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Supergirl and Wonder Woman: Street Walkers
IMPORTANT NOTE: This five-part series was written at the suggestion of a loyal reader. It is an imaginary interlude and is not meant to be seen as a part of the current story or plot line, although it’s designed to seem like it would. But Tony Bonano would never actually take the chance of letting both women out of his sight together in public. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy this imaginary series.
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 Girls Meet The Street
Part A
“This collar is giving me a rash,” complains the frowning blue-eyed blonde to her beautiful dark-haired companion for the second time that evening. She pulls the titanium metal loop away from her neck slightly, her pink-hued fingernails scratching at the scaled greenish skin. “And it itches!”
With its core of powdered kryptonite paste that is exposed through the tiniest aperture setting possible, the collar nullifies Supergirl’s super powers completely and leaves her with the strength of a teenage girl who never works out and is easily winded with even mild exertion. Developed by an engineer under the direction of Tony Bonano, this collar and others like it have been effective tools for controlling the famous Maid of Steel throughout her captivity. At higher apertures, the mighty heroine usually collapses to her knees groaning, sweating and dazed with pain from the deadly radiation inside the devastating hoop. As a result, she’s been trained to mind her manners since the collar is always in constant contact via high-frequency signals from its home base in the Pleasure Dome.
“I know, Kara,” replies Diana with mild exasperation at the whining tone from her young friend. “And I miss my real belt. This fake one doesn’t even fit right. See how it gaps.”
“You’re going to compare your fashion failure to my exposure to possible cancerous consequences? Really, Di?”
“Oh, put a sock in it, blondie! You know you’ll heal up as soon as we get back to the suite. You always do and in mere minutes, too, I might add!”
“Whereas your crushing lack of style just goes on and on,” smirks Kara.
“Exactly,” chuckles Wonder Woman as she looks up into a night sky heavy with storm clouds. “I don’t like the looks of that sky,” she says, getting serious. “Feels like it’s going to rain.”
“Perfect,” the grumpy blonde responds, looking heavenward. “Just our luck to be tossed out on the street by Tony to scare up business on a rainy night.”
Dressed in their traditional costumes, the pair of heroines are walking along a street only two blocks away from the Pleasure Dome, Tony Bonano’s gentlemen’s club and casino situated in the South Bronx. It’s 11:45 on a slow Tuesday night and the streets are quiet with almost no traffic. The lone car that passed them so far had an old couple who looked out the vehicle’s windows and pointed at the girls with gaping mouths like some tram occupants on a ride through Wild Asia at the nearby Bronx Zoo.
“He probably heard the forecast and thought it would add to our punishment for trying to slip those sleeping pills into Carmine’s drink,” Diana scowled. “I told you it was a bad idea.”
“It would’ve worked if Carlo hadn’t alerted the casino security team. Damn cameras everywhere!”
“I’ll be sporting a bruise for week from that shot to my ribs I took from that big bruiser when we were ambushed. Not even three steps out of the elevator and they took us down. Damn tasers! That rib shot was totally unnecessary. Not to mention him pawing my tits when he lifted my sorry ass off the carpet.”
“Yeah, well, my guy tried to rearrange my plumbing with the wedgie he gave me hoisting me up by my underwear,” Kara grumbles. “And he copped a feel for his troubles, too.”
“Here comes a car,” nods Diana at the maroon Dodge Challenger that is slowing as it nears them. The passenger windows front and back slide down with electric smoothness and two black men in their early 20s poke their heads out as the car stops in the street in front of Supergirl and Wonder Woman.
“Hey, ladies! Iz too early for Halloween,” says the guy riding shotgun in the front, laughing at his own joke. His crooked teeth are yellowed with nicotine. He flicks an ash to the street from his dangling cigarette as he eyes the two women greedily.
“You’re lookin’ fine tonight, ladies. Out to party?” The goateed rear seat passenger asks, also undressing the two incredible bodies standing before him with his narrowed eyes. Both girls have one hand on a hip and one stroking a thigh and looking coy as instructed by Tony.
“Maybe,” replies Supergirl. “What do you...”
“You’re not cops are you?” Diana interrupts.“You have to tell us if you are.”
“We look like cops to you, bitch? Be real!”
“Could be undercover,” answers Wonder Woman.
“Could be undercovers with you, sweet cheeks,” Shotgun grins madly, enjoying his humor far too much.
“How much to do that?” The one with the goatee in the back asks quickly, all business.
“That will cost you, lover,” purrs Diana.
“I know that! I recognize a whore when I see one,” Goatee snaps back. “Even one who’s tryin’ to trade off the fame of a superhero just to get her pussy to pay her rent.”
Diana’s mouth gapes in speechless shock at this coarse insult hurled at her. Her body actually is leaning back in recoil at this indignity.
Worried that her partner is about to unleash a world of pain at the young man, Supergirl steps forward immediately and leans over to give Mr. Goatee a close up and personal inspection of her chest a mere half foot away from his face. She flashes a 500 watt smile at him and traces her fingers over the top edge of the lowered car window.
“If you’re real nice, sir, I can assure you a wonderful experience for just $37 dollars, plus the cost of the room at an extra $8 dollars.”
“What exactly does that get me? A fuck?”
“That’s correct,” Kara smiles at him as if that would be fun. “You get to fuck Supergirl.”
“I’m not interested in your drippy hole, white girl. I’m keen to stick it to your fat-titty friend there. I like her big bazongas. She cost the same?”
“Err...uhmm....She’s actually a little less,” murmurs the suddenly embarrassed blonde, lowering her gaze and sliding her finger along the window edge again. “She’s $29 plus the room.”
“Why zat? Higher mileage on her snatch, huh? Had to dial back the odometer on that saggy-lipped pussy. That it? Don’t know if I want no gaping cunt who can’t give a grip on a guy’s johnson. May have to pass on that po’ boy special.” Mr. Goatee shows all his teeth at the glowering Wonder Woman standing behind a now nervous Kara. “Less’n you think you’ve got game enough to get me hard and keep me hard, retread.”
“Why you son of a bitch...” Wonder Woman takes a hard step forward to confront the taunting bearded man grinning at her from the back seat but is blocked by Supergirl who puts her hands on the Amazon’s shoulders and pushes against her with all her strength which is minimal The blonde uses her body and flailing arms just enough to keep Diana from punching out the young man.
“Gun it, Rondo,” yells Goatee. “These bitches be nuts!”
The car peels away from the curb with a screech of tires and a cloud of smoke, leaving both women in the street looking angrily at the accelerating vehicle.
“DUMB CUNTS! DON’T BE HERE WHEN WE GET BACK OR WE’LL MESS YOU UP!” The driver, Rondo, screams in the night, his voice fading as the Dodge roars away with a throaty, barely muffled roar.
“Those fucking bastards!” Diana says then yells after the retreating auto, “BASTARDS!”
“Di, let it go. If we get in trouble, you know Tony said he’d punish us.” Supergirl takes Wonder Woman’s hand and pulls her back onto the sidewalk, then starts to drag her along the avenue heading uptown. “Let’s just find some other guys and score already so we can get back to the suite. Tony said if we didn’t bring back at least a hundred bucks, we’d keep doing this night after night until we do. And the tote board goes back to zero when the night starts so we both have to get to it. You with me or not?”
“Yeah, yeah,” mutters Wonder Woman. “Why do men have to be such assholes?”
“It’s how they’re wired.”
“Even Batman can be such a prick!”
“Tell me about it. And Kal’s no great prize either. Much as I love him, when he starts in on his moral code, I just want to knock him right into the sun!”
“But his eyes are cute when they flash in anger, don’t you think?” Diana is sauntering up the street looking around for moving cars or pedestrians along the still vacant block.
“Puh-leeze! Get over him, would you?”
“I’d prefer to get on him.”
“Eeewwww. Hey! Cousin! Remember? Grody!”
“He’s not my cousin,” Wonder Woman smiles.
Part 2
“Can we change topics, please!” Kara straight-arms Diana’s biceps with a playful jolt. With her powers, such a punch from the Maid of Steel would have knocked her Amazonian friend through the plate glass shoe store display window they’re walking past. As it is, however, the black-haired beauty barely registers the hit as she stops to admire the shoes and boots gleaming in the mini-spotlight.
“Oooh. Look at those black pumps. They’re adorable,” coos Diana. “I have a business suit I wear to the U.N. when the General Assembly’s in session that those beauties would go perfectly with.”
“And those brown boots are to die for!” Kara says, her eyes wide with admiration at the intricate stitching along the boot tops. Her words are almost drowned out by a rolling peal of thunder in the near distance.
“Even those green sandals would be nice,” says Diana, pointing. “But are they for real at that price? $415 for sandals, that’s outrageous!”
“No! Outrageous is you two skanks scamming our territory!”
Diana and Kara turn in sudden surprise to find themselves surrounded by five women wearing high heels, tight dresses, hot pants, halter tops and faux fur jackets giving them the evil eye. The thunder had covered the sound of the high heels worn by the small group of whores encompassing them, much to the two heroine’s dismay. Diana frowns deeply at her lack of attentiveness. She’s been off her game lately and this is just one more example of how her warrior skills have deteriorated. The heroin habit, the extended captivity, the beatings and her depression have all contributed to her lack of focus and dismal conduct lately as a superheroine. To be encircled so easily by an aggressive cadre of enemies was flat out amateurish and Wonder Woman knew it. Still even without her power belt, she shouldn’t have any trouble with this paltry band.
Kara, on the other hand, while putting up a brave front with her hands on her hips and her jaw thrust out, is deeply concerned. She is much too weak to handle a group like this. Even the tall woman in front would be tough enough to deal with alone considering with how dissipated she feels from the heinous collar. Diana is going to have to do the heavy lifting in this confrontation.
“Last I looked, this is a public area,” Wonder Woman addresses the group’s leader, a six-foot tall black woman with brightly-bleached blonde hair cropped close in a tight Afro only a couple of inches off her scalp. Her tight white spandex tube top, crotch-hugging red vinyl hotpants with matching red boots and a fake rabbit fur jacket combine into an outfit designed to show off her ample breasts and long, well-toned legs in a way designed to generate boners in passing males and increase the nightly take. Diana merely regards the woman’s aggressive stance and significant muscles, noting that they will be something to watch out for, should this escalate to violence. Still, she calmly rebukes the whore’s challenging tone. “You have no right to claim this street as your own.”
“Mouthy cunt, ain’t she, Desiree,” The shortest whore in the group says, standing with her arms folded and her head reared back in disdain right beside the tall leader. With a bright yellow halter top tightly wrapped around her large round knockers, sheer blue pantyhose and a bright blue leather miniskirt, the colorfully-clad black streetwalker is five feet two inches of pure animosity. She slowly shakes her head but her heavily-gelled short black hair doesn’t move an inch.
“Can’t deny that, Sharla,” the tall leader says. “And she’s actin’ like her shit don’t stink.”
“Why the costumes, bitches?” Sharla snarls at the two heroines with disgust. “Think you’re gonna score more johns with those stupid get ups and those sweet faces? Both of you look like you’re out for a fuckin’ Sunday stroll down the avenue. Not a fuckin’ care in the world. ‘Cept you’re on our turf ladies and you ain’t got no permit. And that means a world of hurt.”
“For whom?” Wonder Woman smiles cooly, one eyebrow raised.
“For you, Jugs!” A tall white whore with a light, freckled complexion and wavy red hair answers Diana sharply. Wonder Woman eyes the red-haired streetwalker up and down. The whore’s v-neck purple dress shows off a lot of cleavage for a cool autumn day and makes her nipples pop through the thin polyester fabric. The dress barely covers her ass and looks as if it’s painted on. The way it clings to the surface of the woman’s impressive curves actually widen’s Diana’s pupils a bit.
“You like what you see, Wonder Tits?” The 5' 11" redhead hasn’t missed Diana’s appraisal of her and taunts the staring Amazon with a slow turn in the form-fitting dress, one arm held out with her palm up, her other arm draped down her side smoothing along her thigh, her head cocked coyly in a sultry come-hither expression. “I can be yours for eighty bucks. After I fuck you up, of course.” The sultry expression turns ugly with that final comment and the redhead takes a wide threatening stance with her hands waving like pointed weapons in the air before her.
“Now, now, Glenda,” says Trixie, her slightly shorter white companion with breasts large enough to match those of Wonder Woman herself. “Maybe there’s a good reason these two skanks are walking on our turf wearing those ridiculous clothes and, you know, not fighting crime like the superheroes they supposed to be. Maybe they’re just taking some time off for shoe shopping. That it, ladies? You shoe shopping cause your boots are so fuckin’ passe?”
“I wouldn’t be pointing fingers when it comes to fashion, bitch,” snaps Wonder Woman, eyeing the big breasted white whore’s wrinkled red miniskirt and blue see-through mesh blouse over her lacy black bra. “Madonna just called and needs her 80s clothes back for a Smithsonian exhibit!”
“Hee, hee, hee,” giggles the fifth whore, a young 5' 5" black teenager with long, silky black hair wearing black vinyl hot pants over opaque black stockings. Her tight red rayon blouse is unbuttoned, showing off the cleavage of a very cute set of tits. Her sheepskin jacket worn unzipped over the blouse shows puffy yellow fleece that needs a good dry cleaning. “She got you there, Trixie.”
“Shut up, Chloe. Nobody ‘axed’ you.”
“ENOUGH!” The tall leader, Desiree, shouts. “We don’t have time for this shit. We got customers to tend to. Is that what’s going on here, girls? You just out shoe shopping? You’re not trolling for johns?”
We don’t have to explain ourselves to you,” Diana replies coldly, assuming her power stance. “As I said, this is a public thoroughfare.”
“Just like your pussy, blue eyes,” taunts the red-headed knockout in the tight purple dress. Diana’s eyes narrow at the redhead, an active dislike growing for the willowy white whore.
“Glenda, shut your pie hole,” Desiree says with a glare, then turns her attention back to Diana. “If you tell me you girls are just out for a stroll, we’ll let you go.”
“Oh, come on, Dez,” whines Sharla, her tiny frame jerking sideways as she spins on her leader with disbelief. She really wanted to mix it up with this tall black-haired bitch in the Wonder Woman costume. Her jealousy over the woman’s superior height, beautiful face and incredible body makes her want to cut the superior cunt down to size with the switchblade lying in the bottom of her blue sequined purse. “They’re obviously not really super bitches,” she gestures at the two heroines. “So why else would they be dressed like that if not to pull our action? I say we teach these haughty cunts a lesson they’ll never forget.”
“Well, ladies, we all now know what Sharla thinks. But if you tell me you’re not hustling in our territory, I’m willing to let you slide. How about it, blondie?” Desiree looks straight at Supergirl with the expression of a hawk checking out a plump, juicy toad. “You selling that tight teen cunt of yours tonight?”
“I don’t see how that’s your business,” Kara replies, hoisting her young frame to its full height and staring back at the taller woman’s dark brown eyes.
“Shit! Both you bitches got attitudes, huh?” Desiree is losing her patience now. She had tried to avoid a fight because she hadn’t liked the look of the Wonder Woman wannabe. She held herself with a lot of confidence. Much more so than her pale, nervous blonde friend who Desiree knew she could handle with one arm tied behind her back if need be. “But I think Supergirl there looks like she’s likely to piss her panties in fear, despite her uppity talk. I’m right, ain’t I, Sunshine? You’re ‘bout ready to douse your drawers at the very idea of taking us on. I can see it in your eyes.”
“The h..hell I am,” answers Kara, cursing herself for her stammer and cursing the poisonous necklace for making her so weak. She stands her ground though, assuming her power position with a confidence that’s paper thin.
“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size, Desiree?” Diana challenges the leader with her surly tone and truly confident demeanor. Trying to draw the ire and the focus of the group back toward herself. The ring of whores crowding around the two heroines with their backs to the shoe store window had grown a bit tighter now. The band of five prostitutes is imposing its physical presence on the two heroines with obviously threatening stances from each.
Still Diana is fearless even as the five whores even out the spacing around them.
“You still haven’t denied you’re hooking, ladies. And your time’s up. Yes or no? Are you whoring on our turf or not?”
“What would be the penalty if we were?” Diana questions Desiree with arched eyebrows, completely unfazed by the confrontation.
“We will fuck you up so much, you won’t be able to give your pussies away for free, bitch!” Sharla is eager for the action to begin. She already has her hand in her purse, reaching for her blade.
“Well, I’m sorry to say that we do, in fact, represent your competition this evening, ladies,” says Wonder Woman with a smirk at the closing circle of dour-faced whores. “And by your worn and slatternly looks, I’d say you’re looking at a slow night in comparison.”
“The fuck you say!” An enraged Sharla leaps immediately at Wonder Woman, her body rising off the sidewalk and her arm suddenly high in the air clutching a nasty switchblade that is swinging in a downward arc right at Diana’s face.
Part 3
Wonder Woman has faced off against hundreds of knife-wielding assailants in her career and, even without her magical power belt, handling this short, ill-tempered black whore is no more of a challenge than brushing a gnat off her shoulder. Diana’s arm immediately comes up and blocks the descending hand that clutches the knife with a sharp rap of her metal bracelet against the snarling woman’s wrist.
“OWW!” The whore yelps in pain as the switchblade goes spinning off somewhere on the sidewalk. A short stiff arm to the woman’s chest not only stops her in mid-air before she even can land on Wonder Woman but knocks the short black-haired whore backward in a sudden change of direction that lands Sharla on her tailbone with her legs flying up in the air and her yellow thong flashing brightly from under her blue leather skirt. “UUNGGH!.SHIT! DAMN...Oww! That... really...hurts..!....owwww....”
From Diana’s left, the large-breasted Trixie with the blue mesh blouse and lacy black bra takes a sudden step forward and throws a hard jab at Wonder Woman’s chest. At the same time, the group leader, Desiree, steps forward and aims a wide, arcing punch directly at Diana’s face.
Her talent for handling multiple assailants is legendary and Wonder Woman parries both of the punches with ease. Trixie’s jab is effortlessly knocked to the side by Diana’s left arm. The Amazon beauty then quickly moves to her left, sidestepping Desiree’s haymaker while launching her own left jab straight into the Trixie’s now exposed stomach.
“GGHUUUNFFF!" The young white whore drops heavily to one knee with her head bowed, gasping for air and clutching her stomach in absolute misery.
In a blur of motion, Wonder Woman follows up her decking of Trixie with a right fist that snaps out and bashes against Desiree’s cheek, knocking the tall black leader backward two steps with a grimace and a glare. She’s not badly hurt except for her pride.
Off to Diana’s right, things are faring much worse for Supergirl. The willowy Glenda rushes the blonde Kryptonian with both arms scissoring the air with hands formed into blades of flesh. Kara blocks one stabbing thrust at her stomach with her right arm but, far too frail from the kryptonite-imbued choker, her left arm fails to adequately protect her head. Glenda’s karate chop comes down hard on her neck, spinning Supergirl off to her right and collapsing her to her knees so that the blonde’s cape swirls around her body. Dazed by the blow, Kara is surprised to see that she’s facing the shoe store window. How did that happen? Her arms hang limp at her sides. Following up immediately, Glenda rushes forward, pulling Supergirl’s cape snugly around her upper body so it pins her arms. She holds that tight in one fist while the other grabs the Maid of Steel’s long blonde hair in a tight bunch at the back of her head and smashes the stunned teenager’s forehead hard against the store window. The glass stars into a white blur even as Supergirl’s head and the hand holding it recoil from the impact.
“NNUGGHH.” The famous champion’s eyes cross in dull oblivion. She feels a rough tug back on her hair again and her face draws back helplessly then rockets forward. The window rushes at her and Kara’s face is brutally smashed against the thick glass again, this time the bridge of her nose meeting the clear hard surface.
CRIGGKK...THUNNNK. The sound of cartilage being bent if not broken is masked by the solid thump of flesh against an unyielding solid.
“HUNNH!..Whhuugh..?...uhhhhhh....” All of Supergirl’s reality coalesces into a ring of blackness and then she knows nothing. The only thing holding up the young heroine is Glenda’s fisted hold on her hair. The shapely redhead releases the long flowing locks and Supergirl folds onto the sidewalk in an unconscious heap. She is out of the fight for good. Glenda, her killer figure wrapped in a tight purple dress, stands triumphantly over the beaten heroine. The smiling redheaded whore wipes her palms together in a finishing gesture of easy contempt.
“If the real Supergirl were here, she’d be pretty fuckin’ pissed, you pathetic fuck-up,” Glenda gloats to the unconscious blonde form lying at her feet. “You’re not representing that costume very well.”
Kara’s body is lying on its side, her upper torso wrapped in her red cape like a cocoon. Her lower torso has her knees bent and touching together. Her short skirt drapes over her thighs on the side but rides up in the back, revealing the bottom of her tight red panties over her exposed butt. Supergirl’s face is slack, her cheek flush against the cold pavement, her eyes showing nothing but white. Her mouth sags opens slightly, her tongue drooping through her parted lips like a dead slug. The blonde beauty’s forehead is spotted a bright red from the impact with the window and from her nose drips a thin line of blood.
Wonder Woman is busily engaged by a yet another onslaught from Desiree and Chloe, but the Amazon princess is furious that she had been too heavily attacked by the two whores to come to Kara’s aid in time. Desiree and Chloe had blocked Diana’s path to Kara with a combination of sharp defensive maneuvers and sudden dangerous feints that completely forestalled all of Wonder Woman’s efforts to come to Supergirl’s assistance. It had only taken about 15 seconds at the most for Glenda to dispatch the heavily handicapped Maid of Steel but Desiree and Chloe had made sure there was no way for the black-haired bitch could save her blonde companion from Glenda’s rapid and violent subjugation of Supergirl. And now Glenda is coming in to help the gasping whores who are obviously tiring from the frantic pace of the fight with this Wonder bitch.
Off to the side, Sharla and Trixie are still recovering from the painful damage to their bodies and confidence. This Wonder Woman wannabe was harshly good at fighting. Normally Desiree and Sharla would have wiped the floor by this time with anyone foolish enough to tangle with their gang. But Sharla had been very quickly knocked breathless as had Trixie. They were kneeling together and trying to talk through their wheezing.
“..got to attack her... all together...” Sharla gasped. The shot she’d taken to her chest felt like a rib might have been broken. She couldn’t draw a clean breath without a twinge of pain. Trixie’s massive chest was heaving as well. The punch to her gut had felt like dynamite going off in her stomach. Even after a few minutes, she was just now getting her breathing back, a slow process.
“..yeah...you’re...right..” Trixie nodded weakly. She didn’t feel like wading back in against this whirling dervish but she suspected that Desiree, Glenda and Chloe weren’t going to be able to take down the red and blue costumed cunt easily, even three against one. Looking at the spinning, coordinated defense being staged by this Wonder Woman whore, Trixie is amazed at the grace and power of those powerful kicking legs, the viper-fast arms and the bobbing and weaving style that was leaving her three friends’ fists and high heels slashing nothing but empty air time after time.
Trixie sees Chloe try a leg sweep of the costumed woman and admires the speed of Chloe’s sudden drop to her springy hands and the swift arc of her bare black leg as it sweeps out toward her adversary’s bright red boots with their wide white stripes. An instant before the whipping leg makes contact with Wonder Woman’s boots, the raven-haired dynamo leaps in the air and Chloe’s leg sweeps harmlessly underneath the bent legs of the air-borne beauty. On top of that, the moment Wonder Woman lands, she bends low, dodging a right cross from Desiree, and snaps a hard right cross of her own directly onto Chloe’s chin. This knocks Chloe’s head sideways and sends her eyes rolling up under her lids even as her body jerks backward and she lies limp on her back with her one leg folded under her and the other sprawled far out to the side. The crotch of her tight black vinyl hotpants is so tight against her body in this awkward position that you can see the bulges of her labia in the light from the shoe store window. The red silk blouse has been pulled out of the waist of Chloe’s low-riding hotpants revealing a smooth abdomen with a rose tattoo peeking through the gap. The red rose petals are wrinkled in the slowly rising black flesh as Chloe drops out of consciousness on the cold city sidewalk.
Just then, Glenda shoots out a high leg kick aimed at Wonder Woman’s face at the same time that Desiree fires a hard mule kick at the Amazon’s stomach. But with her reflexes honed by the adrenaline rushing through her system, the warrior princess jumps back a foot, her back slapping lightly against the window of the shoe store. Both kicks miss badly and Wonder Woman smiles broadly as she leaps forward toward the pair of off-balanced whores. She snaps her own leg kick at Glenda’s head and connects with a loud THWOCK of boot heel on forehead. The redhead’s hair flies forward as her head snaps back. Her pale green irises shake like peas in a glass vial as Glenda wavers in place on rubber legs. Then the tall freckled whore slowly falls backward onto the sidewalk like a fallen redwood. Lying on her back with her arms flung out to the sides and her knees flopped wide apart, the sheer black nylon panties under her tightly stretched dress display the soft folds of her pussy in the soft yellow light from the overhead street lamp.
Spinning in place, Wonder Woman suddenly squats down low before a frustrated Desiree who’s seen all of her compatriots taken out of the fight by this big-titted cow. With a lunge upward, Diana flies toward Desiree with both fists pointing at the tall whore’s breasts, one fist for each. No stranger to street fighting herself, Desiree reacts quickly enough to raise her knee and block Wonder Woman’s attack. The leaping Amazon’s chest smashes into Desiree’s knee before Diana’s fists can reach the whore. The pain in her tits is harsh and sudden.
“HUUHNNNN!” Wonder Woman is knocked backward, sprawling on the ground on her back, clutching her chest. “Ohhhh....” She’d leapt with such a vengeance, a rashness and a fury based on the ruthless attack she’d seen Kara subjected to that the powerful vehemence of the attack ensures Diana can’t catch her breath for a moment. In fact she’s quite dizzy from the foolish maneuver. From behind her, a strong arm wraps around her throat, squeezing off her airway with alarming effectiveness.
“HRRRGK!”
Diana can feel a huge set of plump breasts pressing against her back even as one of her arms is clutched at the wrist and pulled back to defeat her balance. It must be Trixie behind her with breasts that big. This fact is immediately confirmed by the sarcastic comment the young white whore makes.
“What’s the matter, bitch? Can’t get enough air to make any more funny Madonna references?”
“ERRGGHHKK!” The crook of Trixie’s elbow nestles tightly under Wonder Woman’s chin giving power to the headlock that is making the twisting and thrashing beauty weaker by the moment. Diana tries stabbing backward with her free elbow against Trixie’s ribs but she can’t get the proper leverage. In front of her, Desiree is hopping side to side, trying to angle for a chance to get a grip on the shiny red and white boots and hold this flailing bitch’s ankles off the ground so she can’t get leverage at all. But the stabbing, jerking boots are dangerous weapons that are all that Diana has left right now and she’s using them as best she can. She kicks out viciously at Desiree’s hands whenever they get close to her boots. The tall whore has already gotten her knuckles badly scraped by one nasty sideswipe of those cobra-quick boots.
“This bitch is pissing me off. Hold ‘er down tight, Trix,” Desiree snaps. “Sharla, come around her side and try to gut punch this rabid bitch! Maybe that’ll slow her down so I can grab her boots.”
Hesitantly, Sharla walks around the struggling women until she’s to the six feet to left of them, eyeing the thrashing Amazon for an opening. With her injured rib, Sharla’s not confident she can get a good punch in, especially with that free arm warding her off. She’s going to have to go around to the other side where Trixie has her quaking arm pinned against her side. Diana’s face is now red from the headlock but her struggles don’t seem to be lessening that much. Trixie bears down harder on the headlock.
“AACCGGKK!” Wonder Woman’s eyes bulge as she tries to tuck her chin into Trixie’s elbow to counteract the hold but it does little good. She’s almost out of breath and there’s no fresh reserves coming through her windpipe. How did she let herself get into this position? More shoddy tactics. More sloppy thinking. More pathetic results. Diana is horrified at how incompetent she has become.
“Come on. Pass out you motherfucking hellbitch!” Trixie growls into Diana’s ear.
On Diana’s right she suddenly sees a black fist come skewering in from just over Trixie’s shoulder. It drives into her right tit but it’s too weak to be very effective.
“Hey, Sharla. That didn’t do shit. You gotta get closer,” Desiree hollers. “Really give her a shot now!”
“I’m trying but she’s movin’ around so much it’s hard to get a clean shot. And my ribs hurt. She may have broken a couple.”
“You want to try to grab her feet and I’ll punch her side?”
“Hell no!” Sharla blanches. Those feet looked deadly, even with the headlock Trixie was laying on this hellion.
“Then get closer and punch the skank hard, Sharla. Let’s get this done!”
Nervously, Sharla edges closer to Wonder Woman’s right side. With her right arm pinned down to her side by Trixie’s firm grip on her wrist, Diana can only try to ward off Sharla’s attack with her wildly waving free left arm from across her body. Suddenly, with her arm waving off to the left, before Wonder Woman can bring it back to block her, Sharla’s fist crashes with much greater force than last time, and this one connects right to the exposed ribs of the struggling Amazon.
“GHAAAAA! WHREEEEEZ!” The punch and the newly tightened headlock do the trick. Diana’s face goes a deeper red, near purple and her body goes slack with lightheaded pain and confusion.
They’ve won! They’re going to kill me now. And Kara.
She, Wonder Woman, Champion of All Women, was going to die as a whore fighting a turf war. It was all so surreal. And so wrong!
The wheezing distracted heroine feels her ankles suddenly grabbed and her legs hoisted up in the air. Desiree now even had her feet in her tight grasp and wasn’t about to let go. There was nothing left to do. She was finished.
Or was she?
There are all kinds of leverage and suddenly Diana realized she had better leverage now than when her feet were on the floor fighting off Trixie’s wrestling hold and Desiree’s attempt to grab her boots. With all the energy in her body and all the desperation in her soul, Wonder Woman suddenly wrenches her body around in a tight spin. With Desiree holding her legs so firmly, she has all the resistance she need to push off at last! She turns inside Trixie’s headlock until her face is buried in the girl’s armpit, her face full of blue mesh nylon, her eyebrows scraping against the oversized bra strap underneath the blouse. But she can breathe again. It’s rank armpit sweat and all that, but it smells as fresh as mountain air to her fiery lungs. With her free arm, she gives Trixie the most brutal, most punishing shot to the ribs she can muster and it is more than enough to free her from the big-breasted white whore. Trixie releases her upper torso and rolls to the side screaming with pain from Wonder Woman’s thunderous punch. Still close enough to grab her though, Wonder Woman does so, wrapping her arms around the wailing woman’s waist. With that secure base giving her the anchor she needs, Diana is able to wrench one leg out of Desiree’s grasp. With a snap kick born of true desperation and concentrated hate, Wonder Woman connects with Desiree’s chest and succeeds in knocking the tall whore’s grip away from her legs. The whore with the closely-cropped white-afro stumbles backward until she totters on the curb and falls into the street in an ungainly sprawl while Wonder Woman springs to her feet and dashes straight toward Sharla who is bending down to pick up her switchblade six feet away. Just as the short black woman rises and looks up, she finds herself seeing the sole of a red boot come screaming through the air at her face. She can’t block the kick though and the short stunned whore goes flying backward into the outside wall of the shoe store. Her back hits first and then her head bounces against the wall knocking her for a loop. Dizzy and disoriented, Sharla drops to one knee. She doesn’t even see the follow-up kick from Wonder Woman that strikes her under the chin and put out her lights completely.
“Who the fuck are you?” Desiree calls angrily as she pulls herself to a standing position using the metal pole of the bus stop sign.
“I’m Wonder Woman.”
“No really. Who are you? Where do you come from?” Desiree is walking toward Diana, both fists raised in a boxer’s stance, ready to go a few rounds. The two of them circle each other cautiously, searching for openings.
“You want to know where I come from?” Wonder Woman looks into Desiree’s fearful eyes and breaks into a very cold smile. “Your nightmares, bitch! I’m your Freddie Kruger.” And with that, the Amazon beauty hurls herself in the air without warning and executes a flying drop kick to Desiree’s face. The timing and aim are slightly off and Diana only bumps brusquely against Desiree’s jaw. The startled whore backs up in a panicked, stumbling retreat, however, and trips over the prone body of Supergirl, rapping her head extremely hard against the wall of the shoe store.
“HUNNGH!” Desiree pitches forward onto Supergirl’s body and lays there inertly as Diana watches for any further movement. There is none. Diana looks around at the bodies of five limp women scattered around the area. All five whores are unconscious on the sidewalk in various positions of awkward collapse.
From around a corner comes a loud, bulky street cleaning machine, it’s rotating brushes sweeping the debris clean in a wet path down the side street before heading over toward the Grand Concourse. Wonder Woman takes a deep breath and watches it go. The driver is merely looking back over his shoulder at the incredible scene but doesn’t stop. He merely waves a hesitant hand and turns back to keep the giant rolling broom on the straight and narrow. The things you see in the city at night. It never surprised him anymore. But that scene was one for the books.
Diana walks over to where Supergirl is lying on the sidewalk. She leans over to roll away the body of Desiree who has collapsed across the inert form of her blonde friend so she can administer whatever first aid Kara may need. As the limp form of Desiree rolls over Diana is surprised to see a yellowish gleam in the tall black whore’s hand. No. Not in the hand but around it. And then the big black fist comes shooting upward, nailing Wonder Woman in the temple and sending her to her knees with stars in her eyes and a throat filled with bile. After that, Diana falls on her face in pain and confusion. She passes out with a small, gasping grunt.
The brass knuckles that Desiree had slipped onto her hand from the pocket of her faux rabbit fur coat had finally done what she and her four compatriots had been unable to accomplish. They knocked out Wonder Woman and left her helplessly lying in the street, unconscious and bloody, ripe for the vengeful punishment that a shaky Desiree was very much looking forward to.
Part 4
Holding this Wonder bitch’s bright red and white boots tightly by the ankles, Desiree drags the limp form along the sidewalk. The skank’s arms drape along behind her head, palms up. All that wavy black hair swishes along the concrete, twirling and tangling as the body is hauled along in total slack-mouthed defeat. Those huge tits bobble and bounce, barely contained by the gold fabric eagle at the top of her bustier. The all-too-pretty face of this heavy load is mostly untouched but there’s a nasty swollen bump at her temple that is already turning a nasty shade of blue. The bitch’s eyes are open, the lids fluttering as the brightly-costumed white whore seems to be trying to come back to her senses. Her drooling mouth indicates it may be a while yet before fat-ass here can make that happen.
Desiree is walking backwards with Wonder Woman in tow, heading for an alley just down the street so she can enjoy some added privacy where she and her girls can beat the living snot out of this pain in the ass: Really teach her and her blonde teenage carpet-munching toady a little lesson in street justice. She may lose some john time and money in doing so but it will be well worth it!
Her fellow whores had all been brought back to painful, angry consciousness by Desiree with some slapping, some coaxing and some rough nipple pinching where needed. Her grumpy compatriots now walk behind her. Glenda drags a slouching, moaning Supergirl by her armpits. The blonde girl’s shiny red boots are flopped toes outward as the sides of the boots scrape along the sidewalk. In the darkness of this autumn night, the titanium collar throws off a pinpoint of green light that has brought Supergirl to such a humiliating posture. Trixie, Sharla and Chloe are bringing up the rear, scanning for onlookers but seeing no one. Trixie checks her cheap digital wristwatch. It’s 12:38 a.m. Wednesday.
The odd-looking group passes a small store selling sports equipment, a fruit stand and a diner which are all closed down tight for the night with roll-down steel shutters. The small alleyway is just to the left of the diner and the two heroines are quickly pulled into the long, dark passageway, their bodies bumping on the rougher surface of broken bricks and broken concrete. Soft, pained moans escape from Wonder Women as her head is dragged across the sharp edges and bumpy pits of the neglected surface. Supergirl’s ankles are being battered by the rough edges of bricks. The collar has weakened her boots to the point where the now semi-conscious heroine can feel the bone of her ankles being knocked over and over by the stones, bricks and broken cinder blocks that they’re dragged across. The cruel knocks against the sensitive bone hurt her deeply and she groans aloud.
Diana, too, winces and moans a mumbled “oww” as the back of her head thumps harshly against a hard surface. Her back is also being jolted and jabbed as she moves forward feet first with no active role whatsoever in the process.
Being dragged. Head really hurts. Was fighting those whores. OWW! Head! Feel sick, queasy. Oww! Back! Bitch leader surprised me... with what?...brass knuckles? Oww! Now hip hurts! STOP! STOP!
“...stup...plheez...stup...”
“What’s that, honey? Speak up. I can’t hear your sorry ass!” Desiree chuckles as she continues to yank, twist and shake the helpless costumed bitch down the rough alleyway with pure delight.
“I think she said the ride’s too smooth,” Sharla calls out with a nasty laugh. “Wants you to bounce her head a few more times. Maybe drag it across that broken beer bottle.”
“I’m not trying kill her, Sharla,” says Desiree as she gives her victim a heavy twisting shake of her calves causing Diana’s cheek to scrape against a rusty metal bottle cap and come up with an angry skin scrape. “Just want Double D’s here to know she pissed be off. You hear me, jelly jugs? I’m really honked off at you, honky!”
My face! Oww! Scraped. Got to grab something.
Diana’s wrists turn and her feeble fingers reach out to try to hold onto the uneven surface sliding beneath them but she’s being pulled too quickly. The Amazon warrior is simply too weak and disoriented to hold on to anything to stop or even slow her progress. Bricks, stones and gravel slip out of her fingers with every pathetic effort.
Oww! Head again. And again. BACK! OWWW! PLEASE STOP!!!
“...STUPPP...!...begging...stop...no more...Oww...oww....ohhhhhh...”
Finally about twenty feet from the end of the alley, Desiree finally comes to a halt and pushes Wonder Woman’s legs down out of her grip so they slam to the ground, drawing a sharp whimper from the dazed and whimpering woman. Behind them, the other girls stop and Glenda drops Supergirl’s upper torso to the alley surface like a sack of potatoes.
“....aagh!...” Kara yelps as her head hits an uneven patch of tarmac and bounces slightly. The pain cuts through her barely conscious state and the young Kryptonian slowly starts to regain her senses. She hears someone talking. A female.
“There. We stopped. Happy, cunts?”
“...uuugggghhhh....” Diana is dizzy with pain messages from all over her back and her head. It’s like her brain’s email box is clogged with urgent notices that she’s too sick and confused to know how to open them. And she doesn’t even want to try.
“You won’t be happy, bitches! Not with what me and my girlfriends are going to do to you two.”
Both heroines are still too out of it to respond. Diana’s temple is throbbing badly. The skin probably isn’t broken since she doesn’t feel the drip of blood down her face but it’s possible she’s sustained a concussion. She feels slightly nauseous but she can remember what happened so that’s a good sign. Slowly, Diana opens her eyes to see Desiree looking down at her with a broadly evil smile.
“Hey sugar! Ready to play? You’re so good at fighting, I’d thought I’d give you another shot at the title.”
“...i won the last time...only here cuz you cheated...” whispers Wonder Woman.
“Let’s agree to disagree, skank,” Desiree says as she goes down on one knee and reaches low to grabs the front of Wonder Woman’s top. Clutching the fabric eagle tight in her fist, Desiree hauls a limp and surprised Diana off her back and yanks her savagely to her knees. The dazed heroine sags backward in Desiree’s grip, both arms dangling at her sides, her head wavering as she raises it to look into the eyes of the tall black whore holding her in place. She’s too out of it to even see the crooked elbow of the woman in the white tube top and bobbing breasts rear back. All she notices at the last moment is the blur coming at her midsection.
“GGGUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHH!”
Desiree has gut-punched Wonder Woman with all her might using the brass knuckles.
Diana’s vision explodes into a galaxy of white stars with the lack of air. She doubles over in agony and, released from the grinning whore’s hold, collapses to her side in wheezing, gasping agony. Then, overwhelmed with lightheadedness and nausea, the Amazon vomits out a pool of greenish-brown slop onto the street by her face.
“Oh, We’re gonna have so much fun kicking your sorry white asses, you muthafuckin’ cunts. Both of you are gonna wish you never been born. I promise you that!”
Supergirl and Wonder Woman: Street Walkers
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DrDominator9
- Emissary
- Posts: 2461
- Joined: 13 years ago
- Location: On the Border of the Neutral Zone
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TaliaAlGhul101
- Neophyte Lvl 3
- Posts: 29
- Joined: 7 years ago
Wow the mighty continue to fall further, even in an alternate side story lol. It's one thing to get worked over by some trained mob goons or Sergei, but to get their asses kicked by some common street hookers is a new low. Granted neither woman is anywhere near peek fighting condition and Kara is further weakened by that collar and being outnumbered against people who cheat and Diana has too not only worry about her less skilled friend but avoid any dangerous weapons the hookers might have on them. Wonder if the girls will be able to turn things around before they get to messed up.
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DrDominator9
- Emissary
- Posts: 2461
- Joined: 13 years ago
- Location: On the Border of the Neutral Zone
Whores at War: Battle for Turf Rights
Part B
The day is only one hour new. It’s just a bit after 1:00 a.m. and the moonlight through the wind-blown clouds is bright when it’s not being obscured. Lying on the cold pavement on this breezy autumn evening, the fallen bodies of Wonder Woman and Supergirl stir uneasily. Full consciousness is an evasive butterfly as the pain of their beating and being dragged through the streets and alleyway works against them.
“....ohhhhhhh...” The mighty Amazon warrior groans dully as her stomach spasms slowly depart after the nasty punch delivered mere moments ago. A vile puddle of her own puke mere inches from her nose wrinkles her pretty features with disgust. She rolls away from it onto her back and opens her eyes wider to the night sky, wheezing shrilly.
The face of the black demoness whore Desiree suddenly slides into view overhead. Her wide nostrils flare and her large teeth, white as chalk tips, seem to shimmer as her smile takes up half her face.
“Little tummy ache there, princess?”
I’ve fought super villains, a raging Minotaur, violent mob hit men, even Mars himself, and this bitch takes me out with a stupid set of brass knuckles. Diana, you’re not the girl you used to be! Just need a moment to catch my breath and I’ll show this lowlife the vengeance of an Amazon warrior!
The best laid plans and all that. Diana’s respite is much too short to recover as a new stabbing kick in the sides from Desiree’s shoe lights up her kidney with pain and jerks Diana’s body with a sickening thud.
“...aaghhh!” Wonder Woman yelps in pain, her eyes wide with it even as she sees a small black fist with brass highlights rocket down at her from the left. Too numb to react quickly enough, Diana’s cheek snaps sideways and splits open slightly from the force of the blow as the warrior maiden is stunned into a blurred stupor from the violence unleashed by the glowering whore towering over her. The form bends down, grabs Wonder Woman by the gold fabric of her tunic and yanks her upper torso up from the pavement. With her cheek bleeding, her eyes dulled by the stunning blow and her limp arms hanging uselessly to the side, the raven-haired beauty is a sitting duck for the brass knuckles that come hurtling into her left breast. The harsh metal curves drive into the doughy tissue with a punishing force that pulls a tormented scream from the defenseless heroine.
“AAYIIEEEAHH!”
Before the wobbling tit can even still to a painful stop, a second blow to the other boob buries into the fleshy roundness causing a second scream and more debilitating pain. Diana’s body is dropped to the pavement and the Amazon’s body turns onto her belly in an almost autonomic defense maneuver. Diana’s hands clutch at her breasts beneath her to try to assuage the pain. Her eyes wince with tears as she groans in pathetic helplessness.
“...oohhhhhh....” Diana holds her breasts, trying to manage the pain there, her mind dizzy with it. All thoughts of fighting back are pushed aside with the brutality of the attack.
“STOP IT!” Supergirl screams out from her reclining position. Propped up only on her forearms and elbows, they shake noticeably as her sluggish brain finally processes the noise and visual input in the alley into the information that her friend is in danger. “You’ll kill her!”
“No. But she’ll wish I did,” snaps back Desiree as she lifts her foot and stomps it down on the back of Wonder Woman’s head. The battering ram of her sole knocks Diana’s forehead against the pavement rendering the already weakened heroine completely helpless and dazed.
“Chloe and Sharla, don’t waste her, but haul that blonde bitch up and teach her a lesson about cruising on our turf that she won’t ever forget.” Desiree then motions to other two. “Trixie and Glenda, come here and help me show Wonder Cunt here some other nasty things that can happen to someone who tries to fuck with my crew.”
“No!” Kara pleads. “Don’t do this. We’ll leave and won’t come...GHUNFFF!” Supergirl gasps loudly as the punch to her gut while she’s hoisted off the pavement reduces her to wheezing limpness. With Chloe and Sharla now holding on to Supergirl’s arms on either side of her, the blonde teen champion sags weakly between the two short women. The slightly taller heroine’s knees sag forward, the insteps of her boots scrape against the ground and her head hangs low and her breasts rise and fall in a desperate attempt to fill her lungs with air.
“Oh, you’ll leave alright, blondie,” Sharla growls with low menace, “but not before you get a good old-fashioned ass-whoopin,’ bitch!”
Chloe looks at Sharla over the top of the nodding blonde’s head and mouths the word “Tits” to her companion. The nasty young whore nods evilly back with a malicious smile and rears back with her elbow. They count off together silently: 3...2...1. and then both of the black whores let the Maid of Steel have it, driving their fists into Kara’s chest from opposite sides. The soft breasts implode together into one thin, deeply-clefted roll of flesh. The eye-popping agony of this double pounding of her tits pulls a shrieking scream out of Supergirl’s gaping mouth. Held firmly in place by both her arms the battered blonde teen can do nothing but hang between her assailants and weep and moan pitifully.
“Owww....ugghnnn.....dear Rao...it hurts.....it hurts....” Copious tears run from her eyes and clear snot hangs out of her nose as Supergirl cries miserably. Her cape drapes over her back and outlines the curves of her ass as she dangles in torment, her knees quivering and her head shaking back and forth as the blonde teen struggles to regain her composure. A few racking sobs reveal her inability to restrain her emotions or control her pain. The kryptonite collar has eliminated Supergirl’s ability to withstand such harsh punishment to her body.
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“You hear that?” Desiree coos into Diana’s ear as she and Glenda and Trixie pull the semi-conscious Amazon to her feet and prop her against the alley wall. Desiree’s forearm pushes against Wonder Woman’s throat while Glenda and Trixie pin her outstretched arms to the cool brick with a click of her cheap tin bracelets. The grinning whore eases the brass knuckles off her hand even as the forearm continues to strain against Diana’s throat. She nonchalantly slips the weapon into the pocket of her rabbit fur jacket before continuing her taunt. “You’re friend ain’t doing so well over there. She don’t have half the gumption you got. Hope she can make it through our little lesson wit’out gettin’ brain damage.”
“...leave.....lone...” is all a groggy Wonder Woman can manage to weakly rasp out. The pressure on her throat is fierce and unrelenting.
“I’d worry ‘bout yourself, sista’. You got issues of your own to tend with.”
Desiree’s sudden crunching knee to Diana’s crotch proves the point instantly.
“GAAAGHH!”
Wonder Woman’s head snaps hard against unyielding brick and only Glenda’s and Trixie’s practiced grip on her elbows and wrists keep the tormented heroine from collapsing to the street in retching distress. They’ve done this work before.
“AAULLGKK...OHHH....NNUHHHH...UUUUHH...” The once mighty champion of Themyscira dry heaves with wracking body jerks, her head bobbing up and down against her chest as the blow to her privates floods her with nausea. The follow-up blow from the tall black whore’s knee to Diana’s groin is no less brutal than the first and the two girls at her sides can barely keep her upright as her body jerks hard and then sags with dead weight in their hold. As it is, Wonder Woman sprays a cone of spit, snot and bile onto her own chest with a small measure of it spewing onto Desiree’s white tube top.
Disgusted and angry at the sudden stain on her night’s outfit, the whore leader grabs a handful of dark hair and snaps an upper cut on the grimacing Amazon’s chin followed by a right cross to her left cheek.
“UNGH! OHH!”
“Don’t take this wrong, ladies, but there ain’t nuthin’ I like more than waling on an uppity white bitch who don’t know her place.” Desiree chuckles low in her throat but her two white compatriots take no offense at the remark. They’ve heard it before when pounding other whores who’ve strayed onto their turf. It’s part of the routine by now.
Wonder Woman hangs senseless in the arms of the tall white whores as Desiree gloats at the scene before her. This fat-ass cunt is done. She sags in the two girls’ grip, her head on her chest, blood and snot drip off her cheek and out of her nose. The tops of her white breasts bulge from out of the red and gold bustier, splattered with spit and bright red drops. The blue panties with their white stars are wrinkled and slightly displaced from Desiree’s battering. The crotch shows an awkward hint of skin. Both knees of the barely conscious woman touch together while her ankles splay out to the sides. Barely audible moans weave through the quiet air from the beaten figure.
“Throw this stupid bitch in the trash, girls,” the whore sniffs haughtily, nodding at the collection of steel garbage cans lined against the wall fifteen feet away.
Taking a running start, Glenda and Trixie drag the limp body of Wonder Woman along the littered tarmac and stones in a rush, then hurl her hard enough so the bright red boots gain air for a few feet before the flailing body lands in the line-up of steel cans with a crashing din. Three of the five cans tip over spilling their contents and Wonder Woman ends up splayed face down in the mess, her bright blue panties sticking up as she lies numbly draped over the round surface of one of the steel cans. Consciousness comes and goes like a wandering ghost as she hangs over the steel can.
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While her Amazonian friend is been summarily dispatched with malicious ease by Desiree, Trixie and Glenda, Supergirl has been suffering her own punishment. After her tits had been pummeled by Chloe and Sharla, the crying teenager was dropped back onto the broken tarmac face-first and kicked repeatedly in the ribs, thighs and back: anywhere the curled fetal position Kara had assumed could be easily reached by the sharp toes of the two whores’ high heels. Hard jabbing fists joined in now and then and the bruised and battered blonde heroine now bleeds from her nose and chin. She also sports the start of a black eye from when Chloe grabbed her hair and twisted her head to the sky while Sharla popped her hard in the face. Kara was able to wrench away from that and go back to her fetal curve, whimpering and pleading for the merciless whores to stop. They just laughed and kicked harder.
“These streets are ours, you sorry-ass cunt. You hear me?” Sharla barks.
THUD.
“Aaaghh! Yes!”
“You don’t come ‘round here less we say so, white bread. Right?” Chloe taunts, drawing back her foot and then driving it forward.
THUMP
“Oww. Ohhhhh....r...r...right..”
“Can’t hear you, bitch,” Sharla spits.
THUD
“Aaieeyyee. RIGHT! I said right! Oww...I said right... Stop it. Please...” The mewling Maid of Steel tightens her fetal position and grimaces from the kicks she’s enduring.
“Good,” Chloe declares. “Now stand up, wimp.”
Slowly, a terrorized Kara responds to the command, unwinding her aching body and gingerly standing up until she’s fully upright, her arms held up with palms out in defensive wariness, her eyes dripping tears, her mouth quivering, a thin line of blood draining from her nose and dripping from her chin. She’s at least a head taller than either of the two whore before her but her demeanor is one of abject submissiveness. She almost seems to be trying make herself smaller, as if she wished to disappear. She can’t look at either woman directly in the eye. Her head is bowed and the blue eyes shift nervously back and forth in expectation of more abuse. The kryptonite collar, her fear and the constant savageness of the gang of whores has reduced the teen champion to a sniveling, cowering husk.
“You shave your fresh teen snatch for your johns, skank, or do prefer smelly man-cum clogging up that blonde bush or yours?” Sharla steps forward as she poses the question to Kara who backs up a step in response without replying.
“Answer me, bitch. I don’t talk just to hear myself. I need to know what my competition is doin’. Gotta stay in tune with what the customers want, ya’ know.” Another step forward for Sharla, another step back for Supergirl.
“Speak, bitch.”
“...i...i...don’t...don’t...shave...” Supergirl whispers, mortified.
“So you like the feel of sticky jism in your carpet, huh? The scent of a man whose traced his dick through yo’ tangled curlies gets you hot, does it, honky?” Sharla has backed Supergirl up against the brick wall. The Maid of Steel cringes in fear, her body twisting away protectively from the menacing black whore. Hearing a crash of metal to her right, Supergirl shoots a glance in that direction only to see Wonder Woman collapsing over a steel garbage can, limp and helpless. For now, Kara is on her own.
Sharla stands before Supergirl with her hands on her hips and her brown eyes appraising her flustered quarry with snake-like coldness. And a touch of mirth.
Off to Kara’s near left, Chloe stands watchful for any sign that the blonde teen might bolt. She has picked up a discarded brown beer bottle which dangles casually from her fingers while her arms are crossed under her breasts. Her stance pushes them up, accenting the cleavage showing through the plunging neckline of her bright red silk blouse. The dual chocolate muffins shimmy in the moonlight.
“...it...it..isn’t...like that....”
“Well, how iz it then, sweetness?” Sharla invades Kara’s personal space, her face thrust up into her prey’s, her eyes blazing with challenge, her arms stretched out with her palms against the brick wall, pinning Supergirl into a cell of warm, fleshy antagonism.
“..i...don’t...do this...for a living...like you. I’m being...forced into this...”
“Oh, so you better than us. You slummin’ here ‘cause yo’ pimp is up in yo’ face an’ you got nowhere to turn.”
“No. There’s no pimp. I’m not really a whore but...well, Tony, might be considered my pimp, I guess.” Supergirl is now babbling with fear. Sharla’s skeptical eyes bore into her, her head slightly turned, the eyebrows raised in doubt.
“You’re not a whore but you got a pimp. Girl, you’re either dumb as a bag a’ rocks or you’re a lying cunt.” Sharla backs off a step and suddenly produces her switchblade from the small side pocket of her blue leather miniskirt. She flips it with practiced ease and the shining blade locks in place with gleaming menace in the moonlight. “I don’t care for dumbness much and I sure as hell don’t put up with liars. I think you need to be cut, bitch, just to clear yo’ mind and get you focused on just what the fuck you are!”
“Oh Rao! Oh no! Don’t...” Kara puts her hands up, her palms violently shaking in mid-air between herself and Sharla and that angry-looking blade.
“Where you want it, girl? The gut? Yo’ tits? That tight little cunt?” The knife waves back and forth with transfixing horror before Kara’s trembling form.
“NO!” A panicked Supergirl finally bolts to the right, away from Chloe and past Sharla’s jabbing knife that misses her by mere inches. A quickly thrust ankle by the short, crafty whore however trips the blonde Kryptonian and she sprawls forward onto the broken asphalt, her cape streaming behind her. Hitting the uneven surface scrapes her hands and knees badly but the desperate teen scrambles mindlessly to a crouch so she can run away out of the alley and somehow get back to Tony for help. The sudden bashing of a beer bottle to the back of her head cancels that thought and most others as Supergirl falls to her hands and knees in dazed confusion, her ears ringing. Before she knows it, she’s hauled backwards and thrown up against the brick wall she’d just left a moment before. Sharla’s outstretched arm and her hand clutched around Kara’s throat keep her pinned against the wall. Chloe has quickly taken firm grasp of her left arm with one hand and firmly grips Supergirl’s yellow belt with the other, holding her captive.
Sharla holds the knife up to the blonde teen’s face, pointing the blade at her eye, the point circling a mere three inches away.
“....uuuuuggghhhnnnn...” The dazed champion’s eyes flutter as her brain begrudgingly pulls sensibility back into place. Sharla and Chloe wait calmly for their prey to reach a higher state of awareness. Up the alley, Trixie, Desiree and Glenda whisper and plan amongst themselves as a low groan emanates from Wonder Woman who is also struggling to regain full consciousness herself.
When Kara’s half-lidded blue eyes finally begin to reveal the return of a modicum of intelligence, Sharla squeezes her hand tighter around the teen’s soft neck. The black hand against the white throat is only able to encompass half the circumference but the sudden puckering of the skin and the tightly-compressed folds indicate a powerful strength in the small hand.
“HRRYGK!” Supergirl chokes with the sudden constriction of her airway then becomes aware of a knife blade right under her nose. Sharla’s cold emotionless brown eye is right behind the blade observing her with reptilian care. Kara feels the very tip of the knife circling the inner edge of her nostril and her eyes widen in horror. Despite Desiree’s admonition not to kill her, Supergirl is certain Sharla is about to ignore that command. Too petrified to move with the knife edging slowly around her nostril, Supergirl mews with a pitiful kittenish misery.
“...eehhwwmm....”
“I’m thinking you be the dumbest bitch I run into fo’ some time, girl. Just you and your sack of shit friend over there ‘gainst all a’ us and...LOOK AT ME BITCH! DON’T BE SHIFTIN’ THOSE EYES AT YOUR BUTT-SAVIN’ BITCH MISTRESS! I’M YO’ MISTRESS IN THE HERE AND NOW. YOU GET ME?!!”
“..y..yeh...yess...yesss....” Kara murmurs softly, keeping her head rock still as the knife trembles in her nose with Sharla’s anger flooding her system with adrenaline.
“Good girl. Stay focused on me ‘cause what I’m sayin’ is most important to you right now. Hear me?”
“Uh huh.”
“Where was I. Oh yeah, it’s just you and Wonder Wuss ‘gainst all of us, so there t’ain’t no excaping here without a full beatdown like we promised. But when you try and run away like you just done, that pisses me off and its gotta cost you.”
“W..w...won’t...t.. try it again.”
“‘Course you won’t but that’s ‘cuz Chloe and me won’t let you. But like I say, you got to take your penalty. So what’s it going to be? A slit nose...” the sharp knife edges presses against the inner tissue of Kara’s nose with dangerous accuracy before it is withdrawn and lowered. The shiny blade slides along her neck, the back of Sharla’s hand and then onto Supergirl’s chest. It moves between her breasts until the point pokes into the soft curve of her left breast, dimpling the blue fabric just beside the famous red and yellow insignia. “Or s’pose I stick this cute little titty of yours. Leave a nasty scar you can use to start conversations with the johns you entertain?”
“...p..please....please...don’t...” breathes the nervous young blonde, her breast rising and falling a bit more rapidly from the terror. The knife point rises and falls with the breast and Supergirl holds her breath to stop the movement. Sharla smiles evilly and pulls the point away from the boob and then, with a sudden insane thrust, arcs it upward until it comes to rest at the very inner edge of Supergirl’s eye, mere centimeters away from her tear duct. The fact that Supergirl doesn’t jerk in fear or that Sharla doesn’t jab the blade through her eye seems miraculous. But the point now hovers there at the very focus of her sight and Kara is cross-eyed looking at the point so close to blinding her for good.
“Maybe you should lose an eye for the trouble you caused. Think that’s fair?”
“....no....” Kara whispers almost inaudibly. Her eye stares at her own frightened reflection in the mirror that is the blade.
“I do. I think it’s fair,” Sharla says cooly, nodding her head as if coming to her decision. “I think it’s real fair.” Sharla tightens her grip on Supergirl’s throat a bit more, the knife ready to plunge.
Kara suddenly experiences a warm rushing sensation between her thighs and feels an inundating wetness under her skirt as she pisses herself in total fear. Her panties are soaked before she knows it and the sound of her splattering, hosing urine splashing onto the street between her legs causes both whores to look down at the sight of yellow urine dropping like a waterfall out from under the short red skirt. Some of this piss runs down the inner thighs and calves of the blonde teenager into her boots. Most of it puddles up on the black asphalt beneath the girl while some of it runs off in five different directions, following the undulating curves and angles of the pavement in tributaries of fear and shame.
“Shit, Desiree was spot on right ‘bout you, bitch,” Sharla says, stepping away from Supergirl to avoid the spreading puddle of urine rushing at her high heels. She takes her blade with her and the imminent danger it represents. “You’re a panty wetter true as any truth told! What a sorry cunt you are. Fact is, you’re too pathetic to fuck with! Sit down, bitch. Right there in your own little puddle a’ piss. That’s a good girl. Now look up at me.”
A morose, sick and depressed Supergirl looks up from her cross-legged position. Sitting in the warm spreading puddle of her own piss, the famous champion is filled with anguish at her humiliating display of fear yet deeply thankful her sight is saved from the butcher’s blade. As her dulled anxious eyes finally focus up at Sharla’s sneering face, she registers the shadow of the beer bottle coming in from the side. Chloe’s aim is true and the bottom of the arcing bottle smashes into the blonde’s temple with a resonant thump. The Maid of Steel collapses sideways in a senseless heap, her nose bleeding, her eyes white in a endless stare without pupils.
“She sure picked the wrong fuckin’ costume,” Chloe says. “Never came across such a total wimp in my life.” The jeering whore tosses the bottle lightly at the slumping heroine and it bounces off her thigh and lands beside her knee, spinning around once before coming to a rest in the silence of the deep alleyway. It’s twenty minutes to two in the morning and Tony Bonano’s famous prize heroines have had the crap beat out of them by a gang of whores merely concerned with protecting their turf. The man will not be happy with the results of the evening. Needless to say, neither will the girls. And still the night isn't over.
Part B
The day is only one hour new. It’s just a bit after 1:00 a.m. and the moonlight through the wind-blown clouds is bright when it’s not being obscured. Lying on the cold pavement on this breezy autumn evening, the fallen bodies of Wonder Woman and Supergirl stir uneasily. Full consciousness is an evasive butterfly as the pain of their beating and being dragged through the streets and alleyway works against them.
“....ohhhhhhh...” The mighty Amazon warrior groans dully as her stomach spasms slowly depart after the nasty punch delivered mere moments ago. A vile puddle of her own puke mere inches from her nose wrinkles her pretty features with disgust. She rolls away from it onto her back and opens her eyes wider to the night sky, wheezing shrilly.
The face of the black demoness whore Desiree suddenly slides into view overhead. Her wide nostrils flare and her large teeth, white as chalk tips, seem to shimmer as her smile takes up half her face.
“Little tummy ache there, princess?”
I’ve fought super villains, a raging Minotaur, violent mob hit men, even Mars himself, and this bitch takes me out with a stupid set of brass knuckles. Diana, you’re not the girl you used to be! Just need a moment to catch my breath and I’ll show this lowlife the vengeance of an Amazon warrior!
The best laid plans and all that. Diana’s respite is much too short to recover as a new stabbing kick in the sides from Desiree’s shoe lights up her kidney with pain and jerks Diana’s body with a sickening thud.
“...aaghhh!” Wonder Woman yelps in pain, her eyes wide with it even as she sees a small black fist with brass highlights rocket down at her from the left. Too numb to react quickly enough, Diana’s cheek snaps sideways and splits open slightly from the force of the blow as the warrior maiden is stunned into a blurred stupor from the violence unleashed by the glowering whore towering over her. The form bends down, grabs Wonder Woman by the gold fabric of her tunic and yanks her upper torso up from the pavement. With her cheek bleeding, her eyes dulled by the stunning blow and her limp arms hanging uselessly to the side, the raven-haired beauty is a sitting duck for the brass knuckles that come hurtling into her left breast. The harsh metal curves drive into the doughy tissue with a punishing force that pulls a tormented scream from the defenseless heroine.
“AAYIIEEEAHH!”
Before the wobbling tit can even still to a painful stop, a second blow to the other boob buries into the fleshy roundness causing a second scream and more debilitating pain. Diana’s body is dropped to the pavement and the Amazon’s body turns onto her belly in an almost autonomic defense maneuver. Diana’s hands clutch at her breasts beneath her to try to assuage the pain. Her eyes wince with tears as she groans in pathetic helplessness.
“...oohhhhhh....” Diana holds her breasts, trying to manage the pain there, her mind dizzy with it. All thoughts of fighting back are pushed aside with the brutality of the attack.
“STOP IT!” Supergirl screams out from her reclining position. Propped up only on her forearms and elbows, they shake noticeably as her sluggish brain finally processes the noise and visual input in the alley into the information that her friend is in danger. “You’ll kill her!”
“No. But she’ll wish I did,” snaps back Desiree as she lifts her foot and stomps it down on the back of Wonder Woman’s head. The battering ram of her sole knocks Diana’s forehead against the pavement rendering the already weakened heroine completely helpless and dazed.
“Chloe and Sharla, don’t waste her, but haul that blonde bitch up and teach her a lesson about cruising on our turf that she won’t ever forget.” Desiree then motions to other two. “Trixie and Glenda, come here and help me show Wonder Cunt here some other nasty things that can happen to someone who tries to fuck with my crew.”
“No!” Kara pleads. “Don’t do this. We’ll leave and won’t come...GHUNFFF!” Supergirl gasps loudly as the punch to her gut while she’s hoisted off the pavement reduces her to wheezing limpness. With Chloe and Sharla now holding on to Supergirl’s arms on either side of her, the blonde teen champion sags weakly between the two short women. The slightly taller heroine’s knees sag forward, the insteps of her boots scrape against the ground and her head hangs low and her breasts rise and fall in a desperate attempt to fill her lungs with air.
“Oh, you’ll leave alright, blondie,” Sharla growls with low menace, “but not before you get a good old-fashioned ass-whoopin,’ bitch!”
Chloe looks at Sharla over the top of the nodding blonde’s head and mouths the word “Tits” to her companion. The nasty young whore nods evilly back with a malicious smile and rears back with her elbow. They count off together silently: 3...2...1. and then both of the black whores let the Maid of Steel have it, driving their fists into Kara’s chest from opposite sides. The soft breasts implode together into one thin, deeply-clefted roll of flesh. The eye-popping agony of this double pounding of her tits pulls a shrieking scream out of Supergirl’s gaping mouth. Held firmly in place by both her arms the battered blonde teen can do nothing but hang between her assailants and weep and moan pitifully.
“Owww....ugghnnn.....dear Rao...it hurts.....it hurts....” Copious tears run from her eyes and clear snot hangs out of her nose as Supergirl cries miserably. Her cape drapes over her back and outlines the curves of her ass as she dangles in torment, her knees quivering and her head shaking back and forth as the blonde teen struggles to regain her composure. A few racking sobs reveal her inability to restrain her emotions or control her pain. The kryptonite collar has eliminated Supergirl’s ability to withstand such harsh punishment to her body.
=================================================
“You hear that?” Desiree coos into Diana’s ear as she and Glenda and Trixie pull the semi-conscious Amazon to her feet and prop her against the alley wall. Desiree’s forearm pushes against Wonder Woman’s throat while Glenda and Trixie pin her outstretched arms to the cool brick with a click of her cheap tin bracelets. The grinning whore eases the brass knuckles off her hand even as the forearm continues to strain against Diana’s throat. She nonchalantly slips the weapon into the pocket of her rabbit fur jacket before continuing her taunt. “You’re friend ain’t doing so well over there. She don’t have half the gumption you got. Hope she can make it through our little lesson wit’out gettin’ brain damage.”
“...leave.....lone...” is all a groggy Wonder Woman can manage to weakly rasp out. The pressure on her throat is fierce and unrelenting.
“I’d worry ‘bout yourself, sista’. You got issues of your own to tend with.”
Desiree’s sudden crunching knee to Diana’s crotch proves the point instantly.
“GAAAGHH!”
Wonder Woman’s head snaps hard against unyielding brick and only Glenda’s and Trixie’s practiced grip on her elbows and wrists keep the tormented heroine from collapsing to the street in retching distress. They’ve done this work before.
“AAULLGKK...OHHH....NNUHHHH...UUUUHH...” The once mighty champion of Themyscira dry heaves with wracking body jerks, her head bobbing up and down against her chest as the blow to her privates floods her with nausea. The follow-up blow from the tall black whore’s knee to Diana’s groin is no less brutal than the first and the two girls at her sides can barely keep her upright as her body jerks hard and then sags with dead weight in their hold. As it is, Wonder Woman sprays a cone of spit, snot and bile onto her own chest with a small measure of it spewing onto Desiree’s white tube top.
Disgusted and angry at the sudden stain on her night’s outfit, the whore leader grabs a handful of dark hair and snaps an upper cut on the grimacing Amazon’s chin followed by a right cross to her left cheek.
“UNGH! OHH!”
“Don’t take this wrong, ladies, but there ain’t nuthin’ I like more than waling on an uppity white bitch who don’t know her place.” Desiree chuckles low in her throat but her two white compatriots take no offense at the remark. They’ve heard it before when pounding other whores who’ve strayed onto their turf. It’s part of the routine by now.
Wonder Woman hangs senseless in the arms of the tall white whores as Desiree gloats at the scene before her. This fat-ass cunt is done. She sags in the two girls’ grip, her head on her chest, blood and snot drip off her cheek and out of her nose. The tops of her white breasts bulge from out of the red and gold bustier, splattered with spit and bright red drops. The blue panties with their white stars are wrinkled and slightly displaced from Desiree’s battering. The crotch shows an awkward hint of skin. Both knees of the barely conscious woman touch together while her ankles splay out to the sides. Barely audible moans weave through the quiet air from the beaten figure.
“Throw this stupid bitch in the trash, girls,” the whore sniffs haughtily, nodding at the collection of steel garbage cans lined against the wall fifteen feet away.
Taking a running start, Glenda and Trixie drag the limp body of Wonder Woman along the littered tarmac and stones in a rush, then hurl her hard enough so the bright red boots gain air for a few feet before the flailing body lands in the line-up of steel cans with a crashing din. Three of the five cans tip over spilling their contents and Wonder Woman ends up splayed face down in the mess, her bright blue panties sticking up as she lies numbly draped over the round surface of one of the steel cans. Consciousness comes and goes like a wandering ghost as she hangs over the steel can.
================================================
While her Amazonian friend is been summarily dispatched with malicious ease by Desiree, Trixie and Glenda, Supergirl has been suffering her own punishment. After her tits had been pummeled by Chloe and Sharla, the crying teenager was dropped back onto the broken tarmac face-first and kicked repeatedly in the ribs, thighs and back: anywhere the curled fetal position Kara had assumed could be easily reached by the sharp toes of the two whores’ high heels. Hard jabbing fists joined in now and then and the bruised and battered blonde heroine now bleeds from her nose and chin. She also sports the start of a black eye from when Chloe grabbed her hair and twisted her head to the sky while Sharla popped her hard in the face. Kara was able to wrench away from that and go back to her fetal curve, whimpering and pleading for the merciless whores to stop. They just laughed and kicked harder.
“These streets are ours, you sorry-ass cunt. You hear me?” Sharla barks.
THUD.
“Aaaghh! Yes!”
“You don’t come ‘round here less we say so, white bread. Right?” Chloe taunts, drawing back her foot and then driving it forward.
THUMP
“Oww. Ohhhhh....r...r...right..”
“Can’t hear you, bitch,” Sharla spits.
THUD
“Aaieeyyee. RIGHT! I said right! Oww...I said right... Stop it. Please...” The mewling Maid of Steel tightens her fetal position and grimaces from the kicks she’s enduring.
“Good,” Chloe declares. “Now stand up, wimp.”
Slowly, a terrorized Kara responds to the command, unwinding her aching body and gingerly standing up until she’s fully upright, her arms held up with palms out in defensive wariness, her eyes dripping tears, her mouth quivering, a thin line of blood draining from her nose and dripping from her chin. She’s at least a head taller than either of the two whore before her but her demeanor is one of abject submissiveness. She almost seems to be trying make herself smaller, as if she wished to disappear. She can’t look at either woman directly in the eye. Her head is bowed and the blue eyes shift nervously back and forth in expectation of more abuse. The kryptonite collar, her fear and the constant savageness of the gang of whores has reduced the teen champion to a sniveling, cowering husk.
“You shave your fresh teen snatch for your johns, skank, or do prefer smelly man-cum clogging up that blonde bush or yours?” Sharla steps forward as she poses the question to Kara who backs up a step in response without replying.
“Answer me, bitch. I don’t talk just to hear myself. I need to know what my competition is doin’. Gotta stay in tune with what the customers want, ya’ know.” Another step forward for Sharla, another step back for Supergirl.
“Speak, bitch.”
“...i...i...don’t...don’t...shave...” Supergirl whispers, mortified.
“So you like the feel of sticky jism in your carpet, huh? The scent of a man whose traced his dick through yo’ tangled curlies gets you hot, does it, honky?” Sharla has backed Supergirl up against the brick wall. The Maid of Steel cringes in fear, her body twisting away protectively from the menacing black whore. Hearing a crash of metal to her right, Supergirl shoots a glance in that direction only to see Wonder Woman collapsing over a steel garbage can, limp and helpless. For now, Kara is on her own.
Sharla stands before Supergirl with her hands on her hips and her brown eyes appraising her flustered quarry with snake-like coldness. And a touch of mirth.
Off to Kara’s near left, Chloe stands watchful for any sign that the blonde teen might bolt. She has picked up a discarded brown beer bottle which dangles casually from her fingers while her arms are crossed under her breasts. Her stance pushes them up, accenting the cleavage showing through the plunging neckline of her bright red silk blouse. The dual chocolate muffins shimmy in the moonlight.
“...it...it..isn’t...like that....”
“Well, how iz it then, sweetness?” Sharla invades Kara’s personal space, her face thrust up into her prey’s, her eyes blazing with challenge, her arms stretched out with her palms against the brick wall, pinning Supergirl into a cell of warm, fleshy antagonism.
“..i...don’t...do this...for a living...like you. I’m being...forced into this...”
“Oh, so you better than us. You slummin’ here ‘cause yo’ pimp is up in yo’ face an’ you got nowhere to turn.”
“No. There’s no pimp. I’m not really a whore but...well, Tony, might be considered my pimp, I guess.” Supergirl is now babbling with fear. Sharla’s skeptical eyes bore into her, her head slightly turned, the eyebrows raised in doubt.
“You’re not a whore but you got a pimp. Girl, you’re either dumb as a bag a’ rocks or you’re a lying cunt.” Sharla backs off a step and suddenly produces her switchblade from the small side pocket of her blue leather miniskirt. She flips it with practiced ease and the shining blade locks in place with gleaming menace in the moonlight. “I don’t care for dumbness much and I sure as hell don’t put up with liars. I think you need to be cut, bitch, just to clear yo’ mind and get you focused on just what the fuck you are!”
“Oh Rao! Oh no! Don’t...” Kara puts her hands up, her palms violently shaking in mid-air between herself and Sharla and that angry-looking blade.
“Where you want it, girl? The gut? Yo’ tits? That tight little cunt?” The knife waves back and forth with transfixing horror before Kara’s trembling form.
“NO!” A panicked Supergirl finally bolts to the right, away from Chloe and past Sharla’s jabbing knife that misses her by mere inches. A quickly thrust ankle by the short, crafty whore however trips the blonde Kryptonian and she sprawls forward onto the broken asphalt, her cape streaming behind her. Hitting the uneven surface scrapes her hands and knees badly but the desperate teen scrambles mindlessly to a crouch so she can run away out of the alley and somehow get back to Tony for help. The sudden bashing of a beer bottle to the back of her head cancels that thought and most others as Supergirl falls to her hands and knees in dazed confusion, her ears ringing. Before she knows it, she’s hauled backwards and thrown up against the brick wall she’d just left a moment before. Sharla’s outstretched arm and her hand clutched around Kara’s throat keep her pinned against the wall. Chloe has quickly taken firm grasp of her left arm with one hand and firmly grips Supergirl’s yellow belt with the other, holding her captive.
Sharla holds the knife up to the blonde teen’s face, pointing the blade at her eye, the point circling a mere three inches away.
“....uuuuuggghhhnnnn...” The dazed champion’s eyes flutter as her brain begrudgingly pulls sensibility back into place. Sharla and Chloe wait calmly for their prey to reach a higher state of awareness. Up the alley, Trixie, Desiree and Glenda whisper and plan amongst themselves as a low groan emanates from Wonder Woman who is also struggling to regain full consciousness herself.
When Kara’s half-lidded blue eyes finally begin to reveal the return of a modicum of intelligence, Sharla squeezes her hand tighter around the teen’s soft neck. The black hand against the white throat is only able to encompass half the circumference but the sudden puckering of the skin and the tightly-compressed folds indicate a powerful strength in the small hand.
“HRRYGK!” Supergirl chokes with the sudden constriction of her airway then becomes aware of a knife blade right under her nose. Sharla’s cold emotionless brown eye is right behind the blade observing her with reptilian care. Kara feels the very tip of the knife circling the inner edge of her nostril and her eyes widen in horror. Despite Desiree’s admonition not to kill her, Supergirl is certain Sharla is about to ignore that command. Too petrified to move with the knife edging slowly around her nostril, Supergirl mews with a pitiful kittenish misery.
“...eehhwwmm....”
“I’m thinking you be the dumbest bitch I run into fo’ some time, girl. Just you and your sack of shit friend over there ‘gainst all a’ us and...LOOK AT ME BITCH! DON’T BE SHIFTIN’ THOSE EYES AT YOUR BUTT-SAVIN’ BITCH MISTRESS! I’M YO’ MISTRESS IN THE HERE AND NOW. YOU GET ME?!!”
“..y..yeh...yess...yesss....” Kara murmurs softly, keeping her head rock still as the knife trembles in her nose with Sharla’s anger flooding her system with adrenaline.
“Good girl. Stay focused on me ‘cause what I’m sayin’ is most important to you right now. Hear me?”
“Uh huh.”
“Where was I. Oh yeah, it’s just you and Wonder Wuss ‘gainst all of us, so there t’ain’t no excaping here without a full beatdown like we promised. But when you try and run away like you just done, that pisses me off and its gotta cost you.”
“W..w...won’t...t.. try it again.”
“‘Course you won’t but that’s ‘cuz Chloe and me won’t let you. But like I say, you got to take your penalty. So what’s it going to be? A slit nose...” the sharp knife edges presses against the inner tissue of Kara’s nose with dangerous accuracy before it is withdrawn and lowered. The shiny blade slides along her neck, the back of Sharla’s hand and then onto Supergirl’s chest. It moves between her breasts until the point pokes into the soft curve of her left breast, dimpling the blue fabric just beside the famous red and yellow insignia. “Or s’pose I stick this cute little titty of yours. Leave a nasty scar you can use to start conversations with the johns you entertain?”
“...p..please....please...don’t...” breathes the nervous young blonde, her breast rising and falling a bit more rapidly from the terror. The knife point rises and falls with the breast and Supergirl holds her breath to stop the movement. Sharla smiles evilly and pulls the point away from the boob and then, with a sudden insane thrust, arcs it upward until it comes to rest at the very inner edge of Supergirl’s eye, mere centimeters away from her tear duct. The fact that Supergirl doesn’t jerk in fear or that Sharla doesn’t jab the blade through her eye seems miraculous. But the point now hovers there at the very focus of her sight and Kara is cross-eyed looking at the point so close to blinding her for good.
“Maybe you should lose an eye for the trouble you caused. Think that’s fair?”
“....no....” Kara whispers almost inaudibly. Her eye stares at her own frightened reflection in the mirror that is the blade.
“I do. I think it’s fair,” Sharla says cooly, nodding her head as if coming to her decision. “I think it’s real fair.” Sharla tightens her grip on Supergirl’s throat a bit more, the knife ready to plunge.
Kara suddenly experiences a warm rushing sensation between her thighs and feels an inundating wetness under her skirt as she pisses herself in total fear. Her panties are soaked before she knows it and the sound of her splattering, hosing urine splashing onto the street between her legs causes both whores to look down at the sight of yellow urine dropping like a waterfall out from under the short red skirt. Some of this piss runs down the inner thighs and calves of the blonde teenager into her boots. Most of it puddles up on the black asphalt beneath the girl while some of it runs off in five different directions, following the undulating curves and angles of the pavement in tributaries of fear and shame.
“Shit, Desiree was spot on right ‘bout you, bitch,” Sharla says, stepping away from Supergirl to avoid the spreading puddle of urine rushing at her high heels. She takes her blade with her and the imminent danger it represents. “You’re a panty wetter true as any truth told! What a sorry cunt you are. Fact is, you’re too pathetic to fuck with! Sit down, bitch. Right there in your own little puddle a’ piss. That’s a good girl. Now look up at me.”
A morose, sick and depressed Supergirl looks up from her cross-legged position. Sitting in the warm spreading puddle of her own piss, the famous champion is filled with anguish at her humiliating display of fear yet deeply thankful her sight is saved from the butcher’s blade. As her dulled anxious eyes finally focus up at Sharla’s sneering face, she registers the shadow of the beer bottle coming in from the side. Chloe’s aim is true and the bottom of the arcing bottle smashes into the blonde’s temple with a resonant thump. The Maid of Steel collapses sideways in a senseless heap, her nose bleeding, her eyes white in a endless stare without pupils.
“She sure picked the wrong fuckin’ costume,” Chloe says. “Never came across such a total wimp in my life.” The jeering whore tosses the bottle lightly at the slumping heroine and it bounces off her thigh and lands beside her knee, spinning around once before coming to a rest in the silence of the deep alleyway. It’s twenty minutes to two in the morning and Tony Bonano’s famous prize heroines have had the crap beat out of them by a gang of whores merely concerned with protecting their turf. The man will not be happy with the results of the evening. Needless to say, neither will the girls. And still the night isn't over.
Hi doc,
I'm Pankaj here, we mailed to and fro a while back and I'm still your big fan. I keep on coming back to your story whenever I see the new supergirl series.
How are you? Hope you're doing fine.
I see you are was to the mob story end in here. And as always it's still perfect and amazing.
It's been long and I was wondering if you're writing any new material on our beloved super heroine? Maybe something in the same universe again or according to the new series.
I hope I'm not nagging by aksing it again. It's the best story I have read and can't stop thinking more from it.
Take care.
I'm Pankaj here, we mailed to and fro a while back and I'm still your big fan. I keep on coming back to your story whenever I see the new supergirl series.
How are you? Hope you're doing fine.
I see you are was to the mob story end in here. And as always it's still perfect and amazing.
It's been long and I was wondering if you're writing any new material on our beloved super heroine? Maybe something in the same universe again or according to the new series.
I hope I'm not nagging by aksing it again. It's the best story I have read and can't stop thinking more from it.
Take care.
-
DrDominator9
- Emissary
- Posts: 2461
- Joined: 13 years ago
- Location: On the Border of the Neutral Zone
Hi darkguy. Thanks for the high praise. I will send you a PM a bit later today. In the meantime, if you want to read my latest Supergirl story you can follow this link. And then the link within that page. The story is called Defilers' Club: First Victim. I'm pretty sure you will enjoy it.
viewtopic.php?f=9&t=28663
viewtopic.php?f=9&t=28663
-
DrDominator9
- Emissary
- Posts: 2461
- Joined: 13 years ago
- Location: On the Border of the Neutral Zone
I'm going to apologize for this chapter in advance. Upon rereading this segment I have to say this is a pretty rough chapter even by my standards. If it offends people, I'm sorry. I think this story reaches its nadir here. Forewarned is forearmed. Just sayin'....
Nose for Trouble -- Albeit Broken
Part C
Diana’s heavy eyelids slowly flicker open as her consciousness gradually returns. Staring straight ahead, she sees two beady red eyes of a surprisingly large rat standing on its hind legs beside the garbage can on which she is draped. The pale pink nose twitches at her in curious wonder at the strange new object in its alley domain. The two beings watch each other warily for a beat until Diana bares her teeth at the rodent with clear menace. The rat’s tail twitches back and forth with nervous hesitation. It is his alley after all but this creature is much bigger than itself. With a petulant sniff, the rat backs down and scurries off into a crack in the nearby wall. He will return when the coast is clear of this human danger.
Slowly breathing in until her mind clears enough to assess her situation, Diana hears one of the whores talking from some distance, down the alley a way she guesses, not wanting to move or give away the fact that she’s come to her senses until she has a plan.
“...the wrong fuckin’ costume.” It’s sounds like Chloe, the black brunette in the black vinyl hot pants and red blouse that she had stunned stupid with a shot to the chin much earlier in the fight. Back when she was winning. Which seems like ages ago.
“Never came across such a total wimp in my life.” The little bitch was talking about Kara. If they only knew the courage of her blonde friend at her best. That damn kryptonite necklace was turning poor Supergirl into a helpless, severely handicapped partner.
The clinking sound of a bottle hitting pavement resonates briefly before the silence absorbs the moment. And then an angry Wonder Woman acts with absolute resolve and coldly-restrained fury. Heaving herself backward off the tipped-over garbage can, Diana spins in place to face her foes. Her ice blue eyes immediately take in the huddled threesome of Desiree, Glenda and Trixie a mere eight feet away. Their heads turn toward her, their eyes wide at the surprising speed of recovery by this bitch in the Wonder Woman costume. Desiree even considers the possibility that this woman could be the real Wonder Woman. She certainly has the figure and the fight for it. If that’s the case, she and her crew could be in for a hell of a fight here again. As if reading her thoughts, the costumed Amazon takes a jump forward and then propels herself right into the center of the trio with a flying leap, one leg kicking out and connecting with Trixie’s cheek while the other comes down hard and heavy on the foot of a screeching Glenda.
“GHUNNHH!” Trixie grunts loudly as she goes spinning off against the alley wall and collapses to her knees in a daze.
“YEEEOWWWW!” With her foot screaming with pain from the weight of the powerful Amazon landing on it, Glenda falls backward in flailing awkwardness thanks to the added shove that Wonder Woman gives her. The tall redhead lands on her butt with a hissing rip of purple fabric. Her tight micro-mini dress splits up the side and flops open revealing a smooth expanse of creamy freckled hip thigh and a flash of powder blue lace panties. “Oww. SHIT! Feels like you broke my fuckin’ foot!”
Left standing alone, a livid Desiree takes a hard shot at Diana’s face but the lightning-fast Amazon ducks back enough for the black fist to go whooshing past her cheek with barely an inch to spare. Off balance, Desiree is an easy target for a reflex-quick roundhouse backhand from Wonder Woman. The blow drives Desiree back several feet, her cheek smarting with a glow that brightens the whore’s face even as it narrows her eyes with anger.
“Come back for more punishment, bitch?” Desiree growls with a bravado that comes from long, fierce years in the street protecting her turf.
“If you mean your punishment, you ugly cow, then yes,” Wonder Woman snarls back. “Let’s see how good you are when you have to fight fair. As I recall, you pretty much suck at it.”
“Sharla, Chloe. A little help here. We’ve got some more bitch taming to do.”
Striding away from the unconscious figure of Supergirl flopped over in a puddle of her own piss, the two black whores join Desiree’s side with faces filled with matching determination.
“Your short young cohorts won’t save you from the beating I am about to deliver, Desiree.”
“We’ll see about that, cunt. We handled you well enough before,” Desire states cooly as she slips the brass knuckles out of her jacket pocket and onto her hand.
“A sucker punch that won’t work again, I assure you.” Wonder Woman’s hands are poised defensively, her back straight, her bearing regal. Amazon training is taking over her movements and the whores’ eyebrows flick upward. All their pupils widen in nervous regard of this undeterred foe facing the three of them without a hint of retreat. They recall the first beating she gave them. None of the trio is eager to advance and Diana senses this. She actually smiles at them.
“What’s the matter, ladies? A little hesitant to fight someone who’s not cringing in fear or already out on their feet?”
“Just you wait, slut. You’ll be back to groanin’ and droolin’ soon enough,” says Desiree.
“Big talk from someone who’s planted in place, whore. Come get me if you think you can, street slime.” Diana tries to goad the tall leader into making a foolish move.
“Circle this bitch, girls.” Desiree motions for Sharla to move to her left and Chloe to go right. Reluctantly and very cautiously, both step in opposite directions, looking to surround Wonder Woman. It would be more effective with five opponents but thanks to Diana’s quick work, Glenda and Trixie are out of commission for the moment.
Diana taunts each with a phony smile and a come hither wave of both hands. “Well, let’s go, girls. Why the delay? Step lively. Time to get your lights punched out.”
Despite the fake smile, Wonder Woman is furious within at the treatment she and Supergirl have received at the hands of these street vermin. She is looking forward to paying them back with interest. Lots of bloody, bruising interest!
“Watch her hands and feet careful like, Chloe. She’s tricky. Sharla, you stick her with that knife if’n you see an opening.” Desiree’s command of her troops is well-reasoned. Sharla’s knife is in her hand slowly waving back and forth in a threatening yet cautious approach at the waiting Amazon. Desiree’s elbow of the hand with the brass knuckles is cocked and ready to jab out hard as she takes a small step forward.
“Oh, poor Chloe doesn’t have a weapon,” coos Diana. “Maybe you should use your shoe, dear, if you’re feeling inadequate about dealing with me.”
“Thanks for the idea, bitch!” Chloe stops in place and reaches down to take off her shoe. She’s still looking straight at Diana as she does.
“CHLOE, DON’T!” Desiree screams out her warning but it’s much too late for the whore in the red blouse. Diana springs on her in an instant, leaping up and striking the bending girl’s shoulder with the heel of her boot. Violently spun in place by the force of the attack, Chloe falls to the street on her right side with a mixture of pain and dismay.
“AAWWWWK!” Chloe’s arm and her hand holding the shoe are pinned beneath her. She looks up in time to see Wonder Woman’s elbow strike her dead center in the forehead and she goes limp with the blow.
And Diana doesn’t stay there to congratulate herself. She knows Sharla is rushing right at her with her knife arm extended, looking to spear her in the kidney if she can. An incredibly graceful spin move puts the knife arm on the opposite hip of the fast-moving Amazon and it’s a simple matter to grab it, wrench it and make the small whore drop the weapon with a squeal of pain. With the arm pinned against her hip, Diana drops, rolls and flips the shocked Sharla head over heels into the array of tumbled garbage cans nine feet away. The resounding crash of the tiny whore’s body against the steel cans is music to Wonder Woman’s ears. Maybe she
hasn’t lost all her skills under Tony’s oppressive tyranny.
Rising and turning quickly, Diana sees the flash of brass and hurtling black fist coming right at her chest in a driving jab of icy determination from a snarling Desiree. The Amazon warrior steps back at once to nullify the force as much as she can while grabbing the fist and absorbing the energy behind it with her two clutching hands around the brass-covered fist.
“HHUUNNHH!” It stings like hell as it smacks into her hands and breasts but Diana has managed to cushion the impact enough to neutralize the damage into a manageable wallop that only stuns her slightly. Backed up two halting steps, Diana holds onto Desiree’s fist and pulls her with her, throwing the whore leader off balance. Both women recover simultaneously and Desiree manages to yank her arm free, take a step back and prepare to wage another assault on this hell bitch of a fighter before her.
“Those knuckles hurt like a bitch, don’t they, girl?” Desiree goes into a quick boxing shuffle, feinting this way and that while Wonder Woman watches for openings.
“You’re down two more flunkies, Dez,” Diana points out. “Looks like it’s just me and you. Ready for that beating now?”
“Maybe not jes’ yet, sugar. I still got enough brass here to crack yo’ head with.” Desiree waves her fist with its brass reinforcements in a threatening circle and then jabs the air with a double pump.
It’s all nothing but showcasing to Diana. She’s experienced enough to know when an opponent is feinting and when she’s going gunning for real. “You just tried to hit me with those iron knuckles of yours and failed, whore. Now it’s my turn.”
“Don’t think so, asshole. NOW SHARLA!”
Without hesitation, Diana steps a foot to the side and spins in place to take on the knife-wielding whore. But she’s not there. She’s over by the garbage cans holding her head and trying to stand up. The oldest trick in the books and she fell... Desire’s punishing, stabbing brass knuckles are buried deep in Wonder Woman’s back just that quickly.
“AARGGGHHH!”
Wonder Woman’s neck arcs back and her legs go numb from the brutal blow. She falls to her knees in wincing agony. Her eyes blur from the pain as she struggles to control the nausea Desiree’s punch has caused. Turning her head in automatic reflex from years of battle training, Diana sees Desiree’s jabbing fist coming back to finish her off. She’s able to dodge the blow by mere inches and as the fist goes by, she snaps her elbow up in Desiree’s face, hearing a satisfying thump and yowl from her surprised adversary. Shaking her head, Diana stands up unsteadily. She silently thanks Hera for her warrior’s reflexes. She looks at Sharla standing on two wobbly feet of her own and Desiree who’s crouching with one knee on the ground and her hands in her face moaning loudly.
“I dink you broke by dose, you bidch,” whimpers Desiree.
“I hope so, whore. Can’t think of anyone I’d rather have done that to.”
Looking up at Wonder Woman with blood streaming out of her crooked nose, even with all that, the fierce anger and determination are only slightly dulled in the tall whore’s eyes.
“Dis fight ain’d over det, honky.”
“Oh, I think it is, Desiree. You’re out of flunkies.”
“Dink agaid, ‘ou sdupid cund!” Desiree replies with an ugly smile.
Out of nowhere, the point of Glenda’s high heel bangs into the back of Wonder Woman’s head from behind. Driven with angry purpose, the shoe does its work and the black-haired heroine’s bright blue irises wobble noticeably in place before rising slowly up under her lids. Stunned senseless, the costumed beauty falls to her knees and then flat on her face. Once again, blind-sided by a sneaky, desperate foe, Wonder Woman lies fallen in the night, moaning and limp with her legs useless and her mind a fog of confusion. The mighty Amazon struggles to stay conscious while just a dozen feet away Supergirl lies in a puddle of her own urine, completely senseless, her costume wrinkled, her panties rank with piss. The once mighty and powerful Maid of Steel is now little more than a tempest-tossed artifact of flotsam washed up on the barren shore of defeat. And Wonder Woman seems to be tumbling helplessly in the same surf.
======================================================================
Tony Bonano sips slowly from the crystal tumbler filled with smooth 25-year old Chivas Regal scotch and two ice cubes. There’s just enough ice to cool the amazing liquor without watering it down.
“Mmmhh. That’s great stuff,” he says to Carmine who sits on the armchair across from his young boss and nods. Carmine slowly twirls the glass in his hand, looking into its golden curves, the gray shadows and white reflections within the ice. He’s frowning. “What’s the matter now, Carmine?”
“I’m just concerned about the girls. It’s late and I expected ‘em back by now.”
Tony brings up his wrist to check his watch. “It’s only just two o’clock. These are amateurs don’t forget, Carm. It might take them a few johns to reach their goal of a hundred bucks, specially on a slow Tuesday night, and especially at the ridiculous rates I have them quoting.”
Tony chuckles aloud at the thought of the two most powerful women in the world now proffering their tits and shaking their asses at passing cars just to raise the kind of money he would give as a Christmas tip to his barber. Well, that will teach them that escape is not an option. He’s not worried about them yet. Wonder Woman may not have her power belt but she’s still strong enough to handle any john she’ll have to ball. Supergirl and her kryptonite choker might be an issue, but Tony thinks the blonde should be able to get by on charm. And she’s not totally out of it, just tampered down to docile by the dosing he set the choker at. In any case, the dive hotel they’re supposed to use has adjacent rooms booked for them. In case anything goes wrong, the ladies can look out for each other.
“Let’s give them another hour and a half. If they don’t come back with their tails between their legs and their bras stuffed with chump change, we’ll go out and round ‘em up.”
“I still don’t like it,” Carmine says, then takes a swallow of his Chivas. It really is an incredible tasting scotch. He can’t help but savor its silky flavors.
“Don’t sweat it, Carm, they’re super heroes. They know how to take care of themselves.”
=========================================================================
Wonder Woman’s face bounces off the pavement with a sickening thump. Glenda holds her hair in her fist and slams her a second time against the street’s uneven surface.
“AAGGHH! HUNGGHH! ....oohhhhhhhh.......” Dizzy from the blow from the hard concrete as well as Glenda’s shoe, the Amazon’s arms flail wildly out behind her trying desperately to strike at the opponent holding her head by her hair, seemingly trying to yank it all out in one thick clump by the feel of it. Diana’s hand strikes a face and immediately it turns into a claw, clutching and ripping at the flesh it finds there.
“AIYEE!” Glenda screams and suddenly Wonder Woman’s head is released. It’s all she can do to resist the momentum and stop her face from slamming back into the pavement. Gathering herself, she instantly bends her knee and kicks up into the body behind her.
“OWWW!” A second howl flies out of a surprised Glenda as her thigh and then elbow are caught in the up-swipe of Wonder Woman’s boot. She staggers backward with a groan, uneasy on her feet and holding her elbow with her opposite hand. “Aagghhh! You stupid bitch!”
After shakily getting to her feet, Diana pulls herself erect and looks around at her opponents and her ally. Glenda wavers on rubbery legs a mere four feet away, her red hair disheveled. Her face is scraped with a thin gash from Diana’s fingernail. The tall white whore’s eyes are looking down as she inspects the nasty scrapes on her thigh and elbow from the heel of her foe’s red and white boots. Woozy, the tall, fair-haired whore is unused to such violence. She goes down on one knee, bending her head and trying to stop herself from being sick. Behind Glenda, Chloe is sprawled out on her back with her arms flung wide, completely unconscious.
At least that’s something to be thankful for.
To her right, Supergirl is holding her temple but still limp, on her side and groaning. She’s still very much out of it yet. To her left, Desiree is down on one knee, squeezing her nose, using the pressure of her fingers to try to slow the blood. Her face is twisted with anger and pain as she looks over at Diana. Farther left, Sharla stands up straight, rooted in place among the turned over cluster of garbage cans as she surveys the scene in the alley herself. Seeing the carnage that the woman in the red and blue costume has wrought, the testy young whore is furious that this has not at all gone as she had expected. She so wanted to hurt this tall costumed cunt: cut her down to size. The bitch hasn’t made it easy.
She grudgingly nods at Wonder Woman who just stares back at the short black whore who’s holding her knife at her thigh, tapping it against it as she apparently tries to decide her next step. The rhythmic tapping gesture is slow and restrained. Over and over, the knife taps the dark bare thigh. It’s almost mesmerizing to the weary, battle-worn heroine. Diana now wants to fight these whores no more than they seem to want to fight her. But if she makes a move toward Kara to collect her, she has no illusions about the band of street-hardened ladies letting them just walk off into the sunrise. They’ll certainly regroup and come at her again. Diana sighs at the futility of it. Four against one really, with Kara no help at.....FOUR?
Diana spins just in time to see a huge big-breasted blue blur rushing at her from behind a big green dumpster. The leaping Trixie is bringing her hands down from high in the air with a steel garbage can lid aimed directly at Diana’s head. Instinctively, the raven-haired Amazon positions her hands up, wrists out to protect herself from the danger with her trusty god-given bracelets. Except that instead of bullet-reflecting metal of unworldly durability, Wonder Woman is wearing shoddy tin replicas that offer virtually no protection whatsoever. Tempered steel meets thin useless tin with a crumpling of metal, a clang of steel on flesh and a scream of agony.
“AIEEYEEE!” Wonder Woman is bent over backwards by the momentum of Trixie’s attack and the glancing blow to her head, but as the whore stumbles away after the impact, the heroine is able keep her feet even though she’s numb with the pain in her wrists and arms which bore the brunt of the crushing blow. She holds her forearms together, massaging them with her hands, sick with worry at the gash on her left wrist beneath the dangling tin shard swinging from her arm. Diana’s head is bent low, stunned and dazed, shocked at the damage, her mind reeling. Trixie stabilizes herself a few feet away, turns to face her foe again, the steel lid still tight in her hands. The Wonder bitch isn’t even looking at her, her focus directed at the dripping wound on her wrist. Trixie pulls the steel cover back, dashes forward and swings for the fences. Diana hears a noise in front of her, looks up and takes the hard face of the gray steel disc directly on her right cheek.
KLAANGKKK!
Wonder Woman’s head snaps sideways even as her body is launched backwards in helpless, uncomprehending flight. She sails backward several feet through the air in a twisting turn until she lands face down on the cool tarmac in a sprawled spread eagle, arms and legs flung out to the side, bent at right angles at her elbows and knees. The Princess of Thymiscira is completely unconscious before her breasts even stop quivering.
“Alright, Trixie!” Sharla cheers loudly. “PUT ‘DAT BITCH DOWN! You my hero!”
“Dice worg, Drix,” Desiree smiles for real the first time in twenty minutes as she walks over to where Trixie stands beaming, clutching the can lid against her chest like some kind of award. Desiree’s nose has stopped bleeding but the small angle there shows a definite break. Desiree doesn’t have workman’s compensation and she’s worried what her pimp, Dooley, will do when he sees what’s happened to her. She directs her anger at the senseless body, kicking Wonder Woman hard in the side of her face.
“Bidch!”
The point of the shoe opens up a new wound at Wonder Woman’s temple where she’d taken the brass knuckles from Desiree earlier. A thin trail of blood drips down, a gleam of red in the moonlight. Other than the thud of the shoe on the inert body, there’s not a sound from the still figure harsh on the ground. Not a groan, not a whimper. Just the gathering wind from the threatening storm overhead.
Sharla comes up behind Desiree and kneels down next to Wonder Woman’s head. The short, grinning whore pulls up on the long black hair, raising the scraped, oblivious face of her adversary. The slack mouth drops open, the jaw loose. The bright blue eyes are hidden behind heavy lids smudged with dirt and bits of gravel. There’s no awareness in this person. Sharla puts her knife at Wonder Woman’s exposed white throat.
“DHO!” Desiree barks then winces. “We’re dot burderin’ her, Sharla, We’ll fuck ‘er ub, bud we're dot ghillin’ her.”
“Fine,” growls Sharla as she drops the limp head to the street. The thump of soft flesh on unforgiving asphalt brings a satisfied grunt from the short black whore who rises to her feet and straightens out her blue leather miniskirt. “So how we gonna fuck her up? And her sack of shit friend over there?”
===================================================================
Desiree stands over Wonder Woman’s limp figure thinking of the best way to humiliate this bitch for breaking her nose. Much as she’d like to kill her, she only has prostitution on her record. She has no desire to spend any more than one night at a time in a jail cell. Still, the cunt deserves payback big time. Looking around the alley, she sees all the garbage strewn around from the tipped over cans. Spotting a wine bottle, she walks over to retrieve it. Sauntering back toward the unconscious red and blue-clad beauty, Desiree stands three feet away, looking down at the generous soft bumps of the bitch’s ass clad in bright blue with white stars.
“Pull down this cunt’s pants,” Desire tells Sharla. “I’m gonna stick this bottle where the sun don’t shine.”
“STOP!”
Desire, Sharla and Trixie turn their heads to see Supergirl standing up before them. She’s wavering slightly in her power stance but her eyes are clear and penetrating for the first time since the band of whores surrounded them at the shoe store window.
“Move away from Wonder Woman immediately,” Kara barks out the command. She has fitted a tiny pebble fragment in the opening of her collar and, while it’s not lead, it does modify the amount of kryptonite being emitted so Supergirl feels marginally better now. She may be as strong as any one of these whores she’s facing. Not all of them sadly but she may be able to take on at least one at a time. That will have to be enough if she is to save Diana from the indignity promised by the vengeful Desiree.
“Who’s gonna make us, blondie? You?” Sharla is grinning at the blonde teen in delighted expectation of having someone she can beat on.
“Yes. Me!” Kara juts out her chin defiantly. “This ridiculous turf war stops now.”
“Or whad happens?” Desiree asks with obvious scepticism. “You pith all ober yourselb agaid to deach uth a lezzon?” Trixie and Sharla laugh outright while Supergirl glowers at them. Even now her dripping panties are cool and clammy against her crotch.
“No,” she presses on, her voice cold with fury. “I beat the crap out of you and take you to jail.”
“Wow,” Trixie responds immediately, “I want the crack this girl’s smokin’ if she thinks she can all of a sudden beat on all‘a us.”
A flicker of doubt and need buzzes through Kara’s mind with the mention of crack. It’s been hours since she’s had any and her body is definitely beginning to want its dose of nirvana. Pushing it out of her thoughts, Kara boldly speaks out, “Are you going to go quietly or do I have to get rough?”
“Get rough, blondie. I’m dyin’ to see you try,” Sharla says with her usual menace as she sets herself in a fighting stance. She hasn’t even pulled her knife. Trixie and Desiree assume sideways attack positions as well. There’s no fear in any of the whores’ faces Kara notes. And why would there be? She certainly hasn’t given them any reason to be worried with the way she’s handled herself this evening. Well, she’s about to change that right now.
Dashing forward, Supergirl feints a sharp jab at Trixie’s stomach which backs the wary whore up a step. Not stopping there but continuing forward, Kara leaps in the air and kicks out unexpectedly with a sideways foot thrust at Sharla’s knee. She connects solidly and a stunned Sharla falls to one good knee with a howl that pleases Supergirl. Without pause, however, Desiree drops the wine bottle and jumps toward the preoccupied blonde teen, tackling her roughly to the ground.
“Hey! OWW!” Kara cries out as she falls on her back with the weight of Desiree pinning her in place. The tall whore rears back as she straddles the stunned Maid of Might’s waist with her knees. Her white tube top wobbles with the sway of her tits beneath. She’s about to punch out blondie’s lights when Supergirl’s fist slams into her groin.
“GHUUH!” Keeling over sideways with a gasping grunt, Desiree clutches her crotch in breathless distress. Her cheek rests against the cold asphalt as she tries to recover. Supergirl pushes the large body off her and leaps to her feet to take on the onrushing Trixie. Stepping aside in as neat a dodging maneuver as any Diana might execute, Supergirl grabs the passing big breasted whore by the shoulders and uses her momentum to hurl the short streetwalker into the brick wall.
“HUUUNNNH.” Flattened by the force of hitting unyielding brick, Trixie totters and sways, then falls to the street in a confused lump. “...ohhhhhhhhh...” Kneeling with her butt pressing on her heels, the black whore in the blue mesh top moans in numb bewilderment.
Kara is thrilled with the results of her foray. She sees a slow, dazed Chloe getting to her feet off to her left and an angry upright Glenda in a flapping, ripped dress stalking forward from her right, her naked thigh flashing in the breeze. Turning to face Glenda, who’s claw-like hands with their curved fingernails poised for damage are now streaking at her at eye level, Supergirl swings her left arm up defensively. This knocks the enraged redhead’s hands to the side and Kara uses the opening to bury her fist in the tall girl’s gut. Glenda’s pale, freckled face gets even lighter as her cheeks blow out from the punch.
“GHOOOFFF!” Glenda falls down hard on her butt with her legs flying up in a flash of her blue panties. The redhead starts to wheeze for air with whistling urgency.
Only Chloe remains and she still looks unsteady. Diana must have really clocked this one good. She’s wavering rather badly as she comes toward Supergirl, fists up but eyes barely open.
Got to give her credit for trying at least. But I’ve done it. I’ve taken down every one of...
“GHUUGGHHH!” The force of the base of the wine bottle slamming into her coccyx bone instantly incapacitates Supergirl. She collapses to the broken asphalt and bursts into tears and screeching pain. “Aieeeyaaahhh...Owwwww.....aaagghhhhhh....” Curled on her side, her hands clutch at her rear as she writhes on the ground in agony. “...ohhhhhh...Rao.... such pain... ...can’t take it...”
Desiree gets up from her kneeling position, waving the wine bottle around by its neck as she stands over the weeping blonde at her feet with a curled sneering lip.
“Should alwayth wadch yur back, zuperghirl. Doo mady ob uth aroud here dad cad hurd you.”
That said, Desiree swings the wine bottle down hard on Supergirl’s vulnerable hip
“OWW!”
Pleased with the sharp cry of misery, Desiree proceeds to punish this blonde cunt for her insolence and her defiance. She swings the bottle like a club. Again and again she rains blows down on the cringing blonde who goes fetal. Kara tries desperately to block the hard green glass bottle with her flailing hands. No matter where her hands go, the bottle finds opening after opening, delivering bruising shots to Supergirl’s ribs, her shoulders, thighs, knees and ankles.
“...stop....please...owwww...stop...it....i...give...up...owww....OH...augghhh...no more... pleeeeze...no more....” The bruising bottle thuds over and over into the helpless teenager’s defenseless body until Desiree takes a breath and backs off, watching the inert blonde lie on the ground in sobbing anguish.
“Bick ‘er ub, Char,” Desiree tells Sharla. “Hold ‘er ‘gainds dat wall.” A hand grabs Supergirl’s cape and hoists her up from behind to and yanks her backward against the wall. Supergirl rests there on very shaky legs. With her nose dripping blood and snot, the whimpering teenager is once more reduced to sniveling in misery at the hands of the whores. All her bravado has melted away with the fierce beating she’s sustained. She looks up plaintively at Desiree, her chest heaving with each sob while Sharla holds her arm and throat in steely grips.
“...d..don’t hit me anymore,” pleads the teary teen. “...think...I’m...bleeding.... internally..”
“What happened to beating the crap out of us and taking us to jail, bitch?” Sharla’s face is next to Supergirl’s her lips blowing her taunt in the miserable champion’s ear.
“Yeah,” Desiree adds. “Dalking like a hero geds you nuddin’ bud diz, bidch!”
Desiree jams the bottom of the wine bottle into Kara’s abdomen with a vicious thrust.
“OOOOONNFFF!” All of the air in Kara’s lungs bursts out of her mouth in a gasping rush while Sharla holds her up against the wall by her neck. Supergirl’s face is bright red, her eyes wide as she tries to draw air into her empty lungs. Her mouth gapes hugely with the effort. A sudden second penetrating jab from the bottle in Desiree’s hand to Kara’s abdomen defeats all the blonde’s efforts. The third punishing, thumping blow to her gut collapses Supergirl’s legs entirely and only Sharla’s hands on her throat and arm and Desiree’s grip of the sweaty blonde’s bangs keeps the slouching champion from sagging to the ground.
“Gloe. Gum here ad ‘elp uz hode her ub.”
Quickly responding, Chloe comes around and takes a hold of Supergirl’s other side and her belt. The sagging teen is held up against the cool brick, her eyes are half open, her mouth is gaping wide as possible and a thin desperate wheezing whistle from her throat tells the tale of her breathless struggle for oxygen after three devastating blows to her stomach from the durable wine bottle.
“Gud, Ghloe. Danks,” Desiree nods at her crew member, then pulls aside the crotch of Supergirl’s damp sodden panties, exposing her privates. “Dow, hew bwonde cund, f’u wanna fuck od our durf, den fuck dhis!” Holding the bottle by its base, the whore’s leader jams the long neck of the dark green bottle into the deepest recesses of Supergirl’s vagina.
“WWHHEEEEPPPP!” The back of Kara’s head knocks against the brick as the piercing pain of the bottle drives into her feminine treasures with a ruthless thumping rush. Her irises start to slide upward. And then the bottle is withdrawn and immediately thrust in again.
“Aaaahhhhh!” With so little air in her, Supergirl’s tormented protest is a whispered gasp that brings a smile to Sharla’s face. The teen cunt’s own face is pale and slightly greenish from the shock and agony of this assault. The dulled eyes drift to see Sharla but there’s no acknowledgment there from the blonde as the heavy head lolls in her tight grip. The bottle is pulled out and thrust in yet again. Supergirl’s tongue flops out over her lip and her mouth gapes even wider in search of any possible air to take in.
“You like this kind of fucking, champ?” Chloe sneers as she holds up the limp figure and cruelly taunts her. Chloe is deeply angry at the beating she’s taken from Wonder Woman and is pleased to be able to help dish out the retribution to her wimpy blonde dyke friend. “Hope so, ‘cuz this is the only thing goin’ in your skanky teen twat tonight, buttercup. Hey, Dez. Let me have a go at her.”
“Fide,” Desiree says and Chloe takes hold of the base of the wine bottle in a flawless handoff. She then proceeds to ram the blunt instrument in and out of Supergirl’s vagina in a relentless fury of pistoning brutality. Over and over, the long neck of the bottle delves deep and withdraws within the slit between Supergirl’s legs. Again and again, the youthful body jolts and jumps limply in place as she is savagely abused by the deliriously vengeful Chloe. Finally, dripping a thin line of blood from her badly damaged pussy, Supergirl’s body is released by the three whores and she collapses to the dark asphalt in groaning agony. The three whores look down at the figure gasping, moaning and whimpering at their feet in triumph.
“Step away from her now, you bitches. It’s time to deal with me again!”
Nearby, Glenda is flat on her back with a resolute Wonder Woman standing with her foot on the limp redhead’s shoulder. Off to the left, Trixie is slumped over, also in an obviously unconscious state. The stealthy black-haired beauty in red and blue clearly had been busy while the other three whores had been occupied with her blonde friend.
“This bitch just don’t quit,” Sharla says with grudging respect.
“Dho. Thee dothn’t,” agrees Desiree.
“Shit! Here we go again,” says Chloe.
Nose for Trouble -- Albeit Broken
Part C
Diana’s heavy eyelids slowly flicker open as her consciousness gradually returns. Staring straight ahead, she sees two beady red eyes of a surprisingly large rat standing on its hind legs beside the garbage can on which she is draped. The pale pink nose twitches at her in curious wonder at the strange new object in its alley domain. The two beings watch each other warily for a beat until Diana bares her teeth at the rodent with clear menace. The rat’s tail twitches back and forth with nervous hesitation. It is his alley after all but this creature is much bigger than itself. With a petulant sniff, the rat backs down and scurries off into a crack in the nearby wall. He will return when the coast is clear of this human danger.
Slowly breathing in until her mind clears enough to assess her situation, Diana hears one of the whores talking from some distance, down the alley a way she guesses, not wanting to move or give away the fact that she’s come to her senses until she has a plan.
“...the wrong fuckin’ costume.” It’s sounds like Chloe, the black brunette in the black vinyl hot pants and red blouse that she had stunned stupid with a shot to the chin much earlier in the fight. Back when she was winning. Which seems like ages ago.
“Never came across such a total wimp in my life.” The little bitch was talking about Kara. If they only knew the courage of her blonde friend at her best. That damn kryptonite necklace was turning poor Supergirl into a helpless, severely handicapped partner.
The clinking sound of a bottle hitting pavement resonates briefly before the silence absorbs the moment. And then an angry Wonder Woman acts with absolute resolve and coldly-restrained fury. Heaving herself backward off the tipped-over garbage can, Diana spins in place to face her foes. Her ice blue eyes immediately take in the huddled threesome of Desiree, Glenda and Trixie a mere eight feet away. Their heads turn toward her, their eyes wide at the surprising speed of recovery by this bitch in the Wonder Woman costume. Desiree even considers the possibility that this woman could be the real Wonder Woman. She certainly has the figure and the fight for it. If that’s the case, she and her crew could be in for a hell of a fight here again. As if reading her thoughts, the costumed Amazon takes a jump forward and then propels herself right into the center of the trio with a flying leap, one leg kicking out and connecting with Trixie’s cheek while the other comes down hard and heavy on the foot of a screeching Glenda.
“GHUNNHH!” Trixie grunts loudly as she goes spinning off against the alley wall and collapses to her knees in a daze.
“YEEEOWWWW!” With her foot screaming with pain from the weight of the powerful Amazon landing on it, Glenda falls backward in flailing awkwardness thanks to the added shove that Wonder Woman gives her. The tall redhead lands on her butt with a hissing rip of purple fabric. Her tight micro-mini dress splits up the side and flops open revealing a smooth expanse of creamy freckled hip thigh and a flash of powder blue lace panties. “Oww. SHIT! Feels like you broke my fuckin’ foot!”
Left standing alone, a livid Desiree takes a hard shot at Diana’s face but the lightning-fast Amazon ducks back enough for the black fist to go whooshing past her cheek with barely an inch to spare. Off balance, Desiree is an easy target for a reflex-quick roundhouse backhand from Wonder Woman. The blow drives Desiree back several feet, her cheek smarting with a glow that brightens the whore’s face even as it narrows her eyes with anger.
“Come back for more punishment, bitch?” Desiree growls with a bravado that comes from long, fierce years in the street protecting her turf.
“If you mean your punishment, you ugly cow, then yes,” Wonder Woman snarls back. “Let’s see how good you are when you have to fight fair. As I recall, you pretty much suck at it.”
“Sharla, Chloe. A little help here. We’ve got some more bitch taming to do.”
Striding away from the unconscious figure of Supergirl flopped over in a puddle of her own piss, the two black whores join Desiree’s side with faces filled with matching determination.
“Your short young cohorts won’t save you from the beating I am about to deliver, Desiree.”
“We’ll see about that, cunt. We handled you well enough before,” Desire states cooly as she slips the brass knuckles out of her jacket pocket and onto her hand.
“A sucker punch that won’t work again, I assure you.” Wonder Woman’s hands are poised defensively, her back straight, her bearing regal. Amazon training is taking over her movements and the whores’ eyebrows flick upward. All their pupils widen in nervous regard of this undeterred foe facing the three of them without a hint of retreat. They recall the first beating she gave them. None of the trio is eager to advance and Diana senses this. She actually smiles at them.
“What’s the matter, ladies? A little hesitant to fight someone who’s not cringing in fear or already out on their feet?”
“Just you wait, slut. You’ll be back to groanin’ and droolin’ soon enough,” says Desiree.
“Big talk from someone who’s planted in place, whore. Come get me if you think you can, street slime.” Diana tries to goad the tall leader into making a foolish move.
“Circle this bitch, girls.” Desiree motions for Sharla to move to her left and Chloe to go right. Reluctantly and very cautiously, both step in opposite directions, looking to surround Wonder Woman. It would be more effective with five opponents but thanks to Diana’s quick work, Glenda and Trixie are out of commission for the moment.
Diana taunts each with a phony smile and a come hither wave of both hands. “Well, let’s go, girls. Why the delay? Step lively. Time to get your lights punched out.”
Despite the fake smile, Wonder Woman is furious within at the treatment she and Supergirl have received at the hands of these street vermin. She is looking forward to paying them back with interest. Lots of bloody, bruising interest!
“Watch her hands and feet careful like, Chloe. She’s tricky. Sharla, you stick her with that knife if’n you see an opening.” Desiree’s command of her troops is well-reasoned. Sharla’s knife is in her hand slowly waving back and forth in a threatening yet cautious approach at the waiting Amazon. Desiree’s elbow of the hand with the brass knuckles is cocked and ready to jab out hard as she takes a small step forward.
“Oh, poor Chloe doesn’t have a weapon,” coos Diana. “Maybe you should use your shoe, dear, if you’re feeling inadequate about dealing with me.”
“Thanks for the idea, bitch!” Chloe stops in place and reaches down to take off her shoe. She’s still looking straight at Diana as she does.
“CHLOE, DON’T!” Desiree screams out her warning but it’s much too late for the whore in the red blouse. Diana springs on her in an instant, leaping up and striking the bending girl’s shoulder with the heel of her boot. Violently spun in place by the force of the attack, Chloe falls to the street on her right side with a mixture of pain and dismay.
“AAWWWWK!” Chloe’s arm and her hand holding the shoe are pinned beneath her. She looks up in time to see Wonder Woman’s elbow strike her dead center in the forehead and she goes limp with the blow.
And Diana doesn’t stay there to congratulate herself. She knows Sharla is rushing right at her with her knife arm extended, looking to spear her in the kidney if she can. An incredibly graceful spin move puts the knife arm on the opposite hip of the fast-moving Amazon and it’s a simple matter to grab it, wrench it and make the small whore drop the weapon with a squeal of pain. With the arm pinned against her hip, Diana drops, rolls and flips the shocked Sharla head over heels into the array of tumbled garbage cans nine feet away. The resounding crash of the tiny whore’s body against the steel cans is music to Wonder Woman’s ears. Maybe she
hasn’t lost all her skills under Tony’s oppressive tyranny.
Rising and turning quickly, Diana sees the flash of brass and hurtling black fist coming right at her chest in a driving jab of icy determination from a snarling Desiree. The Amazon warrior steps back at once to nullify the force as much as she can while grabbing the fist and absorbing the energy behind it with her two clutching hands around the brass-covered fist.
“HHUUNNHH!” It stings like hell as it smacks into her hands and breasts but Diana has managed to cushion the impact enough to neutralize the damage into a manageable wallop that only stuns her slightly. Backed up two halting steps, Diana holds onto Desiree’s fist and pulls her with her, throwing the whore leader off balance. Both women recover simultaneously and Desiree manages to yank her arm free, take a step back and prepare to wage another assault on this hell bitch of a fighter before her.
“Those knuckles hurt like a bitch, don’t they, girl?” Desiree goes into a quick boxing shuffle, feinting this way and that while Wonder Woman watches for openings.
“You’re down two more flunkies, Dez,” Diana points out. “Looks like it’s just me and you. Ready for that beating now?”
“Maybe not jes’ yet, sugar. I still got enough brass here to crack yo’ head with.” Desiree waves her fist with its brass reinforcements in a threatening circle and then jabs the air with a double pump.
It’s all nothing but showcasing to Diana. She’s experienced enough to know when an opponent is feinting and when she’s going gunning for real. “You just tried to hit me with those iron knuckles of yours and failed, whore. Now it’s my turn.”
“Don’t think so, asshole. NOW SHARLA!”
Without hesitation, Diana steps a foot to the side and spins in place to take on the knife-wielding whore. But she’s not there. She’s over by the garbage cans holding her head and trying to stand up. The oldest trick in the books and she fell... Desire’s punishing, stabbing brass knuckles are buried deep in Wonder Woman’s back just that quickly.
“AARGGGHHH!”
Wonder Woman’s neck arcs back and her legs go numb from the brutal blow. She falls to her knees in wincing agony. Her eyes blur from the pain as she struggles to control the nausea Desiree’s punch has caused. Turning her head in automatic reflex from years of battle training, Diana sees Desiree’s jabbing fist coming back to finish her off. She’s able to dodge the blow by mere inches and as the fist goes by, she snaps her elbow up in Desiree’s face, hearing a satisfying thump and yowl from her surprised adversary. Shaking her head, Diana stands up unsteadily. She silently thanks Hera for her warrior’s reflexes. She looks at Sharla standing on two wobbly feet of her own and Desiree who’s crouching with one knee on the ground and her hands in her face moaning loudly.
“I dink you broke by dose, you bidch,” whimpers Desiree.
“I hope so, whore. Can’t think of anyone I’d rather have done that to.”
Looking up at Wonder Woman with blood streaming out of her crooked nose, even with all that, the fierce anger and determination are only slightly dulled in the tall whore’s eyes.
“Dis fight ain’d over det, honky.”
“Oh, I think it is, Desiree. You’re out of flunkies.”
“Dink agaid, ‘ou sdupid cund!” Desiree replies with an ugly smile.
Out of nowhere, the point of Glenda’s high heel bangs into the back of Wonder Woman’s head from behind. Driven with angry purpose, the shoe does its work and the black-haired heroine’s bright blue irises wobble noticeably in place before rising slowly up under her lids. Stunned senseless, the costumed beauty falls to her knees and then flat on her face. Once again, blind-sided by a sneaky, desperate foe, Wonder Woman lies fallen in the night, moaning and limp with her legs useless and her mind a fog of confusion. The mighty Amazon struggles to stay conscious while just a dozen feet away Supergirl lies in a puddle of her own urine, completely senseless, her costume wrinkled, her panties rank with piss. The once mighty and powerful Maid of Steel is now little more than a tempest-tossed artifact of flotsam washed up on the barren shore of defeat. And Wonder Woman seems to be tumbling helplessly in the same surf.
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Tony Bonano sips slowly from the crystal tumbler filled with smooth 25-year old Chivas Regal scotch and two ice cubes. There’s just enough ice to cool the amazing liquor without watering it down.
“Mmmhh. That’s great stuff,” he says to Carmine who sits on the armchair across from his young boss and nods. Carmine slowly twirls the glass in his hand, looking into its golden curves, the gray shadows and white reflections within the ice. He’s frowning. “What’s the matter now, Carmine?”
“I’m just concerned about the girls. It’s late and I expected ‘em back by now.”
Tony brings up his wrist to check his watch. “It’s only just two o’clock. These are amateurs don’t forget, Carm. It might take them a few johns to reach their goal of a hundred bucks, specially on a slow Tuesday night, and especially at the ridiculous rates I have them quoting.”
Tony chuckles aloud at the thought of the two most powerful women in the world now proffering their tits and shaking their asses at passing cars just to raise the kind of money he would give as a Christmas tip to his barber. Well, that will teach them that escape is not an option. He’s not worried about them yet. Wonder Woman may not have her power belt but she’s still strong enough to handle any john she’ll have to ball. Supergirl and her kryptonite choker might be an issue, but Tony thinks the blonde should be able to get by on charm. And she’s not totally out of it, just tampered down to docile by the dosing he set the choker at. In any case, the dive hotel they’re supposed to use has adjacent rooms booked for them. In case anything goes wrong, the ladies can look out for each other.
“Let’s give them another hour and a half. If they don’t come back with their tails between their legs and their bras stuffed with chump change, we’ll go out and round ‘em up.”
“I still don’t like it,” Carmine says, then takes a swallow of his Chivas. It really is an incredible tasting scotch. He can’t help but savor its silky flavors.
“Don’t sweat it, Carm, they’re super heroes. They know how to take care of themselves.”
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Wonder Woman’s face bounces off the pavement with a sickening thump. Glenda holds her hair in her fist and slams her a second time against the street’s uneven surface.
“AAGGHH! HUNGGHH! ....oohhhhhhhh.......” Dizzy from the blow from the hard concrete as well as Glenda’s shoe, the Amazon’s arms flail wildly out behind her trying desperately to strike at the opponent holding her head by her hair, seemingly trying to yank it all out in one thick clump by the feel of it. Diana’s hand strikes a face and immediately it turns into a claw, clutching and ripping at the flesh it finds there.
“AIYEE!” Glenda screams and suddenly Wonder Woman’s head is released. It’s all she can do to resist the momentum and stop her face from slamming back into the pavement. Gathering herself, she instantly bends her knee and kicks up into the body behind her.
“OWWW!” A second howl flies out of a surprised Glenda as her thigh and then elbow are caught in the up-swipe of Wonder Woman’s boot. She staggers backward with a groan, uneasy on her feet and holding her elbow with her opposite hand. “Aagghhh! You stupid bitch!”
After shakily getting to her feet, Diana pulls herself erect and looks around at her opponents and her ally. Glenda wavers on rubbery legs a mere four feet away, her red hair disheveled. Her face is scraped with a thin gash from Diana’s fingernail. The tall white whore’s eyes are looking down as she inspects the nasty scrapes on her thigh and elbow from the heel of her foe’s red and white boots. Woozy, the tall, fair-haired whore is unused to such violence. She goes down on one knee, bending her head and trying to stop herself from being sick. Behind Glenda, Chloe is sprawled out on her back with her arms flung wide, completely unconscious.
At least that’s something to be thankful for.
To her right, Supergirl is holding her temple but still limp, on her side and groaning. She’s still very much out of it yet. To her left, Desiree is down on one knee, squeezing her nose, using the pressure of her fingers to try to slow the blood. Her face is twisted with anger and pain as she looks over at Diana. Farther left, Sharla stands up straight, rooted in place among the turned over cluster of garbage cans as she surveys the scene in the alley herself. Seeing the carnage that the woman in the red and blue costume has wrought, the testy young whore is furious that this has not at all gone as she had expected. She so wanted to hurt this tall costumed cunt: cut her down to size. The bitch hasn’t made it easy.
She grudgingly nods at Wonder Woman who just stares back at the short black whore who’s holding her knife at her thigh, tapping it against it as she apparently tries to decide her next step. The rhythmic tapping gesture is slow and restrained. Over and over, the knife taps the dark bare thigh. It’s almost mesmerizing to the weary, battle-worn heroine. Diana now wants to fight these whores no more than they seem to want to fight her. But if she makes a move toward Kara to collect her, she has no illusions about the band of street-hardened ladies letting them just walk off into the sunrise. They’ll certainly regroup and come at her again. Diana sighs at the futility of it. Four against one really, with Kara no help at.....FOUR?
Diana spins just in time to see a huge big-breasted blue blur rushing at her from behind a big green dumpster. The leaping Trixie is bringing her hands down from high in the air with a steel garbage can lid aimed directly at Diana’s head. Instinctively, the raven-haired Amazon positions her hands up, wrists out to protect herself from the danger with her trusty god-given bracelets. Except that instead of bullet-reflecting metal of unworldly durability, Wonder Woman is wearing shoddy tin replicas that offer virtually no protection whatsoever. Tempered steel meets thin useless tin with a crumpling of metal, a clang of steel on flesh and a scream of agony.
“AIEEYEEE!” Wonder Woman is bent over backwards by the momentum of Trixie’s attack and the glancing blow to her head, but as the whore stumbles away after the impact, the heroine is able keep her feet even though she’s numb with the pain in her wrists and arms which bore the brunt of the crushing blow. She holds her forearms together, massaging them with her hands, sick with worry at the gash on her left wrist beneath the dangling tin shard swinging from her arm. Diana’s head is bent low, stunned and dazed, shocked at the damage, her mind reeling. Trixie stabilizes herself a few feet away, turns to face her foe again, the steel lid still tight in her hands. The Wonder bitch isn’t even looking at her, her focus directed at the dripping wound on her wrist. Trixie pulls the steel cover back, dashes forward and swings for the fences. Diana hears a noise in front of her, looks up and takes the hard face of the gray steel disc directly on her right cheek.
KLAANGKKK!
Wonder Woman’s head snaps sideways even as her body is launched backwards in helpless, uncomprehending flight. She sails backward several feet through the air in a twisting turn until she lands face down on the cool tarmac in a sprawled spread eagle, arms and legs flung out to the side, bent at right angles at her elbows and knees. The Princess of Thymiscira is completely unconscious before her breasts even stop quivering.
“Alright, Trixie!” Sharla cheers loudly. “PUT ‘DAT BITCH DOWN! You my hero!”
“Dice worg, Drix,” Desiree smiles for real the first time in twenty minutes as she walks over to where Trixie stands beaming, clutching the can lid against her chest like some kind of award. Desiree’s nose has stopped bleeding but the small angle there shows a definite break. Desiree doesn’t have workman’s compensation and she’s worried what her pimp, Dooley, will do when he sees what’s happened to her. She directs her anger at the senseless body, kicking Wonder Woman hard in the side of her face.
“Bidch!”
The point of the shoe opens up a new wound at Wonder Woman’s temple where she’d taken the brass knuckles from Desiree earlier. A thin trail of blood drips down, a gleam of red in the moonlight. Other than the thud of the shoe on the inert body, there’s not a sound from the still figure harsh on the ground. Not a groan, not a whimper. Just the gathering wind from the threatening storm overhead.
Sharla comes up behind Desiree and kneels down next to Wonder Woman’s head. The short, grinning whore pulls up on the long black hair, raising the scraped, oblivious face of her adversary. The slack mouth drops open, the jaw loose. The bright blue eyes are hidden behind heavy lids smudged with dirt and bits of gravel. There’s no awareness in this person. Sharla puts her knife at Wonder Woman’s exposed white throat.
“DHO!” Desiree barks then winces. “We’re dot burderin’ her, Sharla, We’ll fuck ‘er ub, bud we're dot ghillin’ her.”
“Fine,” growls Sharla as she drops the limp head to the street. The thump of soft flesh on unforgiving asphalt brings a satisfied grunt from the short black whore who rises to her feet and straightens out her blue leather miniskirt. “So how we gonna fuck her up? And her sack of shit friend over there?”
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Desiree stands over Wonder Woman’s limp figure thinking of the best way to humiliate this bitch for breaking her nose. Much as she’d like to kill her, she only has prostitution on her record. She has no desire to spend any more than one night at a time in a jail cell. Still, the cunt deserves payback big time. Looking around the alley, she sees all the garbage strewn around from the tipped over cans. Spotting a wine bottle, she walks over to retrieve it. Sauntering back toward the unconscious red and blue-clad beauty, Desiree stands three feet away, looking down at the generous soft bumps of the bitch’s ass clad in bright blue with white stars.
“Pull down this cunt’s pants,” Desire tells Sharla. “I’m gonna stick this bottle where the sun don’t shine.”
“STOP!”
Desire, Sharla and Trixie turn their heads to see Supergirl standing up before them. She’s wavering slightly in her power stance but her eyes are clear and penetrating for the first time since the band of whores surrounded them at the shoe store window.
“Move away from Wonder Woman immediately,” Kara barks out the command. She has fitted a tiny pebble fragment in the opening of her collar and, while it’s not lead, it does modify the amount of kryptonite being emitted so Supergirl feels marginally better now. She may be as strong as any one of these whores she’s facing. Not all of them sadly but she may be able to take on at least one at a time. That will have to be enough if she is to save Diana from the indignity promised by the vengeful Desiree.
“Who’s gonna make us, blondie? You?” Sharla is grinning at the blonde teen in delighted expectation of having someone she can beat on.
“Yes. Me!” Kara juts out her chin defiantly. “This ridiculous turf war stops now.”
“Or whad happens?” Desiree asks with obvious scepticism. “You pith all ober yourselb agaid to deach uth a lezzon?” Trixie and Sharla laugh outright while Supergirl glowers at them. Even now her dripping panties are cool and clammy against her crotch.
“No,” she presses on, her voice cold with fury. “I beat the crap out of you and take you to jail.”
“Wow,” Trixie responds immediately, “I want the crack this girl’s smokin’ if she thinks she can all of a sudden beat on all‘a us.”
A flicker of doubt and need buzzes through Kara’s mind with the mention of crack. It’s been hours since she’s had any and her body is definitely beginning to want its dose of nirvana. Pushing it out of her thoughts, Kara boldly speaks out, “Are you going to go quietly or do I have to get rough?”
“Get rough, blondie. I’m dyin’ to see you try,” Sharla says with her usual menace as she sets herself in a fighting stance. She hasn’t even pulled her knife. Trixie and Desiree assume sideways attack positions as well. There’s no fear in any of the whores’ faces Kara notes. And why would there be? She certainly hasn’t given them any reason to be worried with the way she’s handled herself this evening. Well, she’s about to change that right now.
Dashing forward, Supergirl feints a sharp jab at Trixie’s stomach which backs the wary whore up a step. Not stopping there but continuing forward, Kara leaps in the air and kicks out unexpectedly with a sideways foot thrust at Sharla’s knee. She connects solidly and a stunned Sharla falls to one good knee with a howl that pleases Supergirl. Without pause, however, Desiree drops the wine bottle and jumps toward the preoccupied blonde teen, tackling her roughly to the ground.
“Hey! OWW!” Kara cries out as she falls on her back with the weight of Desiree pinning her in place. The tall whore rears back as she straddles the stunned Maid of Might’s waist with her knees. Her white tube top wobbles with the sway of her tits beneath. She’s about to punch out blondie’s lights when Supergirl’s fist slams into her groin.
“GHUUH!” Keeling over sideways with a gasping grunt, Desiree clutches her crotch in breathless distress. Her cheek rests against the cold asphalt as she tries to recover. Supergirl pushes the large body off her and leaps to her feet to take on the onrushing Trixie. Stepping aside in as neat a dodging maneuver as any Diana might execute, Supergirl grabs the passing big breasted whore by the shoulders and uses her momentum to hurl the short streetwalker into the brick wall.
“HUUUNNNH.” Flattened by the force of hitting unyielding brick, Trixie totters and sways, then falls to the street in a confused lump. “...ohhhhhhhhh...” Kneeling with her butt pressing on her heels, the black whore in the blue mesh top moans in numb bewilderment.
Kara is thrilled with the results of her foray. She sees a slow, dazed Chloe getting to her feet off to her left and an angry upright Glenda in a flapping, ripped dress stalking forward from her right, her naked thigh flashing in the breeze. Turning to face Glenda, who’s claw-like hands with their curved fingernails poised for damage are now streaking at her at eye level, Supergirl swings her left arm up defensively. This knocks the enraged redhead’s hands to the side and Kara uses the opening to bury her fist in the tall girl’s gut. Glenda’s pale, freckled face gets even lighter as her cheeks blow out from the punch.
“GHOOOFFF!” Glenda falls down hard on her butt with her legs flying up in a flash of her blue panties. The redhead starts to wheeze for air with whistling urgency.
Only Chloe remains and she still looks unsteady. Diana must have really clocked this one good. She’s wavering rather badly as she comes toward Supergirl, fists up but eyes barely open.
Got to give her credit for trying at least. But I’ve done it. I’ve taken down every one of...
“GHUUGGHHH!” The force of the base of the wine bottle slamming into her coccyx bone instantly incapacitates Supergirl. She collapses to the broken asphalt and bursts into tears and screeching pain. “Aieeeyaaahhh...Owwwww.....aaagghhhhhh....” Curled on her side, her hands clutch at her rear as she writhes on the ground in agony. “...ohhhhhh...Rao.... such pain... ...can’t take it...”
Desiree gets up from her kneeling position, waving the wine bottle around by its neck as she stands over the weeping blonde at her feet with a curled sneering lip.
“Should alwayth wadch yur back, zuperghirl. Doo mady ob uth aroud here dad cad hurd you.”
That said, Desiree swings the wine bottle down hard on Supergirl’s vulnerable hip
“OWW!”
Pleased with the sharp cry of misery, Desiree proceeds to punish this blonde cunt for her insolence and her defiance. She swings the bottle like a club. Again and again she rains blows down on the cringing blonde who goes fetal. Kara tries desperately to block the hard green glass bottle with her flailing hands. No matter where her hands go, the bottle finds opening after opening, delivering bruising shots to Supergirl’s ribs, her shoulders, thighs, knees and ankles.
“...stop....please...owwww...stop...it....i...give...up...owww....OH...augghhh...no more... pleeeeze...no more....” The bruising bottle thuds over and over into the helpless teenager’s defenseless body until Desiree takes a breath and backs off, watching the inert blonde lie on the ground in sobbing anguish.
“Bick ‘er ub, Char,” Desiree tells Sharla. “Hold ‘er ‘gainds dat wall.” A hand grabs Supergirl’s cape and hoists her up from behind to and yanks her backward against the wall. Supergirl rests there on very shaky legs. With her nose dripping blood and snot, the whimpering teenager is once more reduced to sniveling in misery at the hands of the whores. All her bravado has melted away with the fierce beating she’s sustained. She looks up plaintively at Desiree, her chest heaving with each sob while Sharla holds her arm and throat in steely grips.
“...d..don’t hit me anymore,” pleads the teary teen. “...think...I’m...bleeding.... internally..”
“What happened to beating the crap out of us and taking us to jail, bitch?” Sharla’s face is next to Supergirl’s her lips blowing her taunt in the miserable champion’s ear.
“Yeah,” Desiree adds. “Dalking like a hero geds you nuddin’ bud diz, bidch!”
Desiree jams the bottom of the wine bottle into Kara’s abdomen with a vicious thrust.
“OOOOONNFFF!” All of the air in Kara’s lungs bursts out of her mouth in a gasping rush while Sharla holds her up against the wall by her neck. Supergirl’s face is bright red, her eyes wide as she tries to draw air into her empty lungs. Her mouth gapes hugely with the effort. A sudden second penetrating jab from the bottle in Desiree’s hand to Kara’s abdomen defeats all the blonde’s efforts. The third punishing, thumping blow to her gut collapses Supergirl’s legs entirely and only Sharla’s hands on her throat and arm and Desiree’s grip of the sweaty blonde’s bangs keeps the slouching champion from sagging to the ground.
“Gloe. Gum here ad ‘elp uz hode her ub.”
Quickly responding, Chloe comes around and takes a hold of Supergirl’s other side and her belt. The sagging teen is held up against the cool brick, her eyes are half open, her mouth is gaping wide as possible and a thin desperate wheezing whistle from her throat tells the tale of her breathless struggle for oxygen after three devastating blows to her stomach from the durable wine bottle.
“Gud, Ghloe. Danks,” Desiree nods at her crew member, then pulls aside the crotch of Supergirl’s damp sodden panties, exposing her privates. “Dow, hew bwonde cund, f’u wanna fuck od our durf, den fuck dhis!” Holding the bottle by its base, the whore’s leader jams the long neck of the dark green bottle into the deepest recesses of Supergirl’s vagina.
“WWHHEEEEPPPP!” The back of Kara’s head knocks against the brick as the piercing pain of the bottle drives into her feminine treasures with a ruthless thumping rush. Her irises start to slide upward. And then the bottle is withdrawn and immediately thrust in again.
“Aaaahhhhh!” With so little air in her, Supergirl’s tormented protest is a whispered gasp that brings a smile to Sharla’s face. The teen cunt’s own face is pale and slightly greenish from the shock and agony of this assault. The dulled eyes drift to see Sharla but there’s no acknowledgment there from the blonde as the heavy head lolls in her tight grip. The bottle is pulled out and thrust in yet again. Supergirl’s tongue flops out over her lip and her mouth gapes even wider in search of any possible air to take in.
“You like this kind of fucking, champ?” Chloe sneers as she holds up the limp figure and cruelly taunts her. Chloe is deeply angry at the beating she’s taken from Wonder Woman and is pleased to be able to help dish out the retribution to her wimpy blonde dyke friend. “Hope so, ‘cuz this is the only thing goin’ in your skanky teen twat tonight, buttercup. Hey, Dez. Let me have a go at her.”
“Fide,” Desiree says and Chloe takes hold of the base of the wine bottle in a flawless handoff. She then proceeds to ram the blunt instrument in and out of Supergirl’s vagina in a relentless fury of pistoning brutality. Over and over, the long neck of the bottle delves deep and withdraws within the slit between Supergirl’s legs. Again and again, the youthful body jolts and jumps limply in place as she is savagely abused by the deliriously vengeful Chloe. Finally, dripping a thin line of blood from her badly damaged pussy, Supergirl’s body is released by the three whores and she collapses to the dark asphalt in groaning agony. The three whores look down at the figure gasping, moaning and whimpering at their feet in triumph.
“Step away from her now, you bitches. It’s time to deal with me again!”
Nearby, Glenda is flat on her back with a resolute Wonder Woman standing with her foot on the limp redhead’s shoulder. Off to the left, Trixie is slumped over, also in an obviously unconscious state. The stealthy black-haired beauty in red and blue clearly had been busy while the other three whores had been occupied with her blonde friend.
“This bitch just don’t quit,” Sharla says with grudging respect.
“Dho. Thee dothn’t,” agrees Desiree.
“Shit! Here we go again,” says Chloe.
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TaliaAlGhul101
- Neophyte Lvl 3
- Posts: 29
- Joined: 7 years ago
Well jeez they are getting there asses worked over lol. And by common run of the mill hookers at that. Kara while ya gotta admire her spitfire is all but useless in this fight due to the kryptonite collar and her lack of fighting skill without her powers and Diana while on a good day even without her belt would have no problem is getting whittled down bit by bit by the the onslaught of the five women and there dirty tactics and having to make sure Kara doesn't get killed. Points for both girls for getting back up for more time and time again when simply staying down might end there beating.
"The once mighty and powerful Maid of Steel is now little more than a tempest-tossed artifact of flotsam washed up on the barren shore of defeat." VERY nice description.
Omg Tony talking about how both girls can handle themselves then immediately transitioning to a scene of Diana getting messed up even more, nice.
Woops Diana forgetting that she doesn't have her authentic gear with her and paying for it. Hmm ya know aside from her getting attacked and shot up in the park in the main story and whatever Sergei put her through the last time he punished her, this might be the worst beat down Diana and to an extent Kara has gotten in this verse. She is getting cut up and sliced up this time and fighting people who don't care about preserving her good looks.
Kara, even after all she has been put through by those women still having the will to try and fight them off to protect her friend. And on top of the beatings she has already endured, her addiction is starting to flare up. Well she lasted longer and did better then I thought she would. OW a bottle right in the unmentionables. And that can by very hygienic considering where it came from lol. She makes it out of this, that Kryptonian healing is gonna be put to some serious work.
Dian back up for round 3 or is it 4 now? Not liking her chances since she is in far worst condition that when this all started and still outnumbered. All the bravado and super-heroine posturing in the world might not be enough to turn the tide. Wonder if Tony will actually come and look for them and maybe be able to find them in time before his product get damaged any further.
"The once mighty and powerful Maid of Steel is now little more than a tempest-tossed artifact of flotsam washed up on the barren shore of defeat." VERY nice description.
Omg Tony talking about how both girls can handle themselves then immediately transitioning to a scene of Diana getting messed up even more, nice.
Woops Diana forgetting that she doesn't have her authentic gear with her and paying for it. Hmm ya know aside from her getting attacked and shot up in the park in the main story and whatever Sergei put her through the last time he punished her, this might be the worst beat down Diana and to an extent Kara has gotten in this verse. She is getting cut up and sliced up this time and fighting people who don't care about preserving her good looks.
Kara, even after all she has been put through by those women still having the will to try and fight them off to protect her friend. And on top of the beatings she has already endured, her addiction is starting to flare up. Well she lasted longer and did better then I thought she would. OW a bottle right in the unmentionables. And that can by very hygienic considering where it came from lol. She makes it out of this, that Kryptonian healing is gonna be put to some serious work.
Dian back up for round 3 or is it 4 now? Not liking her chances since she is in far worst condition that when this all started and still outnumbered. All the bravado and super-heroine posturing in the world might not be enough to turn the tide. Wonder if Tony will actually come and look for them and maybe be able to find them in time before his product get damaged any further.
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DrDominator9
- Emissary
- Posts: 2461
- Joined: 13 years ago
- Location: On the Border of the Neutral Zone
The Mighty Battle Continues
Part D
In any normal circumstance, Diana would almost laugh at the ridiculous notion of having to take on merely three women in a fight. In a skirmish just before she’d been taken captive by Tony’s hit men, she’d faced off against two huge barrel-chested thugs in an alley not too different than this one. Led by a thin-faced vicious local gang leader who was wielding a tire iron and looking to expand his territory by taking out an annoying super heroine with big tits and starred dance panties who kept interfering with his plans, the three men had cornered her in a trap using a fake rape attempt. Diana had sprinted into the alley only to find the girl she’d followed rushing past her with her top pulled down and her breasts bouncing in the breeze. Before her, the trio of hoodlums faced her with the wide leers of predators licking their chops over easy pickings. She’d handled them all roughly, rapidly and with easy dispatch, leaving the two massive strongmen and their ferret-faced leader moaning with dazed pain in a heap of broken body parts without so much as breaking a fingernail. But Wonder Woman isn’t smiling now.
As she takes a step away from an unconscious Glenda and faces off against Desiree, Sharla and Chloe, Diana is all too aware of her many pains from the thrashing she’s been handed by these three whores and their two inert comrades. Her head is sore in several spots from being bashed with brass knuckles, dragged through an alley of broken bricks, kicked by someone’s shoe, bounced against the pavement and knocked senseless with a garbage can lid. Her cheek is slightly split and crusted over with dried blood as is her wrist. Her stomach aches from the gut shots she’s taken and her back is tender from taking a hard shot from a set of brass knuckles. These bitches have worked her over good. She’s given back some of her own but the toll it’s taken on Wonder Woman leaves her at less than her best, to say the least. Nevertheless, seeing how badly they’ve brutalized Supergirl with that wine bottle, Diana’s anger is deep and fierce. She stands tall before the three whores, her back ramrod straight.
“If Kara doesn’t fully recover from what you low women have done to her,” Diana seethes, “you’ll wish you’ve never been born!”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it, cunt, you’ll get your chance to be bottle-fucked, too,” Sharla sneers. “Shouldn’t be as painful for you though. Your friend lubed it up nice and slick with her blood.”
“You’re first.” Diana says, looking at Sharla with such ice-cold conviction of the whore’s punishment, one might think it was already a past event. Her blue eyes have never been this shade before. Looking hard at the short whore with a mix of revulsion, revenge and anger, her eyes seem lit from within, burning with the energy a cold fusion reactor.
Sharla’s upper lip quivers a bit, her eyelids rise slightly and an icy grip of genuine fear flushes through her for just an instant. Her guts turn over like the spin cycle of some hellish washing machine. Her mouth fills with the sour taste of bile. Whoever this annoying costumed bitch was in front of her, she didn’t seem to understand the concept of retreat. Hell, they’d already beaten her pretty badly and yet she’s standing there ready to fight them once again without any hesitation whatsoever.
Even with all her bruises, that nasty cut on her wrist and everything else we've done to her, this bitch isn’t backing down a fucking inch! Where do they breed women like this?
“D..don’t think so, bitch.” Sharla replies with just the hint of a nervous stutter. “Fact is, you’re hurtin’ bad. I think you’re goin’ down hard.”
“What you think matters not, whore!” The thinned lips of the Amazon warrior barely move as Diana girds herself to launch her attack, her muscles coiled like a tigress ready to leap.
“I’ve got a blade here that says otherwise, balloon tits!” Sharla’s hand comes out of her pocket and flicks the switchblade into its fixed position, ready for battle. Still, her hand is shaking and Sharla is angry to see her fear manifested so obviously.
Reaching down behind a pile of stones at her feet, an equally nervous Chloe quickly comes up with a long-handled wooden mallet with colorful bands circling its chipped head and handle.
“And I’m ready to tenderize you with this, fat ass, if’n you want a piece of me.” Chloe moves the mallet head in a threatening circle as she stares intently at Diana. Still, there’s a generous helping of fear in this whore’s eyes as well.
Stepping immediately to her left, a broken-nosed Desiree snatches up the garbage can lid laying on the ground and holds it with one hand, sweeping the steel disc back and forth in front of her.
“..bember dis liddle weabon, you padedic cund? Knogged you flad on yhur faze las dime. Weddy fhor mhore, bidge?”
“It’s pretty hard to take you seriously, Desiree, when you sound like Elmer Fudd,” Diana states flatly, watching all three opponents carefully, gauging their readiness, searching for weaknesses in their stances.
Sharla and her knife are her top priority and she goes for her first, using the subterfuge of dashing across the eight feet of alleyway between her and Chloe. When she reaches near kicking distance, Diana drops down suddenly, her palms supporting her as she executes a leg sweep. The maneuver is slow, almost awkward as Diana’s leg misses Chloe’s legs by half a foot. Seeing how badly that this Wonder Woman wanna-be has performed this basic move, Sharla rushes in with full confidence. This bitch is hurting so bad, she can’t do even simple moves now without fucking up. She closes in on Diana’s side, thrusting her arm forward, the blade spearing right toward the exposed waist and the smooth expanse of red satin just waiting to be cut into, the waist beneath it punctured with her trusty blade. When Diana’s right hand suddenly comes across her body and grips Sharla’s wrist with steely pressure, the whore can’t believe the speed with which her adversary moves. She’d faked her mistimed move!
Wonder Woman’s thumb presses down on the nerve in her wrist. Sharla yells out in pain and drops the knife, her hand completely numbed. Diana’s entire body swivels around on the pivot of her left palm and she’s behind Sharla’s back with her arm around the whore’s throat before Sharla can begin to react.
“WRUULLGKK!”
“Told you you’d be first,” Diana says coldly into Sharla’s ear, her chest pinned against the whore’s back as she presses Sharla’s right hand up toward the middle of her back.
“Aaahh!” The leverage of Diana’s elbow crook pressing against Sharla’s throat efficiently cuts off her airway. “Drop the weapons now or I’ll break her neck!” Wonder Woman’s voice is firm without a quiver of doubt.
“You wouldn’t,” Chloe says, not four feet from the heroine and her red-faced friend.
“You don’t want to test me,” Wonder Woman replies. “Drop them. NOW!”
“Don’d do id, Glhoe,” Desiree barks. “Zhe’s bruffin’. Ruzh her. NOW!”
The total lack of concern by Desiree for her fellow whore takes Diana completely by surprise. As Sharla’s left elbow comes jerking backward into her side, Chloe’s chipped croquet mallet begins to arc around toward her, and the wide steel garbage can lid in Desiree’s hands begins its downward arc toward her head. Wonder Woman is wholly unprepared for this combined assault. She clearly isn’t used to foes with no regard for their fellow combatants. While the elbow stuns her, Wonder Woman is not nearly disabled enough for the three whores to overwhelm her. Diana instantly releases Sharla’s neck and wrist, dodging back before either the mallet or the garbage can lid can connect with her head. Thanks to her short stature, Sharla’s head is missed by both the swinging mallet and the steel lid. They hit together over the whore’s head with a loud clang as Wonder Woman pushes her wincing opponent forward face-first onto the ground and backs off quickly into a combat stance. Then, stepping forward with a surprise move of her own, Diana drives her boot heel into Sharla’s back, driving the yelping whore’s face into the cracked tarmac. That done, Diana quickly retreats two steps, her arms up with hands pointed ready to respond to the next foray be either Chloe or Desiree. Both still have their weapons up, circling them in the air several feet from Wonder Woman’s position while Sharla moans on the floor of the alley in the gap between the poised women.
“Who wants next?” Diana asks, looking back and forth from Desiree to Chloe. While breathing heavily from the sudden exertion and all the stress her body’s endured, Diana retains the calmness of a battle-tested warrior.
“You can’d wrun vorebber, bidch. Whe’re gonna ged you,”
“I’m not running, Desiree. I’m right here. You’re the one running. Her mouth. And none too clearly. That nose must hurt pretty bad, huh, Dez?” Wonder Woman tries yet again to goad the tall whore leader into a rash move but it doesn’t work. Desiree stays put for the moment, just glaring at her black-haired adversary without reply.
On the ground, Sharla moans again, her cute little ass shifting under the blue leather miniskirt. Then the small woman starts to turn over onto her back, her grimacing face lit by the streetlight as it comes around.
“Stay down, Sharla.” Wonder Woman lifts her foot to press it down on the side of the yellow halter top to keep her adversary pinned and out of the fight. Having feigned a wooziness she doesn’t feel, Sharla suddenly grabs Diana’s right boot, gripping it around the ankles with two strong hands.
“GET HER, GIRLS!” Sharla shouts.
Held in place, awkwardly balanced on one foot while her other is held aloft and immobile, Wonder Woman can only try to block the onrushing duo coming at her from a scant yard and a half away. Her left arm with it’s lacerated wrist takes on the garbage pail lid once again and fares little better this time than last. The tin wrist band is knocked completely off even as Wonder Woman takes a harsh glancing blow to the left side of her skull.
CLANGK!
“OHH!” Diana cries out as the steel lid connects. Then the wooden croquet mallet swings under her flailing right arm, striking with a solid thump into her right breast. “UUNNGGHH!”
Wonder Woman bends with the impact, her face drawn tight with pain. Sharla yanks back hard on the shiny red boot and Diana falls onto her back, her upper shoulders smacking loudly against the cracked tarmac.
“OWW!” Disoriented by this heavy assault, Wonder Woman can only throw her hands into the air in front of her prone body and try to block the women’s weapons more successfully this time. Her efforts are completely futile however as Sharla pull her leg to the side with a surprise heave and Chloe’s mallet comes down smack onto Wonder Woman’s exposed crotch.
THOOOMP
“AIEEYEEAAGGHHH!” The screaming heroine’s upper torso snaps upright in agony only to take the steel lid to her forehead, slamming her back onto the tarmac in a harsh reverse motion.
THUUMP
“.....ohhhhhhh.....” Diana is completely stunned, now unable to even lift her arms as her head spins with a sickening wooziness that threatens to pitch her into black unconsciousness. When Chloe’s mallet slams down onto her left breast, Wonder Woman’s body jerks with the impact even as a loud whoosh of precious breath blasts out of her mouth. “...HOOOFFF!...”
“I bed dose diddies of yours muzd hurd preddy bad, huh, you zmardazz cund?” Desiree’s face is bright with triumph once again. “Deach you do zmard moud me, zlut. Hid her agaid, Glhoe. Ghive her anudder ghud shod ride bedween her legz.”
Chloe swings down hard and Wonder Woman’s body jerks again with the impact of the mallet. She shrieks with agony.
“AAAIYYEEEEE!” Hot, salty tears spring to her eyes and Diana tries to turn onto her stomach to avoid another devastating blow to her crotch. A firm restraining hand against her shoulder by Sharla prevents this however and Wonder Woman is forced flat onto her back again just as Desiree brings the edge of the garbage can lid down hard on her chest.
THHRRUUUUMP
“OWWW! OHH! STOP! Please....owwww....no more...no more....” The weeping, begging Amazon grips at her chest with shaking hands, tears streaming down her face. “I give up. ...I give...up...” Desiree stands over her, the lid poised in mid-air ready to strike yet again. Chloe’s mallet is circling over the whimpering heroine while the whore in the tight red blouse and black vinyl hotpants decides what body part to clobber next.
“Oh, where did the big brave woman go?” Chloe taunts Diana viciously. “Did getting her pussy pounded like a beefsteak make her go bye–bye?” Chuckling at her own witticism, Chloe then ruthlessly pounds the croquet mallet down onto Wonder Woman’s stomach. The defenseless beauty’s body spasms immediately into a fetal position that Sharla’s not fast enough to prevent this time. Curled on her side, Diana wheezes, coughs and chokes loudly, painfully desperate for air. Her eyes are cramped shut, her arms wrap around her stomach and her knees piston up and down in torment as the mighty heroine tries with all she has to inhale a decent measure of oxygen.
“Ged her on her dees, Zhar,” Desiree tells Sharla.
Yanked up from behind by her long black tresses, Wonder Woman is dragged up into a kneeling position by a maliciously smiling Sharla, The Amazon’s head is down, rubbery on a neck that seems almost unable to support it. Her eyes are squeezed shut in pain and her arms still wrap around her waist as a series of painful wheezes finally draws air into her scorching throat.
“HEEEEZ. HEEEEZ. HEEEEZ. HEEEEZ.”
“You’re neber gummin’ ondo our durf agaib, zlut. Ju’ hear be? NEBER EBER AGAIB”
“...’ess....i...ear...ou...” Diana gasps out. “..never again...”
“Daz ride! Ghloe, gib be dat bal-led.”
“What?” Chloe asks, confused by the near unintelligible instructions from the broken-nosed Desiree.
“Da bal-led. Da bal-led. In yhur hadd,” Desiree gestures with her open hand for the croquet mallet Chloe has rested on her shoulder.
“This?” Chloe extends the mallet with a quizzical expression and Desiree snatches it away from her in frustration.
“Des! Dis. De bal-led! Desus kwiezd!”
Taking all her anger and frustration out on Wonder Woman, Desiree spins around and swings the croquet mallet in a mighty arc until the cylindrical wooden head connects with Diana’s left breast.
SHHTTUUUMMMPP!
“UUUNNNGGGHHH!” The Amazon beauty seems to collapse inward from the blow, her full body cringing away from the mighty thud. Her left tit bounces out of the top of her bustier and sways heavily back and forth, naked and bobbling in the cool night air.
“Bull her bag ub, Zharla.”
Another yank on her hair brings Diana’s head up this time even as she lists heavily to the right. Her eyes are mere slits and her face is frozen in grimace of pure agony.
“Oww. ...my... hair..!”
“Wand adudder wud?” Desiree asks with a broad smile.
“NO! DON’T...NOT AGAIN....PLEASE DON’T” Wonder Woman barks her pleas with raw panic in her voice.
“Zo zowweee......DOT!” Desiree says with scalding scorn and swings the mallet in a wide arc once again.
SHHTTUUUMMMPP!
“AAAAAHHH!”
This time the right breast is crushed inward. It too pops free from the grasp of the golden eagle’s wings, now pushed low in thin wrinkles under the mighty breasts that jiggle and bounce on the weeping woman’s front. Diana is nearly unconscious. Held up by her hair, she is leaning backward with her ass on her heels, her arms limp, her eyes dull, her mouth gaping wide as she tries to take in air. The bruising is already starting on the left breast, the right one sports an angry red circle at the point of impact.
“Dow, durd her ober. Ged her od her hadds and dees. Den ged her id a hedlogg, Zharla. I’b godda zdick dis bal-led way up her azzzz!” Grabbing the head of the mallet, Desire waves the long wooden handle around in the air with all her frustration in bountiful evidence.
Sharla easily maneuvers the moaning, lethargic Amazon into place on her hands and knees and pulls her neck neatly into the crook of her elbow and holds her there. Too weak to even maintain that position, Diana’s elbows give way and she sags forward a bit, her head low and powerfully held in the vise of Sharla’s arm and her shapely ass high in the air. Desiree stands behind the wide rump, appraising it happily.
“Eggzzaledd!”
“Egg salad? You want egg salad now?” Chloe doesn’t understand.
“Doh! Dot egg zalad...oh...debbermide. Ghloe, bull dowd her breddy liddle banz, bleeze.”
“Her pants?”
“Des! Bull deb dowd do her dighz.”
And with that, Wonder Woman’s famous panties are suddenly jerked off her shapely buttocks and pulled down to mid-thigh. The white cotton crotch pad is slightly yellowed with perspiration and fear. The wide firm cheeks of the Amazonian princess are fully exposed as is her damp, sweaty pussy. Only her butt hole remains hidden in the dark cleft between her twin mounds. But that will soon be heavily assaulted as Desiree steps forward with a gleam of menacing delight in her dark chocolate eyes.
====================================================
Across the alley, Supergirl is curled on her side into a tight fetal ball, her mind drifting aimlessly as the waves of pain from having a wine bottle repeatedly rammed into her vagina slowly pass through her. They are sharp jabs from her pelvis with every inhalation and then they ease. With each breath, her Kegel muscles spasm slightly and she winces but over time the intense pain moderates into tolerable levels. The voices she’s been hearing all this while are jumbled and confused. She opens her eyes and sees a dried out wrinkled yellow condom not five inches from her nose. There’s also the smell of garbage hanging in the air from behind her. Kara feels awful. She is sore, sick, exhausted and slightly dazed. Her hand goes to her throat and feels for the collar. Still there! In doing so, she inadvertently knocks out the pebble she’d stuck in the aperture of the titanium collar and a tiny green glow blushes brightly at her throat.
“.....uhhhh....” She falls backward on to her back, her knees flopping wide open, her chest heaving in anguish at yet another source of discomfort. On her back now, the alley and the sky are madly spinning around and the famous Maid of Steel’s eyes cross in confusion as she slides into a warm bath of oblivion for now.
None of the three whores involved with Wonder Woman has even noticed the event. Glenda, who is rising awkwardly to her feet, has seen the blonde stir momentarily before collapsing back in a whispering sigh of defeat. It’s all Glenda can do not to join the dumb bunny in blissful unconsciousness herself. Her stomach aches as does her head. Her dress is split up the seam to her hip and hanging badly askew. She straightens it and pulls it into place, the bright purple rayon, though stained, adheres to her shapely form like a glove and she still looks tantalizing even though she doesn’t feel very pretty. She’s been knocked down and knocked out more times on this night than in the past three years combined. Whoever this black-haired bitch and her blonde companion were, they certainly weren’t the usual street trash that Glenda and Desiree and the rest had been easily intimidating over the past three years. Maybe wearing the costumes made these bitches feel like heroes.
In any case, the one wearing the Wonder Woman getup isn’t acting very heroic at the moment. Glenda takes a deep breath and straightens up fully, gets a second wind and walks over to where Desiree and Chloe and Sharla are holding down the gasping, whimpering beauty. The sorry cunt’s panties have been pulled down off her wide bottom and left in a humiliatingly stretched position down around her thighs. Desiree is poking the handle of the mallet between the girl’s shapely buttocks but isn’t having much success pushing the thin wood handle into the clenched rectum. Despite being in a headlock, her red face gasping for air and her butt raised high in the sky, even now the defiant brunette is resisting with everything she has.
“Desiree, Desiree,” clucks Glenda as she comes up and places her hand on the kneeling black whore’s shoulder, “Don’t you know that you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.”
“Whad?” Desiree stops trying to jam the short stick up Wonder Woman’s ass and turns her head to look at Glenda. “Whad ju mead?”
“I mean that I think our little spitfire here may be more inclined to relax her sphincter if she’s treated like a lady. And loosen up that choke hold just a tad, would you, Sharla. As Desiree said, we’re not here to kill this cunt. Just teach her a life-long lesson. None of us wants to do time for murder, right, girls?”
The four of them nod in unison and Glenda smiles. Order has been restored. Desiree looked like she would have punctured this bitch’s colon and gone through to her stomach if she’d been able to in the midst of her unrestrained attack with the wooden mallet handle.
“May I?” Glenda kneels down beside Desiree and her long thigh presses against the length of Diana’s own wet one. The film of perspiration gleaming there makes the two thighs slide easily against each other as a the badly-beaten Wonder Woman trembles in place. Glenda gently grasps the handle of the mallet and Desiree releases it, stands up and backs off, regaining her composure. Wonder Woman’s face goes to pale pink from the bright red she’d been moments before. But she’s still a battered, dazed and defeated woman right now. Her fat, naked breasts press against the tarmac, the weight of them flattening their generous shapes to doughy ovals. Her body sags in Sharla’s hold, pained and exhausted from being pounded on and subdued so recently.
“It’s possible,” Glenda says, “that this wildcat is just misunderstood. All the time we thought she was a fighter, it may be she’s really a lover who’s just incredibly frustrated because her little blonde underling over there can’t deliver the goods she really needs.”
With a slow purposeful swipe, Glenda puts her fingertip against Wonder Woman’s face and draws it under her eye, gathering up the moisture from her tear-drenched face. “That the problem, isn’t it, dearie? You’re just a tense, frustrated dyke because your partner doesn’t know how to bring you off the way you really like.”
“...nuhhh...” Diana breathes out a plaintive denial but is too weak and sore to do anything but lay there and try to gather her minimal strength.
“Shhh. You don’t have to play coy with me, honey. Glenda knows the truth about you.”
Bringing the finger to Wonder Woman’s crotch, Glenda slowly slides the moistened forefinger between the easily available labia presented so readily before her. “Chloe, be a doll and hold down this anxious pussy’s ankles as tight as you need to while I show her how a real woman treats her sadly mismanaged clit. Sharla, be ready to tighten up, too. This little mare might buck a bit before she realizes I’m about to give her everything she needs, everything she’s ever dreamed about.”
Standing behind the threesome, Desiree sneers and licks her lips. Glenda was good. She’d get this bitch’s back door open and everything else, too. Wide open, wet and easy to fuck up. Looking around the alley, the lead whore sees the tipped over garbage cans, the dumpster and all the refuse lying around. The possibilities of how they could trash these two cunts were virtually unlimited. Desiree goes hunting for what she can use best. As she passes Trixie, she bends down for a moment and shakes her big-breasted friend.
“You ogay, Drigz?”
The groggy girl moans as Desiree helps her to her feet.
“Damn, that bitch cold-cocked me just as I was getting my brains unscrambled,” Trixie murmurs.
“Yeah, daz why we’re gudda zhow her whoz de bozz.”
“I want in on that.”
“Ogay, bud firz helb be find zum dingz to drazh dem bode wid.”
“Huh?”
“Dat wibblebawb bad iz ghud. And gwab dad whia hangah.”
Picking up a red plastic wiffleball bat and the wire hangar, Trixie falters a bit, wavering in place.
“Whoa, I still feel dizzy. I’m gonna sit down here for a minute, Dez, if you don’t mind.”
“No. Zhure. Dake yhur dime.” Desiree wanders over to the dumpster and looks in. A huge smile breaks across her face.
Meanwhile, a dazed Wonder Woman’s body quivers in place as Glenda’s gives her the “V” for victory salute, sliding her fingers up and down the inner sides of the now fattened labia.
Over and over the v-fingered salute brings a shortness to Diana’s breathing while shaking her glutes like twin Jello molds.
“Little “Miss Save the Planet” here seems to like this little maneuver, don’t she, Chloe?”
“Sure seems to be fuckin’ her breathing up good.”
“Yes, and her pussy seems to be getting awfully slippery. Let’s just explore in there a bit and see how she reacts, shall we?”
“...please......................don’t....” The whispered sigh is barely heard. But the resisting body is easily held in place by the head and ankles and the enfeebled Diana can do nothing about it.
“Oh you silly girl. You really aren’t in touch with what you truly and deeply want, are you?” Glenda probes her forefinger deeply into the wet snatch and flicks her fingernail lightly and rapidly against Diana’s slightly emerged clit. She does this for a good twenty seconds and the Amazon princess bucks and gasps while her two assailants tighten down on their grips. Wonder Woman’s face deepens to scarlet with the pressure of Sharla’s fist hard against her throat and her head immobilized. Chloe presses her ankles to the tarmac and finally Diana’s body slackens and she whines in frustration.
“...eeeeeennnnhhhhh...”
Glenda has withdrawn her forefinger, her face beaming “You see? You say ‘please don’t’ but your body says ‘Oh god, what the fuck was that and can you do it again and again please?’ Glenda knows. Doesn’t she, you silly slut?”
“....no.......you................don’t...” Diana’s weak dispute is barely audible. But Glenda’s eyebrows dance up in amused delight.
“Really? Well, let’s just check your temperature again to be sure, why don’t we?”
Once again the finger goes in deep to the slippery crevice, pushing past the glistening pink folds until it comes up against the now elongated nub. But it’s not the fingernail this time. This time Glenda bends her knuckle and rubs it briskly against the tender bud, almost bruising it with hard attention. She is relentlessly repetitive and after a full minute of steady knuckled abuse with intermittent light caresses to vary the tempo, the effect is undeniable.
“OHH...HERA HELP ME....(GASP)....STOP! STOP!” Diana’s unrestrained pleasure draws surprising shouts from her beleaguered frame. The passion gives her voice volume.
“Tight holds, Sharla, Chloe. I told you she’d buck hard.”
“GGGHHNNNNN!” Diana is sweating and writhing and grimacing with helpless delight and gasping frustration as she is immobilized by harsh pressing hands and a suffocating elbow.
“And you thought I didn’t know what you wanted. Clearly you enjoyed that, my dear. Why your pussy is positively dripping into the street here.”
“...don’t... no..more.....”
“But I’m just getting warmed up, thunder butt. I don’t suppose you’d want me to lick you down there, would you?”
“NO! .... uh..don’t...don’t do...that... please....”
“Oh please, yourself. We both know you liked me the moment you set eyes on me, honey. No use denying it. You like my shape. You want my long killer body pressed up tight next to yours. You crave my tongue lapping your lovely....little....lower....lips! Admit it, honey, I’m your dream date and you just want to cum on my face as I lick you into seventh heaven.”
“...not....true...”
“In a pigs eye! I know dyke breath when I smell it and, honey, yours smells like the Fulton Fish Market.”
“...you’re....horrible...”
“And I’m betting you’re wonderful....tasting. Let’s just see what flavor you are. Keep a good hold there, ladies. Our mare here ain’t broke yet.” Chuckling, Glenda gets in a perfect position on her hands and knees behind the head-locked Wonder Woman who’s ass is poised high enough that the tall whore only has to bend her head down a little. “And Sharla, doll, pull her head up a bit so her knockers aren’t all squished against the street there. I want to squeeze and caress and hold those big lovely ladies while I’m dining from the ‘a la cunt menu’.”
“...if I ever...WWREGGKK!”
“Hesh up, white trash,” Sharla growls, pulling her elbow tight around Diana’s neck. “And don’t make me hold you up all by my lonesome. Help me out, bitch.” She hoists the Amazon’s upper torso higher until Diana’s palms are flat on the street holding herself in place, her elbows locked. “That’s a good girl. See, you can be smart when you put your mind to it.”
“Oh yes, this one’s very clever. So many fancy fighting moves. Well, let’s see if you can fight your way out of this, Miss High and Mighty Fuck Me Boots.”
Glenda leans forward on her knees as her palms grab onto the front of Wonder Woman’s upper thighs. Holding the tall white whore easily in place, the hands are positioned just above where Wonder Woman’s famous blue panties have been pulled down, stretched tightly there in the most humiliating position possible. Glenda smiles as she pushes her face directly against Wonder Woman’s bottom, her nose low in the cleft of her pussy lips, her tongue darting into the gleaming pink crevice.
“Aaaaahh!” Wonder Woman jerks forward at the sensation but is held securely in place by Sharla and Chloe’s unrelenting grip. And Glenda goes to work on the already over-excited pussy. Long, slow strokes up and down the puffy pink inner lips draw a series of whimpering mews from the rigidly held beauty.
Over and over Diana feels the slippery slide of that talented tongue as it dances the length of her pussy opening. It twirls, it swipes, it foxtrots, mambos and tangos until Wonder Woman’s rear end is quivering and rocking in helpless reflex from every inspired move, every dip, every glissade, and every twirl of her assailant’s graceful tongue. Her pussy is leaking with her juices, the sweat in her trimmed black pubic hair runs down into her feminine cleft and drains with her musky excitement down her trembling thighs.
Helpless with desire, the befuddled beauty can’t help but press her pelvis against Glenda’s face and moans in a low, almost cow-like moo. Thus reminded of her other treasures, the grinning whore releases her grip on the shaky thighs and reaches forward to encompass the glorious globes that hang with enticing pendulous weight beneath the heavily aroused heroine. Her palms press up against the hardened nubs of Wonder Woman’s extended nipples and circle slowly against them, making them harder still. They feel like warm marbles just removed from a cloth bag that’s been laying in the sun. Smooth little treasures that delight from both sides. To Glenda’s palms, they offer a sensuous tickle to her hands. To Diana, streaming currents of electric joy sizzle from her breasts to her brain to her crotch with lightning quickness.
When Glenda’s tongue trips the light fantastic down below; licking, teasing, probing and blowing softly deep within and around Diana’s pussy for a good two minutes while she continues to fondle, caress, squeeze, shake and tickle the sensitized breasts and nipples without pause, the Themysciran princess jerks, moans, weeps and gasps over and over. The feelings are too intense. The frustration of being pinned in place and choked mercilessly. The helplessness in the face of unrelenting physical pleasure generates confusion, desire, heat and guilt in generous portions that almost overwhelm Diana completely. She feels the surging promise of an orgasm light her senses like sparklers on a summer’s night.
“...h...h...hera...that...feels...ohhhhhhh.....” Diana’s eyes clench shut and her body spasms all over with pure delight. Ultimately, she mentally stamps down on the inner rush and is able to prevent the orgasm. For now.
Backing away from the juicy womanly cavity with a face shiny with Diana’s pleasure, Glenda slowly leans forward and now squeezes hard on Wonder Woman’s breasts, puckering the flesh with deep recesses from steely fingers as she whispers softly into her ear, “Little lady, you’re getting pretty excited down there. Maybe it’s time we use this little stick in your cooz and see how loud you can howl. How ‘bout that. You up for a nice wood dildo that’s been thrown out in the nasty old trash to be stuffed up your lily white cunt?”
“...i don’t...i...don’t...please...no...”
“There you go again. Saying no when you mean yes. Girl, you have absolutely no idea of what you truly like when it comes to your snatch hole. Now I’m gonna have to prove to you that Glenda knows best.”
“...not...no...you...don’t...can’t...”
“Can. And will, Miss Drippy Hole. Just like this.” Glenda picks up the croquet mallet, holding it by the middle of the shaft and pokes the rounded end into the sloppy wetness of Wonder Woman’s pussy. She twists it back and forth to get the wooden end covered with a glaze of Amazon love juice and then easily and effortless slides the doweled handle inch after inch after inch after inch into Diana’s relaxed, exposed and totally receptive vagina.
“Huhh...uhhh....huhhh...uhhhh....” Diana’s voice goes higher and higher up the scale with every inch the mallet handle penetrates. It’s not all that wide but the slow twisting of the wooden shaft as it makes its steady way through the long cavity is more than enough stimulation to get Wonder Woman suddenly bucking and jerking and weeping and gnashing her teeth in a renewal of her frantic panic from earlier on. But the two whores hold on tight and ride the spastic hell bitch with all their energy and it is more than enough. The choke hold reddens Diana’s face to near purple while her calves pull and twist and quiver and then slacken suddenly in a realization of total failure. When she is limp and spent in the arms of a sweaty but gratified Sharla and a grinning, victorious Chloe, that’s when Glenda begins to move the handle in a wide circular ring so the handle’s front end gyrates hard against the inner walls of Wonder Woman’s vagina.
“Ahhhh! Ahhhhhh!” Diana’s eyes go wide as the wooden handle cycles around her cavity with more and more speed. It’s a mix of pleasure and pain the woman has clearly never experienced before.
“That’s right, horsie. You’re about to be broken,” Glenda says and then moves closer to her subject. Still winding the clock as it were, with wide quick circles of the mallet, the red-headed whore reaches under her toy pony and grips the nipple on her left tit tightly, squeezing with more and more pressure as she whirlwinds the cycling handle with more and more speed.
“OH GOD! OH GOD! THAT’S....I CAN’T ...DOH...OHHHH....OHHHH....” Diana is beside herself with pleasure. A building wave from deep within her that is unstoppable and undeniable.
“You’re losing it, slut! I know exactly what makes you tick and this is perfect for you.” Glenda’s body is completely still but for her pinwheeling arm and her flexing, twisting hand at Wonder Woman’s nipple. The twitching, moaning beauty is soft moldable putty in the redhead’s hands. The wheeling handle is almost a blur even as the fingertips of the devilish whore squeeze down gently on the soft, ripe flesh of her breast before returning to the painfully engorged nipple, taut with need.
“Haaahhhh. Haaah...uhhh..haaaahhhh....ohh...ohhh...ohhhhhhh ..it’s...so...so...close..” As Diana’s body trembles in the arms of her captors, her panting is rapid and heavy. She is lost in the sensations, rushing and tumbling down some water slide of emotion. Physical pain and pleasure are colliding inside her body like ancient gladiators in arenas long crumbled to dust. The circling end of the wooden shaft is rotating within her feminine essence with the relentlessness of the hands of time on the face of a clock. The dowel cycles against her inner walls over and over and the fingers caress and tickle so light and so rough. It’s far, far too much to take. It is impossible to resist this blinding giant electrical short circuit flashing through her body, enveloping her mind, obliterating her very soul.
“Cum, sweetie. Cum for Glenda.”
There’s a final turn of the handle, the last pinching twist of the nipple. Wonder Woman obeys. And screams without noise. Only a long, hissing squeak like a rusty door opening up to an endless void. Her body goes rock still in the alleyway, a devastated woman in the throes of pure sublime joy. Her body erupts with her pleasure. The cum rushes down her thighs like a freshly squeezed orange, the scent is sweet and only the pulp of her being is left, a spent twisted rind of a person. She’s sagging heavily now, limp in the hold of two women who don’t know her and don’t care about her. They are women who only live to see her suffer. And they are very, very jealous of what Glenda has given her. Even Glenda, in her pride, feels this jealously too. And so, to compensate, Glenda pulls out the handle from between Wonder Woman’s thighs. The slouching woman jerks with reflexive delight at the sensation of the masterful wand being withdrawn, the magic act over. She doesn’t know there’s a whole different sort of black magic yet to come. A very painful sort.
========================================================================
Across the alleyway, sitting on a steel garbage can that she’s turned onto its side, Trixie has her eyes closed, her head upright, her back straight. She’s been taking slow, deep breaths for the past five minutes, clearing her head and listening to the sounds of Glenda, Sharla and Chloe bringing the Wonder bitch to a climax. She’s not sure why in hell they think the sneaky cunt deserves one but she might have missed that part of the plan. She had been pretty out of it when Desiree first shook her awake. But now she’s back to feeling somewhat better even if not fully back to normal. The yogic breathing had helped with the dizziness but Trixie is still feeling intense anger toward the woman who dealt out her pain. She opens her eyes, stands up and walks over toward the four women in the middle of the alley.
From a different direction, Desiree walks back toward the grouping as well. She had been busy hanging over the lip of the giant steel trash container. Her shapely ass, clad in tight red vinyl hotpants, had wiggled and bobbed and shimmied with her every move. Her matching vinyl boots kicked lightly back and forth, knocking softly against the steel side of the trash bin as she reached down into it time and again to haul out a variety of choice items she thought would be fun to use against her two adversaries.
After carefully placing the split plastic bags on the ground by the front left wheel of the large green dumpster, Desiree brushes some grit off her dirty white tube top, frowns and then wipes her hands together with a touch of disgust. Then she thinks of what she can do with the refuse in those bags and breaks into the dazzling smile that has helped her attract the lion share of johns from among her fellow whores. The smile worked its magic, sure, but it was her tall sexy frame and generous rack that closed the deal every time. Her tight tube top filled with the supple curves of her ample tits with their prominent nipples poking against the satiny white fabric would draw men’s eyes to her chest like magnets. Her sexy abs and cute round butt didn’t hurt either.
Primping at her short blonde afro and sashaying over to the group gathered in the alleyway, Desiree looks at the spent and satisfied women held lightly in check by Sharla and Chloe. She is sagging loosely in Sharla’s headlock, her forearms flush against the tarmac, her eyes closed, her ass high, a gentle sigh escaping her twisted, smiling lips.
“You ain’d even bunizhed her azz yed, Gledda? WHY DA FUG DOT?”
“I’m just about to. I’m sure she won’t be able to resist it now.”
“Zhe bedder dod! Ged goeeg aweddy. We habbend god all nide!”
“Let me do it.”
Everyone turns to look at Trixie who’s grim face and air of menace surprises them all. Trixie is usually the first to laugh at jokes and is generally pretty easy going. Her demeanor right now is anything but that.
Glenda looks hesitant but Desiree tells her quietly, “Gib her da bal-led.”
Taking the mallet from Glenda’s slowly extended hand, Trixie looks at the shiny end of it and silent considers it for a moment. Then she hocks up a noisy wad of phlegm and spits it onto the rounded end of the wooden handle.
“The bitch is probably wet enough and this stick might be too, but I want to be extra sure that I can get this baby nice and deep up her tight little bung hole.” Trixie gets down on one knee and quickly rubs the wooden dowel into the cleft of Wonder Woman’s pussy, stroking it back and forth between her sweaty swollen labia, coating the end of the smooth stick with the ample wetness remaining there from Diana’s massive orgasm. “Little insurance never hurts,” Trixie adds.
The stroking wood handle against her throbbing pussy draws a sigh from the dazed, inattentive Amazon held captive by the whores. This draws a scowl from Trixie. Pleasure time is over! Without wasting another second, Trixie positions the rounded end of the croquet mallet against her quarry’s anus and jams it forward with a thrust of her elbow.
“GGHHAAAAHHH!” Diana howls at the sudden, unexpected pain in her rear end. Her head jolts up suddenly and her body lurches forward but the headlock tightens down with an immediate intensity. Sharla had expected this reaction and was more than ready.
“WHRAULGK! AAAGGG! HEHHHKK!” The small fist pressed hard against her throat makes it extremely difficult for Diana to breathe. Between Sharla’s headlock and Chloe’s unrelenting grip on her ankles, she is thoroughly immobilized. And suddenly the stick slides out of her rear and Wonder Woman is shocked at the brevity of the attack but greatly relieved. That felt truly nasty but she had handled it well en....
“YAAARGGHHH!” The handle plunges back into Wonder Woman’s ass, driving deep enough to cause instant tears. And then it is withdrawn and driven back in again. And then again. And then again. Every stroke goes deeper and deeper up her ass, jamming into her inner walls with malicious abuse. First to one side, then the other, then back to the first. Diana shrieks out with the fiery pain ignited there. Her agony overrides the constricted airway and she screams out loudly. “AAEEYYHHEEE! OWW! OWW! AAGGHHH! ... DN’T... N’MURR! N’MURR!”
“Oh, is that too much of a good thing, CUNT?” Trixie taunts. “This should teach you to cold-cock a person when she’s already down!” The mallet handle jerks in and out of Wonder Woman’s ass crack, sliding back and forth between the Amazon’s wildly shaking buttocks. The pace is quick and unvarying. It strikes deep and withdraws over and over and over, punching against the inside of her ass cavity and jarring her body with punishing jolts.
“OHHH. OWW...NO....NO....OWW....AAGHH....NO...” Diana weeps openly now. The shock and pain of the ceaseless ass reaming batters both against her rear end and her soul without surcease. Her cheeks shine with her tears. Her upper lip glistens with the slimy snot draining from her nose. Wonder Woman’s hands claw uselessly at Sharla’s arms, unable to pry them away in the slightest from the stranglehold that is draining her strength and effectively siphoning off every last ounce of her heroic fortitude.
To get a better view of how she’s abusing her target, Trixie reaches over and uses her thumb and forefinger to spread Diana’s cheeks open and reveal the overtaxed balloon knot as the one-and-a-half-inch-wide wooden dowel stretches it out while driving in and out of the tight pink orifice without mercy.
“...owww....stup....pleeasssssee...stup...i..c..can’t.... awwrrghkkk...nuh...muhhrr...gulkk..!” The relentlessly applied headlock has made Diana’s face a fiery red. Her tongue slips out over her lower teeth as she desperately gasps for air. Her face alternates between scrunching up in pain and gagging for oxygen that refuses to arrive. And the punishing, driving wooden wand continues to work its devastating spell of pain and humiliation on the once famous Princess of Themyscira.
“...aagkk...auwgk...OWW...hekk...ohhh...OWW....heeeze...wrgkk...OWWW....haacgkk..”
Her calves yank and twist in a panicked frenzy but they’re firmly pinned down by a very determined, scowling Chloe. The toes of the boots knock and scrape against the tarmac with a rhythmic calypso click and swish of desperation. And then Diana begins to cough harshly and her tongue curls out and down while her mouth gapes open wider and wider for the air all around her that she can’t have. The deep blue eyes begin to protrude slightly as she barks for air.
“...arrkk...arkk...agghhh...haaaggcckkk...”
“Ogay, ogay! Dake id eezy, Zharla. We dond wad her dead.”
Sharla pulls her fist away from Wonder Woman’s throat but keeps an iron hold on the head of her black-haired victim. With the fist removed, Diana can finally take in oxygen and the screeching, wheezing gasps coming out of the strangled heroine’s throat fill the quiet night. Trixie even stops her plunging weapon for a moment, her quivering bicep a bit sore from the constant exercise.
Off toward the rear of the alley, a low moan issues from the blonde teenager lying on her back with her arms limp at her sides, her knees flopped wide apart and her red panties glimmering in the moonlight. Supergirl’s eyes flutter open as she groggily comes to her senses. She feels weak, confused and exhausted. Someone seems to be whistling not far off from where she is. Turning on her side, with her right shoulder raised and her right palm flat against the broken cobblestone beneath her, the bewildered girl tries to get her bearings. She’s in an alley. She and Diana had been ambushed by some whores.
“Gledda, go ober dare add geeb dad blod bidge in lide.”
“Keep her in line?”
“Des. Dho dizdragzhuns.”
“Be my pleasure, Dez,” Glenda nods briskly. She walks over toward where Supergirl is struggling to get to her knees by pulling herself up using the brick wall. It takes a mighty effort for the Maid of Steel just to get up to a kneeling position. Her left side leans against the cool brick. Her shaky hand gripping at the crevices between the bricks barely keeps her from falling over.
Glenda walks up to the blonde teen who’s nodding head, drooping eyelids and trembling lips all freeze in place as she takes in the approaching redhead with obvious alarm. Even at the outset of the evening when she was feeling at her strongest despite the kryptonite collar, Supergirl had been easily bested by Glenda. The tall white whore had easily outmaneuvered her and then smashed her face against the shoe store window twice in rapid succession, knocking her senseless and eliminating her from the fight in under 15 seconds. So when Glenda merely wags her finger back and forth and shakes her head, the cowed blonde champion submissively nods her head and stays where she is, her eyes moistening in shame.
“Trixie,” Glenda says, smiling directly at Kara’s troubled face while calling back to her cohort, “try using a wider circling motion with that stick as you buttfuck our once-feisty friend. I think she’ll start begging you even more to stop.”
“..ohh.” A tiny gasp of sympathy for Wonder Woman’s plight blurts out of Supergirl and Glenda gives her a grim, thin lipped-stare before talking.
“Something you wanted to say, wimp?”
The heroine who had once faced down a full-grown charging rhino when protecting a safari van without batting an eyelash shakes her head back and forth nervously, chews on her lower lip and lets out the tiniest sigh imaginable. Glenda turns her head to watch Trixie and to hide her twisted smile from this blonde pussy. She wanted to keep a stern facade for now.
“Thanks, Glen’, think I will give that a try,” Trixie calls out. And she rotates the croquet mallet quickly in two tight little circles like she’s trying to crank-start an antique car.
“AAGHH!” Diana yelps as the painful inner walls of her anus are scorched by the wooden stick brushing roughly against them.
“That’s not bad, but do it wider,” coaches Glenda. “Bigger circles.”
“NO! Don’t,” rasps Diana. “Please. No more.” Her voice is raw and cracked from the strangling, even without Sharla’s fist at her throat now. The headlock is still firm though, her ankles still gripped by unyielding hands.
“You mean like this?” Trixie says, moving the mallet head in an imaginary circle two feet in diameter.
“EEEEYAAAGGHHH!” Screeching in agony as her sphincter is stretched to its limit and her inner cavity is scraped raw by the digging, grinding wooden dowel, Diana almost breaks out of the hold of the two whores as she bucks and writhes with every fiber of her being. It takes almost 30 seconds for Sharla and Chloe to regain firm control of the wildcat in their arms. Wonder Woman’s head had wrenched out of Sharla’s headlock and Chloe had lost her grip on one of her legs. But a hard, sudden reach-in blow to her wounded temple by the heel of Desiree’s palm, a stunning kidney punch from Chloe and a bloody striping of her dangling right breast from Sharla’s slashing fingernails stuns the Amazon, draws a cry of pain and subdues her enough to get her back in position: headlocked, legs pinned down, ass high in the air, too stunned to resist.
And when Trixie slowly cycles the mallet in its wide circle yet again, Diana bursts into tears and pleads shamelessly to her assailants.
“..ohhh...oh..ho.oh...ho..ohhhhhh. ..hurts.me...so m..much...owwhhuh..huh..huh.. Please.. i’m... i’m ...begging you...please...don’t hurt me... anymore... please... begging you....no more.....”
With her tears cascading down her face, her voice quivering with whimpering despair, the famous Amazon is a broken woman.
In the alley behind the blubbering half naked woman, Supergirl is crying softly too, for her friend who has her massive tits exposed and her famous blue pants pulled down. Kara’s cheeks glisten just like Diana’s as she leans against the brick with a feeling of such utter exhaustion and helplessness she can’t even keep herself up. She drops to all fours and sobs loudly for her friend, her mentor, her idol - now broken and defeated and humiliated in every way possible. And she weeps for her herself. For her cowardly behavior, for her complete disgrace as well.
“Poor little blonde girl,” taunts Glenda as she gets down on one knee a few feet in front of Kara. “Your big bad protector turned out to be nothing but a pitiful blowhard of a cunt with feet of clay. How sad for you.”
“..no...no...she’s not...she’s not...” Supergirl chokes out her denial with heavy sobs.
“Oh, I’m afraid she most certainly is, dear. Say, Trix,” Glenda calls, “why don’t you get Miss High and Mighty over there to admit what she is. And make her say it loud enough so Betsy Wetsy over here can hear it loud and clear.”
“Grade idhea!” Desiree says, giving Glenda the thumbs up sign.
“You heard the lady, bitch. Tell us you’re nothing but a slut.”
“...p..please...don’t....make....me...” Barely audible, Diana slumps in Sharla’s hold, frightened and trembling. Sharla yanks her up by the throat harshly.
“Acggk!”
“What did I tell you ‘bout making me work at this, cunt? Use yo’ hands to keep yo’self up.” Diana’s palms push against the tarmac and her elbows lock. “Dat’s better.”
“Now tell everybody what you are, skank,” Chloe joins in to Diana’s humiliation. “Nice and loud so there’s no doubt about it.”
“...please...you win.. ..i..don’t.. You don’t have to do this.”
“No, you have to do this!” Trixie says. “Now!” Lowering the stick so it’s parallel to the ground, the big-breasted blonde with the red miniskirt and blue mesh blouse jams the short wood pole straight into Wonder Woman’s rear end with a vicious thump.
“YEEAAAGGHH!” Diana’s forehead bashes into the tarmac and she begins sobbing loudly again, her body wracked with the spasms of her pain and fear.
“Say it loud, bitch,” Trixie commands. “Or I give you another. And I won’t be gentle about it like the last one.”
“ALRIGHT! OWW! Don’t! Please. Oww...ohhhh. Alright I’ll say it. I’m...I’m...I’m nothing but a sl...slut...”
“Dell be sumbdin I dond doh, you dubb bidge,” Desire growls. “In fagd, adbid do be dad your duddeeg bud a whore.”
“Sorry, Dez,” says Chloe with chagrin. “Just want to be sure I got that right. You want her to admit she’s nothing but a whore. That what you said?”
“Jez!” Desiree nods adamantly.
“...but...i...i...i’m not...a whore...” Diana pleads softly.
“YES! YES WE ARE WHORES, DIANA!” Kara shouts from all fours, her face twisted with anger and misery. “They’re right, they’re all right about us. That’s what we are now! We’re whores! Isn’t that what you want to hear Desiree? Isn’t it?”
“Wand do hear id frub her!” Desiree points at the cringing Amazon at her feet.
“Say it, blackie. Unless you want the shaft again,” threatens Trixie, drawing back slightly on the wooden handle still buried three inches into Wonder Woman’s rear end.
“NO! Please. No. Don’t! I’ll..I’ll say it. I will.” The broken beauty held in place in a small filth-filled alley in the heart of the South Bronx takes a breath and slowly speaks the words that sear her very soul “I...Diana....Princess of Themyscira.... ch...cham...champion of..of...all... wo..wo..women...” A choking sob stops Diana for a moment before she can go on. “I..am nothing...nothing b..but...a...a..lowly whore.”
“And you promise to stay off our turf forever and sell your sorry cunt any other place than around here,” Chloe adds.
“Repeat that, too, whore,” Trixie growls.
“NO! THAT’S IT! THAT’S ENOUGH!” Supergirl screams out loudly at this final degrading demand. She leaps at Glenda with her fingernails curled like claws, aiming for the redhead’s eyes. But her long shout has given the tall white whore just enough time to react to save herself and more. As a berserk Supergirl flings herself at her foe, her cape flying behind her, her arms outstretched, claw-like hands straining to sink into the pale white flesh of Glenda’s face, the redhead executes a half turn, grabs the shocked teen by her long blonde tresses and by one arm, pivots neatly and flings her against the wall four feet away.
“GHHUNNHH!” Supergirl smashes into the unyielding brick shoulder first, then her side and then her thighs in rapid succession. Then she falls to the street in a heap, moaning but still conscious. A very pissed Glenda strides over to the fallen blonde immediately. A hard stomp to the back of Supergirl’s head from the sole of Glenda’s shoe smashes the teen’s forehead against the gray cobblestone beneath it, solving the consciousness problem immediately.
“Fuckin’ idiot,” Glenda snaps. Then looks around to the others who are looking at her with surprise and admiration and amusement. “Well, she is,” the tall redhead nods firmly at the limp figure at her feet.
“Where were we,” Chloe muses. “Oh yeah, you were about to make a promise to us.”
Sighing heavily, her eyes brimming with humiliation, Diana repeats the phrase aloud. “I promise to stay off your turf forever...and sell.........sell...........my sorry cunt...any other place than around here.”
“I ding dad we’re albost dud here,” Desiree says.
“What do you mean we’re done,” Chloe says with an obvious sulk. “That bitch gets off and we get nothin’ but bruises and pain for all our troubles. How about some payback, Des! I say we make her bring off each and every one of us for all the trouble she caused.”
“I agree with Chloe,” Sharla says with a wide wolfish grin. Getting tongued by the haughty bitch would be a fantastic way to disgrace this cunt for good. “We deserve to feel good after all the hurt she put on us.”
After musing this over for a long, thoughtful moment, Desiree finally nods her assent to the group. “Ogay. I ghez I gan lib wid dhad.” She looks down at the whimpering, shaking beauty at her feet and shows off a very evil smile. “Who wads do go firzd?”
Part D
In any normal circumstance, Diana would almost laugh at the ridiculous notion of having to take on merely three women in a fight. In a skirmish just before she’d been taken captive by Tony’s hit men, she’d faced off against two huge barrel-chested thugs in an alley not too different than this one. Led by a thin-faced vicious local gang leader who was wielding a tire iron and looking to expand his territory by taking out an annoying super heroine with big tits and starred dance panties who kept interfering with his plans, the three men had cornered her in a trap using a fake rape attempt. Diana had sprinted into the alley only to find the girl she’d followed rushing past her with her top pulled down and her breasts bouncing in the breeze. Before her, the trio of hoodlums faced her with the wide leers of predators licking their chops over easy pickings. She’d handled them all roughly, rapidly and with easy dispatch, leaving the two massive strongmen and their ferret-faced leader moaning with dazed pain in a heap of broken body parts without so much as breaking a fingernail. But Wonder Woman isn’t smiling now.
As she takes a step away from an unconscious Glenda and faces off against Desiree, Sharla and Chloe, Diana is all too aware of her many pains from the thrashing she’s been handed by these three whores and their two inert comrades. Her head is sore in several spots from being bashed with brass knuckles, dragged through an alley of broken bricks, kicked by someone’s shoe, bounced against the pavement and knocked senseless with a garbage can lid. Her cheek is slightly split and crusted over with dried blood as is her wrist. Her stomach aches from the gut shots she’s taken and her back is tender from taking a hard shot from a set of brass knuckles. These bitches have worked her over good. She’s given back some of her own but the toll it’s taken on Wonder Woman leaves her at less than her best, to say the least. Nevertheless, seeing how badly they’ve brutalized Supergirl with that wine bottle, Diana’s anger is deep and fierce. She stands tall before the three whores, her back ramrod straight.
“If Kara doesn’t fully recover from what you low women have done to her,” Diana seethes, “you’ll wish you’ve never been born!”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it, cunt, you’ll get your chance to be bottle-fucked, too,” Sharla sneers. “Shouldn’t be as painful for you though. Your friend lubed it up nice and slick with her blood.”
“You’re first.” Diana says, looking at Sharla with such ice-cold conviction of the whore’s punishment, one might think it was already a past event. Her blue eyes have never been this shade before. Looking hard at the short whore with a mix of revulsion, revenge and anger, her eyes seem lit from within, burning with the energy a cold fusion reactor.
Sharla’s upper lip quivers a bit, her eyelids rise slightly and an icy grip of genuine fear flushes through her for just an instant. Her guts turn over like the spin cycle of some hellish washing machine. Her mouth fills with the sour taste of bile. Whoever this annoying costumed bitch was in front of her, she didn’t seem to understand the concept of retreat. Hell, they’d already beaten her pretty badly and yet she’s standing there ready to fight them once again without any hesitation whatsoever.
Even with all her bruises, that nasty cut on her wrist and everything else we've done to her, this bitch isn’t backing down a fucking inch! Where do they breed women like this?
“D..don’t think so, bitch.” Sharla replies with just the hint of a nervous stutter. “Fact is, you’re hurtin’ bad. I think you’re goin’ down hard.”
“What you think matters not, whore!” The thinned lips of the Amazon warrior barely move as Diana girds herself to launch her attack, her muscles coiled like a tigress ready to leap.
“I’ve got a blade here that says otherwise, balloon tits!” Sharla’s hand comes out of her pocket and flicks the switchblade into its fixed position, ready for battle. Still, her hand is shaking and Sharla is angry to see her fear manifested so obviously.
Reaching down behind a pile of stones at her feet, an equally nervous Chloe quickly comes up with a long-handled wooden mallet with colorful bands circling its chipped head and handle.
“And I’m ready to tenderize you with this, fat ass, if’n you want a piece of me.” Chloe moves the mallet head in a threatening circle as she stares intently at Diana. Still, there’s a generous helping of fear in this whore’s eyes as well.
Stepping immediately to her left, a broken-nosed Desiree snatches up the garbage can lid laying on the ground and holds it with one hand, sweeping the steel disc back and forth in front of her.
“..bember dis liddle weabon, you padedic cund? Knogged you flad on yhur faze las dime. Weddy fhor mhore, bidge?”
“It’s pretty hard to take you seriously, Desiree, when you sound like Elmer Fudd,” Diana states flatly, watching all three opponents carefully, gauging their readiness, searching for weaknesses in their stances.
Sharla and her knife are her top priority and she goes for her first, using the subterfuge of dashing across the eight feet of alleyway between her and Chloe. When she reaches near kicking distance, Diana drops down suddenly, her palms supporting her as she executes a leg sweep. The maneuver is slow, almost awkward as Diana’s leg misses Chloe’s legs by half a foot. Seeing how badly that this Wonder Woman wanna-be has performed this basic move, Sharla rushes in with full confidence. This bitch is hurting so bad, she can’t do even simple moves now without fucking up. She closes in on Diana’s side, thrusting her arm forward, the blade spearing right toward the exposed waist and the smooth expanse of red satin just waiting to be cut into, the waist beneath it punctured with her trusty blade. When Diana’s right hand suddenly comes across her body and grips Sharla’s wrist with steely pressure, the whore can’t believe the speed with which her adversary moves. She’d faked her mistimed move!
Wonder Woman’s thumb presses down on the nerve in her wrist. Sharla yells out in pain and drops the knife, her hand completely numbed. Diana’s entire body swivels around on the pivot of her left palm and she’s behind Sharla’s back with her arm around the whore’s throat before Sharla can begin to react.
“WRUULLGKK!”
“Told you you’d be first,” Diana says coldly into Sharla’s ear, her chest pinned against the whore’s back as she presses Sharla’s right hand up toward the middle of her back.
“Aaahh!” The leverage of Diana’s elbow crook pressing against Sharla’s throat efficiently cuts off her airway. “Drop the weapons now or I’ll break her neck!” Wonder Woman’s voice is firm without a quiver of doubt.
“You wouldn’t,” Chloe says, not four feet from the heroine and her red-faced friend.
“You don’t want to test me,” Wonder Woman replies. “Drop them. NOW!”
“Don’d do id, Glhoe,” Desiree barks. “Zhe’s bruffin’. Ruzh her. NOW!”
The total lack of concern by Desiree for her fellow whore takes Diana completely by surprise. As Sharla’s left elbow comes jerking backward into her side, Chloe’s chipped croquet mallet begins to arc around toward her, and the wide steel garbage can lid in Desiree’s hands begins its downward arc toward her head. Wonder Woman is wholly unprepared for this combined assault. She clearly isn’t used to foes with no regard for their fellow combatants. While the elbow stuns her, Wonder Woman is not nearly disabled enough for the three whores to overwhelm her. Diana instantly releases Sharla’s neck and wrist, dodging back before either the mallet or the garbage can lid can connect with her head. Thanks to her short stature, Sharla’s head is missed by both the swinging mallet and the steel lid. They hit together over the whore’s head with a loud clang as Wonder Woman pushes her wincing opponent forward face-first onto the ground and backs off quickly into a combat stance. Then, stepping forward with a surprise move of her own, Diana drives her boot heel into Sharla’s back, driving the yelping whore’s face into the cracked tarmac. That done, Diana quickly retreats two steps, her arms up with hands pointed ready to respond to the next foray be either Chloe or Desiree. Both still have their weapons up, circling them in the air several feet from Wonder Woman’s position while Sharla moans on the floor of the alley in the gap between the poised women.
“Who wants next?” Diana asks, looking back and forth from Desiree to Chloe. While breathing heavily from the sudden exertion and all the stress her body’s endured, Diana retains the calmness of a battle-tested warrior.
“You can’d wrun vorebber, bidch. Whe’re gonna ged you,”
“I’m not running, Desiree. I’m right here. You’re the one running. Her mouth. And none too clearly. That nose must hurt pretty bad, huh, Dez?” Wonder Woman tries yet again to goad the tall whore leader into a rash move but it doesn’t work. Desiree stays put for the moment, just glaring at her black-haired adversary without reply.
On the ground, Sharla moans again, her cute little ass shifting under the blue leather miniskirt. Then the small woman starts to turn over onto her back, her grimacing face lit by the streetlight as it comes around.
“Stay down, Sharla.” Wonder Woman lifts her foot to press it down on the side of the yellow halter top to keep her adversary pinned and out of the fight. Having feigned a wooziness she doesn’t feel, Sharla suddenly grabs Diana’s right boot, gripping it around the ankles with two strong hands.
“GET HER, GIRLS!” Sharla shouts.
Held in place, awkwardly balanced on one foot while her other is held aloft and immobile, Wonder Woman can only try to block the onrushing duo coming at her from a scant yard and a half away. Her left arm with it’s lacerated wrist takes on the garbage pail lid once again and fares little better this time than last. The tin wrist band is knocked completely off even as Wonder Woman takes a harsh glancing blow to the left side of her skull.
CLANGK!
“OHH!” Diana cries out as the steel lid connects. Then the wooden croquet mallet swings under her flailing right arm, striking with a solid thump into her right breast. “UUNNGGHH!”
Wonder Woman bends with the impact, her face drawn tight with pain. Sharla yanks back hard on the shiny red boot and Diana falls onto her back, her upper shoulders smacking loudly against the cracked tarmac.
“OWW!” Disoriented by this heavy assault, Wonder Woman can only throw her hands into the air in front of her prone body and try to block the women’s weapons more successfully this time. Her efforts are completely futile however as Sharla pull her leg to the side with a surprise heave and Chloe’s mallet comes down smack onto Wonder Woman’s exposed crotch.
THOOOMP
“AIEEYEEAAGGHHH!” The screaming heroine’s upper torso snaps upright in agony only to take the steel lid to her forehead, slamming her back onto the tarmac in a harsh reverse motion.
THUUMP
“.....ohhhhhhh.....” Diana is completely stunned, now unable to even lift her arms as her head spins with a sickening wooziness that threatens to pitch her into black unconsciousness. When Chloe’s mallet slams down onto her left breast, Wonder Woman’s body jerks with the impact even as a loud whoosh of precious breath blasts out of her mouth. “...HOOOFFF!...”
“I bed dose diddies of yours muzd hurd preddy bad, huh, you zmardazz cund?” Desiree’s face is bright with triumph once again. “Deach you do zmard moud me, zlut. Hid her agaid, Glhoe. Ghive her anudder ghud shod ride bedween her legz.”
Chloe swings down hard and Wonder Woman’s body jerks again with the impact of the mallet. She shrieks with agony.
“AAAIYYEEEEE!” Hot, salty tears spring to her eyes and Diana tries to turn onto her stomach to avoid another devastating blow to her crotch. A firm restraining hand against her shoulder by Sharla prevents this however and Wonder Woman is forced flat onto her back again just as Desiree brings the edge of the garbage can lid down hard on her chest.
THHRRUUUUMP
“OWWW! OHH! STOP! Please....owwww....no more...no more....” The weeping, begging Amazon grips at her chest with shaking hands, tears streaming down her face. “I give up. ...I give...up...” Desiree stands over her, the lid poised in mid-air ready to strike yet again. Chloe’s mallet is circling over the whimpering heroine while the whore in the tight red blouse and black vinyl hotpants decides what body part to clobber next.
“Oh, where did the big brave woman go?” Chloe taunts Diana viciously. “Did getting her pussy pounded like a beefsteak make her go bye–bye?” Chuckling at her own witticism, Chloe then ruthlessly pounds the croquet mallet down onto Wonder Woman’s stomach. The defenseless beauty’s body spasms immediately into a fetal position that Sharla’s not fast enough to prevent this time. Curled on her side, Diana wheezes, coughs and chokes loudly, painfully desperate for air. Her eyes are cramped shut, her arms wrap around her stomach and her knees piston up and down in torment as the mighty heroine tries with all she has to inhale a decent measure of oxygen.
“Ged her on her dees, Zhar,” Desiree tells Sharla.
Yanked up from behind by her long black tresses, Wonder Woman is dragged up into a kneeling position by a maliciously smiling Sharla, The Amazon’s head is down, rubbery on a neck that seems almost unable to support it. Her eyes are squeezed shut in pain and her arms still wrap around her waist as a series of painful wheezes finally draws air into her scorching throat.
“HEEEEZ. HEEEEZ. HEEEEZ. HEEEEZ.”
“You’re neber gummin’ ondo our durf agaib, zlut. Ju’ hear be? NEBER EBER AGAIB”
“...’ess....i...ear...ou...” Diana gasps out. “..never again...”
“Daz ride! Ghloe, gib be dat bal-led.”
“What?” Chloe asks, confused by the near unintelligible instructions from the broken-nosed Desiree.
“Da bal-led. Da bal-led. In yhur hadd,” Desiree gestures with her open hand for the croquet mallet Chloe has rested on her shoulder.
“This?” Chloe extends the mallet with a quizzical expression and Desiree snatches it away from her in frustration.
“Des! Dis. De bal-led! Desus kwiezd!”
Taking all her anger and frustration out on Wonder Woman, Desiree spins around and swings the croquet mallet in a mighty arc until the cylindrical wooden head connects with Diana’s left breast.
SHHTTUUUMMMPP!
“UUUNNNGGGHHH!” The Amazon beauty seems to collapse inward from the blow, her full body cringing away from the mighty thud. Her left tit bounces out of the top of her bustier and sways heavily back and forth, naked and bobbling in the cool night air.
“Bull her bag ub, Zharla.”
Another yank on her hair brings Diana’s head up this time even as she lists heavily to the right. Her eyes are mere slits and her face is frozen in grimace of pure agony.
“Oww. ...my... hair..!”
“Wand adudder wud?” Desiree asks with a broad smile.
“NO! DON’T...NOT AGAIN....PLEASE DON’T” Wonder Woman barks her pleas with raw panic in her voice.
“Zo zowweee......DOT!” Desiree says with scalding scorn and swings the mallet in a wide arc once again.
SHHTTUUUMMMPP!
“AAAAAHHH!”
This time the right breast is crushed inward. It too pops free from the grasp of the golden eagle’s wings, now pushed low in thin wrinkles under the mighty breasts that jiggle and bounce on the weeping woman’s front. Diana is nearly unconscious. Held up by her hair, she is leaning backward with her ass on her heels, her arms limp, her eyes dull, her mouth gaping wide as she tries to take in air. The bruising is already starting on the left breast, the right one sports an angry red circle at the point of impact.
“Dow, durd her ober. Ged her od her hadds and dees. Den ged her id a hedlogg, Zharla. I’b godda zdick dis bal-led way up her azzzz!” Grabbing the head of the mallet, Desire waves the long wooden handle around in the air with all her frustration in bountiful evidence.
Sharla easily maneuvers the moaning, lethargic Amazon into place on her hands and knees and pulls her neck neatly into the crook of her elbow and holds her there. Too weak to even maintain that position, Diana’s elbows give way and she sags forward a bit, her head low and powerfully held in the vise of Sharla’s arm and her shapely ass high in the air. Desiree stands behind the wide rump, appraising it happily.
“Eggzzaledd!”
“Egg salad? You want egg salad now?” Chloe doesn’t understand.
“Doh! Dot egg zalad...oh...debbermide. Ghloe, bull dowd her breddy liddle banz, bleeze.”
“Her pants?”
“Des! Bull deb dowd do her dighz.”
And with that, Wonder Woman’s famous panties are suddenly jerked off her shapely buttocks and pulled down to mid-thigh. The white cotton crotch pad is slightly yellowed with perspiration and fear. The wide firm cheeks of the Amazonian princess are fully exposed as is her damp, sweaty pussy. Only her butt hole remains hidden in the dark cleft between her twin mounds. But that will soon be heavily assaulted as Desiree steps forward with a gleam of menacing delight in her dark chocolate eyes.
====================================================
Across the alley, Supergirl is curled on her side into a tight fetal ball, her mind drifting aimlessly as the waves of pain from having a wine bottle repeatedly rammed into her vagina slowly pass through her. They are sharp jabs from her pelvis with every inhalation and then they ease. With each breath, her Kegel muscles spasm slightly and she winces but over time the intense pain moderates into tolerable levels. The voices she’s been hearing all this while are jumbled and confused. She opens her eyes and sees a dried out wrinkled yellow condom not five inches from her nose. There’s also the smell of garbage hanging in the air from behind her. Kara feels awful. She is sore, sick, exhausted and slightly dazed. Her hand goes to her throat and feels for the collar. Still there! In doing so, she inadvertently knocks out the pebble she’d stuck in the aperture of the titanium collar and a tiny green glow blushes brightly at her throat.
“.....uhhhh....” She falls backward on to her back, her knees flopping wide open, her chest heaving in anguish at yet another source of discomfort. On her back now, the alley and the sky are madly spinning around and the famous Maid of Steel’s eyes cross in confusion as she slides into a warm bath of oblivion for now.
None of the three whores involved with Wonder Woman has even noticed the event. Glenda, who is rising awkwardly to her feet, has seen the blonde stir momentarily before collapsing back in a whispering sigh of defeat. It’s all Glenda can do not to join the dumb bunny in blissful unconsciousness herself. Her stomach aches as does her head. Her dress is split up the seam to her hip and hanging badly askew. She straightens it and pulls it into place, the bright purple rayon, though stained, adheres to her shapely form like a glove and she still looks tantalizing even though she doesn’t feel very pretty. She’s been knocked down and knocked out more times on this night than in the past three years combined. Whoever this black-haired bitch and her blonde companion were, they certainly weren’t the usual street trash that Glenda and Desiree and the rest had been easily intimidating over the past three years. Maybe wearing the costumes made these bitches feel like heroes.
In any case, the one wearing the Wonder Woman getup isn’t acting very heroic at the moment. Glenda takes a deep breath and straightens up fully, gets a second wind and walks over to where Desiree and Chloe and Sharla are holding down the gasping, whimpering beauty. The sorry cunt’s panties have been pulled down off her wide bottom and left in a humiliatingly stretched position down around her thighs. Desiree is poking the handle of the mallet between the girl’s shapely buttocks but isn’t having much success pushing the thin wood handle into the clenched rectum. Despite being in a headlock, her red face gasping for air and her butt raised high in the sky, even now the defiant brunette is resisting with everything she has.
“Desiree, Desiree,” clucks Glenda as she comes up and places her hand on the kneeling black whore’s shoulder, “Don’t you know that you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.”
“Whad?” Desiree stops trying to jam the short stick up Wonder Woman’s ass and turns her head to look at Glenda. “Whad ju mead?”
“I mean that I think our little spitfire here may be more inclined to relax her sphincter if she’s treated like a lady. And loosen up that choke hold just a tad, would you, Sharla. As Desiree said, we’re not here to kill this cunt. Just teach her a life-long lesson. None of us wants to do time for murder, right, girls?”
The four of them nod in unison and Glenda smiles. Order has been restored. Desiree looked like she would have punctured this bitch’s colon and gone through to her stomach if she’d been able to in the midst of her unrestrained attack with the wooden mallet handle.
“May I?” Glenda kneels down beside Desiree and her long thigh presses against the length of Diana’s own wet one. The film of perspiration gleaming there makes the two thighs slide easily against each other as a the badly-beaten Wonder Woman trembles in place. Glenda gently grasps the handle of the mallet and Desiree releases it, stands up and backs off, regaining her composure. Wonder Woman’s face goes to pale pink from the bright red she’d been moments before. But she’s still a battered, dazed and defeated woman right now. Her fat, naked breasts press against the tarmac, the weight of them flattening their generous shapes to doughy ovals. Her body sags in Sharla’s hold, pained and exhausted from being pounded on and subdued so recently.
“It’s possible,” Glenda says, “that this wildcat is just misunderstood. All the time we thought she was a fighter, it may be she’s really a lover who’s just incredibly frustrated because her little blonde underling over there can’t deliver the goods she really needs.”
With a slow purposeful swipe, Glenda puts her fingertip against Wonder Woman’s face and draws it under her eye, gathering up the moisture from her tear-drenched face. “That the problem, isn’t it, dearie? You’re just a tense, frustrated dyke because your partner doesn’t know how to bring you off the way you really like.”
“...nuhhh...” Diana breathes out a plaintive denial but is too weak and sore to do anything but lay there and try to gather her minimal strength.
“Shhh. You don’t have to play coy with me, honey. Glenda knows the truth about you.”
Bringing the finger to Wonder Woman’s crotch, Glenda slowly slides the moistened forefinger between the easily available labia presented so readily before her. “Chloe, be a doll and hold down this anxious pussy’s ankles as tight as you need to while I show her how a real woman treats her sadly mismanaged clit. Sharla, be ready to tighten up, too. This little mare might buck a bit before she realizes I’m about to give her everything she needs, everything she’s ever dreamed about.”
Standing behind the threesome, Desiree sneers and licks her lips. Glenda was good. She’d get this bitch’s back door open and everything else, too. Wide open, wet and easy to fuck up. Looking around the alley, the lead whore sees the tipped over garbage cans, the dumpster and all the refuse lying around. The possibilities of how they could trash these two cunts were virtually unlimited. Desiree goes hunting for what she can use best. As she passes Trixie, she bends down for a moment and shakes her big-breasted friend.
“You ogay, Drigz?”
The groggy girl moans as Desiree helps her to her feet.
“Damn, that bitch cold-cocked me just as I was getting my brains unscrambled,” Trixie murmurs.
“Yeah, daz why we’re gudda zhow her whoz de bozz.”
“I want in on that.”
“Ogay, bud firz helb be find zum dingz to drazh dem bode wid.”
“Huh?”
“Dat wibblebawb bad iz ghud. And gwab dad whia hangah.”
Picking up a red plastic wiffleball bat and the wire hangar, Trixie falters a bit, wavering in place.
“Whoa, I still feel dizzy. I’m gonna sit down here for a minute, Dez, if you don’t mind.”
“No. Zhure. Dake yhur dime.” Desiree wanders over to the dumpster and looks in. A huge smile breaks across her face.
Meanwhile, a dazed Wonder Woman’s body quivers in place as Glenda’s gives her the “V” for victory salute, sliding her fingers up and down the inner sides of the now fattened labia.
Over and over the v-fingered salute brings a shortness to Diana’s breathing while shaking her glutes like twin Jello molds.
“Little “Miss Save the Planet” here seems to like this little maneuver, don’t she, Chloe?”
“Sure seems to be fuckin’ her breathing up good.”
“Yes, and her pussy seems to be getting awfully slippery. Let’s just explore in there a bit and see how she reacts, shall we?”
“...please......................don’t....” The whispered sigh is barely heard. But the resisting body is easily held in place by the head and ankles and the enfeebled Diana can do nothing about it.
“Oh you silly girl. You really aren’t in touch with what you truly and deeply want, are you?” Glenda probes her forefinger deeply into the wet snatch and flicks her fingernail lightly and rapidly against Diana’s slightly emerged clit. She does this for a good twenty seconds and the Amazon princess bucks and gasps while her two assailants tighten down on their grips. Wonder Woman’s face deepens to scarlet with the pressure of Sharla’s fist hard against her throat and her head immobilized. Chloe presses her ankles to the tarmac and finally Diana’s body slackens and she whines in frustration.
“...eeeeeennnnhhhhh...”
Glenda has withdrawn her forefinger, her face beaming “You see? You say ‘please don’t’ but your body says ‘Oh god, what the fuck was that and can you do it again and again please?’ Glenda knows. Doesn’t she, you silly slut?”
“....no.......you................don’t...” Diana’s weak dispute is barely audible. But Glenda’s eyebrows dance up in amused delight.
“Really? Well, let’s just check your temperature again to be sure, why don’t we?”
Once again the finger goes in deep to the slippery crevice, pushing past the glistening pink folds until it comes up against the now elongated nub. But it’s not the fingernail this time. This time Glenda bends her knuckle and rubs it briskly against the tender bud, almost bruising it with hard attention. She is relentlessly repetitive and after a full minute of steady knuckled abuse with intermittent light caresses to vary the tempo, the effect is undeniable.
“OHH...HERA HELP ME....(GASP)....STOP! STOP!” Diana’s unrestrained pleasure draws surprising shouts from her beleaguered frame. The passion gives her voice volume.
“Tight holds, Sharla, Chloe. I told you she’d buck hard.”
“GGGHHNNNNN!” Diana is sweating and writhing and grimacing with helpless delight and gasping frustration as she is immobilized by harsh pressing hands and a suffocating elbow.
“And you thought I didn’t know what you wanted. Clearly you enjoyed that, my dear. Why your pussy is positively dripping into the street here.”
“...don’t... no..more.....”
“But I’m just getting warmed up, thunder butt. I don’t suppose you’d want me to lick you down there, would you?”
“NO! .... uh..don’t...don’t do...that... please....”
“Oh please, yourself. We both know you liked me the moment you set eyes on me, honey. No use denying it. You like my shape. You want my long killer body pressed up tight next to yours. You crave my tongue lapping your lovely....little....lower....lips! Admit it, honey, I’m your dream date and you just want to cum on my face as I lick you into seventh heaven.”
“...not....true...”
“In a pigs eye! I know dyke breath when I smell it and, honey, yours smells like the Fulton Fish Market.”
“...you’re....horrible...”
“And I’m betting you’re wonderful....tasting. Let’s just see what flavor you are. Keep a good hold there, ladies. Our mare here ain’t broke yet.” Chuckling, Glenda gets in a perfect position on her hands and knees behind the head-locked Wonder Woman who’s ass is poised high enough that the tall whore only has to bend her head down a little. “And Sharla, doll, pull her head up a bit so her knockers aren’t all squished against the street there. I want to squeeze and caress and hold those big lovely ladies while I’m dining from the ‘a la cunt menu’.”
“...if I ever...WWREGGKK!”
“Hesh up, white trash,” Sharla growls, pulling her elbow tight around Diana’s neck. “And don’t make me hold you up all by my lonesome. Help me out, bitch.” She hoists the Amazon’s upper torso higher until Diana’s palms are flat on the street holding herself in place, her elbows locked. “That’s a good girl. See, you can be smart when you put your mind to it.”
“Oh yes, this one’s very clever. So many fancy fighting moves. Well, let’s see if you can fight your way out of this, Miss High and Mighty Fuck Me Boots.”
Glenda leans forward on her knees as her palms grab onto the front of Wonder Woman’s upper thighs. Holding the tall white whore easily in place, the hands are positioned just above where Wonder Woman’s famous blue panties have been pulled down, stretched tightly there in the most humiliating position possible. Glenda smiles as she pushes her face directly against Wonder Woman’s bottom, her nose low in the cleft of her pussy lips, her tongue darting into the gleaming pink crevice.
“Aaaaahh!” Wonder Woman jerks forward at the sensation but is held securely in place by Sharla and Chloe’s unrelenting grip. And Glenda goes to work on the already over-excited pussy. Long, slow strokes up and down the puffy pink inner lips draw a series of whimpering mews from the rigidly held beauty.
Over and over Diana feels the slippery slide of that talented tongue as it dances the length of her pussy opening. It twirls, it swipes, it foxtrots, mambos and tangos until Wonder Woman’s rear end is quivering and rocking in helpless reflex from every inspired move, every dip, every glissade, and every twirl of her assailant’s graceful tongue. Her pussy is leaking with her juices, the sweat in her trimmed black pubic hair runs down into her feminine cleft and drains with her musky excitement down her trembling thighs.
Helpless with desire, the befuddled beauty can’t help but press her pelvis against Glenda’s face and moans in a low, almost cow-like moo. Thus reminded of her other treasures, the grinning whore releases her grip on the shaky thighs and reaches forward to encompass the glorious globes that hang with enticing pendulous weight beneath the heavily aroused heroine. Her palms press up against the hardened nubs of Wonder Woman’s extended nipples and circle slowly against them, making them harder still. They feel like warm marbles just removed from a cloth bag that’s been laying in the sun. Smooth little treasures that delight from both sides. To Glenda’s palms, they offer a sensuous tickle to her hands. To Diana, streaming currents of electric joy sizzle from her breasts to her brain to her crotch with lightning quickness.
When Glenda’s tongue trips the light fantastic down below; licking, teasing, probing and blowing softly deep within and around Diana’s pussy for a good two minutes while she continues to fondle, caress, squeeze, shake and tickle the sensitized breasts and nipples without pause, the Themysciran princess jerks, moans, weeps and gasps over and over. The feelings are too intense. The frustration of being pinned in place and choked mercilessly. The helplessness in the face of unrelenting physical pleasure generates confusion, desire, heat and guilt in generous portions that almost overwhelm Diana completely. She feels the surging promise of an orgasm light her senses like sparklers on a summer’s night.
“...h...h...hera...that...feels...ohhhhhhh.....” Diana’s eyes clench shut and her body spasms all over with pure delight. Ultimately, she mentally stamps down on the inner rush and is able to prevent the orgasm. For now.
Backing away from the juicy womanly cavity with a face shiny with Diana’s pleasure, Glenda slowly leans forward and now squeezes hard on Wonder Woman’s breasts, puckering the flesh with deep recesses from steely fingers as she whispers softly into her ear, “Little lady, you’re getting pretty excited down there. Maybe it’s time we use this little stick in your cooz and see how loud you can howl. How ‘bout that. You up for a nice wood dildo that’s been thrown out in the nasty old trash to be stuffed up your lily white cunt?”
“...i don’t...i...don’t...please...no...”
“There you go again. Saying no when you mean yes. Girl, you have absolutely no idea of what you truly like when it comes to your snatch hole. Now I’m gonna have to prove to you that Glenda knows best.”
“...not...no...you...don’t...can’t...”
“Can. And will, Miss Drippy Hole. Just like this.” Glenda picks up the croquet mallet, holding it by the middle of the shaft and pokes the rounded end into the sloppy wetness of Wonder Woman’s pussy. She twists it back and forth to get the wooden end covered with a glaze of Amazon love juice and then easily and effortless slides the doweled handle inch after inch after inch after inch into Diana’s relaxed, exposed and totally receptive vagina.
“Huhh...uhhh....huhhh...uhhhh....” Diana’s voice goes higher and higher up the scale with every inch the mallet handle penetrates. It’s not all that wide but the slow twisting of the wooden shaft as it makes its steady way through the long cavity is more than enough stimulation to get Wonder Woman suddenly bucking and jerking and weeping and gnashing her teeth in a renewal of her frantic panic from earlier on. But the two whores hold on tight and ride the spastic hell bitch with all their energy and it is more than enough. The choke hold reddens Diana’s face to near purple while her calves pull and twist and quiver and then slacken suddenly in a realization of total failure. When she is limp and spent in the arms of a sweaty but gratified Sharla and a grinning, victorious Chloe, that’s when Glenda begins to move the handle in a wide circular ring so the handle’s front end gyrates hard against the inner walls of Wonder Woman’s vagina.
“Ahhhh! Ahhhhhh!” Diana’s eyes go wide as the wooden handle cycles around her cavity with more and more speed. It’s a mix of pleasure and pain the woman has clearly never experienced before.
“That’s right, horsie. You’re about to be broken,” Glenda says and then moves closer to her subject. Still winding the clock as it were, with wide quick circles of the mallet, the red-headed whore reaches under her toy pony and grips the nipple on her left tit tightly, squeezing with more and more pressure as she whirlwinds the cycling handle with more and more speed.
“OH GOD! OH GOD! THAT’S....I CAN’T ...DOH...OHHHH....OHHHH....” Diana is beside herself with pleasure. A building wave from deep within her that is unstoppable and undeniable.
“You’re losing it, slut! I know exactly what makes you tick and this is perfect for you.” Glenda’s body is completely still but for her pinwheeling arm and her flexing, twisting hand at Wonder Woman’s nipple. The twitching, moaning beauty is soft moldable putty in the redhead’s hands. The wheeling handle is almost a blur even as the fingertips of the devilish whore squeeze down gently on the soft, ripe flesh of her breast before returning to the painfully engorged nipple, taut with need.
“Haaahhhh. Haaah...uhhh..haaaahhhh....ohh...ohhh...ohhhhhhh ..it’s...so...so...close..” As Diana’s body trembles in the arms of her captors, her panting is rapid and heavy. She is lost in the sensations, rushing and tumbling down some water slide of emotion. Physical pain and pleasure are colliding inside her body like ancient gladiators in arenas long crumbled to dust. The circling end of the wooden shaft is rotating within her feminine essence with the relentlessness of the hands of time on the face of a clock. The dowel cycles against her inner walls over and over and the fingers caress and tickle so light and so rough. It’s far, far too much to take. It is impossible to resist this blinding giant electrical short circuit flashing through her body, enveloping her mind, obliterating her very soul.
“Cum, sweetie. Cum for Glenda.”
There’s a final turn of the handle, the last pinching twist of the nipple. Wonder Woman obeys. And screams without noise. Only a long, hissing squeak like a rusty door opening up to an endless void. Her body goes rock still in the alleyway, a devastated woman in the throes of pure sublime joy. Her body erupts with her pleasure. The cum rushes down her thighs like a freshly squeezed orange, the scent is sweet and only the pulp of her being is left, a spent twisted rind of a person. She’s sagging heavily now, limp in the hold of two women who don’t know her and don’t care about her. They are women who only live to see her suffer. And they are very, very jealous of what Glenda has given her. Even Glenda, in her pride, feels this jealously too. And so, to compensate, Glenda pulls out the handle from between Wonder Woman’s thighs. The slouching woman jerks with reflexive delight at the sensation of the masterful wand being withdrawn, the magic act over. She doesn’t know there’s a whole different sort of black magic yet to come. A very painful sort.
========================================================================
Across the alleyway, sitting on a steel garbage can that she’s turned onto its side, Trixie has her eyes closed, her head upright, her back straight. She’s been taking slow, deep breaths for the past five minutes, clearing her head and listening to the sounds of Glenda, Sharla and Chloe bringing the Wonder bitch to a climax. She’s not sure why in hell they think the sneaky cunt deserves one but she might have missed that part of the plan. She had been pretty out of it when Desiree first shook her awake. But now she’s back to feeling somewhat better even if not fully back to normal. The yogic breathing had helped with the dizziness but Trixie is still feeling intense anger toward the woman who dealt out her pain. She opens her eyes, stands up and walks over toward the four women in the middle of the alley.
From a different direction, Desiree walks back toward the grouping as well. She had been busy hanging over the lip of the giant steel trash container. Her shapely ass, clad in tight red vinyl hotpants, had wiggled and bobbed and shimmied with her every move. Her matching vinyl boots kicked lightly back and forth, knocking softly against the steel side of the trash bin as she reached down into it time and again to haul out a variety of choice items she thought would be fun to use against her two adversaries.
After carefully placing the split plastic bags on the ground by the front left wheel of the large green dumpster, Desiree brushes some grit off her dirty white tube top, frowns and then wipes her hands together with a touch of disgust. Then she thinks of what she can do with the refuse in those bags and breaks into the dazzling smile that has helped her attract the lion share of johns from among her fellow whores. The smile worked its magic, sure, but it was her tall sexy frame and generous rack that closed the deal every time. Her tight tube top filled with the supple curves of her ample tits with their prominent nipples poking against the satiny white fabric would draw men’s eyes to her chest like magnets. Her sexy abs and cute round butt didn’t hurt either.
Primping at her short blonde afro and sashaying over to the group gathered in the alleyway, Desiree looks at the spent and satisfied women held lightly in check by Sharla and Chloe. She is sagging loosely in Sharla’s headlock, her forearms flush against the tarmac, her eyes closed, her ass high, a gentle sigh escaping her twisted, smiling lips.
“You ain’d even bunizhed her azz yed, Gledda? WHY DA FUG DOT?”
“I’m just about to. I’m sure she won’t be able to resist it now.”
“Zhe bedder dod! Ged goeeg aweddy. We habbend god all nide!”
“Let me do it.”
Everyone turns to look at Trixie who’s grim face and air of menace surprises them all. Trixie is usually the first to laugh at jokes and is generally pretty easy going. Her demeanor right now is anything but that.
Glenda looks hesitant but Desiree tells her quietly, “Gib her da bal-led.”
Taking the mallet from Glenda’s slowly extended hand, Trixie looks at the shiny end of it and silent considers it for a moment. Then she hocks up a noisy wad of phlegm and spits it onto the rounded end of the wooden handle.
“The bitch is probably wet enough and this stick might be too, but I want to be extra sure that I can get this baby nice and deep up her tight little bung hole.” Trixie gets down on one knee and quickly rubs the wooden dowel into the cleft of Wonder Woman’s pussy, stroking it back and forth between her sweaty swollen labia, coating the end of the smooth stick with the ample wetness remaining there from Diana’s massive orgasm. “Little insurance never hurts,” Trixie adds.
The stroking wood handle against her throbbing pussy draws a sigh from the dazed, inattentive Amazon held captive by the whores. This draws a scowl from Trixie. Pleasure time is over! Without wasting another second, Trixie positions the rounded end of the croquet mallet against her quarry’s anus and jams it forward with a thrust of her elbow.
“GGHHAAAAHHH!” Diana howls at the sudden, unexpected pain in her rear end. Her head jolts up suddenly and her body lurches forward but the headlock tightens down with an immediate intensity. Sharla had expected this reaction and was more than ready.
“WHRAULGK! AAAGGG! HEHHHKK!” The small fist pressed hard against her throat makes it extremely difficult for Diana to breathe. Between Sharla’s headlock and Chloe’s unrelenting grip on her ankles, she is thoroughly immobilized. And suddenly the stick slides out of her rear and Wonder Woman is shocked at the brevity of the attack but greatly relieved. That felt truly nasty but she had handled it well en....
“YAAARGGHHH!” The handle plunges back into Wonder Woman’s ass, driving deep enough to cause instant tears. And then it is withdrawn and driven back in again. And then again. And then again. Every stroke goes deeper and deeper up her ass, jamming into her inner walls with malicious abuse. First to one side, then the other, then back to the first. Diana shrieks out with the fiery pain ignited there. Her agony overrides the constricted airway and she screams out loudly. “AAEEYYHHEEE! OWW! OWW! AAGGHHH! ... DN’T... N’MURR! N’MURR!”
“Oh, is that too much of a good thing, CUNT?” Trixie taunts. “This should teach you to cold-cock a person when she’s already down!” The mallet handle jerks in and out of Wonder Woman’s ass crack, sliding back and forth between the Amazon’s wildly shaking buttocks. The pace is quick and unvarying. It strikes deep and withdraws over and over and over, punching against the inside of her ass cavity and jarring her body with punishing jolts.
“OHHH. OWW...NO....NO....OWW....AAGHH....NO...” Diana weeps openly now. The shock and pain of the ceaseless ass reaming batters both against her rear end and her soul without surcease. Her cheeks shine with her tears. Her upper lip glistens with the slimy snot draining from her nose. Wonder Woman’s hands claw uselessly at Sharla’s arms, unable to pry them away in the slightest from the stranglehold that is draining her strength and effectively siphoning off every last ounce of her heroic fortitude.
To get a better view of how she’s abusing her target, Trixie reaches over and uses her thumb and forefinger to spread Diana’s cheeks open and reveal the overtaxed balloon knot as the one-and-a-half-inch-wide wooden dowel stretches it out while driving in and out of the tight pink orifice without mercy.
“...owww....stup....pleeasssssee...stup...i..c..can’t.... awwrrghkkk...nuh...muhhrr...gulkk..!” The relentlessly applied headlock has made Diana’s face a fiery red. Her tongue slips out over her lower teeth as she desperately gasps for air. Her face alternates between scrunching up in pain and gagging for oxygen that refuses to arrive. And the punishing, driving wooden wand continues to work its devastating spell of pain and humiliation on the once famous Princess of Themyscira.
“...aagkk...auwgk...OWW...hekk...ohhh...OWW....heeeze...wrgkk...OWWW....haacgkk..”
Her calves yank and twist in a panicked frenzy but they’re firmly pinned down by a very determined, scowling Chloe. The toes of the boots knock and scrape against the tarmac with a rhythmic calypso click and swish of desperation. And then Diana begins to cough harshly and her tongue curls out and down while her mouth gapes open wider and wider for the air all around her that she can’t have. The deep blue eyes begin to protrude slightly as she barks for air.
“...arrkk...arkk...agghhh...haaaggcckkk...”
“Ogay, ogay! Dake id eezy, Zharla. We dond wad her dead.”
Sharla pulls her fist away from Wonder Woman’s throat but keeps an iron hold on the head of her black-haired victim. With the fist removed, Diana can finally take in oxygen and the screeching, wheezing gasps coming out of the strangled heroine’s throat fill the quiet night. Trixie even stops her plunging weapon for a moment, her quivering bicep a bit sore from the constant exercise.
Off toward the rear of the alley, a low moan issues from the blonde teenager lying on her back with her arms limp at her sides, her knees flopped wide apart and her red panties glimmering in the moonlight. Supergirl’s eyes flutter open as she groggily comes to her senses. She feels weak, confused and exhausted. Someone seems to be whistling not far off from where she is. Turning on her side, with her right shoulder raised and her right palm flat against the broken cobblestone beneath her, the bewildered girl tries to get her bearings. She’s in an alley. She and Diana had been ambushed by some whores.
“Gledda, go ober dare add geeb dad blod bidge in lide.”
“Keep her in line?”
“Des. Dho dizdragzhuns.”
“Be my pleasure, Dez,” Glenda nods briskly. She walks over toward where Supergirl is struggling to get to her knees by pulling herself up using the brick wall. It takes a mighty effort for the Maid of Steel just to get up to a kneeling position. Her left side leans against the cool brick. Her shaky hand gripping at the crevices between the bricks barely keeps her from falling over.
Glenda walks up to the blonde teen who’s nodding head, drooping eyelids and trembling lips all freeze in place as she takes in the approaching redhead with obvious alarm. Even at the outset of the evening when she was feeling at her strongest despite the kryptonite collar, Supergirl had been easily bested by Glenda. The tall white whore had easily outmaneuvered her and then smashed her face against the shoe store window twice in rapid succession, knocking her senseless and eliminating her from the fight in under 15 seconds. So when Glenda merely wags her finger back and forth and shakes her head, the cowed blonde champion submissively nods her head and stays where she is, her eyes moistening in shame.
“Trixie,” Glenda says, smiling directly at Kara’s troubled face while calling back to her cohort, “try using a wider circling motion with that stick as you buttfuck our once-feisty friend. I think she’ll start begging you even more to stop.”
“..ohh.” A tiny gasp of sympathy for Wonder Woman’s plight blurts out of Supergirl and Glenda gives her a grim, thin lipped-stare before talking.
“Something you wanted to say, wimp?”
The heroine who had once faced down a full-grown charging rhino when protecting a safari van without batting an eyelash shakes her head back and forth nervously, chews on her lower lip and lets out the tiniest sigh imaginable. Glenda turns her head to watch Trixie and to hide her twisted smile from this blonde pussy. She wanted to keep a stern facade for now.
“Thanks, Glen’, think I will give that a try,” Trixie calls out. And she rotates the croquet mallet quickly in two tight little circles like she’s trying to crank-start an antique car.
“AAGHH!” Diana yelps as the painful inner walls of her anus are scorched by the wooden stick brushing roughly against them.
“That’s not bad, but do it wider,” coaches Glenda. “Bigger circles.”
“NO! Don’t,” rasps Diana. “Please. No more.” Her voice is raw and cracked from the strangling, even without Sharla’s fist at her throat now. The headlock is still firm though, her ankles still gripped by unyielding hands.
“You mean like this?” Trixie says, moving the mallet head in an imaginary circle two feet in diameter.
“EEEEYAAAGGHHH!” Screeching in agony as her sphincter is stretched to its limit and her inner cavity is scraped raw by the digging, grinding wooden dowel, Diana almost breaks out of the hold of the two whores as she bucks and writhes with every fiber of her being. It takes almost 30 seconds for Sharla and Chloe to regain firm control of the wildcat in their arms. Wonder Woman’s head had wrenched out of Sharla’s headlock and Chloe had lost her grip on one of her legs. But a hard, sudden reach-in blow to her wounded temple by the heel of Desiree’s palm, a stunning kidney punch from Chloe and a bloody striping of her dangling right breast from Sharla’s slashing fingernails stuns the Amazon, draws a cry of pain and subdues her enough to get her back in position: headlocked, legs pinned down, ass high in the air, too stunned to resist.
And when Trixie slowly cycles the mallet in its wide circle yet again, Diana bursts into tears and pleads shamelessly to her assailants.
“..ohhh...oh..ho.oh...ho..ohhhhhh. ..hurts.me...so m..much...owwhhuh..huh..huh.. Please.. i’m... i’m ...begging you...please...don’t hurt me... anymore... please... begging you....no more.....”
With her tears cascading down her face, her voice quivering with whimpering despair, the famous Amazon is a broken woman.
In the alley behind the blubbering half naked woman, Supergirl is crying softly too, for her friend who has her massive tits exposed and her famous blue pants pulled down. Kara’s cheeks glisten just like Diana’s as she leans against the brick with a feeling of such utter exhaustion and helplessness she can’t even keep herself up. She drops to all fours and sobs loudly for her friend, her mentor, her idol - now broken and defeated and humiliated in every way possible. And she weeps for her herself. For her cowardly behavior, for her complete disgrace as well.
“Poor little blonde girl,” taunts Glenda as she gets down on one knee a few feet in front of Kara. “Your big bad protector turned out to be nothing but a pitiful blowhard of a cunt with feet of clay. How sad for you.”
“..no...no...she’s not...she’s not...” Supergirl chokes out her denial with heavy sobs.
“Oh, I’m afraid she most certainly is, dear. Say, Trix,” Glenda calls, “why don’t you get Miss High and Mighty over there to admit what she is. And make her say it loud enough so Betsy Wetsy over here can hear it loud and clear.”
“Grade idhea!” Desiree says, giving Glenda the thumbs up sign.
“You heard the lady, bitch. Tell us you’re nothing but a slut.”
“...p..please...don’t....make....me...” Barely audible, Diana slumps in Sharla’s hold, frightened and trembling. Sharla yanks her up by the throat harshly.
“Acggk!”
“What did I tell you ‘bout making me work at this, cunt? Use yo’ hands to keep yo’self up.” Diana’s palms push against the tarmac and her elbows lock. “Dat’s better.”
“Now tell everybody what you are, skank,” Chloe joins in to Diana’s humiliation. “Nice and loud so there’s no doubt about it.”
“...please...you win.. ..i..don’t.. You don’t have to do this.”
“No, you have to do this!” Trixie says. “Now!” Lowering the stick so it’s parallel to the ground, the big-breasted blonde with the red miniskirt and blue mesh blouse jams the short wood pole straight into Wonder Woman’s rear end with a vicious thump.
“YEEAAAGGHH!” Diana’s forehead bashes into the tarmac and she begins sobbing loudly again, her body wracked with the spasms of her pain and fear.
“Say it loud, bitch,” Trixie commands. “Or I give you another. And I won’t be gentle about it like the last one.”
“ALRIGHT! OWW! Don’t! Please. Oww...ohhhh. Alright I’ll say it. I’m...I’m...I’m nothing but a sl...slut...”
“Dell be sumbdin I dond doh, you dubb bidge,” Desire growls. “In fagd, adbid do be dad your duddeeg bud a whore.”
“Sorry, Dez,” says Chloe with chagrin. “Just want to be sure I got that right. You want her to admit she’s nothing but a whore. That what you said?”
“Jez!” Desiree nods adamantly.
“...but...i...i...i’m not...a whore...” Diana pleads softly.
“YES! YES WE ARE WHORES, DIANA!” Kara shouts from all fours, her face twisted with anger and misery. “They’re right, they’re all right about us. That’s what we are now! We’re whores! Isn’t that what you want to hear Desiree? Isn’t it?”
“Wand do hear id frub her!” Desiree points at the cringing Amazon at her feet.
“Say it, blackie. Unless you want the shaft again,” threatens Trixie, drawing back slightly on the wooden handle still buried three inches into Wonder Woman’s rear end.
“NO! Please. No. Don’t! I’ll..I’ll say it. I will.” The broken beauty held in place in a small filth-filled alley in the heart of the South Bronx takes a breath and slowly speaks the words that sear her very soul “I...Diana....Princess of Themyscira.... ch...cham...champion of..of...all... wo..wo..women...” A choking sob stops Diana for a moment before she can go on. “I..am nothing...nothing b..but...a...a..lowly whore.”
“And you promise to stay off our turf forever and sell your sorry cunt any other place than around here,” Chloe adds.
“Repeat that, too, whore,” Trixie growls.
“NO! THAT’S IT! THAT’S ENOUGH!” Supergirl screams out loudly at this final degrading demand. She leaps at Glenda with her fingernails curled like claws, aiming for the redhead’s eyes. But her long shout has given the tall white whore just enough time to react to save herself and more. As a berserk Supergirl flings herself at her foe, her cape flying behind her, her arms outstretched, claw-like hands straining to sink into the pale white flesh of Glenda’s face, the redhead executes a half turn, grabs the shocked teen by her long blonde tresses and by one arm, pivots neatly and flings her against the wall four feet away.
“GHHUNNHH!” Supergirl smashes into the unyielding brick shoulder first, then her side and then her thighs in rapid succession. Then she falls to the street in a heap, moaning but still conscious. A very pissed Glenda strides over to the fallen blonde immediately. A hard stomp to the back of Supergirl’s head from the sole of Glenda’s shoe smashes the teen’s forehead against the gray cobblestone beneath it, solving the consciousness problem immediately.
“Fuckin’ idiot,” Glenda snaps. Then looks around to the others who are looking at her with surprise and admiration and amusement. “Well, she is,” the tall redhead nods firmly at the limp figure at her feet.
“Where were we,” Chloe muses. “Oh yeah, you were about to make a promise to us.”
Sighing heavily, her eyes brimming with humiliation, Diana repeats the phrase aloud. “I promise to stay off your turf forever...and sell.........sell...........my sorry cunt...any other place than around here.”
“I ding dad we’re albost dud here,” Desiree says.
“What do you mean we’re done,” Chloe says with an obvious sulk. “That bitch gets off and we get nothin’ but bruises and pain for all our troubles. How about some payback, Des! I say we make her bring off each and every one of us for all the trouble she caused.”
“I agree with Chloe,” Sharla says with a wide wolfish grin. Getting tongued by the haughty bitch would be a fantastic way to disgrace this cunt for good. “We deserve to feel good after all the hurt she put on us.”
After musing this over for a long, thoughtful moment, Desiree finally nods her assent to the group. “Ogay. I ghez I gan lib wid dhad.” She looks down at the whimpering, shaking beauty at her feet and shows off a very evil smile. “Who wads do go firzd?”
-
DrDominator9
- Emissary
- Posts: 2461
- Joined: 13 years ago
- Location: On the Border of the Neutral Zone
Out of the Fire But Into the Frying Pan
Part 67E
It’s five minutes before 3:00 am on a cloudy Wednesday morning. Wonder Woman isn’t aware of the time however. She’s not aware of much, in fact. She feels absolutely drained and helpless. Trembling from pain and exhaustion, the Amazon warrior is a beaten, shattered shell of her former self. Her sphincter burns savagely from the vicious ass-reaming by Trixie’s brutal manipulation of the wooden croquet mallet. What’s more, her vagina is still sore and swollen from that same roughly-used tool. She’s also been soundly clubbed with that very mallet, knocked senseless by a garbage can lid, been kicked and beaten, and suffered countless minor injuries that have ultimately drained her of all her strength, her energy and magnificent spirit.
Holding up Diana’s upper torso by her hair, Sharla triumphantly shakes the thick clump of black tresses in her fist back and forth. Unknowingly, she has helped to destroy the famous Champion of All Women in a night of catastrophic defeat that Wonder Woman will never forget. Groaning loudly, Diana’s body jerks and sways in place. Her limp arms dangle and twitch from side to side, the backs of her hands scraping against the broken tarmac below her. Her upturned face is slack, her eyes unfocused. Her bare pelvis presses flush against the street and her blue costume briefs are pulled down around her thighs. Her ankles are held loosely spread apart, the shiny red boot toes pointing in opposite directions by Chloe as she eyes the naked wide glutes of her captive appreciatively.
I’ll say this for the sister; bitch has one well-toned ass! I’ll bet she takes as much in that hole as her pussy!
Next to her, Trixie lightly grips the croquet mallet to keep it from falling out of Wonder Woman’s asshole. Four inches of the handle remain lodged inside the sagging beauty, a not-so-subtle reminder of her complete subjugation.
“Zharla, I dink you zhould go firzd. Zhe hurd you preddy bad.”
“Thanks, Dez. I appreciate that!” She was looking forward to having this stubborn cunt eat out her pussy and give her a great booming orgasm.
Sharla wastes no time. She lets go of Wonder Woman’s hair and the dazed princess drops to the pavement with a thud.
“....ohhhhhh....” Diana’s muffled moans drift out from twisted lips pressed against the cool tarmac.
Sharla quickly hikes up her blue leather miniskirt and pulls down her blue sheer stockings and then her underpants to her knees. Her soft thatch of black pubic hair gleams in the moonlight. With her crotch now exposed, Sharla reaches down, grabs a handful of the lush mane of this haughty bitch and yanks up on it until the white girl’s pretty face is buried in her pussy.
“Lick me, cunt. Lick my clit like an ice cream cone ‘til I spray your cheeks, Miss High and Whitey! You’re my bitch now, like I promised. Do it or Trixie will jam that pole so far up your butt, I’ll see it come out your mouth.”
The agonizing jolt of the rod in her ass forces a dazed and depleted Diana to understand that she has no options here whatsoever. She begrudgingly extends her tongue inside Sharla’s pussy and tastes the sharp tang of absolute defeat. The pain of being held by her hair forces a woozy Diana to situate herself so she’s on her knees between the short whore’s spread legs with her palms bracing herself against the woman’s muscular thighs. She licks and licks and licks away at the pungent crevice as commanded, swathing her tongue through all its furrows and around its exposed pink bud. Sharla’s beaming smile overhead is a triumphant leer and her gyrating hips and grinding pelvis almost smother the Amazon’s nose and mouth in thick, musky feminine folds. After an endless six minutes that feels like forty to Wonder Woman, the moaning, panting Sharla grabs Diana’s head and forces it harder between her thighs, freezing her helplessly in place. Sharla’s body goes rock still and then Wonder Woman’s face is doused with a rushing bath of Sharla’s joy juice. The oily cum pulses steadily against her, washing her in a skanky glaze of the whore’s ultimate satisfaction. Held between Sharla’s thighs, Diana is forced to endure the strongly-scented cum-stream being smeared across her cheeks, her nose, her lips. The bitter brew even drips down her throat from not being able to fully close her mouth in the smothering pussy she’s been forced to please. Wonder Woman can’t think of another time that she’s felt so abused and degraded.
Sharla roughly pushes Diana away from her and the Amazon falls onto her side, her face slick with a slimy wetness she would never forget. The words that follow are just bitter frosting on a rancid cake.
“This cunt’s got talent. She’s obviously no rookie carpet muncher! Line up, girls. She gives a helluva ride!”
In turn, each of the remaining whores enjoy the pleasures of the Themysciran’s practiced tongue. Her cheeks are repeatedly doused with musky flushings of total feminine pleasure, her face ground between eager thighs, her tongue forced to delve deeply to satisfy the taller girls, to strain at those who are less sensitive, to nibble and suck again and again at the tender pink berries until they stiffen and give forth the rushing flow of total ecstacy that bathe the helpless Amazon with endless shame. Every halting moment would be met with a sharp jab of the mallet, all hesitations punished by hard words and searing pain. Diana’s willpower is ground to a fine powder and her sole reason for existence is but to satisfy each whore in her turn. She performs this as well as she can to speed the process and bring a final end to this hellish degradation.
Occasionally, there would come an unexpected yet exciting nipple twist or sudden heady stroking of Diana’s own clit by the whore holding the mallet in order to help intensify the receiving whore’s pleasure. This subversive finger play only served to intensify Wonder Woman’s guilt and humiliation by the helpless jolts of pleasure she’d feel at the hands of one of the well-practiced whores.
At the end of it, her eyes drifting aimlessly, her tongue slack over her lower lip, her half- face gleaming in the streetlight from the waxy shine of five women’s sexual fulfillment, Diana’s body lays cheek-down and motionless on the broken pavement of that dark alley. With her famous starred costume panties pulled down and bunched around her thighs, her arms at her sides, her naked breasts squashed against the dirty street and a wood pole still shoved up her butt hole, the famous Wonder Woman’s spirit is throughly crushed. A soft mournful sigh of absolute despair and shame exhales from the vanquished woman.
“Ogay, lez ged duh blonde bidch ober here ad finizh ub.”
An unconscious Supergirl is summarily dragged over by Glenda and tied to a drain pipe bracket with numerous black strips of stinking torn garbage bags. With her torso hanging limply from the steel bracket bolted to the wall, Supergirl’s knees are bent together, almost touching the street, her calves splayed apart. A lethargic Diana, severely cautioned to behave by Trixie, is heaved over to the big green dumpster ten feet away, as directed by Desiree. The wooden mallet is roughly yanked out of her rear and Trixie pulls up her blue briefs until they’re back in place, albeit somewhat haphazardly. A broken, submissive Diana is then told to sit down with her back against the dumpster, right in a puddle of some slimy brownish liquid. Dazed and pitiful, Wonder Woman readily complies, grimacing as she feels the cold, clammy solution slowly soak into her costume briefs, staining the bottoms a dark brown.
“Stay put, bitch, and don’t try nuthin’ funny.” Trixie barks as she carefully ties Diana’s arms over her head to a jutting rivet with a panhead top with yet more strips of torn fetid plastic bags.
Desiree whispers a few instructions into Sharla’s ear and the nasty look on the whore’s face as she eyes Diana makes the Amazon’s blood run cold.
“Okay,” nods Sharla. “Chloe, hold that blond cunt’s ankles together, very tightly so she can’t kick. Glenda, slap her hard and wake the bitch up so she can enjoy our little party game.”
WHACK!
Supergirl’s head recoils against the cement wall behind her and her eyes flutter open with dull awareness. But then, still out of it, her chin drops and the eyes begin to shut.
“Hit her again, Glen,” grins Sharla, enjoying herself.
WHACK!
“Oww! Ohhh! Stop!” Kara is jolted into true awareness now, her cheek bristling with the heat of Glenda’s hard, ringing slap. She rears up to her full height, her bound arms uncomfortably pressing against her upper back in her new position.
“You with us now, blondie?”
“Yes, I ....oh Rao! Diana, are you alright?” Kara is shocked to see her compatriot looking so wretchedly docile, so terribly withdrawn.
“...guess zo..” mumbles Wonder Woman with total apathy now.
“What have you done to her?!”
“Taught her where her place is in the food chain, blondie,” Sharla crows. “Just below a slug. Ain’t that right, blackie?”
With no answer forthcoming from Wonder Woman, Sharla nods at Trixie who bends over the mute woman, pushes the gold fabric eagle on the bustier lower off her massive, exposed breasts and pinches the angry red welt from the clawing she received earlier.
“Aaaahh! Yes! Below a slug...” Diana winces as she gasps out her reply.
Kara’s mouth drops open in shock. She didn’t know what else they’d done to Diana while she was out cold but her friend was obviously a beaten woman. Kara’s never seen her like this in her life. She doesn’t think anyone has. Except maybe Sergei.
“You street trash are going to pay for...” The knife blade that suddenly presses at Kara’s throat in Sharla’s steady hand stops her in mid-sentence.
“Shut your pie hole, blondie, before I give you a new opening to eat out of,” Sharla snarls.
Desiree walks over toward Diana kneels down beside her and looks directly at her prey’s face. Diana keeps her head bowed, unable or unwilling to look her foe in the eye. Desiree smiles broadly at her heady dominance of her once proud foe. Then she opens a small paper bag she’d found in the dumpster and left near it’s wheels earlier. She tosses up four dingy white golf balls at Trixie, one after the other. Scuffed and dented, the used practice balls were tossed out by the sportswear store just around the corner. Trixie pulls the neck of her blue mesh blouse open and tucks two of the balls in her cleavage for safe-keeping, the other two she rolls around in her hand.
“Open your legs, bitch,” Chloe calls out to Wonder Woman as she continues her firm grip on Supergirl’s ankles.
Diana looks up, her eyes dry, the irises dull. She finally looks toward Desiree kneeling beside her.
“...why...? ...you’ve won...” Diana asks quietly.
“Juz cauze I wond do!” Desiree snaps, staring defiantly back at Diana. She then stands up and turns to walk toward Supergirl. Suddenly she spins, snatches a clump of Wonder Woman’s hair and bangs her head against the steel dumpster.
CLAAAANNGGKK!
“UUUGGNNHH!” Wonder Woman bites her tongue in the surprise move and a thin line of blood drips out over her lower lip as her head falls forward to her chest.
“YOU DON’T GED TO QWEZDION BE, BIDGE! Now obed yhur legz or yhur fred dere diez!”
Slowly, a stunned Wonder Woman spreads her legs apart, her boot heels loudly dragging sideways in the now silent alleyway.
“Any funny stuff and I take blondie’s head off,” Sharla calls out.
Diana looks up from under her eyebrows at Kara, her half-raised lids quivering. The two heroines share an anguished moment: Kara’s eyes are swimming with guilt, Diana’s seem oddly flinty with a mix of hopelessness and anger. Kara can’t be sure it’s not directed at her. She’s been so unheroic this evening.
Trixie kneels down, puts her finger in the brown puddle, a good measure of which has now soaked into the blue panties high up to an ugly brown stain that clearly shows in Wonder Woman’s crotch as she holds her legs wide apart. Trixie sniffs her finger and makes a declaration. “Dirty motor oil. That’s no way to dispose of it! Very illegal. But a great lubricant. It’s your lucky day, slut.” Pulling aside the crotch of Wonder Woman’s briefs with one hand, Trixie rolls the golf ball in the puddle with her other, then pushes the thickly-coated nearly two-inch diameter white globe past the slick lips of the bound woman’s pussy. Pushing it deeply inside her with steely fingers, Trixie grins as she humiliates the grunting Amazon.
“UUUHHH.” Diana feels the width of the dimpled sphere pressed far up her vagina. She’s actually thankful for the oil since her loins are still throbbing from the abuse by the wooden mallet.
“That wasn’t so bad was it?” Trixie’s eyes dance with delight. “Let’s do another.”
“Don’t!” Kara objects loudly. “There’s no cause for...GHHUUUNFFF!”
Sharla had pulled her knife back a foot just as Glenda drove a pile driving fist into Supergirl’s gut. The blonde heroine jerks forward, stretching the black plastic holding her to the wall bracket. There’s enough of it binding her so it doesn’t break, even as the wheezing blonde teenager sags forward in gasping helplessness, all protest immediately silenced in her strained whooping for air.
“Nobody gives a fuck what you think, piss pants!” Glenda hisses into her grimacing face. “Keep your cock-gulping hole shut and your opinions to yourself and you may actually live through this night.”
The second golf ball gets shoved up Wonder Woman’s pussy with a steady thrust until it touches against the first, driving it slightly deeper into her cavity. The heroine’s eyes are downcast now, her breathing shallow and regular. She doesn’t make a sound.
“Number three going in,” chimes Trixie merrily as she retrieves the two spheres from her cleavage. One she puts on the ground, the other gets rolled in the dark brown puddle and quickly forced up Diana’s slippery hole. Firm, insistent fingers push hard and the third golf ball pushes against the other two now, driving them uncomfortably deep within her channel.
“Aaagghhh!”
“Getting a little crowded in there, huh, cunty?” Trixie announces this with glee. “Gotta be almost eight inches deep in you now, I’d say. But that’s not much deeper than the slightly better endowed men’s cocks you take up there so regularly. Right, sugar slut? I said RIGHT, SLUT?”
“...yes...yes, you’re right...” Diana replies, her breathing now coming in shorter pants.
“Right about what, street trash?” Trixie asks with suddenly cold vehemence.
“...right about....about taking...long cocks up there....regularly...”
“I thought as much,” snaps back Trixie, haughtily. “You look like the type who takes the biggest swinging dicks without blinking an eye. Probably like ‘em huge, right?”
“...yes...” mumbles Wonder Woman.
“The bigger the better is your motto I’m guessing. Probably should get your thighs tattooed. ‘Wide Loads Gratefully Accepted’ just to make it clear to your johns what to expect.”
Trixie reaches down and clasps her palm around Wonder Woman’s throat, squeezing down firmly. Diana’s eyes dart up in shock. “Think a tattoo like that is a good idea, trash?”
“...yes...” Diana croaks. “..Wide Loads...’Cepted. ..s’clever...”
“I thought you’d think so. Here’s lucky ball number four, bitch!” Holding aside the crotch of her panties for the final ball with one hand as she throttles Diana’s throat with her other, Trixie deftly maneuvers the oiled white sphere into the opening in Wonder Woman’s crotch and forces it deeply into the channel with a hard slap of her palm, pushing the three other golf balls so deeply inside her that the front one brushes against her cervix.
“GHAAAHHH!” The Amazon warrior, strains forward, eyes wide, yelping in pain at this brutal mistreatment.
Across the way, a teary Supergirl watches in horror as her friend and ally is roughly abused. And she is helpless to prevent it. Any move she’d try to make would be dangerous and stupid. She’s tightly bound by her wrists behind her back and Sharla’s knife at her throat is not two inches above the glowing kryptonite collar that makes her feel so puny, so weak, so pathetic. She’d never forgive Tony for this, and probably not herself either.
Diana’s chin nods against her upper chest. Her panting is loud. Her body is trembling as she deals with the sting of the four golf balls slammed deep into her vagina. Using her inner muscles, she squeezes down to force them lower within her cavity, away from where they crush against her cervix. This she is able to do and the pain eases somewhat. She looks up dully to see Desiree coming at her, sauntering slowly with something behind her back that Diana can’t see.
“Ged yhur zegund widd, ghirly?”
“Whuz behind your back?” Diana’s slurring speech indicates the amount of pain she’s absorbed tonight. But it’s not quite over yet.
“Juzd a liddle fidal goodbye gesdure.”
“DIANA! CLOSE YOUR LEGS! SHE’S GOT A....HHUUUUNNNFFFFF!”
Once again, Supergirl’s voice is stopped with Glenda’s devastating punch to her stomach. She rocks forward in a silent scream with no air whatsoever to give it voice. Diana starts to bring her legs together but she’s too befuddled and tired to do it quickly enough. Desiree does a quick quarter turn and, using a plastic wiffleball bat like a golf club, swings hard and low at the blue crotch with the dark, oily brown stain. She connects hard with the fat of the bat, driving the balls that Diana had pushed to the opening of her pussy back up the channel with a sickening sound that reverberates around the alley..
KKHHADDOCCCKKKK!
“AAAIIIEEEYAAGGGHHHH!” Diana screams in the night and her body folds forward as much as the plastic bonds around her wrists allow. Her eyes bulge wide, her mouth opens and she spews a thin jet of greenish vomit all over naked breast. Then she collapses limply in place with retching wheezing that matches Supergirl’s high-pitched wheezes across the alley. Desiree is very pleased at the stereo effect. Then she nods at Trixie to hold up the costumed heroine’s head and the obliging whore does so. Diana’s face is ashen, her mouth gaping, her eyes bulging in their sockets in horrific pain. Desiree simply tees up and swings for the fences.
SMAAAACK! Wonder Woman’s left cheek compresses from the force of the bat as her head snaps sideways. Droplets of blood spray from her mouth and nose. Then the neck loses all rigidity and Diana’s face and body slump low to the right.
“Agaid,” is all the whore leader says and Trixie takes hold of Wonder Woman’s hair and twists her body so it faces forward, along with her battered visage. There’s very little intelligence left in Wonder Woman’s eyes. Only animal fear. Trixie holds her face steady and the stunned and disabled heroine can do nothing as the hard plastic bat slams into the other side of her face.
WHAAACK! Letting go the instant Desiree connects, Trixie backs off to avoid the second shower of blood that arcs out from the nose and mouth. Once again, the body collapses into itself and now Desiree is the one to bend down and grab Diana’s hair, yanking her body up and her face forward.
Lolling on a rubber neck, Wonder Woman’s head has to be held upright by the stern-faced whore leader. There’s a shred of consciousness left but precious little capacity for much thought. Still, Desiree’s final instructions are pretty basic.
“Don’d eber cub back here, cund! EBER!”
Dropping the bat and taking the brass knuckles out of the pocket of her rabbit fur jacket, Desiree cooly slips them on her right hand and clocks Diana a hard shot to the temple she hadn’t hit before. Her face snaps to the side and Wonder Woman sags in place, completely oblivious to the world.
Walking over to a weeping Supergirl, Desiree looks her over with scorn. “You. You’re jusd piddiful!” She unloads a roundhouse hook to Supergirl’s jaw and the girl who could once lift battleships collapses into blackness, slumping heavily against the concrete wall.
Fifteen minutes later, the whores finally depart the alley laughing and joking with each other after manhandling and abusing the two inert figures in ways that will cause them maximum discomfort and a world of embarrassment when they finally crawl their way back to a state of consciousness.
Desiree knows there will be hell to pay from Dooley her pimp. Checking her watch, she is shocked to see it’s quarter to four in the morning. She’s lost about five hours of time she could have been making money on her back or her knees. She’s pretty sure Dooley will be smacking her around later. But he’s done that before and she’s come through it fine. All the girls have been bitch-slapped by their pimps: Glenda and Trixie by Dooley as well; Chloe by her pimp, Ramone; and Sharla by some animal from 125th Street named Boxer who was known to use his fist on his girls. Even the hard-edged Sharla feared Boxer. He’d put her in the hospital once. Desiree hoped that wouldn’t happen again. Still, it had been one of the most interesting evenings of her life and she wouldn’t have traded it for anything. She and her girls had held their turf. Dooley should be pleased about that. Maybe he wouldn’t beat on her so bad if she explained she’d been doing his job for him. She’d have to play it just right. Maybe if she gave him a handjob while explaining herself. That might work.
=====================================================================
Supergirl is the first of the two heroines to come to her senses. The pain cuts through to stir her from a black hole of oblivion into a gray cloud of dull awareness. There’s the strong smell of sour lemons, and then she slowly begins to emerge from her nothingness, conscious primarily of the catalog of hurts she is experiencing. So many places: her swollen jaw, her burning vagina, her sore shoulder, her tender forehead, her cramped thighs, even her grating coccyx bone. Why would that be? And beneath it all, Kara suddenly realizes how desperately she needs her crack. It’s been far too many hours. She’s sick for it!
Opening her eyes, Kara discovers she’s can’t see much but the familiar rank smell overriding the scent of musty lemons tells her that she’s still stuck in this nightmarish alley. A strong breeze carrying the promise of rain suddenly blows. It cools her slick-feeling face and hands and brushes through her boots while leaving the rest of her untouched. It’s right then that she realizes she’s been stuffed ass-deep into a round steel garbage can. Just the top of her head, hands and boots protrude from the container. Her tail bone rests against the hard surface of the bottom of the can. She squirms and struggles and there is a squishing sensation and the smell of baked beans for some reason, but she cannot tip the can over. She can only rock the can slightly. Unbeknownst to her, the whores have used plastic bag strips to secure one of the garbage can’s handles to a steel drain pipe running up the wall. Frustrated and sore, Supergirl calls out, “Diana. Are you there? Diana?” Talking makes the lemon scent fill her nose and there’s the sudden sour taste of them on her tongue when she licks her lips.
“...uhhnn...whuuhh....huh...”
“Di. Wake up. Come help me get out of this.”
“...i...uh...whut...whutz that..?...”
“Diana. Help me. I’m stuck!”
“...i...I can’t...Kara...I’m tied up. Ohhh...Hera, I hurt all over....and...and...I’m filthy!”
“Damn those whores!” Supergirl yells. “If I ever cross their path with my powers intact...”
“Can you tip that can over?” Diana calls across the ten feet between her dumpster and Kara’s can.
“No, it only rocks a little bit,” whines Kara. “There’s no way to create enough momentum.”
“Oh,” says Diana sadly.
“How about you?”
“They’ve tied my hands so tightly with all this plastic and one of my legs is tucked under me with that ankle bound to the wheel of this container.
“Oh,” Kara replies with despair. After a moment, she asks, “What do you mean you’re filthy?”
“I mean they’ve completely covered my uniform with somebody’s dinner! My top is smeared with what smells like spaghetti sauce. It’s all over my tits – inside and out! My bottoms are slippery from all the motor oil and I don’t know what. Feels like some kind of slimy paste inside my briefs. Oh, it’s so revolting!”
“Tell me about it. I think they smashed my face and chest with a moldy lemon meringue pie. They’ve spread it all through my hair, and around my breasts and all over my top. And it smells like, what, baked beans in my underpants! And there’s something sticking up my pussy, too, now! God, those bitches!”
“If I could get these golf balls out of my vagina, I wouldn’t mind that in the least either. Oh, Kara, what are we going to do?”
“Yell for help, I guess.”
“Oh, Hera, no. I would rather die. The shame of all this!”
“Well, I don’t feel like dying today, Diana. Do you have a better idea?”
“You sure you can’t tip over that can. Try again, please!”
“I have been. I can’t turn my head. Can you see from there. They must have tied it down somehow.”
“I can’t see anything but there’s a pipe running up the wall directly behind the can. They must have tied the can to that.”
“BITCHES! HAIRY MOTHERFUCKING CUNTS!”
“Kara! Your language!”
“Excuse me, Princess. But I’m not feeling very ladylike at the moment!”
“But still...”
The sound of two men singing in the distance freezes both ladies blood. Wonder Woman with dread at being discovered like this but with a tinge of hope that the ordeal will come to an end. Supergirl is frozen in surprise. It feels like dawn is a couple of hours away. Why would anyone be out at this hour. Still, with the pain in her tailbone and the crack making its heavy demands, the Maid of Steel calls out loudly, “Over here! Come over here! We need help! HELP!”
Kara’s shouting ultimately overrides Wonder Woman’s shame with her own need to be freed. Her body is starting to tremble slightly with its own need for her heroin. She joins Kara in the call for aid.
“HELP! Help us, please! We’re in the alley,” Diana howls. “Come find us!”
The ladies hear the singing stop and murmurs traded. And the murmuring is getting closer. They’re going to be saved!
===============================================================================
Tony Bonano is deep into a dream where he’s facing Gino Lupenzo through a plate glass window of a restaurant in Little Italy. He’s holding a handgun and pulling the trigger but the bullets aren’t breaking through the glass. They’re just bouncing off the window and dropping to the street as, inside at the table with his crew, Gino twirls the spaghetti around his fork, points at Tony through the window with it and laughs before stuffing his face with pasta. A ringing cell phone in his dream shows a text coming in from the Supergirl Glassworks Company. It reads: “Test is complete. Bulletproof Kryptonian glass as ordered for Il Pesce Restaurant has been installed. Glad to be of service.” Tony looks up at the restaurant sign and reads Il Pesce. My damn luck he says. And then the phone rings a second time and he looks at the screen to see the call is coming from Carmine. Waking up now as the phone rings a third time, Tony awkwardly reaches for it on his bedside table, turns on the lamp and mumbles into it, “What do you want, Carmine?”
“How’d you know it was me?” Carmine asks, surprised.
“The cell phone told me.”
“What?”
“I...uh...was dreaming. Your call worked its way into my subconscious. What’s up?”
“Well, I’ve checked upstairs to see if the girls have come back yet and they haven’t. Then I called the night clerk at The Uptowner Hotel and he tells me neither of the girls has used the room all night. Not one tricks worth. I’m gonna go out and see if I can find ‘em. I don’t like this. Doesn’t feel right to me. It’s quarter to four in the morning, for crissake! I know you’re trying to punish them, Ton, but this smells fishy.”
“You’re right Carmine. You going to take anyone with you? How ‘bout Mario?”
“Yeah, I may roust him and drag him along. I’ll check in as soon as I spot ‘em.”
“Alright. Be careful. Take a piece with you.”
“Not me. But I’ll tell Mario to bring one. I don’t need the trouble.”
“You also don’t need to be dead, Carmine. You don’t know what could be going on. And with Gino gunning for us, I think you should take a bazooka. Failing that, bring a fucking gun, you stubborn wop.”
“Fine, Ton. You’re right. I ain’t thinking straight. Talk to you later.”
“Okay. I’ll be here. I’ll put up some coffee.”
“Great. See you soon.”
Putting the handset back in its charger unit, Tony lies back on his pillow and stares at the ceiling with a scowl. What the fuck’s gone wrong now?
==========================================================
Sean MacArthur, or simply Mac to his friends of whom he had precious few left, was very drunk and very happy. And he was about to put happy in his rear window on the way to ecstatic. But right now, walking shoulder-to-shoulder with his friend Chester, he was still overjoyed at the big score they’d made panhandling at Yankee Stadium earlier in the evening.
It was a surprise late-inning turnaround win in a playoff game for the Yankees against the Detroit Tigers. Outside the famous arena, the streaming horde of happy baseball fans had shown their largess at Mac’s meager harmonica work and Chester’s even less accomplished twanging on a Jews harp to the tune of “Camptown Races” with a take of $74.22. The crowd had even joined in on the ‘doo-dahs’ with a raucous furor, many of them drunk on outrageously-priced stadium beer.
This allowed the duo to buy three fifths of cheap scotch, a large McDonald’s happy meal for each of them and still have enough leftover for a good breakfast at a sit-down diner in the late morning when they woke up. That was if the diner would even allow them to sit down. Out of work for over five years now, the often penniless bums were filthy, scraggly, overly-fragrant examples of what happens when one falls through society’s so-called “safety net.” Mac’s once neatly-trimmed blonde beard had grown long and uneven, with bits of food lodged in its depths. Chester’s dark brown beard was equally unkempt.
Mac had once been an insurance adjuster who was good at his job. So good that he knew about the loopholes and kickbacks he could garner from repair shops and all-too-willing insurance claimants who would fund him with some of the differences that were worked out so the faceless insurance company would overpay and the fraudulent players would be all the better off. It worked well up to the day it didn’t and Mac had been fingered by the insurance company’s investigator. He’d been carted away by the cops and had done two years at an upstate New York prison.
Once released, he couldn’t get hired to save his life and so his life had spiraled down to a struggling existence on the street. His balding, beefy 6-foot friend Chester had been kicked out of his job as assistant manager at the body shop where Mac had arranged the fraudulent paperwork. Chester, charged as a co-conspirator, had done ten months at the same prison. And now they were each other’s closet friend. Other street people would mix with them but no one on the street got very close to one another despite their shared troubles.
The two gentlemen of the street had broken the seal on the first of the three bottles as soon as they sat down on the curb in front of the liquor store. They had passed it back and forth several times, taking long swigs each. Finally they stood up and began an aimless wandering throughout the South Bronx over the course of several hours. That empty first bottle had been heaved over a tall wire fence by Chester into an empty parking lot with a satisfying explosion of glass against concrete. You took life’s small pleasures where you could find them in this duo’s hard-earned philosophy.
Each man now carries his own bottle in one hand as they prop each other up with arms thrown over each other’s shoulder while making their unsteady way down the street. Singing Gilbert O’Sullivan’s single hit, “Alone Again, Naturally,” off-key and with badly-mangled lyrics, the two bums are at the end of an alley when Chester hears a shout.
“Wait. What zat?” Chester stops suddenly in place, nearly throwing the lighter, unstable Mac to the ground. A gripping hand by Chester on the lapel of Mac’s heavily-stained brown tweed sport jacket prevents this.
“Whuz what?” Mac asks, straightening himself and brushing off Chester’s hand to show he’s in control of his faculties and doesn’t need any help.
“Heard sumpthin’ I thought.”
“HELP! Help us, please! We’re in the alley.”
“They’re in the alley,” Chester says.
“Hooz in the alley?” Mac slurs.
“Don’t know,” shrugs Chester
“Wanna go in?” Mac suggests
“Guess so.” Chester shrugs.
The two bums head down the long dark 10-foot-wide passage.
“Iz dark.” Mac says, leading the way
“Dark,” agrees the tipsy Chester.
Mac makes unsteady progress along the wall, feeling his way with his hand on the concrete surface. The moon has ducked behind a thick cloud and a breeze has come up. A roll of distant thunder is heard.
As they progress, they get closer to the one working light in the alley. A weak spotlight situated on the parapet of a three-story building. It’s broad expanse of concrete is the left wall of the alley.
“Hooz there?” Mac calls out. His vision is compromised by poor lighting and hard liquor. He squints and sees a figure next to a dumpster. And something across from that... no, that can’t be right.
“Thank goodness you’re here. We’ve been attacked and tied up,” the voice by the dumpster calls.
“..’tacked? By who?”
“A gang of whores,” says a second voice.
Startled, Mac takes a sudden step back and Chester steps on his heel.
“Oww! Chester quit that,” Mac turns around and slaps on the big man’s chest. Back up!”
“Sorry,” Chester replies sullenly. “But it’s your fault. You backed up too sudden.”
“I wuz jes surprised by the talking garbage can.”
“I can unnerstand that, I guess,” Chester nods thoughtfully.
“Can you two help us, please,” Kara pleads, aching all over.
“It talked again,” Mac says. “The can. It talked.”
“I heard.”
“I’m not a talking can. I’m Supergirl. Come over here please and get me out of this!”
“Think we got the DTs already?” Chester asks Mac.
“Too soon. An’ ‘sides that, we’re not nearly ‘nuff drunk.”
“I’m not sure I would agree with that,” the slightly deeper female voice by the dumpster says. “But we would be in your debt, gentlemen, if you came forward and untied us.”
“Debt.” Chester hones in on his keyword.
“Tied.” Mac’s face tilts a bit with a glimmer in his eye showing in the weak light.
The two bums move forward a bit quicker now with better light and solid motivations. When they finally make it to the dumpster, they look down to see the most lovely face and body either man has ever laid eyes on. Even with the two angry wounds at the temples, the scraped cheek and slightly swollen nose and eyes, the red and gold blouse heavily-coated with spaghetti sauce, the woman tied up at their feet seems like a vision to the two drunks.
Chester even asks aloud, in hushed awe, “Are you real?”
“Very much so,” replies Diana. “And I’d be grateful if you would untie my ankle first. The cramp in my thigh is quite painful.” Looking at the naked flexed thigh, it’s quivering muscle and the incredible figure of this beautiful, helpless female posed like perfection at his feet, Chester licks his lips and thinks hard.
Diana looks into the face of her white knight in shining armor and doesn’t appreciate his expression at all. “My ankle?” Her prodding tone snaps Chester out of his whirling jumble of drunken aspirations, focusing it to a pinpoint need.
“Whaz innit for me?”
“Excuse me?” Diana replies, exasperated.
“Whaddoo I get for untying you?”
“Get?”
“Yeah, why should I do it. You got to give me sumptin’ back.”
“For heaven’s sake, what about the simple act of charity? Of helping another being in distress. That should be its own reward.”
“It ain’t. And times is tough.”
“This is bullshit!” Kara fumes across the way.
“Shaddup, can,” Mac admonishes, taking several steps over toward the steel cannister with the arms and legs poking out.
“I’m not a damn can! Focus for a second, you filthy bum or when I get out of this, I will make you one sorry derelict.”
Mac stands over the steel can, swaying slightly as he looks down into it at the upturned face of the tightly-packed blonde stuffed ass-first into the refuse bin.
“I know you. Yurr Supergirl.”
“And we have a winner!” Kara’s scorn is palpable.
“You shaved me once. Uhh..saved me. Bus I was in almost went off a canyon road down a cliff. One second I’m dead, next minute I’m shakin’ yhur hand as we all filed out onto the road to thank you personally.”
“Then when you let me out of this damn can we can be even. How about it, sport?”
“Wellllll... I guess iz only fair. C’mon Chezder. Whaddaya say, lez help ‘em out.”
“NO, MAC! No. Not unless they give us sumpthin’. Wonder Woman never saved me. I jez want whuz fair.”
“Hera help me. Like what? What do you want, Chester?” Diana grits her teeth in frustration at all this. Her thigh aches as does most of her body and she is starting to shake more from heroin withdrawal.
“Sex.” His answer is instantaneous.
“Yeah, that’s not happening, big boy,” Kara calls out. “I’m a talking garbage can and even I know that’s just not in the cards for you.”
“Could be,” replies Chester, childishly.
“No, it can’t be, Chester,” Diana says softly, trying to appeal to his softer nature.
“Look,” Mac pipes in, “Why don’t you ladies agree to share a drink with us and then we’ll help you out.”
“I really don’t drink,” Wonder Woman says. “It’s not something I enjoy.”
“Oh, come on, Diana,” Kara says testily. “Loosen up this once, please. I ache all over and I just want to get out of here and back to Tony’s. Agree to drink with these men and let’s be done with it!”
“Okay, Kara. You’re right, of course. Yes, we’ll agree to drink with you if you promise to untie us.”
“Deal!” Calls out Mac.
“I don’t know...” Chester hesitates, looking down at the incredible body posed before him, tantalizing him, making him hard for the first time in weeks. He’s only 44 years old but he feels like 60 with the life he’s led the past six years.
“Would you serve me that drink now, Chester,” Diana says, batting her eyes, trying to seal the deal.
“Fine! Open your mouth.”
“What?” Diana scowls darkly at this.
“You see any cups around here you’d like to drink out of, lady?”
Diana looks around the garbage strewn alley, comes to the same gloomy conclusion and shakes her head. “No.”
“So. Open up.”
“You, too, Supergirl,” Mac talks down at the can.
Both men look at each other and there’s a slight nod between them as the ladies open their mouths wide like baby birds. Both men hold the women’s faces in the palms of one hand as they tip the bottles and pour out the scotch into the waiting throats. Both men pour generous 4-shot portions down the heroine’s gullets, holding their faces in place as the women’s eyes widen and they swallow as much as they can before sputtering and spitting out spumes of the misty final remnants of the dousing measures of alcohol poured down their throats. The majority of the dosage of heady liquor has been ingested by each heroine, with mere drippings being choked on as each gags and coughs in dizzy reflex. The two bums take generous swigs themselves and smile at each other. So clever they are.
“Kaaaccgkkk! Huugghhh! Wrellggkk! Oohhhh. That wasn’t a drink,” Supergirl gasps out with a thin reedy voice from the scorching scotch, “that was a damn waterfall, you sneaky bastard.”
Diana’s face is wide-eyed and red as she chokes and gasps noisily against the dumpster. Her throat is on fire, unused to alcohol in the first place and then being inundated with a near-drowning amount of the vile liquid. When she finally gets her wind back, she merely glares up at Chester with a show of malice that has the big man taking a step back, realizing he may have overplayed his hand here. But it was early. He’d see what happened after the girls bodies started reacting to all that scotch.
“Okay,” rasps Kara. “We’ve had your damn drink, now untie us both.”
“Ah, ah, ah. Not so fast,” replies Mac. “A drink means socializing together. Let’s talk a bit. Get to know each other.”
“Why would I want to get to know you? You don’t seem like a very nice person. Especially for one I’ve saved from a fiery death.
“Well, you may not be cashing me on my best day. Or best year,” slurs Mac.
“You don’t seem like you get many best days, if I may be blunt, Mac.”
“Aktually, this is (hic) one of my best days, now that I think ‘bout it.”
“You come here often?” Chester asks Wonder Woman, the only pickup line he can remember right now.
“By Zuess’ chariot, are you insane?” Wonder Woman blurts out.
And with a mix of meaningless babble by the bums and fuming scorn from the heroines, several minutes pass with rejoinders and conversational banter that would sound perfectly normal in any Marx brothers movie.
After about six minutes, Diana’s eyes begin to lose their luster, her speech begins to slur and her facial muscles slacken noticeably.
“...zo, haf we sozialized ‘nuff with yoo now...” She asks Chester who has sat down beside her in the meantime, staying clear of the thick brown puddle in which Wonder Woman still sits. “Can you untie uz... fina...ly?”
“Sure,” Chester nods grandly. “I’ll get that ankle undone fur you fhirst...”
“...I...thank...you...” a drunken Wonder Woman nods heavily back at him.
“Guess you want out of there now, too, huh, Shupergirl?”
“Yezz, please,” answers the inebriated teen, her head resting against the inner bend of the trash can, her expression stupefied.
“How ‘bout another eensie teensie drinkie poo first?”
“..no..t’anks...yoo...i’m...good...”
“Jest a little one, for the..roe...road...” Mac burps.
“...whatthehell...shure...whynot...” The Maid of Steel says, all judgement shot to hell.
She opens wide but with surprising graciousness, Mac tips the bottle very studiously and only pours in a shot and a half’s worth of scotch which Supergirl swallows without any trouble at all. Still, that totals five and half shots of straight scotch in under ten minutes. It’s more than enough to compromise Supergirl’s reasoning abilities for a couple of hours. Those are the very abilities she’ll later sincerely wish she could have been able to summon at the time. Diana’s complete unfamiliarity with liquor virtually guarantees the four shots worth of scotch she’s ingested will impair her logical assessments just as much as Kara’s.
===============================================================================
Just before he goes to untie Wonder Woman’s ankle, Chester leans against the famous Princess of Themyscira, one hand lingering on her shoulder, the other on her hip. He inhales her intoxicating scent, which, thanks to all the sweat she’s exuded through her evening’s constant fights, he’s still able to capture, even through the smell of spaghetti sauce, motor oil and rancid gravy. A plastered Wonder Woman just sits there in a dizzy funk with one leg pointed out and the other tucked back underneath her. Chester’s hand quickly slides off her hip and down into the valley of her inner thighs until his palm presses against the wide brown-stained crotch and he gives it a firm, quick squeeze.
“...hey...cut dat out...” Diana says, coming to her senses at this gross familiarity.
“Sorry, I ...uh...slipped. Let me get that ankle untied.” Chester smirks as he turns and starts to work at the plastic bag strips under the dumpster’s lower corner. After a few minutes of drunken fumbling at the knotted plastic that binds Wonder Woman’s ankle to the wheel of the dumpster, Chester is finally able to free her leg. The grimacing beauty pulls her leg forward and the cramp tightens mercilessly in the new position.
“Aaaghhh,” she winces at the hot spearing muscle in her thigh. Chester immediately turns back around and begins to rub Wonder Woman’s thigh with his two powerful hands, kneading the muscle and working on it with a combination of smooth firms strokes and pinching palms to ease the pain. It works magic in less than 20 seconds and a sighing Wonder Woman settles back against the dumpster and sighs with relief.
“Shank you, Chesder. That helped a lot.”
“My pleasure, Wonder Woman.” He means it sincerely.
“Can you do my hands now, please.”
“Massage your handz?”
“No, silly. Untie them.”
“Right. Uh...shure. Shure!”
“Let’s see how I can getchu outta thish can, blondie,” Mac says, getting into the spirit of helping.
“Prob’lee haf to tip me over. Gotta cut or untie the plashtic around the handle firsht.”
“Yeah,” nods Mac. “Yhur right. Got a knife or sumthin’”
“Nope,” the drunk Supergirl answers immediately.
“Lotta plashtic here,” Mac says, surveying his task.
“Yup.”
“Maybe I can rip it, uh, shtrip by shtrip.”
“Could try that,” Kara mumbles.
He does. It takes a few minutes for him to succeed but he finally does free the handle of all the plastic.
“Tipping you now.”
“..’kay...” Kara nods. Mac tips the can forward and then, with her heels now touching the street and the awkwardly positioned heroine facing down with her hands sticking straight out, the blonde beauty moans at this painful new orientation. Mac tries pulling on her hands alone but that doesn’t work, even with Kara trying to edge her legs forward out of the can.
“Damn. Pull harder, ish not whurking,” whines Supergirl.
“Gonna half to pull yhur legs and arms at the same time,” says Mac. “Hold on.”
Sitting down in front of the can with his legs bent and his feet placed against the lip of the can’s top edge, Mac takes hold of Supergirl’s hands and legs by holding them bunched together in a group against his chest and pushing out with his legs. Slowly, inch by inch, the doubled up Maid of Steel’s body is pulled out of the constraining cylinder with much grunting and straining from both parties. With a final push, the blonde teenager is freed at last from the garbage can and her body unwinds in the street like a dying python. She uncurls her hips, stretches out her legs, reaches over her head with both arms and stretches wide and then collapses to limp inertia in a sigh of absolute relief. Her lower lip flutters in a ridiculous drunken sputtering of a very unladylike quality.
“Ohhh, Rao, that feels sooooo good! Finally!”
Licking his fingers, sticky with lemon glaze, Mac smiles.
“Tastes pretty good, too.” He’s too drunk to taste the sour underpinning of a pie gone slightly bad.
Across the way, Wonder Woman has finally had her hands untied from the dumpster by Chester and she now just sits in place, her head nodding slightly in a drunken swoon, her arms limp at her side, her exhaustion from the evening’s activities catching up with her. Beside her, Chester puts his arm around Wonder Woman’s shoulder, then his hand slides down surreptitiously and palms Wonder Woman’s breast, capturing a thick dollop of spaghetti sauce as he does so.
“...not...nice...” Wonder Woman murmurs.
“Sorry, my hand slipped,” Chester answers. It worked before without getting slapped. It works again.
After two minutes of just resting in place, the two heroines stir almost at the same time with a flash of lightning in the distance and a much closer roll of thunder. The storm that had been threatening all night after one early sudden shower at the beginning of Tuesday evening, now seems intent on carrying out its promise in the next quarter hour or less, judging by the nearness of the thunderclap after the lightning display.
Both heroines seem to have the same sensation simultaneously. Both rise to their feet as one, standing across from each other looking into each other’s face.
“Oh, Rao!”
“Great Hera!”
“What the hell did those whores put in my panties?” They say together.
Both heroines pull open the waistbands of their bikini briefs and stare in horror at the sight there. Supergirl is staring at a thick reddish brown mass of smashed, moldy baked beans. Wonder Woman sees a pasty yellowish puddle of thick chicken gravy.
“Ohhh, gross!” Supergirl cries.
“Disgusting!” Wonder Woman growls.
Without a thought about the propriety of their behavior, both heroines reach down into their skivvies and scoop out heaping handfuls of the vile contents of their underwear and shake them into the street with faces twisted in horrified disgust. Wonder Woman has no easy time of it, her yellowish paste being far more of a liquid than Supergirl’s beans. But Kara’s forced to scrape and finger herself to get individual bean pods out of the deepest recesses of her ass and pussy. Wonder Woman is able to cull all the paste out with a stiff forefinger but even she is forced to finger her anus and vagina to scrape them clear of the thick yellow gravy. Neither woman stops into they’re both scraping the silken insides of the fronts of their costume pants with the edges of their palms until they’re as clean as possible. Standing beside them, the two bums are shaking their heads and grinning like idiots.
And then the first pattering of raindrops hit. Followed by countless others in a staccato beat that turns into a booming drum solo of thunder and wind as the heavens open up overhead in a downpour of almost religious intensity.
The drunken heroines not only don’t care about the rain, they’re absolutely delighted by it. They dance in circles and howl into the wind like pagan worshippers. Looking at each other, then at the bums, the two besotted beauties shrug at the same time with the same thought and, crossing their hands over their heads, proceed to strip off their tops. To the complete rapture of the two wide-eyed bums, breasts are bouncing everywhere all at once as Supergirl and Wonder Woman cavort in the rain. They rub each other down, skimming off all the gross thick spaghetti sauce, lemon meringue pie, baked beans and chicken gravy they’ve been marinating in for the past hour. Helping hands grope breasts and asses and twats and cracks until all the colors of the foods collect in puddles in the alleyways broken potholes and depressions.
Even the bums join in, shirking off jackets and shirts, pants and socks until the foursome is completely bare-ass naked, standing in place with their faces upturned into the heavenly shower. After a moment, spotting a drainpipe that has a torrent of water splashing out, the girls rush over to it and rinse out their garments underneath the cascade: panties, tops, Supergirl’s cape, both sets of boots, even Wonder woman’s remaining tin bracelet, phony power belt and cheap plastic tiara are rinsed. The men do the same with all their clothes. The first good rinsing they’ve had in months. If there were soap, the bums would be good to go for another month before they’d need a bath again by their reckoning.
The howling wind begins to abate after ten minutes and the now quick-moving storm rushes off to the east to soak Queens and ultimately, Long Island before heading out into the Atlantic. Behind it, the alley glistens with fresh tiny lakes in the moonlight. The nakedness of all is suddenly fully realized in the aftermath and the two heroines hurry to dress themselves in their costumes, however the drenched material leaves little to the imagination. Nipples are clearly evident, camel toes equally pronounced, buttocks enhanced by clinging fabric that accents every nook and cranny. Everything makes the feminine form the enrapturing presence that fills the art of the great masters is highlighted by the clinging material plastered to the two voluptuous women wavering drunkenly in the alley before the aroused bums. The men quickly turn and dress to hide their obvious sexual interest in the two now smirking beauties.
“I think we should toast to cleanliness,” Mac says, picking his bottle up and unscrewing it. He gulps a double shot, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and hands the bottle to Supergirl. If she had any judgment left after the cleansing rain, it was thin and watery and it ran off her frontal lobe like an oil slick down a waterfall. A flash of color one isn’t even sure was there.
“To cleanliness,” she says, and tips her head back and the bottle as well, taking a solid gulp of the cheap fiery elixir of the damned.
“To cleanliness,” repeats Chester, drinking up and handing the hefty bottle to Wonder Woman.
“To cleanliness,” she parrots, controlled by mob behavior and bad processing of her alcohol-soaked reasoning center. Already tipsy, she pushes her center of gravity hard with a two-shot gulp of the raw-tasting scotch.
Walking over to the steel garbage can, Mac turns it over so he can sit down on it. But before he does, he overturns three others and places them in a circle and invites his companions to join him, which they all do.
“So whaz all thish about being attacked by whores? What happened to your shuper powers, ladies?” Showing genuine interest if not a firm grasp of diction, Mac engages the exhausted females in another conversation in order to get the booze to do its work. With the full shock of the evening’s events taking its toll on both Supergirl and Wonder Woman, they wearily recount all the horrors of the evening’s debacle to Mac and Chester. And by the time the story’s completed, with each girl elaborating on the other’s impressions of the events, both woman are once again deeply drunk from the vast amount of liquor consumed in such a short time.
Displaying a sickening whitewash of sympathy, both men offer gossamer thin platitudes over their hidden motives that, in their right minds, both heroines would have seen through instantly. Being drunk, they both missed the obvious signals and were drawn easily across the sticky web of male deceit into a trap of dangerous sexual compromise.
Even now, Mac is rubbing Supergirl’s bicep with smooth repetitive motions that relax her as he commiserates with her about the horrible treatment from the nasty whores. In truth, Mac had once fucked Trixie if he wasn’t mistaken about Supergirl’s description of her. Chester is thinking, as he strokes the back of Wonder Woman’s hair with calming caresses, that he might have had Glenda once when he was flush from a panhandling session after a Knicks win around Madison Square Garden and had come back to the South Bronx loaded for bear and coming across the willowy, willing redhead. He had the cash. She had the time. Business as usual.
“That all sounds jush horrible,” Mac says after the heroines bring the evening’s story up to the present. “I can’t believe they got away with it. You girls deserve so much better than that.”
Mac stands up and circles around to Supergirl’s back. Putting his hands on her shoulders he leans over and kisses her neck. With some sort of sixth sense, Mac hits just the spot that makes the blonde teen quiver and softly moan with pleasure. He repeatedly kisses there and then licks and Supergirl sighs and leans back into him, luxuriating in the softness of someone who cares for a change instead of someone out to hurt her or take something from her or control her. She’d had so much of that over the past months. With the liquor subduing her body’s need for crack while impairing all her faculties, the mighty Maid of Steel is an easy patsy for Mac’s attentive behavior. Next to her, Wonder Woman, wavering on the unended steel trash can, is too drunk and much too exhausted by the evening’s heavy toll on her to complain or resist against Chester’s own sexual advances. He is rubbing her neck with his strong hands, and her heading is nodding dully in the rhythm of his massage, breathing deeply.
Both men take the next move, again without resistance from either woman, as the hands move over the shoulders and down the front of the two heroine’s costumes until the palms wrap around the front of their breasts and fondle them openly. Mac squeezes softly on the breasts behind the famous red and yellow “S” insignia, molding them and rubbing them within his palms to his utter delight and to Supergirl’s drunken, sighing satisfaction. Chester’s hands slide beneath the golden eagle, form firm cupping vessels for the large naked fullness of Wonder Woman’s generous endowments. He squeezes them firmly and the Amazon’s eyes droop lower with an expression of confused pleasure that includes a heavy sigh of her own.
Sitting in their drunken daze on the garbage cans in the alley in the South Bronx, neither super hero puts up a shred of resistance as they are blatantly fondled, caressed and mauled for a good three minutes until their breathing gets much more rapid and their sexual energies begin to spark. Both women turn around to look up at their respective bums and with the illogical clarity of the drunken mind, are able to see past the scraggly beards and unkempt clothes to the sincere gentlemen within. The man needing rescue that is their stock in trade.
With the rain having washed away much of their filth, even the bodies of the two men do not raise any scented alarm within the besotted beauties. And when both men whisper lewd suggestions into the ears of the mighty champions of justice, they both nod slowly and get to their knees before the bums. Flies are unzipped. The outline of nice-sized stiff penises bulging against damp underwear are assessed and approved. The eager cocks are pulled out of their soggy confines by the willing hands of the two paragons of virtue. Famous mouths are filled with the salty taste of what men are, even as lips and tongues go to work with feverish enthusiasm that hard liquor in quantity can engender. The two men look at each other with huge smiles on their faces, great beaming grins of having hit the lottery at last. That their ship has come in.
On the street, on their knees, Supergirl and Wonder Woman give away their virtue and dignity without a thought, eagerly sucking on the hard shafts of two street bums in unison, their heads bobbing, their hands stroking, their lips compressing, as they work the penises like the professionals they’ve become under Tony Bonano’s direction.
Were Desiree and her band to return to this alley, they’d see their competition, would appreciate the consummate skill involved and would kill the two heroines in a second for practicing their trade on their turf regardless of the fact that the bums had paid nothing for the blowjobs except the minimal cost of the booze.
At the same time, Mac and Chester put their palms on the top of the girls’ heads and tell them to stop. Beg them to stop. They’re both more than ready for the final act of this seedy play. The question is, are the two girls? Are they drunk enough, psychologically battered enough and horny enough to engage in all the hot groping sex acts that are spinning through the heads of the eagerly fantasizing bums?
Or are they not?
Part 67E
It’s five minutes before 3:00 am on a cloudy Wednesday morning. Wonder Woman isn’t aware of the time however. She’s not aware of much, in fact. She feels absolutely drained and helpless. Trembling from pain and exhaustion, the Amazon warrior is a beaten, shattered shell of her former self. Her sphincter burns savagely from the vicious ass-reaming by Trixie’s brutal manipulation of the wooden croquet mallet. What’s more, her vagina is still sore and swollen from that same roughly-used tool. She’s also been soundly clubbed with that very mallet, knocked senseless by a garbage can lid, been kicked and beaten, and suffered countless minor injuries that have ultimately drained her of all her strength, her energy and magnificent spirit.
Holding up Diana’s upper torso by her hair, Sharla triumphantly shakes the thick clump of black tresses in her fist back and forth. Unknowingly, she has helped to destroy the famous Champion of All Women in a night of catastrophic defeat that Wonder Woman will never forget. Groaning loudly, Diana’s body jerks and sways in place. Her limp arms dangle and twitch from side to side, the backs of her hands scraping against the broken tarmac below her. Her upturned face is slack, her eyes unfocused. Her bare pelvis presses flush against the street and her blue costume briefs are pulled down around her thighs. Her ankles are held loosely spread apart, the shiny red boot toes pointing in opposite directions by Chloe as she eyes the naked wide glutes of her captive appreciatively.
I’ll say this for the sister; bitch has one well-toned ass! I’ll bet she takes as much in that hole as her pussy!
Next to her, Trixie lightly grips the croquet mallet to keep it from falling out of Wonder Woman’s asshole. Four inches of the handle remain lodged inside the sagging beauty, a not-so-subtle reminder of her complete subjugation.
“Zharla, I dink you zhould go firzd. Zhe hurd you preddy bad.”
“Thanks, Dez. I appreciate that!” She was looking forward to having this stubborn cunt eat out her pussy and give her a great booming orgasm.
Sharla wastes no time. She lets go of Wonder Woman’s hair and the dazed princess drops to the pavement with a thud.
“....ohhhhhh....” Diana’s muffled moans drift out from twisted lips pressed against the cool tarmac.
Sharla quickly hikes up her blue leather miniskirt and pulls down her blue sheer stockings and then her underpants to her knees. Her soft thatch of black pubic hair gleams in the moonlight. With her crotch now exposed, Sharla reaches down, grabs a handful of the lush mane of this haughty bitch and yanks up on it until the white girl’s pretty face is buried in her pussy.
“Lick me, cunt. Lick my clit like an ice cream cone ‘til I spray your cheeks, Miss High and Whitey! You’re my bitch now, like I promised. Do it or Trixie will jam that pole so far up your butt, I’ll see it come out your mouth.”
The agonizing jolt of the rod in her ass forces a dazed and depleted Diana to understand that she has no options here whatsoever. She begrudgingly extends her tongue inside Sharla’s pussy and tastes the sharp tang of absolute defeat. The pain of being held by her hair forces a woozy Diana to situate herself so she’s on her knees between the short whore’s spread legs with her palms bracing herself against the woman’s muscular thighs. She licks and licks and licks away at the pungent crevice as commanded, swathing her tongue through all its furrows and around its exposed pink bud. Sharla’s beaming smile overhead is a triumphant leer and her gyrating hips and grinding pelvis almost smother the Amazon’s nose and mouth in thick, musky feminine folds. After an endless six minutes that feels like forty to Wonder Woman, the moaning, panting Sharla grabs Diana’s head and forces it harder between her thighs, freezing her helplessly in place. Sharla’s body goes rock still and then Wonder Woman’s face is doused with a rushing bath of Sharla’s joy juice. The oily cum pulses steadily against her, washing her in a skanky glaze of the whore’s ultimate satisfaction. Held between Sharla’s thighs, Diana is forced to endure the strongly-scented cum-stream being smeared across her cheeks, her nose, her lips. The bitter brew even drips down her throat from not being able to fully close her mouth in the smothering pussy she’s been forced to please. Wonder Woman can’t think of another time that she’s felt so abused and degraded.
Sharla roughly pushes Diana away from her and the Amazon falls onto her side, her face slick with a slimy wetness she would never forget. The words that follow are just bitter frosting on a rancid cake.
“This cunt’s got talent. She’s obviously no rookie carpet muncher! Line up, girls. She gives a helluva ride!”
In turn, each of the remaining whores enjoy the pleasures of the Themysciran’s practiced tongue. Her cheeks are repeatedly doused with musky flushings of total feminine pleasure, her face ground between eager thighs, her tongue forced to delve deeply to satisfy the taller girls, to strain at those who are less sensitive, to nibble and suck again and again at the tender pink berries until they stiffen and give forth the rushing flow of total ecstacy that bathe the helpless Amazon with endless shame. Every halting moment would be met with a sharp jab of the mallet, all hesitations punished by hard words and searing pain. Diana’s willpower is ground to a fine powder and her sole reason for existence is but to satisfy each whore in her turn. She performs this as well as she can to speed the process and bring a final end to this hellish degradation.
Occasionally, there would come an unexpected yet exciting nipple twist or sudden heady stroking of Diana’s own clit by the whore holding the mallet in order to help intensify the receiving whore’s pleasure. This subversive finger play only served to intensify Wonder Woman’s guilt and humiliation by the helpless jolts of pleasure she’d feel at the hands of one of the well-practiced whores.
At the end of it, her eyes drifting aimlessly, her tongue slack over her lower lip, her half- face gleaming in the streetlight from the waxy shine of five women’s sexual fulfillment, Diana’s body lays cheek-down and motionless on the broken pavement of that dark alley. With her famous starred costume panties pulled down and bunched around her thighs, her arms at her sides, her naked breasts squashed against the dirty street and a wood pole still shoved up her butt hole, the famous Wonder Woman’s spirit is throughly crushed. A soft mournful sigh of absolute despair and shame exhales from the vanquished woman.
“Ogay, lez ged duh blonde bidch ober here ad finizh ub.”
An unconscious Supergirl is summarily dragged over by Glenda and tied to a drain pipe bracket with numerous black strips of stinking torn garbage bags. With her torso hanging limply from the steel bracket bolted to the wall, Supergirl’s knees are bent together, almost touching the street, her calves splayed apart. A lethargic Diana, severely cautioned to behave by Trixie, is heaved over to the big green dumpster ten feet away, as directed by Desiree. The wooden mallet is roughly yanked out of her rear and Trixie pulls up her blue briefs until they’re back in place, albeit somewhat haphazardly. A broken, submissive Diana is then told to sit down with her back against the dumpster, right in a puddle of some slimy brownish liquid. Dazed and pitiful, Wonder Woman readily complies, grimacing as she feels the cold, clammy solution slowly soak into her costume briefs, staining the bottoms a dark brown.
“Stay put, bitch, and don’t try nuthin’ funny.” Trixie barks as she carefully ties Diana’s arms over her head to a jutting rivet with a panhead top with yet more strips of torn fetid plastic bags.
Desiree whispers a few instructions into Sharla’s ear and the nasty look on the whore’s face as she eyes Diana makes the Amazon’s blood run cold.
“Okay,” nods Sharla. “Chloe, hold that blond cunt’s ankles together, very tightly so she can’t kick. Glenda, slap her hard and wake the bitch up so she can enjoy our little party game.”
WHACK!
Supergirl’s head recoils against the cement wall behind her and her eyes flutter open with dull awareness. But then, still out of it, her chin drops and the eyes begin to shut.
“Hit her again, Glen,” grins Sharla, enjoying herself.
WHACK!
“Oww! Ohhh! Stop!” Kara is jolted into true awareness now, her cheek bristling with the heat of Glenda’s hard, ringing slap. She rears up to her full height, her bound arms uncomfortably pressing against her upper back in her new position.
“You with us now, blondie?”
“Yes, I ....oh Rao! Diana, are you alright?” Kara is shocked to see her compatriot looking so wretchedly docile, so terribly withdrawn.
“...guess zo..” mumbles Wonder Woman with total apathy now.
“What have you done to her?!”
“Taught her where her place is in the food chain, blondie,” Sharla crows. “Just below a slug. Ain’t that right, blackie?”
With no answer forthcoming from Wonder Woman, Sharla nods at Trixie who bends over the mute woman, pushes the gold fabric eagle on the bustier lower off her massive, exposed breasts and pinches the angry red welt from the clawing she received earlier.
“Aaaahh! Yes! Below a slug...” Diana winces as she gasps out her reply.
Kara’s mouth drops open in shock. She didn’t know what else they’d done to Diana while she was out cold but her friend was obviously a beaten woman. Kara’s never seen her like this in her life. She doesn’t think anyone has. Except maybe Sergei.
“You street trash are going to pay for...” The knife blade that suddenly presses at Kara’s throat in Sharla’s steady hand stops her in mid-sentence.
“Shut your pie hole, blondie, before I give you a new opening to eat out of,” Sharla snarls.
Desiree walks over toward Diana kneels down beside her and looks directly at her prey’s face. Diana keeps her head bowed, unable or unwilling to look her foe in the eye. Desiree smiles broadly at her heady dominance of her once proud foe. Then she opens a small paper bag she’d found in the dumpster and left near it’s wheels earlier. She tosses up four dingy white golf balls at Trixie, one after the other. Scuffed and dented, the used practice balls were tossed out by the sportswear store just around the corner. Trixie pulls the neck of her blue mesh blouse open and tucks two of the balls in her cleavage for safe-keeping, the other two she rolls around in her hand.
“Open your legs, bitch,” Chloe calls out to Wonder Woman as she continues her firm grip on Supergirl’s ankles.
Diana looks up, her eyes dry, the irises dull. She finally looks toward Desiree kneeling beside her.
“...why...? ...you’ve won...” Diana asks quietly.
“Juz cauze I wond do!” Desiree snaps, staring defiantly back at Diana. She then stands up and turns to walk toward Supergirl. Suddenly she spins, snatches a clump of Wonder Woman’s hair and bangs her head against the steel dumpster.
CLAAAANNGGKK!
“UUUGGNNHH!” Wonder Woman bites her tongue in the surprise move and a thin line of blood drips out over her lower lip as her head falls forward to her chest.
“YOU DON’T GED TO QWEZDION BE, BIDGE! Now obed yhur legz or yhur fred dere diez!”
Slowly, a stunned Wonder Woman spreads her legs apart, her boot heels loudly dragging sideways in the now silent alleyway.
“Any funny stuff and I take blondie’s head off,” Sharla calls out.
Diana looks up from under her eyebrows at Kara, her half-raised lids quivering. The two heroines share an anguished moment: Kara’s eyes are swimming with guilt, Diana’s seem oddly flinty with a mix of hopelessness and anger. Kara can’t be sure it’s not directed at her. She’s been so unheroic this evening.
Trixie kneels down, puts her finger in the brown puddle, a good measure of which has now soaked into the blue panties high up to an ugly brown stain that clearly shows in Wonder Woman’s crotch as she holds her legs wide apart. Trixie sniffs her finger and makes a declaration. “Dirty motor oil. That’s no way to dispose of it! Very illegal. But a great lubricant. It’s your lucky day, slut.” Pulling aside the crotch of Wonder Woman’s briefs with one hand, Trixie rolls the golf ball in the puddle with her other, then pushes the thickly-coated nearly two-inch diameter white globe past the slick lips of the bound woman’s pussy. Pushing it deeply inside her with steely fingers, Trixie grins as she humiliates the grunting Amazon.
“UUUHHH.” Diana feels the width of the dimpled sphere pressed far up her vagina. She’s actually thankful for the oil since her loins are still throbbing from the abuse by the wooden mallet.
“That wasn’t so bad was it?” Trixie’s eyes dance with delight. “Let’s do another.”
“Don’t!” Kara objects loudly. “There’s no cause for...GHHUUUNFFF!”
Sharla had pulled her knife back a foot just as Glenda drove a pile driving fist into Supergirl’s gut. The blonde heroine jerks forward, stretching the black plastic holding her to the wall bracket. There’s enough of it binding her so it doesn’t break, even as the wheezing blonde teenager sags forward in gasping helplessness, all protest immediately silenced in her strained whooping for air.
“Nobody gives a fuck what you think, piss pants!” Glenda hisses into her grimacing face. “Keep your cock-gulping hole shut and your opinions to yourself and you may actually live through this night.”
The second golf ball gets shoved up Wonder Woman’s pussy with a steady thrust until it touches against the first, driving it slightly deeper into her cavity. The heroine’s eyes are downcast now, her breathing shallow and regular. She doesn’t make a sound.
“Number three going in,” chimes Trixie merrily as she retrieves the two spheres from her cleavage. One she puts on the ground, the other gets rolled in the dark brown puddle and quickly forced up Diana’s slippery hole. Firm, insistent fingers push hard and the third golf ball pushes against the other two now, driving them uncomfortably deep within her channel.
“Aaagghhh!”
“Getting a little crowded in there, huh, cunty?” Trixie announces this with glee. “Gotta be almost eight inches deep in you now, I’d say. But that’s not much deeper than the slightly better endowed men’s cocks you take up there so regularly. Right, sugar slut? I said RIGHT, SLUT?”
“...yes...yes, you’re right...” Diana replies, her breathing now coming in shorter pants.
“Right about what, street trash?” Trixie asks with suddenly cold vehemence.
“...right about....about taking...long cocks up there....regularly...”
“I thought as much,” snaps back Trixie, haughtily. “You look like the type who takes the biggest swinging dicks without blinking an eye. Probably like ‘em huge, right?”
“...yes...” mumbles Wonder Woman.
“The bigger the better is your motto I’m guessing. Probably should get your thighs tattooed. ‘Wide Loads Gratefully Accepted’ just to make it clear to your johns what to expect.”
Trixie reaches down and clasps her palm around Wonder Woman’s throat, squeezing down firmly. Diana’s eyes dart up in shock. “Think a tattoo like that is a good idea, trash?”
“...yes...” Diana croaks. “..Wide Loads...’Cepted. ..s’clever...”
“I thought you’d think so. Here’s lucky ball number four, bitch!” Holding aside the crotch of her panties for the final ball with one hand as she throttles Diana’s throat with her other, Trixie deftly maneuvers the oiled white sphere into the opening in Wonder Woman’s crotch and forces it deeply into the channel with a hard slap of her palm, pushing the three other golf balls so deeply inside her that the front one brushes against her cervix.
“GHAAAHHH!” The Amazon warrior, strains forward, eyes wide, yelping in pain at this brutal mistreatment.
Across the way, a teary Supergirl watches in horror as her friend and ally is roughly abused. And she is helpless to prevent it. Any move she’d try to make would be dangerous and stupid. She’s tightly bound by her wrists behind her back and Sharla’s knife at her throat is not two inches above the glowing kryptonite collar that makes her feel so puny, so weak, so pathetic. She’d never forgive Tony for this, and probably not herself either.
Diana’s chin nods against her upper chest. Her panting is loud. Her body is trembling as she deals with the sting of the four golf balls slammed deep into her vagina. Using her inner muscles, she squeezes down to force them lower within her cavity, away from where they crush against her cervix. This she is able to do and the pain eases somewhat. She looks up dully to see Desiree coming at her, sauntering slowly with something behind her back that Diana can’t see.
“Ged yhur zegund widd, ghirly?”
“Whuz behind your back?” Diana’s slurring speech indicates the amount of pain she’s absorbed tonight. But it’s not quite over yet.
“Juzd a liddle fidal goodbye gesdure.”
“DIANA! CLOSE YOUR LEGS! SHE’S GOT A....HHUUUUNNNFFFFF!”
Once again, Supergirl’s voice is stopped with Glenda’s devastating punch to her stomach. She rocks forward in a silent scream with no air whatsoever to give it voice. Diana starts to bring her legs together but she’s too befuddled and tired to do it quickly enough. Desiree does a quick quarter turn and, using a plastic wiffleball bat like a golf club, swings hard and low at the blue crotch with the dark, oily brown stain. She connects hard with the fat of the bat, driving the balls that Diana had pushed to the opening of her pussy back up the channel with a sickening sound that reverberates around the alley..
KKHHADDOCCCKKKK!
“AAAIIIEEEYAAGGGHHHH!” Diana screams in the night and her body folds forward as much as the plastic bonds around her wrists allow. Her eyes bulge wide, her mouth opens and she spews a thin jet of greenish vomit all over naked breast. Then she collapses limply in place with retching wheezing that matches Supergirl’s high-pitched wheezes across the alley. Desiree is very pleased at the stereo effect. Then she nods at Trixie to hold up the costumed heroine’s head and the obliging whore does so. Diana’s face is ashen, her mouth gaping, her eyes bulging in their sockets in horrific pain. Desiree simply tees up and swings for the fences.
SMAAAACK! Wonder Woman’s left cheek compresses from the force of the bat as her head snaps sideways. Droplets of blood spray from her mouth and nose. Then the neck loses all rigidity and Diana’s face and body slump low to the right.
“Agaid,” is all the whore leader says and Trixie takes hold of Wonder Woman’s hair and twists her body so it faces forward, along with her battered visage. There’s very little intelligence left in Wonder Woman’s eyes. Only animal fear. Trixie holds her face steady and the stunned and disabled heroine can do nothing as the hard plastic bat slams into the other side of her face.
WHAAACK! Letting go the instant Desiree connects, Trixie backs off to avoid the second shower of blood that arcs out from the nose and mouth. Once again, the body collapses into itself and now Desiree is the one to bend down and grab Diana’s hair, yanking her body up and her face forward.
Lolling on a rubber neck, Wonder Woman’s head has to be held upright by the stern-faced whore leader. There’s a shred of consciousness left but precious little capacity for much thought. Still, Desiree’s final instructions are pretty basic.
“Don’d eber cub back here, cund! EBER!”
Dropping the bat and taking the brass knuckles out of the pocket of her rabbit fur jacket, Desiree cooly slips them on her right hand and clocks Diana a hard shot to the temple she hadn’t hit before. Her face snaps to the side and Wonder Woman sags in place, completely oblivious to the world.
Walking over to a weeping Supergirl, Desiree looks her over with scorn. “You. You’re jusd piddiful!” She unloads a roundhouse hook to Supergirl’s jaw and the girl who could once lift battleships collapses into blackness, slumping heavily against the concrete wall.
Fifteen minutes later, the whores finally depart the alley laughing and joking with each other after manhandling and abusing the two inert figures in ways that will cause them maximum discomfort and a world of embarrassment when they finally crawl their way back to a state of consciousness.
Desiree knows there will be hell to pay from Dooley her pimp. Checking her watch, she is shocked to see it’s quarter to four in the morning. She’s lost about five hours of time she could have been making money on her back or her knees. She’s pretty sure Dooley will be smacking her around later. But he’s done that before and she’s come through it fine. All the girls have been bitch-slapped by their pimps: Glenda and Trixie by Dooley as well; Chloe by her pimp, Ramone; and Sharla by some animal from 125th Street named Boxer who was known to use his fist on his girls. Even the hard-edged Sharla feared Boxer. He’d put her in the hospital once. Desiree hoped that wouldn’t happen again. Still, it had been one of the most interesting evenings of her life and she wouldn’t have traded it for anything. She and her girls had held their turf. Dooley should be pleased about that. Maybe he wouldn’t beat on her so bad if she explained she’d been doing his job for him. She’d have to play it just right. Maybe if she gave him a handjob while explaining herself. That might work.
=====================================================================
Supergirl is the first of the two heroines to come to her senses. The pain cuts through to stir her from a black hole of oblivion into a gray cloud of dull awareness. There’s the strong smell of sour lemons, and then she slowly begins to emerge from her nothingness, conscious primarily of the catalog of hurts she is experiencing. So many places: her swollen jaw, her burning vagina, her sore shoulder, her tender forehead, her cramped thighs, even her grating coccyx bone. Why would that be? And beneath it all, Kara suddenly realizes how desperately she needs her crack. It’s been far too many hours. She’s sick for it!
Opening her eyes, Kara discovers she’s can’t see much but the familiar rank smell overriding the scent of musty lemons tells her that she’s still stuck in this nightmarish alley. A strong breeze carrying the promise of rain suddenly blows. It cools her slick-feeling face and hands and brushes through her boots while leaving the rest of her untouched. It’s right then that she realizes she’s been stuffed ass-deep into a round steel garbage can. Just the top of her head, hands and boots protrude from the container. Her tail bone rests against the hard surface of the bottom of the can. She squirms and struggles and there is a squishing sensation and the smell of baked beans for some reason, but she cannot tip the can over. She can only rock the can slightly. Unbeknownst to her, the whores have used plastic bag strips to secure one of the garbage can’s handles to a steel drain pipe running up the wall. Frustrated and sore, Supergirl calls out, “Diana. Are you there? Diana?” Talking makes the lemon scent fill her nose and there’s the sudden sour taste of them on her tongue when she licks her lips.
“...uhhnn...whuuhh....huh...”
“Di. Wake up. Come help me get out of this.”
“...i...uh...whut...whutz that..?...”
“Diana. Help me. I’m stuck!”
“...i...I can’t...Kara...I’m tied up. Ohhh...Hera, I hurt all over....and...and...I’m filthy!”
“Damn those whores!” Supergirl yells. “If I ever cross their path with my powers intact...”
“Can you tip that can over?” Diana calls across the ten feet between her dumpster and Kara’s can.
“No, it only rocks a little bit,” whines Kara. “There’s no way to create enough momentum.”
“Oh,” says Diana sadly.
“How about you?”
“They’ve tied my hands so tightly with all this plastic and one of my legs is tucked under me with that ankle bound to the wheel of this container.
“Oh,” Kara replies with despair. After a moment, she asks, “What do you mean you’re filthy?”
“I mean they’ve completely covered my uniform with somebody’s dinner! My top is smeared with what smells like spaghetti sauce. It’s all over my tits – inside and out! My bottoms are slippery from all the motor oil and I don’t know what. Feels like some kind of slimy paste inside my briefs. Oh, it’s so revolting!”
“Tell me about it. I think they smashed my face and chest with a moldy lemon meringue pie. They’ve spread it all through my hair, and around my breasts and all over my top. And it smells like, what, baked beans in my underpants! And there’s something sticking up my pussy, too, now! God, those bitches!”
“If I could get these golf balls out of my vagina, I wouldn’t mind that in the least either. Oh, Kara, what are we going to do?”
“Yell for help, I guess.”
“Oh, Hera, no. I would rather die. The shame of all this!”
“Well, I don’t feel like dying today, Diana. Do you have a better idea?”
“You sure you can’t tip over that can. Try again, please!”
“I have been. I can’t turn my head. Can you see from there. They must have tied it down somehow.”
“I can’t see anything but there’s a pipe running up the wall directly behind the can. They must have tied the can to that.”
“BITCHES! HAIRY MOTHERFUCKING CUNTS!”
“Kara! Your language!”
“Excuse me, Princess. But I’m not feeling very ladylike at the moment!”
“But still...”
The sound of two men singing in the distance freezes both ladies blood. Wonder Woman with dread at being discovered like this but with a tinge of hope that the ordeal will come to an end. Supergirl is frozen in surprise. It feels like dawn is a couple of hours away. Why would anyone be out at this hour. Still, with the pain in her tailbone and the crack making its heavy demands, the Maid of Steel calls out loudly, “Over here! Come over here! We need help! HELP!”
Kara’s shouting ultimately overrides Wonder Woman’s shame with her own need to be freed. Her body is starting to tremble slightly with its own need for her heroin. She joins Kara in the call for aid.
“HELP! Help us, please! We’re in the alley,” Diana howls. “Come find us!”
The ladies hear the singing stop and murmurs traded. And the murmuring is getting closer. They’re going to be saved!
===============================================================================
Tony Bonano is deep into a dream where he’s facing Gino Lupenzo through a plate glass window of a restaurant in Little Italy. He’s holding a handgun and pulling the trigger but the bullets aren’t breaking through the glass. They’re just bouncing off the window and dropping to the street as, inside at the table with his crew, Gino twirls the spaghetti around his fork, points at Tony through the window with it and laughs before stuffing his face with pasta. A ringing cell phone in his dream shows a text coming in from the Supergirl Glassworks Company. It reads: “Test is complete. Bulletproof Kryptonian glass as ordered for Il Pesce Restaurant has been installed. Glad to be of service.” Tony looks up at the restaurant sign and reads Il Pesce. My damn luck he says. And then the phone rings a second time and he looks at the screen to see the call is coming from Carmine. Waking up now as the phone rings a third time, Tony awkwardly reaches for it on his bedside table, turns on the lamp and mumbles into it, “What do you want, Carmine?”
“How’d you know it was me?” Carmine asks, surprised.
“The cell phone told me.”
“What?”
“I...uh...was dreaming. Your call worked its way into my subconscious. What’s up?”
“Well, I’ve checked upstairs to see if the girls have come back yet and they haven’t. Then I called the night clerk at The Uptowner Hotel and he tells me neither of the girls has used the room all night. Not one tricks worth. I’m gonna go out and see if I can find ‘em. I don’t like this. Doesn’t feel right to me. It’s quarter to four in the morning, for crissake! I know you’re trying to punish them, Ton, but this smells fishy.”
“You’re right Carmine. You going to take anyone with you? How ‘bout Mario?”
“Yeah, I may roust him and drag him along. I’ll check in as soon as I spot ‘em.”
“Alright. Be careful. Take a piece with you.”
“Not me. But I’ll tell Mario to bring one. I don’t need the trouble.”
“You also don’t need to be dead, Carmine. You don’t know what could be going on. And with Gino gunning for us, I think you should take a bazooka. Failing that, bring a fucking gun, you stubborn wop.”
“Fine, Ton. You’re right. I ain’t thinking straight. Talk to you later.”
“Okay. I’ll be here. I’ll put up some coffee.”
“Great. See you soon.”
Putting the handset back in its charger unit, Tony lies back on his pillow and stares at the ceiling with a scowl. What the fuck’s gone wrong now?
==========================================================
Sean MacArthur, or simply Mac to his friends of whom he had precious few left, was very drunk and very happy. And he was about to put happy in his rear window on the way to ecstatic. But right now, walking shoulder-to-shoulder with his friend Chester, he was still overjoyed at the big score they’d made panhandling at Yankee Stadium earlier in the evening.
It was a surprise late-inning turnaround win in a playoff game for the Yankees against the Detroit Tigers. Outside the famous arena, the streaming horde of happy baseball fans had shown their largess at Mac’s meager harmonica work and Chester’s even less accomplished twanging on a Jews harp to the tune of “Camptown Races” with a take of $74.22. The crowd had even joined in on the ‘doo-dahs’ with a raucous furor, many of them drunk on outrageously-priced stadium beer.
This allowed the duo to buy three fifths of cheap scotch, a large McDonald’s happy meal for each of them and still have enough leftover for a good breakfast at a sit-down diner in the late morning when they woke up. That was if the diner would even allow them to sit down. Out of work for over five years now, the often penniless bums were filthy, scraggly, overly-fragrant examples of what happens when one falls through society’s so-called “safety net.” Mac’s once neatly-trimmed blonde beard had grown long and uneven, with bits of food lodged in its depths. Chester’s dark brown beard was equally unkempt.
Mac had once been an insurance adjuster who was good at his job. So good that he knew about the loopholes and kickbacks he could garner from repair shops and all-too-willing insurance claimants who would fund him with some of the differences that were worked out so the faceless insurance company would overpay and the fraudulent players would be all the better off. It worked well up to the day it didn’t and Mac had been fingered by the insurance company’s investigator. He’d been carted away by the cops and had done two years at an upstate New York prison.
Once released, he couldn’t get hired to save his life and so his life had spiraled down to a struggling existence on the street. His balding, beefy 6-foot friend Chester had been kicked out of his job as assistant manager at the body shop where Mac had arranged the fraudulent paperwork. Chester, charged as a co-conspirator, had done ten months at the same prison. And now they were each other’s closet friend. Other street people would mix with them but no one on the street got very close to one another despite their shared troubles.
The two gentlemen of the street had broken the seal on the first of the three bottles as soon as they sat down on the curb in front of the liquor store. They had passed it back and forth several times, taking long swigs each. Finally they stood up and began an aimless wandering throughout the South Bronx over the course of several hours. That empty first bottle had been heaved over a tall wire fence by Chester into an empty parking lot with a satisfying explosion of glass against concrete. You took life’s small pleasures where you could find them in this duo’s hard-earned philosophy.
Each man now carries his own bottle in one hand as they prop each other up with arms thrown over each other’s shoulder while making their unsteady way down the street. Singing Gilbert O’Sullivan’s single hit, “Alone Again, Naturally,” off-key and with badly-mangled lyrics, the two bums are at the end of an alley when Chester hears a shout.
“Wait. What zat?” Chester stops suddenly in place, nearly throwing the lighter, unstable Mac to the ground. A gripping hand by Chester on the lapel of Mac’s heavily-stained brown tweed sport jacket prevents this.
“Whuz what?” Mac asks, straightening himself and brushing off Chester’s hand to show he’s in control of his faculties and doesn’t need any help.
“Heard sumpthin’ I thought.”
“HELP! Help us, please! We’re in the alley.”
“They’re in the alley,” Chester says.
“Hooz in the alley?” Mac slurs.
“Don’t know,” shrugs Chester
“Wanna go in?” Mac suggests
“Guess so.” Chester shrugs.
The two bums head down the long dark 10-foot-wide passage.
“Iz dark.” Mac says, leading the way
“Dark,” agrees the tipsy Chester.
Mac makes unsteady progress along the wall, feeling his way with his hand on the concrete surface. The moon has ducked behind a thick cloud and a breeze has come up. A roll of distant thunder is heard.
As they progress, they get closer to the one working light in the alley. A weak spotlight situated on the parapet of a three-story building. It’s broad expanse of concrete is the left wall of the alley.
“Hooz there?” Mac calls out. His vision is compromised by poor lighting and hard liquor. He squints and sees a figure next to a dumpster. And something across from that... no, that can’t be right.
“Thank goodness you’re here. We’ve been attacked and tied up,” the voice by the dumpster calls.
“..’tacked? By who?”
“A gang of whores,” says a second voice.
Startled, Mac takes a sudden step back and Chester steps on his heel.
“Oww! Chester quit that,” Mac turns around and slaps on the big man’s chest. Back up!”
“Sorry,” Chester replies sullenly. “But it’s your fault. You backed up too sudden.”
“I wuz jes surprised by the talking garbage can.”
“I can unnerstand that, I guess,” Chester nods thoughtfully.
“Can you two help us, please,” Kara pleads, aching all over.
“It talked again,” Mac says. “The can. It talked.”
“I heard.”
“I’m not a talking can. I’m Supergirl. Come over here please and get me out of this!”
“Think we got the DTs already?” Chester asks Mac.
“Too soon. An’ ‘sides that, we’re not nearly ‘nuff drunk.”
“I’m not sure I would agree with that,” the slightly deeper female voice by the dumpster says. “But we would be in your debt, gentlemen, if you came forward and untied us.”
“Debt.” Chester hones in on his keyword.
“Tied.” Mac’s face tilts a bit with a glimmer in his eye showing in the weak light.
The two bums move forward a bit quicker now with better light and solid motivations. When they finally make it to the dumpster, they look down to see the most lovely face and body either man has ever laid eyes on. Even with the two angry wounds at the temples, the scraped cheek and slightly swollen nose and eyes, the red and gold blouse heavily-coated with spaghetti sauce, the woman tied up at their feet seems like a vision to the two drunks.
Chester even asks aloud, in hushed awe, “Are you real?”
“Very much so,” replies Diana. “And I’d be grateful if you would untie my ankle first. The cramp in my thigh is quite painful.” Looking at the naked flexed thigh, it’s quivering muscle and the incredible figure of this beautiful, helpless female posed like perfection at his feet, Chester licks his lips and thinks hard.
Diana looks into the face of her white knight in shining armor and doesn’t appreciate his expression at all. “My ankle?” Her prodding tone snaps Chester out of his whirling jumble of drunken aspirations, focusing it to a pinpoint need.
“Whaz innit for me?”
“Excuse me?” Diana replies, exasperated.
“Whaddoo I get for untying you?”
“Get?”
“Yeah, why should I do it. You got to give me sumptin’ back.”
“For heaven’s sake, what about the simple act of charity? Of helping another being in distress. That should be its own reward.”
“It ain’t. And times is tough.”
“This is bullshit!” Kara fumes across the way.
“Shaddup, can,” Mac admonishes, taking several steps over toward the steel cannister with the arms and legs poking out.
“I’m not a damn can! Focus for a second, you filthy bum or when I get out of this, I will make you one sorry derelict.”
Mac stands over the steel can, swaying slightly as he looks down into it at the upturned face of the tightly-packed blonde stuffed ass-first into the refuse bin.
“I know you. Yurr Supergirl.”
“And we have a winner!” Kara’s scorn is palpable.
“You shaved me once. Uhh..saved me. Bus I was in almost went off a canyon road down a cliff. One second I’m dead, next minute I’m shakin’ yhur hand as we all filed out onto the road to thank you personally.”
“Then when you let me out of this damn can we can be even. How about it, sport?”
“Wellllll... I guess iz only fair. C’mon Chezder. Whaddaya say, lez help ‘em out.”
“NO, MAC! No. Not unless they give us sumpthin’. Wonder Woman never saved me. I jez want whuz fair.”
“Hera help me. Like what? What do you want, Chester?” Diana grits her teeth in frustration at all this. Her thigh aches as does most of her body and she is starting to shake more from heroin withdrawal.
“Sex.” His answer is instantaneous.
“Yeah, that’s not happening, big boy,” Kara calls out. “I’m a talking garbage can and even I know that’s just not in the cards for you.”
“Could be,” replies Chester, childishly.
“No, it can’t be, Chester,” Diana says softly, trying to appeal to his softer nature.
“Look,” Mac pipes in, “Why don’t you ladies agree to share a drink with us and then we’ll help you out.”
“I really don’t drink,” Wonder Woman says. “It’s not something I enjoy.”
“Oh, come on, Diana,” Kara says testily. “Loosen up this once, please. I ache all over and I just want to get out of here and back to Tony’s. Agree to drink with these men and let’s be done with it!”
“Okay, Kara. You’re right, of course. Yes, we’ll agree to drink with you if you promise to untie us.”
“Deal!” Calls out Mac.
“I don’t know...” Chester hesitates, looking down at the incredible body posed before him, tantalizing him, making him hard for the first time in weeks. He’s only 44 years old but he feels like 60 with the life he’s led the past six years.
“Would you serve me that drink now, Chester,” Diana says, batting her eyes, trying to seal the deal.
“Fine! Open your mouth.”
“What?” Diana scowls darkly at this.
“You see any cups around here you’d like to drink out of, lady?”
Diana looks around the garbage strewn alley, comes to the same gloomy conclusion and shakes her head. “No.”
“So. Open up.”
“You, too, Supergirl,” Mac talks down at the can.
Both men look at each other and there’s a slight nod between them as the ladies open their mouths wide like baby birds. Both men hold the women’s faces in the palms of one hand as they tip the bottles and pour out the scotch into the waiting throats. Both men pour generous 4-shot portions down the heroine’s gullets, holding their faces in place as the women’s eyes widen and they swallow as much as they can before sputtering and spitting out spumes of the misty final remnants of the dousing measures of alcohol poured down their throats. The majority of the dosage of heady liquor has been ingested by each heroine, with mere drippings being choked on as each gags and coughs in dizzy reflex. The two bums take generous swigs themselves and smile at each other. So clever they are.
“Kaaaccgkkk! Huugghhh! Wrellggkk! Oohhhh. That wasn’t a drink,” Supergirl gasps out with a thin reedy voice from the scorching scotch, “that was a damn waterfall, you sneaky bastard.”
Diana’s face is wide-eyed and red as she chokes and gasps noisily against the dumpster. Her throat is on fire, unused to alcohol in the first place and then being inundated with a near-drowning amount of the vile liquid. When she finally gets her wind back, she merely glares up at Chester with a show of malice that has the big man taking a step back, realizing he may have overplayed his hand here. But it was early. He’d see what happened after the girls bodies started reacting to all that scotch.
“Okay,” rasps Kara. “We’ve had your damn drink, now untie us both.”
“Ah, ah, ah. Not so fast,” replies Mac. “A drink means socializing together. Let’s talk a bit. Get to know each other.”
“Why would I want to get to know you? You don’t seem like a very nice person. Especially for one I’ve saved from a fiery death.
“Well, you may not be cashing me on my best day. Or best year,” slurs Mac.
“You don’t seem like you get many best days, if I may be blunt, Mac.”
“Aktually, this is (hic) one of my best days, now that I think ‘bout it.”
“You come here often?” Chester asks Wonder Woman, the only pickup line he can remember right now.
“By Zuess’ chariot, are you insane?” Wonder Woman blurts out.
And with a mix of meaningless babble by the bums and fuming scorn from the heroines, several minutes pass with rejoinders and conversational banter that would sound perfectly normal in any Marx brothers movie.
After about six minutes, Diana’s eyes begin to lose their luster, her speech begins to slur and her facial muscles slacken noticeably.
“...zo, haf we sozialized ‘nuff with yoo now...” She asks Chester who has sat down beside her in the meantime, staying clear of the thick brown puddle in which Wonder Woman still sits. “Can you untie uz... fina...ly?”
“Sure,” Chester nods grandly. “I’ll get that ankle undone fur you fhirst...”
“...I...thank...you...” a drunken Wonder Woman nods heavily back at him.
“Guess you want out of there now, too, huh, Shupergirl?”
“Yezz, please,” answers the inebriated teen, her head resting against the inner bend of the trash can, her expression stupefied.
“How ‘bout another eensie teensie drinkie poo first?”
“..no..t’anks...yoo...i’m...good...”
“Jest a little one, for the..roe...road...” Mac burps.
“...whatthehell...shure...whynot...” The Maid of Steel says, all judgement shot to hell.
She opens wide but with surprising graciousness, Mac tips the bottle very studiously and only pours in a shot and a half’s worth of scotch which Supergirl swallows without any trouble at all. Still, that totals five and half shots of straight scotch in under ten minutes. It’s more than enough to compromise Supergirl’s reasoning abilities for a couple of hours. Those are the very abilities she’ll later sincerely wish she could have been able to summon at the time. Diana’s complete unfamiliarity with liquor virtually guarantees the four shots worth of scotch she’s ingested will impair her logical assessments just as much as Kara’s.
===============================================================================
Just before he goes to untie Wonder Woman’s ankle, Chester leans against the famous Princess of Themyscira, one hand lingering on her shoulder, the other on her hip. He inhales her intoxicating scent, which, thanks to all the sweat she’s exuded through her evening’s constant fights, he’s still able to capture, even through the smell of spaghetti sauce, motor oil and rancid gravy. A plastered Wonder Woman just sits there in a dizzy funk with one leg pointed out and the other tucked back underneath her. Chester’s hand quickly slides off her hip and down into the valley of her inner thighs until his palm presses against the wide brown-stained crotch and he gives it a firm, quick squeeze.
“...hey...cut dat out...” Diana says, coming to her senses at this gross familiarity.
“Sorry, I ...uh...slipped. Let me get that ankle untied.” Chester smirks as he turns and starts to work at the plastic bag strips under the dumpster’s lower corner. After a few minutes of drunken fumbling at the knotted plastic that binds Wonder Woman’s ankle to the wheel of the dumpster, Chester is finally able to free her leg. The grimacing beauty pulls her leg forward and the cramp tightens mercilessly in the new position.
“Aaaghhh,” she winces at the hot spearing muscle in her thigh. Chester immediately turns back around and begins to rub Wonder Woman’s thigh with his two powerful hands, kneading the muscle and working on it with a combination of smooth firms strokes and pinching palms to ease the pain. It works magic in less than 20 seconds and a sighing Wonder Woman settles back against the dumpster and sighs with relief.
“Shank you, Chesder. That helped a lot.”
“My pleasure, Wonder Woman.” He means it sincerely.
“Can you do my hands now, please.”
“Massage your handz?”
“No, silly. Untie them.”
“Right. Uh...shure. Shure!”
“Let’s see how I can getchu outta thish can, blondie,” Mac says, getting into the spirit of helping.
“Prob’lee haf to tip me over. Gotta cut or untie the plashtic around the handle firsht.”
“Yeah,” nods Mac. “Yhur right. Got a knife or sumthin’”
“Nope,” the drunk Supergirl answers immediately.
“Lotta plashtic here,” Mac says, surveying his task.
“Yup.”
“Maybe I can rip it, uh, shtrip by shtrip.”
“Could try that,” Kara mumbles.
He does. It takes a few minutes for him to succeed but he finally does free the handle of all the plastic.
“Tipping you now.”
“..’kay...” Kara nods. Mac tips the can forward and then, with her heels now touching the street and the awkwardly positioned heroine facing down with her hands sticking straight out, the blonde beauty moans at this painful new orientation. Mac tries pulling on her hands alone but that doesn’t work, even with Kara trying to edge her legs forward out of the can.
“Damn. Pull harder, ish not whurking,” whines Supergirl.
“Gonna half to pull yhur legs and arms at the same time,” says Mac. “Hold on.”
Sitting down in front of the can with his legs bent and his feet placed against the lip of the can’s top edge, Mac takes hold of Supergirl’s hands and legs by holding them bunched together in a group against his chest and pushing out with his legs. Slowly, inch by inch, the doubled up Maid of Steel’s body is pulled out of the constraining cylinder with much grunting and straining from both parties. With a final push, the blonde teenager is freed at last from the garbage can and her body unwinds in the street like a dying python. She uncurls her hips, stretches out her legs, reaches over her head with both arms and stretches wide and then collapses to limp inertia in a sigh of absolute relief. Her lower lip flutters in a ridiculous drunken sputtering of a very unladylike quality.
“Ohhh, Rao, that feels sooooo good! Finally!”
Licking his fingers, sticky with lemon glaze, Mac smiles.
“Tastes pretty good, too.” He’s too drunk to taste the sour underpinning of a pie gone slightly bad.
Across the way, Wonder Woman has finally had her hands untied from the dumpster by Chester and she now just sits in place, her head nodding slightly in a drunken swoon, her arms limp at her side, her exhaustion from the evening’s activities catching up with her. Beside her, Chester puts his arm around Wonder Woman’s shoulder, then his hand slides down surreptitiously and palms Wonder Woman’s breast, capturing a thick dollop of spaghetti sauce as he does so.
“...not...nice...” Wonder Woman murmurs.
“Sorry, my hand slipped,” Chester answers. It worked before without getting slapped. It works again.
After two minutes of just resting in place, the two heroines stir almost at the same time with a flash of lightning in the distance and a much closer roll of thunder. The storm that had been threatening all night after one early sudden shower at the beginning of Tuesday evening, now seems intent on carrying out its promise in the next quarter hour or less, judging by the nearness of the thunderclap after the lightning display.
Both heroines seem to have the same sensation simultaneously. Both rise to their feet as one, standing across from each other looking into each other’s face.
“Oh, Rao!”
“Great Hera!”
“What the hell did those whores put in my panties?” They say together.
Both heroines pull open the waistbands of their bikini briefs and stare in horror at the sight there. Supergirl is staring at a thick reddish brown mass of smashed, moldy baked beans. Wonder Woman sees a pasty yellowish puddle of thick chicken gravy.
“Ohhh, gross!” Supergirl cries.
“Disgusting!” Wonder Woman growls.
Without a thought about the propriety of their behavior, both heroines reach down into their skivvies and scoop out heaping handfuls of the vile contents of their underwear and shake them into the street with faces twisted in horrified disgust. Wonder Woman has no easy time of it, her yellowish paste being far more of a liquid than Supergirl’s beans. But Kara’s forced to scrape and finger herself to get individual bean pods out of the deepest recesses of her ass and pussy. Wonder Woman is able to cull all the paste out with a stiff forefinger but even she is forced to finger her anus and vagina to scrape them clear of the thick yellow gravy. Neither woman stops into they’re both scraping the silken insides of the fronts of their costume pants with the edges of their palms until they’re as clean as possible. Standing beside them, the two bums are shaking their heads and grinning like idiots.
And then the first pattering of raindrops hit. Followed by countless others in a staccato beat that turns into a booming drum solo of thunder and wind as the heavens open up overhead in a downpour of almost religious intensity.
The drunken heroines not only don’t care about the rain, they’re absolutely delighted by it. They dance in circles and howl into the wind like pagan worshippers. Looking at each other, then at the bums, the two besotted beauties shrug at the same time with the same thought and, crossing their hands over their heads, proceed to strip off their tops. To the complete rapture of the two wide-eyed bums, breasts are bouncing everywhere all at once as Supergirl and Wonder Woman cavort in the rain. They rub each other down, skimming off all the gross thick spaghetti sauce, lemon meringue pie, baked beans and chicken gravy they’ve been marinating in for the past hour. Helping hands grope breasts and asses and twats and cracks until all the colors of the foods collect in puddles in the alleyways broken potholes and depressions.
Even the bums join in, shirking off jackets and shirts, pants and socks until the foursome is completely bare-ass naked, standing in place with their faces upturned into the heavenly shower. After a moment, spotting a drainpipe that has a torrent of water splashing out, the girls rush over to it and rinse out their garments underneath the cascade: panties, tops, Supergirl’s cape, both sets of boots, even Wonder woman’s remaining tin bracelet, phony power belt and cheap plastic tiara are rinsed. The men do the same with all their clothes. The first good rinsing they’ve had in months. If there were soap, the bums would be good to go for another month before they’d need a bath again by their reckoning.
The howling wind begins to abate after ten minutes and the now quick-moving storm rushes off to the east to soak Queens and ultimately, Long Island before heading out into the Atlantic. Behind it, the alley glistens with fresh tiny lakes in the moonlight. The nakedness of all is suddenly fully realized in the aftermath and the two heroines hurry to dress themselves in their costumes, however the drenched material leaves little to the imagination. Nipples are clearly evident, camel toes equally pronounced, buttocks enhanced by clinging fabric that accents every nook and cranny. Everything makes the feminine form the enrapturing presence that fills the art of the great masters is highlighted by the clinging material plastered to the two voluptuous women wavering drunkenly in the alley before the aroused bums. The men quickly turn and dress to hide their obvious sexual interest in the two now smirking beauties.
“I think we should toast to cleanliness,” Mac says, picking his bottle up and unscrewing it. He gulps a double shot, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and hands the bottle to Supergirl. If she had any judgment left after the cleansing rain, it was thin and watery and it ran off her frontal lobe like an oil slick down a waterfall. A flash of color one isn’t even sure was there.
“To cleanliness,” she says, and tips her head back and the bottle as well, taking a solid gulp of the cheap fiery elixir of the damned.
“To cleanliness,” repeats Chester, drinking up and handing the hefty bottle to Wonder Woman.
“To cleanliness,” she parrots, controlled by mob behavior and bad processing of her alcohol-soaked reasoning center. Already tipsy, she pushes her center of gravity hard with a two-shot gulp of the raw-tasting scotch.
Walking over to the steel garbage can, Mac turns it over so he can sit down on it. But before he does, he overturns three others and places them in a circle and invites his companions to join him, which they all do.
“So whaz all thish about being attacked by whores? What happened to your shuper powers, ladies?” Showing genuine interest if not a firm grasp of diction, Mac engages the exhausted females in another conversation in order to get the booze to do its work. With the full shock of the evening’s events taking its toll on both Supergirl and Wonder Woman, they wearily recount all the horrors of the evening’s debacle to Mac and Chester. And by the time the story’s completed, with each girl elaborating on the other’s impressions of the events, both woman are once again deeply drunk from the vast amount of liquor consumed in such a short time.
Displaying a sickening whitewash of sympathy, both men offer gossamer thin platitudes over their hidden motives that, in their right minds, both heroines would have seen through instantly. Being drunk, they both missed the obvious signals and were drawn easily across the sticky web of male deceit into a trap of dangerous sexual compromise.
Even now, Mac is rubbing Supergirl’s bicep with smooth repetitive motions that relax her as he commiserates with her about the horrible treatment from the nasty whores. In truth, Mac had once fucked Trixie if he wasn’t mistaken about Supergirl’s description of her. Chester is thinking, as he strokes the back of Wonder Woman’s hair with calming caresses, that he might have had Glenda once when he was flush from a panhandling session after a Knicks win around Madison Square Garden and had come back to the South Bronx loaded for bear and coming across the willowy, willing redhead. He had the cash. She had the time. Business as usual.
“That all sounds jush horrible,” Mac says after the heroines bring the evening’s story up to the present. “I can’t believe they got away with it. You girls deserve so much better than that.”
Mac stands up and circles around to Supergirl’s back. Putting his hands on her shoulders he leans over and kisses her neck. With some sort of sixth sense, Mac hits just the spot that makes the blonde teen quiver and softly moan with pleasure. He repeatedly kisses there and then licks and Supergirl sighs and leans back into him, luxuriating in the softness of someone who cares for a change instead of someone out to hurt her or take something from her or control her. She’d had so much of that over the past months. With the liquor subduing her body’s need for crack while impairing all her faculties, the mighty Maid of Steel is an easy patsy for Mac’s attentive behavior. Next to her, Wonder Woman, wavering on the unended steel trash can, is too drunk and much too exhausted by the evening’s heavy toll on her to complain or resist against Chester’s own sexual advances. He is rubbing her neck with his strong hands, and her heading is nodding dully in the rhythm of his massage, breathing deeply.
Both men take the next move, again without resistance from either woman, as the hands move over the shoulders and down the front of the two heroine’s costumes until the palms wrap around the front of their breasts and fondle them openly. Mac squeezes softly on the breasts behind the famous red and yellow “S” insignia, molding them and rubbing them within his palms to his utter delight and to Supergirl’s drunken, sighing satisfaction. Chester’s hands slide beneath the golden eagle, form firm cupping vessels for the large naked fullness of Wonder Woman’s generous endowments. He squeezes them firmly and the Amazon’s eyes droop lower with an expression of confused pleasure that includes a heavy sigh of her own.
Sitting in their drunken daze on the garbage cans in the alley in the South Bronx, neither super hero puts up a shred of resistance as they are blatantly fondled, caressed and mauled for a good three minutes until their breathing gets much more rapid and their sexual energies begin to spark. Both women turn around to look up at their respective bums and with the illogical clarity of the drunken mind, are able to see past the scraggly beards and unkempt clothes to the sincere gentlemen within. The man needing rescue that is their stock in trade.
With the rain having washed away much of their filth, even the bodies of the two men do not raise any scented alarm within the besotted beauties. And when both men whisper lewd suggestions into the ears of the mighty champions of justice, they both nod slowly and get to their knees before the bums. Flies are unzipped. The outline of nice-sized stiff penises bulging against damp underwear are assessed and approved. The eager cocks are pulled out of their soggy confines by the willing hands of the two paragons of virtue. Famous mouths are filled with the salty taste of what men are, even as lips and tongues go to work with feverish enthusiasm that hard liquor in quantity can engender. The two men look at each other with huge smiles on their faces, great beaming grins of having hit the lottery at last. That their ship has come in.
On the street, on their knees, Supergirl and Wonder Woman give away their virtue and dignity without a thought, eagerly sucking on the hard shafts of two street bums in unison, their heads bobbing, their hands stroking, their lips compressing, as they work the penises like the professionals they’ve become under Tony Bonano’s direction.
Were Desiree and her band to return to this alley, they’d see their competition, would appreciate the consummate skill involved and would kill the two heroines in a second for practicing their trade on their turf regardless of the fact that the bums had paid nothing for the blowjobs except the minimal cost of the booze.
At the same time, Mac and Chester put their palms on the top of the girls’ heads and tell them to stop. Beg them to stop. They’re both more than ready for the final act of this seedy play. The question is, are the two girls? Are they drunk enough, psychologically battered enough and horny enough to engage in all the hot groping sex acts that are spinning through the heads of the eagerly fantasizing bums?
Or are they not?
-
DrDominator9
- Emissary
- Posts: 2461
- Joined: 13 years ago
- Location: On the Border of the Neutral Zone
The Bum's Rush
Part 67F - - Conclusion
The lone spotlight shining down on the narrow alley in the heart of the South Bronx isn’t the only light reflected in the puddles gathered amongst the cobblestones, the pitted tarmac and the broken bricks. There’s also the full moon, it’s bright, round face shining brightly with all obscuring clouds having been blown far to the east. The lunar lamp sends bright beams upon the scene of Supergirl and Wonder Woman poised on their knees before Chester and Mac. The two heroines’ faces are now upturned by the firm hands of the panting men. Even with their bruises and scrapes, the features of the two famous champions are wondrous to behold, all the more so for the two bums who palm their soft chins and plainly note in the moon’s pale white light the unbridled drunken lust of the two women.
The bums had asked, had cautioned and then had pleaded for the bobbing, fondling heroines to stop sucking them off. Both men desperately wanted to be able to fuck these famous babes and spewing from the blowjobs would ruin all that. They weren’t old men but neither man was confident in his drunken state whether he had the capability to go twice with these women. Cumming once and then passing out was not out of the realm of possibility.
The heavily-inebriated heroines had slowed in their drunkenly-focused tasks but had not stopped entirely until the two men captured their heads and pulled their eager mouths off their dicks before they spewed. The heroines’ warm gulping mouths and rapid stroking palms have produced glistening, ramrod hard cocks that both bums were now eager to put to their best use.
“Want to make love to you,” Mac implores Supergirl, coming up with a miraculous phrase in his drunken need that may just open the gates of heaven for him.
“Yeah, me too,” parrots Chester to Wonder Woman. “Lesh make love!”
These two hard-luck cases can’t believe they’re going to be sticking their throbbing tools deep into the soft accepting channels of these amazing beauties. And judging by the wide needy eyes of the intoxicated ladies, their swaying bodies and their slack mouths drooling a thick combination of spit and pre-cum, the two champions of justice appear more than ready to accept that notion.
Indeed, after suffering a night of ruthless brutality, shattered egos and drowning doses of liquor, neither Wonder Woman or Supergirl are in any position to refuse either the overt sexual initiatives of the heavily aroused bums or to resist their own volcanic libidos. With surprising swiftness, both women rock back off their knees and let the men push them down onto their backs.
“Howju know? Thash zactly whut I want, big guy,” smiles Supergirl as she eagerly spreads her long, beautiful legs wide apart for Mac who immediately palms her silky red panties and starts rubbing away at her crotch as the Maid of Steel giggles and sighs with pleasure.
“Yez,” mutters Wonder Woman in thick agreement, her eyes half-lidded in a completely relaxed drunken expression “Thash right! We both need a liddle tender luvin’ care for a change thish evenin’!” She too opens her arms in a beckoning gesture as she spreads her legs wide apart with a come hither expression of dopey delight. As her thighs open up, Chester sees that her starred blue panties still have a dark brown stain from the motor oil despite the scrubbing under the drainpipe in the rain. But when the Champion of All Women willingly invites you to stick your dick in her by displaying her crotch like a cheap floozy, no man is going to take issue with the cleanliness of her wardrobe
Following Mac’s lead which hasn’t lead him astray all evening, Chester palms Wonder Woman’s crotch as well and begins rubbing hard firm circles and short tickling strokes against the aroused Amazon’s panties. Diana’s eyes grow wide with delight. The cool fabric of her costume is pressed deep into the cleft of her womanhood by hard fingers. The silkiness of the material is rubbed back and forth, back and forth between and against her labia. It feels great! And no sooner does that erotic stimulation tilt her head back with joy than a secondary thrilling sensation grips her as her breasts are exposed by a hard yank on her bustier followed by a firm set of lips clamping down on her suddenly naked right nipple. It sends up a flare of exquisite pleasure that draws a sharp gasp from her quivering mouth.
“OHHHH!”
“Yeah, you like that, don’t ya, Prinshesh,” mumbles Chester with a mouthful of sweet Amazon tit and a palmful of warm Amazon crotch.
“Mmmm. Yesss...” Diana coos as her nipple is licked and nibbled and sucked on repeatedly. Chester works the nub over until it gets as hard as a pink plastic button. Wonder Woman’s breasts heave and harden as they, too, are heavily stimulated. Fondled and mauled, squeezed and groped, the massive tits are handled like modeling clay by the drunken Chester who is murmuring happily in his efforts.
“Sweet ole’ titties, these are. Ripe as can’lopes. Tastes like fresh farm pickin’s these big beauties. Yup!”
“You like my melons, good shir,” giggles Diana, every single inhibition completely dissolved by the alcohol in her system. “Find them full and plump enough for your breakf....OHHH! HERA HELP ME...Ohhhhh... that feels soooo good!”
Chester’s finger has slipped under the brown stained panties and found another pink nub on his soft, squeezable love toy to tickle and tease. This has the once-chaste heroine of ultimate virtue lifting her left leg high in the air and draping it loosely over the big man’s shoulder. Her fingered crotch is blatantly displayed like a layout in a cheap porn magazine: the panties mostly covering her sex but yet pulled aside just enough to show a glance of curly black hair, a sliver of wrinkled pink pussy lip and a probing finger knuckle-deep in her barely-covered snatch. With this lewd act, the mighty Wonder Woman has completely relinquished all rights and privileges to the moral high ground. But then again, that fact was probably established several minutes earlier when she and her companion were eagerly bobbing their heads on the unzipped, un-sheathed, un-circumcised, and very un-flaccid penises of two street bums.
“Oohhhhh. Oh my. Shweet Aphrodite but you’re good at thish!” Wonder Woman gasps as she takes Chester’s forearms in her hands and rubs them up and down as he fondles her breasts and fingers her womanhood with eager dedication.
“You desherve only the besssst...” beams Chester as he works over the Amazon’s erotic hots spots like a man possessed. He rolls the heavy jugs around Wonder Woman’s chest, continuing his biting, sucking and licking with a rapid pattern that varies as the mood strikes him. The squeezing returns, the hard compression followed by soft, tickling caresses followed by chewing and a fluttering, snake-quick tongue followed by a slow, heavy circular tonguing that has Diana’s eyes floating up under her lids a bit as she settles back against the hard surface of the street as if it were the softest goose down mattress, savoring his hands all over her breasts, his mouthwork and his slippery finger as it twiddles away between her legs.
“Mmmmmm....s’wunderfil!” She breathes this out slowly, dreamily.
“Getting nishe and juishy down blo...b’low,” burps Chester.
“Yesh..i...i..feel it. Feels...good. Don’t shtop...doin’ that thing...thing with your finger...”
“You mean this?”
“AAHHH!” Diana’s back arches in a spasm of pleasure and her jaw line captures the moonlight as she grips hard on Chester’s forearms while he befuddles the Amazon warrior with the unrestrained pleasure of drunken sex play. Her hips buck at his fingerwork even as his mouth captures her tit by the nipple and stretches it out with his teeth. “Ye gods, ish there no end to your dev’lish tactics?”
“You bedder hope not, Prinshess. Not if you wanna cum like a broken fawzet with old Chester here.”
“Do...do want that...I ....do...” sighs Diana, lost in the rising surge of his constant fondling and fingering. Her head rests in a shallow puddle, her raven locks soaking up the dirty water even as her eyelids flutter. Wonder Woman’s sighs grow heavier as she offers a noisy counterpoint to her foolishly proffered virtue. Apparently, when drunk, the Champion of All Women was an easy lay.
Pressing his advantage, Chester reaches out, takes hold of Wonder Woman’s right ankle and pulls it so that now both of the heroine’s booted calves drape over his shoulders. He then grasps the waistband of those renowned starred briefs and pulls them down to mid-thigh, fully revealing all of the Amazon’s feminine treasures. Drunk on her ass, Wonder Woman’s tits and twat are on full display in the moonlight before this simple street bum. The massive breasts rise and fall in glorious defiance of gravity, their nipples like tiny gum drops. The soft thatch of black hair forms a fuzzy triangle that points to the cleft of her slit, all it’s edges and crevices glinting with her frenzied desire. And the illustrious Princess of Themyscira is far too stoned, demoralized and befuddled to appreciate the depths of humiliation to which she has sunk on this endless night.
Continuing to distract his drunken prize from any realization of her profound degradation, Chester lifts Wonder Woman’s hips and shoves his face between her thighs and smooches it deeply.
“OHH!” She cries out with joy. “UUMMMHH....AHH....AAIEEE!” Passionate exclamations steadily blurt out of the writhing Amazon’s mouth even as her lower mouth is fully encompassed by eager lips and a wild tongue. Chester licks and twirls at the Wonder Woman’s pussy lips, savoring the honey he tastes there. Slurping it up, sucking at her tender curly lips, gnawing gently at the ripe full flaps of sensitivity he is discovering. His comely prize bucks her hips and moans loudly, thrilled beyond reason at the rushing delights charging from her crotch to her brain. She thrashes. He probes deeper. She flails her arms and twists from side to side. He nibbles her clit like the edge of a cracker. She groans like a bear. He smiles between her thighs and savors her wetness as he rubs his face deeply within her loins. He bathes his cheeks in her juicy softness while reducing her to a simpering puddle with his mouth.
“OOOOHHHHHHH....Hera...thashh....increbidle..” she babbles. “..shho....good.....”
“Tashte nice. Sweet,” Chester says, lifting his head for a momentary breath of air and a gentlemanly compliment. Then he goes back to work. Kneeling before the dazed beauty, with his hands now squeezing her ripe wide ass, the beefy bearded bum lifts Wonder Woman’s hips a touch higher, buries his face between her legs and goes to town. His balding head shines like cue ball as it nods slowly up and down with every long luxurious lick of her melting pussy.
Her boots bounce lightly against his back while her face scrunches up with the unqualified tension of a hugely satisfying vaginal bath. Urgently, Diana’s hands seek his masculine physique, longing to grip him somewhere, anywhere. Her palms land on his shoulders and she grips his shirt, pulling him closer with frantic urgency, rubbing his face deeper into her throbbing, twitching cleft.
“Yesssshh. Lick it clean....sho...cleeeeaaaannnnn,” she demands with breathy gasps.
“Shtill tastes a liddle like chicken gravy,” Chester says between licks.
“....kay...” she sighs idly, kneading his wide firm shoulders with her palms. She squeezes them over and over again like a cat working a spot on cushioned couch arm before settling down. “Mmm...Cheshter...daz....so...nice...”
“Here’s sumthin’ even nicer,” he says, lifting her ass higher yet as his tongue moves down from her dripping pussy to the tight little twist of her ass. The warm tongue circles the tiny knotted entrance and then flicks up and down against the puckered pink knot.
“WHOAA! What the..? By Achilles’ crushty jockshtrap, what on earth...you DOING?”
“Me? Jus’d tonguing up yhur butt, bootiful. Like it?” Chester smiles then bends low again, curls his tongue and probes it deeply against the knotted area, pushing it hard and then licking it all around.
“...i...never...UHHH!....I mean...no one..AAHH!....i..didn’t...but....MORE! MORE! Thundering Olympus....MORE!!”
Spreading his left palm wide against her lower back and supporting her there, Chester then licks his forefinger and pokes it against her anus, spreading the knot open as he pushes against it. The tip of the wet digit moves through the excited, yielding hole and Diana’s body jerks as she gives up a throaty gasp.
“OHHH!”
Chester pushes the finger deeper still and lowers his mouth back against her pussy, sealing it with his mouth as he kisses it deeply and warmly. The warmth of her loins throws off waves of heat and the thrill of his finger in her butt releases a small trickle that he laps up with his eager tongue.
“....Hermes’ wingsh... you’re sho....goooooodddd...”
“Whut? Who?”
“...doeshn’t...matter....don’t..s...stop....”
Chester continues to move his finger deeper into Wonder Woman’s asshole, burying it to the first knuckle and wiggling it in place. In the meantime, his mouth centers on her clit, his lips clasping it for a momentary grip before releasing it. He then uses his tongue to circle it endlessly, a plane waiting for airport control tower clearance on a busy holiday weekend. The sensation of the probing, twisting, wriggling finger up her butt and the relentless circling tongue overwhelms Wonder Woman’s senses in a sudden rush of absolute pleasure. She squeaks loudly, bucks roughly and cums on the spot.
“HHHHNNNNNGGGGHHHH!” Wonder Woman grunts, frozen in place, her knees have snapped her calves out straight, the back of her head has pushed deeper into the puddle and her fingers grip the burly man’s broad shoulders like talons.
Chester is flooded with her sweet nectar of joy. It fills his mouth and dribbles down his chin as he backs off from between her thighs and smiles.
“Thazz one!”
Speechless, Diana just melts into the street in her afterglow. Warmed by her climax, bathed by moonlight, her eyes white, her tongue lolling out of the corner of her mouth. Total satisfaction personified.
Drifting in her reverie, she recalls the moment she was going to let Chester have his way with her this evening. It was during the rainstorm when she was cleaning herself up, removing all the filth the whores had left in her costume. She was trying to get the golf balls out of her cooze but just couldn’t get a good grip. That’s when Chester came up. He was naked and dancing and all happy but then saw Diana suddenly frowning and frustrated so he helped her with the golf balls. His shaky hands reached up with surprising gentleness and withdrew them one by one. He didn’t take easy swipes while he was there, he didn’t offer any sarcastic comments. He just helped her by taking them all out one by one. That was all it took for her to decide he’d get lucky with Wonder Woman this evening. Very lucky. Mac had seen the moment and offered to help Supergirl with her folded grapefruit rind shoved up her twat but it was out before he finished offering his help. Still, she smiled demurely and thanked him. Diana turned to Kara at the time and winked at her and she was pretty sure Kara knew what they wink entailed.
And now, not three feet to her right, Supergirl is sitting in Mac’s lap, facing him and smiling like the famous Cheshire cat while she bounces up and down on the bearded blonde bum’s wide 7" of hot rigid muscle. Heavy panting is going on between them.
“Uunnghh, uunnghh, uunnghh, uunnghh, uunnghh.” Kara grunts on every downstroke as she empales herself on the meaty stick. Her long bare legs are wrapped around Mac’s hips with her ankles crossed behind his back.
“Uhh...uhh...uhh...uhh...uhh...” Mac holds her waist as her breasts flop up and down within her shirt, the famous red and yellow diamond emblem rising and falling before his eyes with mesmerizing fascination. He is fucking Supergirl! Well, she is fucking him at the moment. He’s just a shit-eating grin happy camper as she bumps up and down on his pole like it’s a carnival ride. Her hair is flying all around her head, strands of it flying in his face, grazing against his cheek in thick wet blonde slaps. Her palms are flat against his thighs as she bumps up and down on his lap with a fierce drunken frenzy of lust that is astoundingly pleasurable on so many levels.
His pole is shiny slick with her hot wetness as it appears and disappears into the tight cavity of her vagina. Over and over the famous Maid of Steel rises and falls on the long hard muscle. Mac looks into the heavily-lidded bright blue eyes of a girl possessed by lust. Her grunting is a regular and happy as a wild pig that’s found a truffle patch.
“...s....sl...sl...slow down...too mush....too fasht...” Mac implores, squeezing her waist in his palms, pushing down on her hips and bringing her to a stop. His forehead leans forward and rests against hers and he pants heavily and slowly as she wriggles in place, her desires fueled by the scotch coursing through her blood.
“No...not even that...no...no.. squirming...gonna loozh it...don’t wanna loozh it yet...”
“Why not?” Supergirl asks. “Ishn’t that...like...the point?”
“You...multiple...’gasms....me...only one...” Mac murmurs softly, trying to catch his breath and compose himself for at least one more session of Bouncing Super Beauty.
The now still blonde teen stays in place, trying not to overexcite Mac. It seemed silly to her but she wanted to accommodate him since he’d been pretty decent to her, pulling her out of the garbage can and rescuing her and everything.
“Okay. Tell me what to do then,” she purrs, stroking his face with her palm.
“Jesssh... give me a minute....get myshelf....rheddy...”
“Okay.”
After 30 seconds of calming himself down without losing a bit of his rigidity, Mac slowly palms Supergirl’s breasts while she sits before him unmoving except for her slightly swaying head that is nodding in her dazed condition.
“Lez jest lift up this top of yours so old Mac here can get at these shweet peaches of yours. Izzat okay with you, Supergirl?”
“Uh, shure. Why the heck not. I’ve let guys get to second bashe b’fore. ‘Sides, you’ve already rounded home, I guezz, so why not let the whole team get on base, huh?
“Oh, would you look at these beauties!” Mac says, not paying much attention to the blabbing heroine’s witty repartee, as he stares at the perfect breasts he’s just displayed by quickly pushing up Supergirl’s blouse. Indeed, her tits take his breath away. Stunning round, soft touchable globes of indescribable perfection. Not the hint of a sag. No scars, no marks, no blue veins, nothing but cream and pink visions of mind-numbing in-their-prime teenage beauty stare back at him. “Oh, I gotta touch these. Gotta feel these babies in my hands.”
“...be my....guest....” Supergirl giggles.
Mac’s shaking palms reach forward and envelope the Maid of Steel’s soft curves. He squeezes them gently, feeling her nipples tickle his palms. Slowly he caresses them, smoothing his hands all over and around their rounded shape. He holds them, squeezes them, fondles and mauls them, savoring the sensation of feeling up the one and only Supergirl.
“...thought...it might be harder to shqueeze these...” Mac mumbles.
“They can be a little harder but I’m not at my shtrongest right now. Thish choker is ...is..well, I’m jusht not azh shtrong az I am norm’ly.”
“Zorry ‘bout that. Guessh your loss ish my gain, huh?”
“..could say that. Could. Uhhh, can I, you know, ride you again now? Pretty please?”
“Oh, uh, well, why don’t we let me drive for a while. You jusht lay back and let me play with you. I’ll give you a good time. Promise.”
“Fab!” The Last Daughter of Krypton squeals with delight and rocks onto her back as Mac leans forward and untangles his legs until they’re straight out behind him and Supergirl’s boot soles are pointed at the sky. Mac starts thrusting his rock hard dick into the blonde girl while one hand continues to fondle her tits. His other hand takes hold of her thigh, lifts it slightly and squeezes it firmly while he increases his pace. Once again, the penis is driving in and out of the Supergirl’s tight pussy and her eyes go to half-mast with pleasure. The respite has done wonders for Mac and he pumps away with focused vigor, savoring the tight channel’s slippery sides as he pushes and withdraws again and again into heaven’s gate.
“Mmmhhhh. Ohhhhh. Aahhhhh. Oh..wow....” Now it’s Supergirl who begins to feel flushed, dizzy and inundated with sensations as Mac’s penis dominates her hands caress her, his mouth seeks and envelopes, sucks and chews at her breast, her nipple and her neck, sending quivers of pure spasming joy into her head. “Rao, thash....thash....fan....tashtic....” she bubbles.
Building momentum, Mac becomes a fucking machine, all his inebriation focused on his goal of bringing this blonde heroine to a rocking, mind-blowing climax that she’ll never forget. His one night of glory in his dumpster-diving life. He thinks of all the things that have gone wrong for him through the past so he doesn’t get overwhelmed by the sensations again. He concentrates on the bad so he can be very, very good this one moment in time.
“Aaahhh....aaaahhhhh...ooohhhhhhh.....Rao....that’s ....super....” Kara pants as the driving hot rod works back and forth, rocking her body, rocking her world and stunning her with a confluence of thrusting violent friction between her thighs and hot feverish licking at that perfect point on her neck.
“UH...UH...UH...UH...” Mac is in the zone, feeling his prize wilt as he maintains a sudden steely coldness now. All purpose, minimal passion, all potency, minimum personal connection. And Supergirl is completely disconnected from his robotic frame of mind. She is a bumping, confused mass of erotic junctures that are firing codes back and forth across her body. Her breasts are zinging electric fire lines to her brain, her brain is centering all her attention on her vagina, her neck and thigh are bombarding her brain with urgent communiques of surrender and suddenly, all vectors are connected, the network is humming with every channel open wide and the brain is blasted by an explosion of information from every site on the network at once. Supergirl’s eyes roll up under her lids, her arms clamp around Mac’s head, her cheek flops sideways against cool tarmac, her thighs squeeze desperately to his rocking hips and she cums in a white soundless nova of pure pleasure.
“Aaaaaiiiieeeeyyyaaaaaahhhhhh!”
The rushing flow of ecstasy inundates her pussy, crackles like fireworks in her fingertips and leaves her blind and gasping for a moment in the moonlit alley as Mac holds her shoulders and just lies on top of her enjoying her pleasure himself. He has held himself in check. It is Supergirl who is the limp, moaning creature in his arms. His conquest. His pride. His moment in the spotlight that he’ll always have.
“...ohhhhhhh.....” Kara moans softly, eyes fluttering, weak with satisfaction. Surprised at her own vulnerability to this man that has nothing to do with kryptonite. It does have a lot to do with the scotch.
Lazily turning her head, Kara is stunned to see her Amazon companion lying on her back with her knees raised and Chester sitting on her stomach. Diana’s top has been pulled down to her belly with her breasts exposed. Wonder Woman is holding her massive chest in her own two hands, tightly squeezing her breasts together for Chester’s pleasure. He is thrusting his penis back and forth in her sweaty cleavage and Diana and he are both smiling away as the Champion of All Women willingly accepts a humiliating tit fucking without a hint of resistance whatsoever. Quite to the contrary, the chuckling Amazon is sucking at the tip of Chester’s penis with every thrust forward through her dark breasty tunnel into the moonlight. She is a willing accomplice to the absolute repudiation of everything she stands for as an Amazon.
“Di?” Kara blurts and Wonder Woman turns her head to the side.
“...oh....hiya...Kara... havin’ fun?”
“...uh...yeah...you?...”
“The most...” sighs the drunken Wonder Woman.
“...uh...okay...” Kara is genuinely surprised at Diana’s complete capitulation to Chester’s suggestions. Not that she, Supergirl, had handled herself any better. But as the Champion of All Women, one expected a higher standard, Kara thinks.
Tough night for heroines. Great night for sluts.
Her thought is interrupted by Mac who asks her if she’s ready for something different.
“Sure, why not...” Kara mumbles. Judging by Diana’s actions, apparently anything goes this evening...or this morning. Gotta be almost morning, she muses.
“Turn over,” Mac tells her. “Get on your hands and knees.”
Diana is drunk on scotch and drunk on the freedom of doing whatever comes into her head or even Chester’s head for that matter. She has trashed any and all morality in her mind for tonight. Everything’s fair game. She’d played the hero and lost badly this evening and right now she didn’t see the point in it. No point whatsoever. She simply basks in the pleasure of feeling Chester’s cock sliding in and out between her tits while one hand cups her mons and fingers her as the other holds the back of Diana’s head and helps her tilt it forward so she can suck his cock better. She even liked the taste of it. But that finger work was getting her very, very excited now.
“.t..ta...take...meee....” she pleads. “..f...f...fill..me...up..”
“Okay, baby. Be my pleashure...” Chester says. “Turn over, get on your hands and knees.”
Side by side, both superheroines are taken by the bums. What started out as a double blow job, now is ending up as a double fucking. Both men handle their dicks easily, sliding into the wet, willing pussies of Supergirl and Wonder Woman almost simultaneously. Driving deep inside their love nests, filling them with hot hard pricks without consciences. The alchohol did this. The beatings did this. The girls did this to themselves. Heads nodding, thighs quivering, breasts tightly held and fondled as both men lean onto the kneeling women’s back, the famous champions of justice are reamed like whores from behind, doggy style, shamelessly. They are pounded and pounded and pounded. They whimper and coo, purr and growl, plead for more, plead for it to stop. They are overwhelmed and befuddled by sex and booze. And the pistoning dicks continue to stroke, to slide, to drive into tight channels and withdraw with endless consistency by two bums who are playing way over their heads in a league they never could have aspired to had not Dame Fortune cast these two beaten women across their twisting path.
The pace is relentless and none can stand it a moment longer. The heat becomes heaven. The passion becomes palpable. The ecstacy rises and becomes all as the foursome are rocked by simultaneous climaxes that include shouting, crying, frozen faces and gushing juices. It is a fountain of feeling and all are drained, satiated, confused and limp. And it over.
The two bums pull out of the heroines, leaving thick white trails down the crevices of their asses, down their thighs, down their tired wasted bodies. Penises are replaced and the bums take up their bottles and wander off into the night singing as they arrived. Happy conquering warriors who’ve bested the best.
As the bums leave the alley, they are stopped by a big swarthy Italian in an Cadillac Escalade.
“You seen two...uh ladies...this evening, gentlemen... in...uh.. unusual costumes?”
“Girls? No, no girls, fella,” Chester replies. “We seen two whores though. Back in that alley. Cheap floozies for sure. Guess they were wearing costumes. Didn’t really notice.” Chuckling together, Chester and Mac wander off into the night, arm in arm hoisting the remains of their scotch bottles in the air and singing at the top of their lungs.
Carmine looks at Mario and they nod together as Carmine says, “Let’s check it out.”
Laying in the moonlight, Diana feels a light pressure by her leg. Too exhausted to turn her head at the moment and look, she assumes it’s Supergirl reaching out for condolence or to give it. What she doesn’t expect is a sharp stinging pain on her bare rump. This pulls her from her lethargy and she sees a rat, the same rat as before, with his teeth in her ass. She flails at it blindly but, too weary, misses the creature who scurries off into the night, revenge taken as a meal served cold.
Back at the Pleasure Dome, Wonder Woman and Supergirl walk into their suite in tattered costumes, exhausted but thrilled to be back in the safety of their domain. And eager for their drugs. Tony is waiting for them as the elevator opens. He surveys his women. They are a mess. Beaten, bloodied, their costumes barely hanging on their sweaty, bruised bodies. His eyebrow goes up in disdain.
“How much?” He asks them.
“...nuthing...” murmurs Supergirl.
“What?”
“Nothing. We ran into some trouble.”
“Looks like it.”
“A gang of whores...”
“Don’t want to hear about it,” Tony says. “You had a job to do. A goal. You didn’t meet that goal. I’ll put on your belt, Diana. I’ll take off your collar, Kara. You two will get better. And tomorrow night, you’re going out again!”
“No, Tony, no!” Both heroines gasp.
“Rules is rules,” the mob don says and heads for the elevator.
The End
Part 67F - - Conclusion
The lone spotlight shining down on the narrow alley in the heart of the South Bronx isn’t the only light reflected in the puddles gathered amongst the cobblestones, the pitted tarmac and the broken bricks. There’s also the full moon, it’s bright, round face shining brightly with all obscuring clouds having been blown far to the east. The lunar lamp sends bright beams upon the scene of Supergirl and Wonder Woman poised on their knees before Chester and Mac. The two heroines’ faces are now upturned by the firm hands of the panting men. Even with their bruises and scrapes, the features of the two famous champions are wondrous to behold, all the more so for the two bums who palm their soft chins and plainly note in the moon’s pale white light the unbridled drunken lust of the two women.
The bums had asked, had cautioned and then had pleaded for the bobbing, fondling heroines to stop sucking them off. Both men desperately wanted to be able to fuck these famous babes and spewing from the blowjobs would ruin all that. They weren’t old men but neither man was confident in his drunken state whether he had the capability to go twice with these women. Cumming once and then passing out was not out of the realm of possibility.
The heavily-inebriated heroines had slowed in their drunkenly-focused tasks but had not stopped entirely until the two men captured their heads and pulled their eager mouths off their dicks before they spewed. The heroines’ warm gulping mouths and rapid stroking palms have produced glistening, ramrod hard cocks that both bums were now eager to put to their best use.
“Want to make love to you,” Mac implores Supergirl, coming up with a miraculous phrase in his drunken need that may just open the gates of heaven for him.
“Yeah, me too,” parrots Chester to Wonder Woman. “Lesh make love!”
These two hard-luck cases can’t believe they’re going to be sticking their throbbing tools deep into the soft accepting channels of these amazing beauties. And judging by the wide needy eyes of the intoxicated ladies, their swaying bodies and their slack mouths drooling a thick combination of spit and pre-cum, the two champions of justice appear more than ready to accept that notion.
Indeed, after suffering a night of ruthless brutality, shattered egos and drowning doses of liquor, neither Wonder Woman or Supergirl are in any position to refuse either the overt sexual initiatives of the heavily aroused bums or to resist their own volcanic libidos. With surprising swiftness, both women rock back off their knees and let the men push them down onto their backs.
“Howju know? Thash zactly whut I want, big guy,” smiles Supergirl as she eagerly spreads her long, beautiful legs wide apart for Mac who immediately palms her silky red panties and starts rubbing away at her crotch as the Maid of Steel giggles and sighs with pleasure.
“Yez,” mutters Wonder Woman in thick agreement, her eyes half-lidded in a completely relaxed drunken expression “Thash right! We both need a liddle tender luvin’ care for a change thish evenin’!” She too opens her arms in a beckoning gesture as she spreads her legs wide apart with a come hither expression of dopey delight. As her thighs open up, Chester sees that her starred blue panties still have a dark brown stain from the motor oil despite the scrubbing under the drainpipe in the rain. But when the Champion of All Women willingly invites you to stick your dick in her by displaying her crotch like a cheap floozy, no man is going to take issue with the cleanliness of her wardrobe
Following Mac’s lead which hasn’t lead him astray all evening, Chester palms Wonder Woman’s crotch as well and begins rubbing hard firm circles and short tickling strokes against the aroused Amazon’s panties. Diana’s eyes grow wide with delight. The cool fabric of her costume is pressed deep into the cleft of her womanhood by hard fingers. The silkiness of the material is rubbed back and forth, back and forth between and against her labia. It feels great! And no sooner does that erotic stimulation tilt her head back with joy than a secondary thrilling sensation grips her as her breasts are exposed by a hard yank on her bustier followed by a firm set of lips clamping down on her suddenly naked right nipple. It sends up a flare of exquisite pleasure that draws a sharp gasp from her quivering mouth.
“OHHHH!”
“Yeah, you like that, don’t ya, Prinshesh,” mumbles Chester with a mouthful of sweet Amazon tit and a palmful of warm Amazon crotch.
“Mmmm. Yesss...” Diana coos as her nipple is licked and nibbled and sucked on repeatedly. Chester works the nub over until it gets as hard as a pink plastic button. Wonder Woman’s breasts heave and harden as they, too, are heavily stimulated. Fondled and mauled, squeezed and groped, the massive tits are handled like modeling clay by the drunken Chester who is murmuring happily in his efforts.
“Sweet ole’ titties, these are. Ripe as can’lopes. Tastes like fresh farm pickin’s these big beauties. Yup!”
“You like my melons, good shir,” giggles Diana, every single inhibition completely dissolved by the alcohol in her system. “Find them full and plump enough for your breakf....OHHH! HERA HELP ME...Ohhhhh... that feels soooo good!”
Chester’s finger has slipped under the brown stained panties and found another pink nub on his soft, squeezable love toy to tickle and tease. This has the once-chaste heroine of ultimate virtue lifting her left leg high in the air and draping it loosely over the big man’s shoulder. Her fingered crotch is blatantly displayed like a layout in a cheap porn magazine: the panties mostly covering her sex but yet pulled aside just enough to show a glance of curly black hair, a sliver of wrinkled pink pussy lip and a probing finger knuckle-deep in her barely-covered snatch. With this lewd act, the mighty Wonder Woman has completely relinquished all rights and privileges to the moral high ground. But then again, that fact was probably established several minutes earlier when she and her companion were eagerly bobbing their heads on the unzipped, un-sheathed, un-circumcised, and very un-flaccid penises of two street bums.
“Oohhhhh. Oh my. Shweet Aphrodite but you’re good at thish!” Wonder Woman gasps as she takes Chester’s forearms in her hands and rubs them up and down as he fondles her breasts and fingers her womanhood with eager dedication.
“You desherve only the besssst...” beams Chester as he works over the Amazon’s erotic hots spots like a man possessed. He rolls the heavy jugs around Wonder Woman’s chest, continuing his biting, sucking and licking with a rapid pattern that varies as the mood strikes him. The squeezing returns, the hard compression followed by soft, tickling caresses followed by chewing and a fluttering, snake-quick tongue followed by a slow, heavy circular tonguing that has Diana’s eyes floating up under her lids a bit as she settles back against the hard surface of the street as if it were the softest goose down mattress, savoring his hands all over her breasts, his mouthwork and his slippery finger as it twiddles away between her legs.
“Mmmmmm....s’wunderfil!” She breathes this out slowly, dreamily.
“Getting nishe and juishy down blo...b’low,” burps Chester.
“Yesh..i...i..feel it. Feels...good. Don’t shtop...doin’ that thing...thing with your finger...”
“You mean this?”
“AAHHH!” Diana’s back arches in a spasm of pleasure and her jaw line captures the moonlight as she grips hard on Chester’s forearms while he befuddles the Amazon warrior with the unrestrained pleasure of drunken sex play. Her hips buck at his fingerwork even as his mouth captures her tit by the nipple and stretches it out with his teeth. “Ye gods, ish there no end to your dev’lish tactics?”
“You bedder hope not, Prinshess. Not if you wanna cum like a broken fawzet with old Chester here.”
“Do...do want that...I ....do...” sighs Diana, lost in the rising surge of his constant fondling and fingering. Her head rests in a shallow puddle, her raven locks soaking up the dirty water even as her eyelids flutter. Wonder Woman’s sighs grow heavier as she offers a noisy counterpoint to her foolishly proffered virtue. Apparently, when drunk, the Champion of All Women was an easy lay.
Pressing his advantage, Chester reaches out, takes hold of Wonder Woman’s right ankle and pulls it so that now both of the heroine’s booted calves drape over his shoulders. He then grasps the waistband of those renowned starred briefs and pulls them down to mid-thigh, fully revealing all of the Amazon’s feminine treasures. Drunk on her ass, Wonder Woman’s tits and twat are on full display in the moonlight before this simple street bum. The massive breasts rise and fall in glorious defiance of gravity, their nipples like tiny gum drops. The soft thatch of black hair forms a fuzzy triangle that points to the cleft of her slit, all it’s edges and crevices glinting with her frenzied desire. And the illustrious Princess of Themyscira is far too stoned, demoralized and befuddled to appreciate the depths of humiliation to which she has sunk on this endless night.
Continuing to distract his drunken prize from any realization of her profound degradation, Chester lifts Wonder Woman’s hips and shoves his face between her thighs and smooches it deeply.
“OHH!” She cries out with joy. “UUMMMHH....AHH....AAIEEE!” Passionate exclamations steadily blurt out of the writhing Amazon’s mouth even as her lower mouth is fully encompassed by eager lips and a wild tongue. Chester licks and twirls at the Wonder Woman’s pussy lips, savoring the honey he tastes there. Slurping it up, sucking at her tender curly lips, gnawing gently at the ripe full flaps of sensitivity he is discovering. His comely prize bucks her hips and moans loudly, thrilled beyond reason at the rushing delights charging from her crotch to her brain. She thrashes. He probes deeper. She flails her arms and twists from side to side. He nibbles her clit like the edge of a cracker. She groans like a bear. He smiles between her thighs and savors her wetness as he rubs his face deeply within her loins. He bathes his cheeks in her juicy softness while reducing her to a simpering puddle with his mouth.
“OOOOHHHHHHH....Hera...thashh....increbidle..” she babbles. “..shho....good.....”
“Tashte nice. Sweet,” Chester says, lifting his head for a momentary breath of air and a gentlemanly compliment. Then he goes back to work. Kneeling before the dazed beauty, with his hands now squeezing her ripe wide ass, the beefy bearded bum lifts Wonder Woman’s hips a touch higher, buries his face between her legs and goes to town. His balding head shines like cue ball as it nods slowly up and down with every long luxurious lick of her melting pussy.
Her boots bounce lightly against his back while her face scrunches up with the unqualified tension of a hugely satisfying vaginal bath. Urgently, Diana’s hands seek his masculine physique, longing to grip him somewhere, anywhere. Her palms land on his shoulders and she grips his shirt, pulling him closer with frantic urgency, rubbing his face deeper into her throbbing, twitching cleft.
“Yesssshh. Lick it clean....sho...cleeeeaaaannnnn,” she demands with breathy gasps.
“Shtill tastes a liddle like chicken gravy,” Chester says between licks.
“....kay...” she sighs idly, kneading his wide firm shoulders with her palms. She squeezes them over and over again like a cat working a spot on cushioned couch arm before settling down. “Mmm...Cheshter...daz....so...nice...”
“Here’s sumthin’ even nicer,” he says, lifting her ass higher yet as his tongue moves down from her dripping pussy to the tight little twist of her ass. The warm tongue circles the tiny knotted entrance and then flicks up and down against the puckered pink knot.
“WHOAA! What the..? By Achilles’ crushty jockshtrap, what on earth...you DOING?”
“Me? Jus’d tonguing up yhur butt, bootiful. Like it?” Chester smiles then bends low again, curls his tongue and probes it deeply against the knotted area, pushing it hard and then licking it all around.
“...i...never...UHHH!....I mean...no one..AAHH!....i..didn’t...but....MORE! MORE! Thundering Olympus....MORE!!”
Spreading his left palm wide against her lower back and supporting her there, Chester then licks his forefinger and pokes it against her anus, spreading the knot open as he pushes against it. The tip of the wet digit moves through the excited, yielding hole and Diana’s body jerks as she gives up a throaty gasp.
“OHHH!”
Chester pushes the finger deeper still and lowers his mouth back against her pussy, sealing it with his mouth as he kisses it deeply and warmly. The warmth of her loins throws off waves of heat and the thrill of his finger in her butt releases a small trickle that he laps up with his eager tongue.
“....Hermes’ wingsh... you’re sho....goooooodddd...”
“Whut? Who?”
“...doeshn’t...matter....don’t..s...stop....”
Chester continues to move his finger deeper into Wonder Woman’s asshole, burying it to the first knuckle and wiggling it in place. In the meantime, his mouth centers on her clit, his lips clasping it for a momentary grip before releasing it. He then uses his tongue to circle it endlessly, a plane waiting for airport control tower clearance on a busy holiday weekend. The sensation of the probing, twisting, wriggling finger up her butt and the relentless circling tongue overwhelms Wonder Woman’s senses in a sudden rush of absolute pleasure. She squeaks loudly, bucks roughly and cums on the spot.
“HHHHNNNNNGGGGHHHH!” Wonder Woman grunts, frozen in place, her knees have snapped her calves out straight, the back of her head has pushed deeper into the puddle and her fingers grip the burly man’s broad shoulders like talons.
Chester is flooded with her sweet nectar of joy. It fills his mouth and dribbles down his chin as he backs off from between her thighs and smiles.
“Thazz one!”
Speechless, Diana just melts into the street in her afterglow. Warmed by her climax, bathed by moonlight, her eyes white, her tongue lolling out of the corner of her mouth. Total satisfaction personified.
Drifting in her reverie, she recalls the moment she was going to let Chester have his way with her this evening. It was during the rainstorm when she was cleaning herself up, removing all the filth the whores had left in her costume. She was trying to get the golf balls out of her cooze but just couldn’t get a good grip. That’s when Chester came up. He was naked and dancing and all happy but then saw Diana suddenly frowning and frustrated so he helped her with the golf balls. His shaky hands reached up with surprising gentleness and withdrew them one by one. He didn’t take easy swipes while he was there, he didn’t offer any sarcastic comments. He just helped her by taking them all out one by one. That was all it took for her to decide he’d get lucky with Wonder Woman this evening. Very lucky. Mac had seen the moment and offered to help Supergirl with her folded grapefruit rind shoved up her twat but it was out before he finished offering his help. Still, she smiled demurely and thanked him. Diana turned to Kara at the time and winked at her and she was pretty sure Kara knew what they wink entailed.
And now, not three feet to her right, Supergirl is sitting in Mac’s lap, facing him and smiling like the famous Cheshire cat while she bounces up and down on the bearded blonde bum’s wide 7" of hot rigid muscle. Heavy panting is going on between them.
“Uunnghh, uunnghh, uunnghh, uunnghh, uunnghh.” Kara grunts on every downstroke as she empales herself on the meaty stick. Her long bare legs are wrapped around Mac’s hips with her ankles crossed behind his back.
“Uhh...uhh...uhh...uhh...uhh...” Mac holds her waist as her breasts flop up and down within her shirt, the famous red and yellow diamond emblem rising and falling before his eyes with mesmerizing fascination. He is fucking Supergirl! Well, she is fucking him at the moment. He’s just a shit-eating grin happy camper as she bumps up and down on his pole like it’s a carnival ride. Her hair is flying all around her head, strands of it flying in his face, grazing against his cheek in thick wet blonde slaps. Her palms are flat against his thighs as she bumps up and down on his lap with a fierce drunken frenzy of lust that is astoundingly pleasurable on so many levels.
His pole is shiny slick with her hot wetness as it appears and disappears into the tight cavity of her vagina. Over and over the famous Maid of Steel rises and falls on the long hard muscle. Mac looks into the heavily-lidded bright blue eyes of a girl possessed by lust. Her grunting is a regular and happy as a wild pig that’s found a truffle patch.
“...s....sl...sl...slow down...too mush....too fasht...” Mac implores, squeezing her waist in his palms, pushing down on her hips and bringing her to a stop. His forehead leans forward and rests against hers and he pants heavily and slowly as she wriggles in place, her desires fueled by the scotch coursing through her blood.
“No...not even that...no...no.. squirming...gonna loozh it...don’t wanna loozh it yet...”
“Why not?” Supergirl asks. “Ishn’t that...like...the point?”
“You...multiple...’gasms....me...only one...” Mac murmurs softly, trying to catch his breath and compose himself for at least one more session of Bouncing Super Beauty.
The now still blonde teen stays in place, trying not to overexcite Mac. It seemed silly to her but she wanted to accommodate him since he’d been pretty decent to her, pulling her out of the garbage can and rescuing her and everything.
“Okay. Tell me what to do then,” she purrs, stroking his face with her palm.
“Jesssh... give me a minute....get myshelf....rheddy...”
“Okay.”
After 30 seconds of calming himself down without losing a bit of his rigidity, Mac slowly palms Supergirl’s breasts while she sits before him unmoving except for her slightly swaying head that is nodding in her dazed condition.
“Lez jest lift up this top of yours so old Mac here can get at these shweet peaches of yours. Izzat okay with you, Supergirl?”
“Uh, shure. Why the heck not. I’ve let guys get to second bashe b’fore. ‘Sides, you’ve already rounded home, I guezz, so why not let the whole team get on base, huh?
“Oh, would you look at these beauties!” Mac says, not paying much attention to the blabbing heroine’s witty repartee, as he stares at the perfect breasts he’s just displayed by quickly pushing up Supergirl’s blouse. Indeed, her tits take his breath away. Stunning round, soft touchable globes of indescribable perfection. Not the hint of a sag. No scars, no marks, no blue veins, nothing but cream and pink visions of mind-numbing in-their-prime teenage beauty stare back at him. “Oh, I gotta touch these. Gotta feel these babies in my hands.”
“...be my....guest....” Supergirl giggles.
Mac’s shaking palms reach forward and envelope the Maid of Steel’s soft curves. He squeezes them gently, feeling her nipples tickle his palms. Slowly he caresses them, smoothing his hands all over and around their rounded shape. He holds them, squeezes them, fondles and mauls them, savoring the sensation of feeling up the one and only Supergirl.
“...thought...it might be harder to shqueeze these...” Mac mumbles.
“They can be a little harder but I’m not at my shtrongest right now. Thish choker is ...is..well, I’m jusht not azh shtrong az I am norm’ly.”
“Zorry ‘bout that. Guessh your loss ish my gain, huh?”
“..could say that. Could. Uhhh, can I, you know, ride you again now? Pretty please?”
“Oh, uh, well, why don’t we let me drive for a while. You jusht lay back and let me play with you. I’ll give you a good time. Promise.”
“Fab!” The Last Daughter of Krypton squeals with delight and rocks onto her back as Mac leans forward and untangles his legs until they’re straight out behind him and Supergirl’s boot soles are pointed at the sky. Mac starts thrusting his rock hard dick into the blonde girl while one hand continues to fondle her tits. His other hand takes hold of her thigh, lifts it slightly and squeezes it firmly while he increases his pace. Once again, the penis is driving in and out of the Supergirl’s tight pussy and her eyes go to half-mast with pleasure. The respite has done wonders for Mac and he pumps away with focused vigor, savoring the tight channel’s slippery sides as he pushes and withdraws again and again into heaven’s gate.
“Mmmhhhh. Ohhhhh. Aahhhhh. Oh..wow....” Now it’s Supergirl who begins to feel flushed, dizzy and inundated with sensations as Mac’s penis dominates her hands caress her, his mouth seeks and envelopes, sucks and chews at her breast, her nipple and her neck, sending quivers of pure spasming joy into her head. “Rao, thash....thash....fan....tashtic....” she bubbles.
Building momentum, Mac becomes a fucking machine, all his inebriation focused on his goal of bringing this blonde heroine to a rocking, mind-blowing climax that she’ll never forget. His one night of glory in his dumpster-diving life. He thinks of all the things that have gone wrong for him through the past so he doesn’t get overwhelmed by the sensations again. He concentrates on the bad so he can be very, very good this one moment in time.
“Aaahhh....aaaahhhhh...ooohhhhhhh.....Rao....that’s ....super....” Kara pants as the driving hot rod works back and forth, rocking her body, rocking her world and stunning her with a confluence of thrusting violent friction between her thighs and hot feverish licking at that perfect point on her neck.
“UH...UH...UH...UH...” Mac is in the zone, feeling his prize wilt as he maintains a sudden steely coldness now. All purpose, minimal passion, all potency, minimum personal connection. And Supergirl is completely disconnected from his robotic frame of mind. She is a bumping, confused mass of erotic junctures that are firing codes back and forth across her body. Her breasts are zinging electric fire lines to her brain, her brain is centering all her attention on her vagina, her neck and thigh are bombarding her brain with urgent communiques of surrender and suddenly, all vectors are connected, the network is humming with every channel open wide and the brain is blasted by an explosion of information from every site on the network at once. Supergirl’s eyes roll up under her lids, her arms clamp around Mac’s head, her cheek flops sideways against cool tarmac, her thighs squeeze desperately to his rocking hips and she cums in a white soundless nova of pure pleasure.
“Aaaaaiiiieeeeyyyaaaaaahhhhhh!”
The rushing flow of ecstasy inundates her pussy, crackles like fireworks in her fingertips and leaves her blind and gasping for a moment in the moonlit alley as Mac holds her shoulders and just lies on top of her enjoying her pleasure himself. He has held himself in check. It is Supergirl who is the limp, moaning creature in his arms. His conquest. His pride. His moment in the spotlight that he’ll always have.
“...ohhhhhhh.....” Kara moans softly, eyes fluttering, weak with satisfaction. Surprised at her own vulnerability to this man that has nothing to do with kryptonite. It does have a lot to do with the scotch.
Lazily turning her head, Kara is stunned to see her Amazon companion lying on her back with her knees raised and Chester sitting on her stomach. Diana’s top has been pulled down to her belly with her breasts exposed. Wonder Woman is holding her massive chest in her own two hands, tightly squeezing her breasts together for Chester’s pleasure. He is thrusting his penis back and forth in her sweaty cleavage and Diana and he are both smiling away as the Champion of All Women willingly accepts a humiliating tit fucking without a hint of resistance whatsoever. Quite to the contrary, the chuckling Amazon is sucking at the tip of Chester’s penis with every thrust forward through her dark breasty tunnel into the moonlight. She is a willing accomplice to the absolute repudiation of everything she stands for as an Amazon.
“Di?” Kara blurts and Wonder Woman turns her head to the side.
“...oh....hiya...Kara... havin’ fun?”
“...uh...yeah...you?...”
“The most...” sighs the drunken Wonder Woman.
“...uh...okay...” Kara is genuinely surprised at Diana’s complete capitulation to Chester’s suggestions. Not that she, Supergirl, had handled herself any better. But as the Champion of All Women, one expected a higher standard, Kara thinks.
Tough night for heroines. Great night for sluts.
Her thought is interrupted by Mac who asks her if she’s ready for something different.
“Sure, why not...” Kara mumbles. Judging by Diana’s actions, apparently anything goes this evening...or this morning. Gotta be almost morning, she muses.
“Turn over,” Mac tells her. “Get on your hands and knees.”
Diana is drunk on scotch and drunk on the freedom of doing whatever comes into her head or even Chester’s head for that matter. She has trashed any and all morality in her mind for tonight. Everything’s fair game. She’d played the hero and lost badly this evening and right now she didn’t see the point in it. No point whatsoever. She simply basks in the pleasure of feeling Chester’s cock sliding in and out between her tits while one hand cups her mons and fingers her as the other holds the back of Diana’s head and helps her tilt it forward so she can suck his cock better. She even liked the taste of it. But that finger work was getting her very, very excited now.
“.t..ta...take...meee....” she pleads. “..f...f...fill..me...up..”
“Okay, baby. Be my pleashure...” Chester says. “Turn over, get on your hands and knees.”
Side by side, both superheroines are taken by the bums. What started out as a double blow job, now is ending up as a double fucking. Both men handle their dicks easily, sliding into the wet, willing pussies of Supergirl and Wonder Woman almost simultaneously. Driving deep inside their love nests, filling them with hot hard pricks without consciences. The alchohol did this. The beatings did this. The girls did this to themselves. Heads nodding, thighs quivering, breasts tightly held and fondled as both men lean onto the kneeling women’s back, the famous champions of justice are reamed like whores from behind, doggy style, shamelessly. They are pounded and pounded and pounded. They whimper and coo, purr and growl, plead for more, plead for it to stop. They are overwhelmed and befuddled by sex and booze. And the pistoning dicks continue to stroke, to slide, to drive into tight channels and withdraw with endless consistency by two bums who are playing way over their heads in a league they never could have aspired to had not Dame Fortune cast these two beaten women across their twisting path.
The pace is relentless and none can stand it a moment longer. The heat becomes heaven. The passion becomes palpable. The ecstacy rises and becomes all as the foursome are rocked by simultaneous climaxes that include shouting, crying, frozen faces and gushing juices. It is a fountain of feeling and all are drained, satiated, confused and limp. And it over.
The two bums pull out of the heroines, leaving thick white trails down the crevices of their asses, down their thighs, down their tired wasted bodies. Penises are replaced and the bums take up their bottles and wander off into the night singing as they arrived. Happy conquering warriors who’ve bested the best.
As the bums leave the alley, they are stopped by a big swarthy Italian in an Cadillac Escalade.
“You seen two...uh ladies...this evening, gentlemen... in...uh.. unusual costumes?”
“Girls? No, no girls, fella,” Chester replies. “We seen two whores though. Back in that alley. Cheap floozies for sure. Guess they were wearing costumes. Didn’t really notice.” Chuckling together, Chester and Mac wander off into the night, arm in arm hoisting the remains of their scotch bottles in the air and singing at the top of their lungs.
Carmine looks at Mario and they nod together as Carmine says, “Let’s check it out.”
Laying in the moonlight, Diana feels a light pressure by her leg. Too exhausted to turn her head at the moment and look, she assumes it’s Supergirl reaching out for condolence or to give it. What she doesn’t expect is a sharp stinging pain on her bare rump. This pulls her from her lethargy and she sees a rat, the same rat as before, with his teeth in her ass. She flails at it blindly but, too weary, misses the creature who scurries off into the night, revenge taken as a meal served cold.
Back at the Pleasure Dome, Wonder Woman and Supergirl walk into their suite in tattered costumes, exhausted but thrilled to be back in the safety of their domain. And eager for their drugs. Tony is waiting for them as the elevator opens. He surveys his women. They are a mess. Beaten, bloodied, their costumes barely hanging on their sweaty, bruised bodies. His eyebrow goes up in disdain.
“How much?” He asks them.
“...nuthing...” murmurs Supergirl.
“What?”
“Nothing. We ran into some trouble.”
“Looks like it.”
“A gang of whores...”
“Don’t want to hear about it,” Tony says. “You had a job to do. A goal. You didn’t meet that goal. I’ll put on your belt, Diana. I’ll take off your collar, Kara. You two will get better. And tomorrow night, you’re going out again!”
“No, Tony, no!” Both heroines gasp.
“Rules is rules,” the mob don says and heads for the elevator.
The End
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TaliaAlGhul101
- Neophyte Lvl 3
- Posts: 29
- Joined: 7 years ago
Ouch, didnt make any money, got there asses kicked to high heaven and then got taken advantage of by bums, only to be told that they are going to have to go back out again. The gang of whores isn't gonna like that if they come across them again in there territory lol.