Supergirl’s Wiccan Wicked Hair-day
Supergirl remains the property of DC Comics, CBS and CW. This is a fan fiction offered without cost.
Supergirl knew the nature of the trap
when Brainiac 8 failed to dodge, and took Supergirl’s full power charge as she
flew into the building where Brainiac had her sister Alex and her boss Hank
Henshaw beaten and bound. Charging in at full speed was a mistake against an
enemy as intelligent as Brainiac 8, but the indigo female android was poised to
crush the throats of her two closest allies before Supergirl could even get to
the entrance; so she went through the wall just under the speed of sound.
Using her heat vision to destroy the debris that might hit the vulnerable Alex,
she let her boss, secretly the Martian Manhunter take his chances with the
shrapnel as she pounded into Brainiac 8 with an impact greater than the
heaviest tank cannon in history.
Brainiac should have dodged, should have metamorphosed a shield, should have
used her mechanical control to pull up some drone or mechanical defense to take
the hit, but instead, she took the hit and blasted through the back wall into a
heavy shielded vault big enough to contain a full sized fighter plane.
Brainiac hit the back wall and stuck in. If she had needed to breathe, she
would be incapacitated as her chest was visibly pushed in, but Brainiac was a
full android, and although badly damaged, was still functional. Supergirl flew
in, ready to end the fight before the android was free to activate whatever she
had waiting for Supergirl, but it turns out being slammed through the wall was
the only trigger the trap needed.
Two 30mm Gatling guns waited in the back corners of the room, designed to kill
main battle tanks, they would hurt, but Brainiac knew they could not kill Kara
Zor-El, Supergirl. Stepping forward Supergirl prepared to end Brainiac 8’s
rampage with a single punch, determined to absorb the cannon fire rather than
risk deflecting it where Alex and her boss were still bound in the next room.
“That won’t be enough to stop me, and you know it” Supergirl stated moving
forward to deliver the coup de grace.
“That isn’t designed to stop you. This is.” Brainiac 8 sneered, one eye
flashing, one eye blazing as reduced function from the hit slowed the planned
response just enough for Supergirl to see it begin. A pillar rose from the
floor, with a lead box and heavy lead plated titanium iris opening. There was
only one thing that could be locked inside a lead box and present a threat to a
Kryptonian simply by opening. Green Kryptonite. If it opened when she was
inside the firing arcs of the two tank killing gatling guns, she would be
rendered vulnerable before she could flee. The guns could not just hurt her,
they could kill her.
Brainiac was slowed by the damage to her chest, so the trap was opening more
slowly than planned. Kara had heard her cousin talk about doing this, but had
never tried it. She locked her head vision on the lead box and tried to fuse
the iris closed, and heat the box up enough to cook the green kryptonite,
exciting its radioactive decay enough to render it harmless. If she went too
hot, the box would melt, and she would weaken. If she didn’t go hot enough,
Brainiac would open the box herself and the kryptonite would still be active.
The cannons began to roar and the hammering impacts hurt Supergirl worse than
Brainiac’s own fists. It took all of her willpower to keep the beams on
target, and under control.
Brainiac 8 howled “NOOOOO!” and pulled herself out of the wall to cut open the
box, morphing one arm into a wicked axe blade.
The blade tore through the front of the box, exposing the crimson glow of the
superheated kryptonite.
Supergirl dove out of the way, turning her heat vision onto the sensors in the
walls, melting them to scrap. This caused the guns to fall back to their man
jack mode, firing on the only moving target in the room. Brainiac 8 held
together for almost five seconds before coming apart. Her invulnerability
shattered by Supergirl’s initial attack, and her healing blocked to
metamorphose her hand into an axe to finish her trap, she had not rebuilt her
carapace enough to withstand the tank killing rounds. The miniguns emptied
their ammunition hoppers and spun in silent exhaustion before retracting into
their mounts and deactivating.
Supergirl rose, feeling the effects of the Red Kryptonite wash over her,
feeling her emotions beginning to run wild like she was drunk, and feeling her
scalp burn and a heavy weight begin to pull on her. Without time to think
about it, she stepped forward and used her heat vision and boots to stamp the
last of Brainiac 8’s processors to slagged scrap before freeing her sister and
boss.
“Kara, your hair!” Alex whispered as she ripped her free of the machine clamping
her in place.
“What about it Alex? Did it turn pink or something?” Kara asked, afraid of
what the unpredictable effects of Red Kryptonite had done to it.
“No, its still gorgeous and blonde, but its growing right down to your
calves!” Alex said.
Supergirl stomped her foot in anger. “Stupid Red Kryptonite. If I had a few
more seconds I would have cooked it from green all the way to spent, but
noooooo, stupid Brainiac ripped it open while the Kryptonite was only red and
now I have turned into a Kryptonian CHIA PET!”
Turning her eyes on the red kryptonite, Supergirl blasted it full force for
several seconds. The radiation spilled back stronger for several seconds
before the Kryptonite went from red to black, and then shattered as nothing
more than harmless inert black shards.
Her hair now glowed a soft golden colour, and reached the floor. Kara sighed.
“How are we supposed to cut this?”
Back at DEO headquarters, Hank Henshaw looked at Kara and broke the news.
“We can’t cut it. We tried everything we had in the arsenal. It is actually
stronger than any other part of you right now. We tried the one experiment
with Green Kryptonite, but as you recall, it weakened you before it weakened
your hair. It won’t stop growing, there is nothing science has to offer that
can help you.” He said.
Supergirl sat as Alex worked her hair into a braid that she could at least not
step on as it trailed behind her like some Princess’s wedding dress. “That’s
not fair!” She cried, slamming her hand down and shattering the heavy multi
ton scanning array that she was seated upon. “oopsie!” She giggled, then
blushed.
“Sorry, sorry. It’s the Red Kryptonite. My emotions are all over the place
and my filter is like totally off. I have less impulse control than a spring
break frat boy on his second keg, or Alex doing physicals on the new female
recruits.” Supergirl blurted.
“Hey!” Said Alex, yanking her sister’s hair. Not happy with her sister
sharing her fears that she enjoyed doing physicals on the other hard bodied
women of the DEO more than she should.
Director Henshaw sighed.
“I hate to suggest it, but we know that your cousin is vulnerable to magic. We
track and have used a number of powerful magical workers in the Eastern US.
There is one group, they are very low key, that might agree to help. They have
very quietly shut down some very powerful operators who preyed on women, and
turned them over to us. They don’t work well with men, but as you are another
woman, they should probably agree to help.”
Supergirl frowned. “Magic isn’t real.”
Director Henshaw smiled grimly. “You
could tell that to Wonder Woman. I did once. Then she punched me through a
mountain, threw her lasso around me and used it’s magic to make me sing “I’m a
little teapot” nursery rhymes while she sipped her tea, floating six feet in
the air.”
Supergirl giggled, Alex covered her face with Kara’s hair so as to not get
caught giggling at the image.
“Fine. Where are your magicians?” Kara
asked.
An hour later, Kara found herself out front of a Pagan book store. “Temple of
Diana Nemorensis”
Kara whined at her sister. “Witches?
Your solution to my problem is to bring me to a bunch of Wicked Witches?
Seriously, a sewing circle of middle aged women is your answer. What are they
going to do? Sell me some scented candles and teach me to ride a broom?”
Alex sighed. “These are Wiccan’s. There whole thing is harm none. I don’t
know why you are so upset. From Mom and Dad’s point of view your worshipping
Rao is just as Pagan as they are. Open the door, your hair is HEAVY.” Alex
argued.
Kara pushed open the door, and five heavy set women were waiting. In the
center was a woman clad in a formal Roman Stola, her wide hips and heavy
breasts coupled with the silver in her hair and proud dark eyes gave her the
aspect of a queen. A short rotund black woman sat beside her, the image of an
African fertility goddess given life. The rest of the women ranged from pale
blonde to clearly middle eastern ancestry, with a heavily muscled raven tressed
brunette who looked like a mechanic or truck driver rounding out the set. All
of them were variations on the theme of large or full bodied.
Kara snickered. “Not Wiccan’s; Thiccans!”
Alex whispered “Kara, do not piss them off. I can barely hold your hair now.”
The central woman looked coldly at Kara.
“Science holds no help for you. All the power of man holds no help for you.
This is a women’s mystery alone. The goddess Diana Nemorensis, Diana the
Huntress, holds power over the living and the dead, she is the Huntress, she
who holds the power to end all things. Hers is a power that is shared only
among women, and her rituals are not for the faint of heart. Your body, I am
told, is so strong that no tool or weapon can cut it, and your hair is
stronger. That means nothing. The power of the goddess can work miracles on
those who submit to her will, submit to her rites. We have the power to draw
her down, but what you ask requires us to risk much, for what you ask requires
more power than any one mortal can hold. What you ask has risks, what you ask
has costs, so what you ask will have a price.”
Kara waved her hands “Totally can pay. I mean, I got a chit from the DEO that
could buy a building if I needed it. Price is no object. I swear I will pay
whatever it takes, just fix my hair.”
The central woman rose. “I am Belladonna, this is my second Aconite” the
roman looking woman pointed to the short heavy black woman.
“What we will require from you as price is only three things. Your hair once
cut will be ours to keep and use. It will be an offering to Diana, a material
strong enough to make her a bowstring strong enough to hunt the stars in the
sky themselves. You will keep the rites we practice here a secret, no man or
woman not of the coven may ever be told what goes on this or any other night we
practice.”
Kara rolled her eyes. “Sure, sure. No problem. And the third thing, the
money?” Kara asked.
Belladonna strode to Kara, grabbed a fist full of her long blonde hair and bent
her neck to the side. Aconite moved to nibble at Kara’s exposed neck and
earlobe. Looking into the widening eyes of Supergirl Belladonna spoke firmly,
cupping Supergirl’s breast through her top and pinching her growing nipple hard
enough to draw a groan from her.
“You will obey every instruction given. These rites are a sacred mystery of
women, a sacred celebration of women’s bodies and women’s love. We are her
priestesses, and you are only an aspirant who comes to beg for our
intercession. You will obey us, you will endure the testing of the Goddess,
for the Huntress has no place for weak women, do you understand super-GIRL?”
Belladonna hissed, pinching Supergirl’s nipple as hard as she could, as Aconite
sucked and licked at the vulnerable girls neck.
Supergirl knew about her sisters lesbian nature, and respected her life
choices. She had never been tempted or drawn to women in that way. The Red
Kryptonite was working on more than just her hair, and her out of control
hormones had made her body a dozen times more responsive than ever before. The
magic of the women gathered together in circle on ground holy to the Dianic
Wiccans, witches who worship the goddess of the hunt through lesbian ritual
magic bypassed the physical immunity that Kara was used to protecting her. She
arched her back, offering herself to the two women unconsciously.
“Yes, I swear, I swear!” Kara gasped.
They let her go, and the muscular black haired butch turned to Alex. “You can
go now. We will take good care of her. When we give her back to you, she will
have her hair taken care of.”
Alex swallowed, her own lusts barely controlled by the combination of what was
just promised, and the echoes of pure lesbian magic that had been roused by
what had just been oathed before the altar of Diana. “That is not all that is
going to be taken care of.” She whispered, then turned and bolted for her
car. She would be headed home for a long session with her vibrator before
calling in to report.
The Ritual: Part 1 Dedication
Supergirl in her iconic costume was lead
by the classic Roman matron High Priestess Belladonna and her partner the short
round motherly African priestess Aconite to the ritual room below the book
store.
A five pointed star covered the floor. At the point of the star was an altar
with a naked goddess Diana standing in triumph over the slain stag (once a
human male who chanced upon her bathing and was transformed into a stag and
hunted as punishment).
Clockwise around the star at each point were an unstrung cornel wood recurve hunting
bow, a spindle and spinning wheel, a carved wooden whip handle carved in the
shape of a naked woman with hands bound above her head, and an antler handled
bronze hunting knife.
Supergirl stood in the center of the
circle, at the heart of the pentagram. The priestesses took their station at
each of the points and chanted a hymn to Diana in Latin that rolled off the
tongue in a way that Christian churches could not hope to match, for this was
the living language of the pagan past, not the dry dead thing of the Christian
book. As they chanted, they stripped.
Kara was not shy about women’s bodies, she was part of the DEO, and changed
often with the commandos that were part of that organizations strike groups,
but those were all young fit girls, these were each in their own ways icons of
mature womanhood, not aping the manner of the male troops to downplay their
gender, but openly and proudly feminine.
Belladonna took her place before the altar of Diana and stepped from her
clothes like a goddess emerging from the sea. Standing proud before the statue
like a queen, she looked down upon the fascinated Supergirl.
The blonde, Rue, stripped her clothes with an almost balletic innocence and
grace, she ended with her pale skinned body crouched before the unstrung bow,
hands caressing it, eyeing Kara with the stillness of a predator. Supergirl
felt her body still like a terrified deer, even knowing she was invulnerable to
any mortal weapon.
The dark middle eastern priestess Vervaine danced and stripped like a Hetaria
of old, her every motion an erotic art, her rich curves showing the promise of
a womanhood whose richness mocked the youthful Supergirl and hinted at a
feminine power the girl had never dared explore. She paused, posed for display
that was both invitation and challenge. Behind her was an ancient spinning
wheel and in her hand a simple spindle.
The rich ebony form of Aconite was not conventionally beautiful, being heavy
and full bodied, but her dance was wild and untamed as she stripped as if
transformed in ecstasy, heavy breasts heaving, eyes wild, and in her hands the
pale wood of a whip handle carved into the shape of a bound woman. She eyed
Kara like so much helpless prey, and Supergirl shivered.
The short haired pale butch brunette Myrrh tore her clothes off in a dance that
was aggression and rage, in her hand the antler handled bronze hunting knife
caressed her flesh as she danced, a hard body made of slab like working muscle
not the fine aesthetics of the gym, her tiny breasts and wide chest should have
made Kara feel more feminine, but the raw challenge as she posed, heavy muscled
legs spread and dark furred mound thrust boldly forward made Supergirl feel
suddenly small and weak.
Belladonna spoke richly, her words
seeming to echo as the green pillar candles of the altar flashed to life on
their own without a touch.
“Do you come as a woman to offer your soul before the goddess as her priestess,
or do you come before the goddess as a warrior offering only your flesh?”
Belladonna asked, staring down her Roman nose like a Domina passing judgement
upon a household slave.
Before Kara could answer, Aconite spoke with a lilting creole accent. “She
stinks of man gods, she stinks of the sun, she is no priestess called by moon.”
Supergirl felt her anger rise. “I am sworn to Rao, the sun god of my birth,
but I am a warrior for this world.” She threw the challenge in all their
faces.
Rue picked up her bow and raised it. “Then as a warrior let her be taken.”
Vervain took her spindle and caressed it, “Then as a warrior let her be bound.”
Aconite slapped the whip handle into her dark palm. “Then as a warrior let her
be tested.”
Myrrh took the knife and ran the flat of its bronze blade over her mound of
Venus and purred “Then as a warrior let her serve.”
The women took Supergirl’s costume off of her, descending from each point of
the star to converge on her. Kara felt herself being stripped and caressed,
kissed and fondled. When she tried to resist, Belladonna captured her chin
with her hand and glared at her, asking.
“Do you have the power to free yourself? Does any object on earth have the
power to free you? No? Then you will give the only thing you can, warrior,
your body, to the service of the goddess and through the power she takes from
your body will be gain the power over your hair so that we can free you from
this curse.”
“I thought you just had to chant or wave
your hands or something. I studied the files on wizards, and that is what you
do, right?” Supergirl protested as Rue sucked one of Kara’s nipples into her
mouth, making it harden. On the other side, the muscular Myrrh pinched her
nipples hard enough for the Kryptonian to feel it. A harsh slap of the whip
handle on her ass cheeks made Kara squeak, even though it did not hurt her as
Aconite answered.
“That sort of magic is nothing. This is the magic of Diana, the goddess of the
moon, the goddess of the hunt, the goddess of women’s mysteries. Her magic is
made of women’s flesh, women’s hunger, women’s desire, woman’s anger, and
women’s pride. You are Supergirl, but no woman. You have only a woman’s
flesh, and nothing else. We will take that flesh and pull from it a woman’s
hunger, a woman’s desire, we will teach you to bow before a woman’s anger, and
to humble yourself before a woman’s pride. When that is done, when Supergirl
has been broken by the power of the goddess, we will cut the hair that curses
you and the curse that comes with it. Then you will be cursed no longer, then
you may, perhaps, be a girl no longer. Perhaps even a woman.”
Supergirl was breathing heavily as
mouths kissed her, finger’s probed her.
“That is just some nonsense you sickos made up to make young girls strip for
you old perverts!” Kara shouted, her breath coming fast, her power gathering
to launch her through the roof the cellar, then the building, to escape.
Before she could do that, the High Priestess Beladonna dropped to her knees and
kissed Supergirl’s innocent pussy.
The shock of that contact caused her to freeze, Aconite pressed her lush black
body to the young blondes back to support her as she placed the whipstock in
her mouth like a horses bridle. Myrhh and Vervain took a nipple each in their
mouths and sucked on the girls gravity defying pert breasts as Belladonna’s
tongue worked the magic of women across the most ancient of Her altars.
“Oh Rao, Oh no, oh, oh, oh. Please no. I’m not a LESBIANNNNNNNNNN!” Kara
begged as her body arched like a drawn bow as Belladonna worked her tongue
feverishly on the girls tender labia, before pillaging inside her depths with
the power and knowledge of a lifetime’s practice. Supergirl may have trained
her body in combat, but her shy nature had caused her to run screaming from her
sexuality and her bodies ignorance of its own needs delivered her as trussed
prey to the priestess of the Huntress. As Supergirl’s body began to buck
against her will, seeking further and deeper contact with the darting tongue,
Belladonna at last claimed her clit and sucked it into her mouth. As the
Kryptonian screamed loud enough to shake the walls, Belladonna’s tongue
flickered like captive lightning over Supergirl’s vulnerable clit. With the
wide helpless eyes of a hunted doe, Supergirl climaxed all over and into
Belladonna’s knowing and wicked mouth.
As the helpless Kryptonian hung from the arms of the supporting Priestesses,
Belladonna held up Supergirl’s endlessly growing invulnerable hair, and cut off
a strand with her teeth, and then another, then another. As she cut them, Vervain
took them upon her spindle and worked them until a bowstring was woven. Rue
and Myrrh had sucked Supergirl’s nipples to painful prominence, and the Priestess
Rue now took the fine blonde bowstring and wrapped it around the base of each
nipple, then with a practiced motion, strong the recurve bow with the bowstring
still attached to Kara’s nipples.
Supergirl’s orgasmic daze was broken with a shock of pain as her nipples were
clamed by the taut bowstring. The most powerful woman on earth found herself
led like cattle on a lead chain as the priestess with the bow dragged her
around the perimeter of the pentagram with the bow like a puppeteers rod and
her nipples making her the puppet. Arousal and pain filled her, humiliation
and lust blinded and confused her as she was led to the feet of each woman, and
the bow pressed to the ground, causing Supergirl’s face to be pressed to each
Priestesses foot in order.
“Submit to us, beg us to be bound, beg us to be tested, beg us to serve” Each
priestess asked, presenting her foot to be kissed.
As the Maid of Might felt the cut of the tight bowstring made of her own hair
inflict the sort of pleasure and pain she had no experience with, she tried to
summon her will to resist. Fingers pushing into her pussy from behind as each
priestess pillaged her depths and laughed as they licked the taste of her
initial subjugation from their fingers shattered her resistance and Kara found
herself kissing each proffered foot.
“Please bind me” Kara begged.
“Please test me” Supergirl begged.
“Please let me serve” The strongest woman on earth begged five middle aged
matrons as her bound tits pushed into the ground, and she sucked the toes of
women she prayed were not just predators, but possible saviours.
*********
The Ritual Part 2 Bound and Tested
She came here because Red Kryptonite had
made her hair grow uncontrollably, it now ran behind her like a Princess
wedding train in a Disney wedding, and worse, the hair was uncuttable. Green
Kryptonite would kill her before it would weaken the hair enough to cut and it
just kept growing. When Director Henshaw told her there was a magic solution,
she expected something flashy like Gandalf or Zatanna, but what she got were
four overweight middle aged soccer mom’s and a butch lesbian that looked like
she lifted trucks when she wasn’t fixing them. She didn’t take it seriously.
Their so called magic was nothing more than an excuse to get young girls who
didn’t know any better naked for their perverse games!
But orders made her go along, humour them, just for the chance it would work.
I mean, magic was just science we didn’t understand yet right? There was no
goddess given sex magic, they just didn’t understand what they were doing. She
would go along with the charade long enough to get her hair fixed and fly out
before the perverts could lay a finger on her!
Lay a finger on her?
Fingers in her! Worse. The magic worked. The priestess had aroused her so
her mind, already fighting the Red Kryptonite hormone surges, was too confused
to flee. Worse, her tongue had brought Supergirl to a soul shattering climax.
Just as she was about to flee a situation running out of control, the priestess
had CUT HER HAIR with teeth still shining with Kara’s own juices. Covered with
Supergirl’s cum, she had bit off strand after strand that were used to bind her
painfully erect nipples and then strung to the bow of Diana the Huntress.
Sweet Rao the pain! Her hair was stronger than her skin since the Kryptonite
exposure, and the painfully erect nipples were clamped by the twined bowstring
crueler than any nipple clamps science could construct. Worse, the bow kept
flooding her entire body with desires of submission and service, images of
countless women broken before the goddess for daring to carry the faith of a
man god into her bower. Sweet Rao, her Kyrptonian body was immune to most
damage and healed at an inhuman rate, so her experience with pain was limited
to battle or the minutes after. She had no ability to handle the pain as she
was lead by her nipples like an ox from its nose ring, an animal lead to
sacrifice.
Worst of all, her body, her trained Kryptonian weapon of a body made her feel
so much less a woman than her tormentors. She had barely even dared to
masturbate, even then only with shattering guilt. She feared to give in to any
of her base desires as her power made her too dangerous to ever lose control.
That path lead to villainy too easily. The pleasure these middle aged women
ripped from her was worse than the pain. Only the pain allowed her to hold
onto any sanity at all as the pleasure threatened to break her pride in a way
no beating or even near death had ever done. She was Supergirl, but these were
women, and commanded her body in ways she never dreamed.
Lead by the bowstring on her nipples, she was forced to kneel and beg. Beg to be
bound, beg to be tested, beg to serve.
The shame of it burned her cheeks like the pleasure of it burned her loins.
Only the matching burning in her painful nipples allowed her to draw upon the
teachings of Rao and call upon her battle spirit to resist. She was Supergirl,
she would not be broken!
The women laughed, the archer Rue held Supergirl face down to the ground
kneeling as she pressed the bow into the ground with her foot. Her other foot
she raised to Supergirl’s lips.
“Kiss my feet, Supergirl. Show the goddess your devotion by sucking and
licking my toes in repentance for your arrogance.” Rue demanded. Behind her
the short haired muscular butch Myrrh tried to force her fingers into
Supergirl’s pussy, but the Maid of Might clamped down so hard a pile driver
couldn’t force her. Supergirl glared up at her saviour/captors and shouted
back.
“NEVER!”
Then Rue rolled the bow along the ground with her foot causing Supergirl’s
vulnerable and inexperienced nipples to be nearly garrotted by the bowstring.
Her body curled to the ground to avoid pain, all other thought shattered. Myrrh
laughed as she forced first one then two fingers into the vulnerable Kryptonian
and she began to finger the young girl’s clit in time with the savage
fingering. Rue laughed as Supergirl lapped and sucked on her feet obediently.
As she lapped and sucked at her captor’s toes, her long hair was braided into
ropes to bind Supergirl’s hands behind her head, then around her ankles and
finally back around her throat. Now she was bound kneeling, and any attempt to
rise would strangle her with her own hair. Limited to shuffling on her hands
and knees she was led around by the bowstring like a puppet on the strings as
each Priestess sat upon a stool at her point of the pentacle.
Rue lead her to her own seat, bringing her nose to mons with her captors
womanhood as Supergirl shuffled in a fog of sensation she used all of her
warrior training to hold even a shred of control through.
Rue spoke, her voice that of the school teacher she was. “Do you know what the
rule of three is?”
Supergirl shook her head.
Vervain tugged on the hair rope around Supergirl’s throat, forcing her gasping
to lean backwards in a painful arch. Vervain let an olive skinned hand trail
down the hard ridges of the Kyrptonian’s sculpted abs to her aroused and open
sex. She traced a finger lightly around her labia, teasing, arousing, but not allowing
the tortured girl desperately raising her hips to those fingers to reach
satisfaction.
“When we give you pleasure in her service, you receive from us the gifts she
gives us. This is one. This is holy, but it is only enough power to cut a
hair or two.” She released Supergirl’s hair and stepped back, pushing her face
into Rue’s equally blonde but untrimmed bush.
Rue laughed throatily. “When you who beg to serve make an offering of your
service to us, the goddess will repay you three, and with that power we can cut
your hair, we can break the unnatural forces that drive you out of control,
with that we can bind you safely again, back in control.” Rue rasped, her
voice husky as she humped herself on the captive superheroine’s face, getting her
scent in her nose and lips.
“If you would be free of this curse, then please me. Please us all. IN
DIANA”A NAME!” Rue cried, pulling forward on the bow painfully to cause Kara’s
mouth to open in shock. Open, and fill with the taste and feel of a mature
woman’s pussy.
Need and instinct took over, and Supergirl found herself remembering all those
dirty things she heard Alex tell her lovers to do. Those long lonely nights
she cursed her super hearing as she used all her willpower to do no more than
hump her pillow while listening to her lesbian sister on the other side of the
house telling her girl of the night how to please Alex with her mouth.
Supergirl dove into her pussy like a starving woman. She lapped at her labia,
tracing each fold with her tongue as she explored with a sense of wonder and
awe, truly worshipping at the altar of a mature woman. She was the aspirant,
the girl who knelt before the woman, and she felt the urge to be worthy, to please,
to serve rise in her. She sucked gently, lapped, as the taste began to fill
her senses. There was wild magic in the circle and power roared through the
Kryptionian’s veins, power that was rooted in the flesh and desire of women and
she gave herself to it. Her tongue now darted into the depths of Rue’s blonde furred
pussy like a striking serpent. A tongue stronger than any on earth ravaged Rue
lovingly and endlessly, for unlike human women, Supergirl did not have to
breathe for hours at a time if she chose.
“Oh goddess, oh goddess. She is a born slave. Oh my goddess, you have not
been eaten until you have been eaten by a superheroine who does NOT HAVE TO
COME UP FOR AIR!” Rue cried, then screamed and came so hard she bent in half
and almost fell from the stool. Only hands gripping Supergirl’s hair like
safety bars kept her upright. Kara was lost in her lust and did not stop, she
lapped and lapped, sucked and devoured like a starving woman as Rue went into a
second orgasm more shattering than the first.
Then it happened. Rue screamed again and the pleasure given to her shot back
into Supergirl three for one.
Kara screamed, and bucked. Had she been human, the force she spasmed with
would have torn muscles, tendons and ligament. Had she been bound by steel or
the most advanced carbon fiber nanotubes she would have torn free, but she was
neither human, nor bound by the chains of science. Her flesh shattered in
orgasmic bliss but she took no harm. Only her Hair flashed pale silver of
moonlight as Rue rose, unstrung the bow from Kara’s abused nipples and restrung
it with a swift natural motion. Taking the bowstring of golden hair, she
reached down to where the hair ran another ten feet past her bindings and cut
it free as if it was so much cotton candy.
Vervain laughed, and grabbed Kara by the nipples. The returning blood caused
the pain to shock her from her orgasmic state, and she whimpered like a dog as
Vervain dragged her to the bench of the spinning wheel. It was not a normal
chair, it was a Queening chair. Kara was forced on her back, face up, legs
bent painfully under her.
Vervain sat on her chair and began to spin the fine hair just cut by Rue,
spinning them into a whip knotted with the goddesses beloved jade, amethyst and
moonstone.
Kara found herself not faced with Vervain’s pussy, but her puckered rosebud.
She cried out in defiance.
“No, not that. Not that. I am not a whore!” Kara cried out, shutting her
eyes to block out the sight of the olive skinned woman’s asshole and the rising
need she felt to kiss it.
Vervain laughed again, feet pumping and hands flying on her spinning wheel as
she crafted the lash of the Goddess from Supergirl’s own hair.
“Of course you are not a whore. Diana does not tolerate such. You are a slave.
Her slave. You will show your devotion by kissing my ass. You will show you
understand your place by making me cum without touching the pussy you have not
earned the right to touch.” Vervain wiggled and pressed her ass to the
Kyrptonians moaning mouth, but leaned over and asked Aconite, “Could you
instruct the slave, My Lady?”
Taking spindle in hand, Aconite used her
hand to begin to finger Supergirl’s pussy, getting them nice and wet before running
her fingers along the girl’s virgin bum hole. Supergirl tensed her ass cheeks,
denying the black woman entry to that most vulnerable spot, but Aconite was
waiting for that and slid the spindle that she had been caressing Kara’s sex
with deep into the girls pussy. As she relaxed in shock, Aconite worked her
first finger into the aroused Supergirl’s asshole.
Kara opened her mouth to scream, and her nose brushed Vervain’s asshole.
Aroused beyond reason, she began to kiss it. To suck it. As fingers worked
into her own asshole, she began to probe Vervain’s with her tongue. As fingers
were replaced with a spindle, Supergirl drove her own tongue into Vervain’s
asshole with unconscious echo of the spindle now being worked into her virgin
asshole.
Soon she was lost in the worship of the
other woman’s ass, a fever of need taking over her. A need to serve, a need to
please. A girl among women, she needed to earn her place, to prove her
devotion. She would die before speaking the words aloud, but she felt in the
darkness of the Queening chair that she had found her place beneath these
women.
Vervain struggled to tie off the last of the whip and thrust it into the
waiting hands of Myrrh before she had to grab the arms of her chair and let her
own breathing stop as she hung in endless resistance against the orgasm to
come. The longer she held it, the more powerful it would be, but the tongue of
the Maid of Might was working magic in her darkest depths that no human with a
need to breathe could equal. At last, she screamed like a Maenad and came.
Aconite grabbed the Supergirl by the
hair ropes and dragged her out before the shattering orgasm of the threefold
law forced her into convulsions that might well have shattered the chair and
injured Vervain. Watching in awe as Supergirl was bathed in moonlight, she
pulled the spindle handle from her tight pink little rump, and offered it to
the whimpering Supergirl.
“Clean your nasty ass off my tool, slave.” Aconite cooed to Supergirl,
stroking her face.
Supergirl opened her mouth to the tool just removed from her ass and looking deep
into the dark eyes of Aconite with her shining blue ones, she worshipped the
spindle with her mouth like the finest of Aphrodite’s own prostitutes.
Taking the spindle from her, she wound it in the hair that was already growing
a foot since the start of the ceremony, and wound it tight. Gesturing for Myrrh
to step forward with the knife, she cut the hair at the first bind of the
braid, freeing Supergirl from the long and binding hair.
Aconite embraced the trembling Supergirl for the first time. She stroked her
hair and kissed her forehead. A small fat black woman cupped the athletic
white girl as she shuddered in uncontrollable spasms post orgasm. She pulled
her to her heavy black breasts and chanted the goddess chant softly and slowly,
rocking her as she would a child. Soon Supergirl stopped whimpering, stopped
weeping.
Kara was lost. So lost. Her body was shattered, her mind, her pride. All she
had was sensation. She heard the heartbeat of the black woman and slowed her
own to match it. She heard the motherly crooning and felt safe, felt protected.
She felt loved. She turned and took one of the heavy black breasts into her
hand, and let her mouth suckle upon the dark plum like nipple with reverence
and awe.
Aconite caressed the blonde as she nursed at her heavy black breast. Soon she
felt the girls hands begin to caress her body. So different from her own. Old
not young, black not white, soft and plump not hard and unyielding. A woman,
not a girl. Soon, cautiously, as if afraid of being denied, she let her
fingers trace down to the other woman’s pussy. Slowly she stroked, feeling the
other woman arch into her touch and sigh. She stroked, caressed, then at last,
slid a finger in.
Daring to look up now, she sucked and nursed at the heavy black breast while
looking upward for approval as she began to finger her, first slowly then
faster.
Feeling power of a sort strange to her,
she brought Aconite to the edge first once, then twice, then a third time with
her fingers, before Aconite took her hair in her hands and pulled her up for a
fierce kiss.
Their tongues dueled as Kara stroked her fingers into the black woman, then she
felt Aconite pull Kara’s head back, and push it down to her purple edged flower
of perfection.
Kara whimpered in her own need as she knelt before Aconite and worshipped her
pussy with all the love and reverence she could muster. It wasn’t long until
Aconite came, and Kara found herself drowning in her womanly essence. This
time the shattering was not as terrible, as Aconite held her, staring into her
eyes and staying with her through the three fold orgasm.
There was the crack of a whip on her back, and Kara felt the welt raised in her
skin, a mark in her flesh no bullet could produce. A whip made of her own
hair, powered by the sacred magic of Diana, it cut her flesh as it would that
of the softest fruit.
Whimpering, Kara turned to see Myrrh, the black haired butch lesbian had
breasts smaller than hers, but muscles and frame far larger. In any rational
respect, Supergirl was ten thousand times stronger, but Myrrh was every kind of
womanly power, while Supergirl was just that, a girl before her.
Myrrh wrapped the whip around Supergirl’s neck and walked her around the
pentagram like a dog before settling her on all fours facing the altar.
“You aren’t going to be as lucky with me. I don’t get my kicks from little
girls like you serving me, I get them by making them whimper and cry. I am going
to make you love this whip, and then I am going to give you to it.” Myrrh
rasped in her ear, voice harsh and throbbing with lusts too dark to examine
closely.
Kissing Supergirl fiercely, she worked the blonde while caressing her body with
the whip. Finally, she began to rub the end of the whip shaft against the
girl’s overstimulated sex.
“NO!” Said Kara, eyes pleasing, voice shaking.
“A woman says no once and means it. A girl like you says no while pushing her
twat against me begging for it.” Myrrh said pulling Kara’s head down to see
where her hips were indeed seeking to deepen the contact where the whip touched
her pussy.
“Beg for it.” Myrrh growled as she began to chew upon the ravaged girl’s
breasts.
“Please” Supergirl begged, probably meaning stop.
“Please” Supergirl begged, arching into the masterful tit sucking she was
receiving and the raw dominance of the experienced butch.
“Please” Supergirl begged, thrusting against the shaft pushing just into her
sacred self, but always retreating short of going deeper.
“Please what, slave?” Myrrh asked, face suddenly pressing into Supergirl’s,
eyes blazing with hunger.
“Please fuck me, Mistress.” The Maid of Might begged to be fucked with the
whip that would be used on her.
Looking her right in the eyes, Myrrh worked the shaft into Supergirl’s ravaged
pussy. She was surprisingly gentle, waiting for the girl to push for more
before beginning to thrust it into her.
This should have been impersonal, should have been brutal, but Myrrh was looking
at her so fiercely, so deeply, so hungrily that Kara knew that Myrrh needed her
and what she was giving as much as Kara did. She let her face show the
pleasure of every thrust, she chose to be helpless before it. To be nothing
but a fuck toy for Myrrh. Rolling her eyes back, she cried out in ecstasy,
then reached out and twined her own hands around Myrrh’s neck and kissed her
softly, lovingly, as the butch whip fucked her through an orgasm that was as
much a willful offering of submission as it was a conquest. Tears in her eyes,
she whispered “Thank you” to the priestess whose eyes were still full of
hunger, but no longer of contempt.
At last she was led to the altar. Belladonna and woven ropes of golden hair to
link to the heavy iron ring that hung from the roof.
Belladonna stood tall and proud, heavy in body and years, silver and black in
the hair on her head, and on her pussy. Her skin shone in a pale moonlight
that should not be possible in this underground chamber, but Kara no longer
questioned the ways of the Goddess.
“In ancient Sparta, the Spartan warriors were only men, and all they could
offer the goddess was their devotion of suffering. They would show their
devotion by standing and receiving the whip in joy and not suffering, crying
out never in pain, never for it to stop, but only to glorify the goddess. It
wa all a warrior could offer, but the Lady loved them for it. She would grant
them miracles. All you are is a warrior, so this is the only path to her
favour that is open. The goddess can empower us to cut your hair, but even now
it grows back. Only she can stop it, and only if you earn it. Will you ask to
be tested child?”
Kara felt the welt at her back and knew the potential cost to be like no
suffering she had ever felt. Yet too she had felt the power of these woman and
their goddess. For all their cruelty, there was love too, and the promise of
protection for those who submitted. Kara could not put it into words, but she
needed this.
“Please High Priestess, let me be tested.” Supergirl asked.
Myrrh took her place behind the hanging
Supergirl with the whip, the other priestesses began a song/chant that seemed
to fill the room with power until all she could see before her was the shining
body of Belladonna.
The whip cracked and a line of fire cut her flesh. She felt blood, a thing
unheard of save for the most dire battles, to flow down her back.
Again it cracked, and Kara cried out in pain.
Belladonna asked, “Will you stop?”
Supergirl shouted back “NO!”
Again the whip cracked,
Again
Again
Weeping uncontrollably, using the hair ropes to support her weight, her chest
rising and falling uncontrollably, she was barely conscious. Her body strove
to push away from each new stroke like an animal in a trap.
Belladonna asked, “Will you stop child. One word, and it ends.”
Supergirl looked at her in desperation. “Please, no. Don’t stop.”
Belladonna kissed her, hard. Supergirl pushed into her body as the next three strokes hit. She screamed into Belladonna’s kissing mouth, then sucked her tongue in frantic submissive need as her hands sought, not to be free, but to reach down and hold the Priestess.
Myrrh had watched the girl as her
strength was torn from her, as her pride was torn from her, until she was nothing
more than a wounded animal begging for release and yet she still refused to
stop. At the end, she rode the stroke of the whip by pressing her naked
perfection into the high priestess in mindless slave need. It was more than
she could take.
Throwing the whip down, she pressed her naked body into the bloody and visibly
healing back of Supergirl and ground herself against her blood covered young
ass. Reaching down, she fingered the little Super-slave’s pussy until the
tormented girl reached her own orgasm. Myrrh humping the whipped girls blood
covered ass like a mating Hyena matriarch, she lost herself in her own
shattering climax.
As the three fold law hammered the orgasm of a lifetime into the broken
Supergirl, the chains of her hair binding her to the iron ring of the altar
broke and the two fell into a hugging heap, the butch clasping the bloodied and
broken girl to her in strong protective arms until her mind recovered from the
last shattering.
Belladonna sat at her chair before the altar and smiled down at Supergirl.
“You have offered enough. Your curse is broken. The goddess has blessed you.
You are free.” She said smiling down at the abused superheroine.
Kara rolled to all fours, and looked up at Belladonna and shook her head.
“No Mistress, I am not free.” Kara said as she crawled of her own free will to
kiss the feet of the Arch priestess. Kissed her feet lovingly, caringly,
worshipfully. Kiss by kiss she traced up her unshaven legs to her thighs.
Kissed and stroked along the length of those smooth thighs until she reached
the altar of the goddess. Kneeling before her Mistress, she looked up.
“Please Domina, let me serve.” Supergirl asked.
With a regal nod, she parted her legs, and Supergirl began to worship the pussy
of the High Priestess with every art this long night had taught her. There was
no temptation for her hands to stray from the body of the priestess to play
with herself, because bound by the three fold law, there was no pleasure she,
or anyone else could give her that would ever be a third as powerful as the
pleasure she got from pleasing these women. Rao help her, she would rather die
than be free.
In the morning, a short haired Supergirl floated in her own window to the
shocked gaze of her sister Alex. They hugged, and Alex was shocked at how her
sister’s body reacted with instantly hardening nipples and the flush to her
face that argued a total body response to the touch of a woman.
“Rough night?” Alex asked, pulling back to a more comfortable distance.
“Life changing.” Supergirl said with a haunted smile.