her wet cunny onto the endlessly satisfying pole.

“Super size me, you gorgeous stud muffin!” She lowers another few inches and then, with a quick squeeze of her own nipples and then Superman’s Roxie finally reaches maximum penetration, her twat is completely plugged by the thrumming, wonderfully veined muscle and the buxom whore settles her body against Superman’s splayed physique and sighs contentedly.

“Tooooo gooood,” she moans, enjoying the feel of this giant member filling her orifice to full capacity. Every inch of her tunnel throbs with the heat of him. Her back feels like it’s getting burnt from the heat lamps though and Roxie calls out, “Lex, the lamps are toasting me, dammit. Take them down a notch, would ya’ please!”

“Sorry Roxie.” Lex twists a dial and Roxie immediately feels the singeing heat lower. She’s still sweating heavily but she feels better as she begins to gyrate her body against Superman’s hard physique. She glistens in the light, with her long slick legs, tight vinyl over a gorgeous bubble butt and a shining tube of sweat-drenched gold latex wrapped around her jiggling tits. And all this sexual pleasure is clinging to Superman’s body, moving against it, sweaty slick flesh against flesh. And flesh within flesh, clinging to every inch of him, absorbing his essence, gyrating around him like some insatiable succubus of pleasure.

“....ohhhhh.....stop....” he pleads helplessly.

“Don’t think so, beefcake,” Roxie replies with a purr as she begins to rock against him, her hands holding behind his neck as she pulls her vagina along his length. Drawing herself away and filling his head with waves of pleasure as she clutches her pussy and squeezes him while pulling back.

“..whuuh..huhhhh....ohhhhh...” Superman stutters helplessly with the erotic pleasure he feels.

“Yeehahhhh,” she squeals in delight as she pulls back until just the tip of his cock stutters in the entryway of her pussy. “That’s the cock I wanted!”

And gripping his neck tighter, Roxie pulls herself back onto the hard rod until its buried deep within her once again. She savors this for a few seconds and then begins to pull and push herself against Superman’s cock with quick steady thrusts.

“WHUNHHH....OHHHH....OHHHHH!” Superman gasps with delight, his eyes rolling back under his lids as a sudden sensual wave crests through him. Not an orgasm. Not yet but the tension is there. It’s close.

After 30 seconds of rocking sex, Roxie stops all movement to let herself and Superman catch a respite. She creates a foot of separation between her body and his, except for their connected groins. Reaching behind her, Roxie leans back and grabs the wash cloth. She turns back and wipes Superman’s face and chest with it. He’s pouring with sweat from the lamps and the exertion and the sex. It takes three full rounds of swabbing to get all the moisture off his face and chest. The bowl is already one fifth full, about a cups worth.

“...this....is...wrong...” moans the bound hero, his eyes pleading. “...don’t...do...it...”

“Feels right to me, Super Cock. Feels just perfect in fact.”

“...isn’t...right....”

“Don’t tell me it doesn’t feel great to you too, motherfucker. ‘Cause I know it does. You wouldn’t be sticking out like a steel girder unless it felt great to you, too, stud. So shut the fuck up and let a girl get her fun on, dick wad!”

Roxie starts up again, thrusting her hips against Superman’s pelvis with hard repetitive strokes now, engulfing his cock over and over with the velvety tunnel of her pussy. Sliding it over the length of him. Back and forth, over and over, up and down, in and out until she and Superman are panting like two forest beasts. Roxie is leaning back now, swinging her head back and forth, her blonde hair whipping arcs of sweat across the floor. Superman’s face is a frozen grimace of defenseless pleasure as his penis is stroked and stroked and stroked again by this wanton tigress’ vagina until he cannot hold back his pleasure one second longer.

“UUNNGGHH....OHHHHHHHHHHH!” Superman cums violently, his semen jetting into the condom with a force that fills the elastic tip like a water balloon sealed against a garden hose. This expanding bladder within Roxie pushes her past her limits as well and she cums with her palms squeezing Superman’s forearms like the restraining bar on a roller coaster.

“AAIEEEEYAHHHHH!” Her body does a St. Vitus dance against his and she collapses against his sweaty chest with blind, absolute pleasure.

Superman’s penis bobs and jerks within Roxie’s as he stutteringly releases his seed into the condom until the sputtering tools finally stops. And together, the pair of fully satisfied beings drift in the haze of their pleasure for a good minute. Finally Roxie stirs and pulls herself off Superman’s deflating cock.. Carefully, she holds the open end of the condom tight against the base of the cock to prevent leakage as she extracts herself fully from Superman’s prick. It takes a bit of doing since the condom tip is about three inches around, filled with creamy white super spunk. Carefully placing the bowl under Superman’s cock, Roxie releases the open end and lets a stream of the spunk drain into the bowl. As Superman’s cock softens slowly, the whore works the rubber sleeve very carefully off the drooping penis. Once that’s done, she empties the large measure of remaining semen into the bowl and carries it over to a stable counter. She then returns and swabs down the Man of Steel once again. His sweat from the wrung out washcloth fills the bowl half way.

“Good work, my dear.” Lex’s voice commends her over the ceiling speaker. “You drained him dry, I think.”

“Me, too, Lexie. God I need a shower.”

“I would think so. You know where it is Roxie. When you’re done, you also know where I leave the bag of diamonds. I’ll call you if I need you again. But that might not be for a while.”

“You know my number, Lex. And thanks for thinking of me.”

“You’re my number one girl, sweetheart.”

“Thanks, Lexie. Bye bye. And bye bye to you too, stud muffin,” Roxie says, palming Superman’s cheek. The exhausted hero is fast asleep. He can’t even hear the whining of the overhead crane as it moves forward to begin the retrieval process that will end him back in the slime tub.

Lex hums “Highway to Hell” as he presses the button to make a backup copy of the DVD recording of the humiliating session of Superman’s major fuckover.

End of Chapter 61

If you like this series or have feedback that you’d like to share, you can contact the author at drdominator9@live.com