Supervillain Journal Superior Girl

Supervillain Log #3: Superior Girl

She begged for mercy. Then she begged to cum.

The first superheroine I publicly humiliated was Superior Girl. She enjoyed it even more than I did.

The event was Superior Girl Day. The summer sky was clear blue, save for a few news helicopters. A crowd gathered around the bandstand in downtown Metro Park, holding signs that read: "Superior Girl is Unbeatable," "We Love Superior Girl," "Villains Tremble before Superior Girl." On stage, before a banner which bore her shield emblem, the mayor presented the superheroine with a novelty-sized key to the city.

The mayor, still holding onto the key with Superior Girl, leaned into the podium mic. Her voice boomed over the cheering crowd. "This city, this planet, owes so much to Superior Girl. She's the bravest, strongest, most virtuous person our world has ever known."

"She's not!" I bellowed. Even with her PA system, the mayor's voice couldn't match my supernaturally enhanced decibels. I leapt from my perch, one of the skyscrapers framing Metro Park. My experiments with Mesopotamian rituals had granted me new powers: impossible strength, telepathy, and, the crowd now witnessed, flight. I swooped from the building, across the heckling crowd, and landed beside Superior Girl.

You'll know from seeing her in the news, but Superior Girl really is a paradigm of beauty. Blonde hair, straight at the roots, and wavy at the ends that hang around her chest and shoulders. Pale complexion with an almost divine radiance, over full cheekbones and well-curved jawline. The bold blue of her outfit brings out her eyes, just as much as the tight-fitting fabric emphasizes her ample bust and slender waist. Her cape, as red as the American Flag, matches her skirt and boots. Basically, she's a busty blonde angel in spandex. Up close, I was tempted to ravish her right away. I resisted. Toying with her, beating her, teasing her would make for much more satisfying sex.

"And who are you?" Superior Girl lifted her chin. She looked so smug.

"She is not brave." I faced the crowd, but pointed to their heroine. "She's just never known anyone who could challenge her. But believe me. As soon as she starts losing, she'll cower and beg for mercy like a scared little girl."

Superior Girl laughed. "Well, we'll never get to know, will we? No one has ever defeated me."

"Police!" the mayor called into the mic. She clutched the key to her chest. "Police!"

"No." Superior Girl raised a hand. "No interference, please. I want to handle this wannabe myself." She glared at me, her eyes as venomous as an angel's can be. "What do you think, Metronians? Should I give you a show?"

The crowd roared their approval. Superior Girl bent her knees, lifted her fists, cocked an eyebrow, as if to say, "Last chance to run, loser." When I chuckled, she charged.

Pro-tip for destroying superheroines: the humiliation is sweetest when you first inflate her confidence to its peak. So here's how I played it. Superior Girl's fighting style was far less flashy than Red Widow's or the Bat's. Punches and knees, with an occasional spin kick to show off her flowing cape, and an occasional cartwheel to show off her shapely legs. I

could

have dodged. But instead, when Superior Girl punched- letting out cute little "Ya!"s with each strike- I pretended to be buffeted. I mean, I was really Hollywood-ing it, with groans, raising my hands defensively, hitting the stage. Thanks to the kryptonine permanently infused in my bloodstream, I barely felt her blows. If not for her naivety, she would have realized I was humoring her like a parent would a toddler who's pretending to be an action hero.

"I thought it would be a

slight

challenge," she cooed as I pretended to writhe on the floor. She strutted across the stage, chest thrust forward, and waved to the cheering crowd. Taking advantage of her preoccupied arrogance, I telepathically scoured her mind. She was a virgin, with a minefield of undiscovered kinks.

Superior Girl smirked as I approached her, bolstered by the thunderous applause. "Sure! Let's give the people some more." She punched me again. But this time, I didn't shift with the blow. Instead, I tensed my chest. Her knuckles crumpled against my pecs.

The superheroine's face tensed in pain. Tears sprang to her eyes. I stood stoically as she hunched, whimpered, and squeezed her bruised knuckle.

The once-ecstatic crowd was now awestruck. They were silent as Superior Girl approached me and I punched her in the face. As I kicked her in the stomach. As I backhanded her so hard she spun, cape and skirt flowing around her helpless body. In the quiet, the crack of my fists against her skin, her yelps and cries, echoed across the park. The audience gaped as I beat her ass. And as her cries grew louder, her punches became shakier, and the audience yelled:

"Superior Girl! What are you doing? Get him!"

"She can't take this!"

"Stop it! You're kicking her ass!"

If you've never destroyed a superheroine, let me tell you: one of the most satisfying moments is when she first hits the ground. From that point onward, she can no longer pretend to be your equal. She switches from combat to survival mode. Here's when it happened with Superior Girl.

I held her by the shield-emblem on her chest, and yanked her into a headbutt. When I released her, she was cross-eyed with pain. She staggered, then collapsed face-first to the ground, a mess of blonde hair and crimson cape.

I placed a foot on the back of her head. Not to hurt her further. Just to symbolize her submission.

"You're defeated," I said. "But that's not enough." I removed my foot from her head, and walked to the mayor. She crouched in the corner of the stage, too afraid to run.

"I'll take that." I ripped the key to the city from her grasp. "Were you excited to receive this? Well then, you should

have

it."

Just as Superior Girl staggered to her feet, I smacked her across the face with the bow of the key meant to honor her. She almost hit the floor again, but I grabbed her by her hair. My nails dug into her scalp as I raised her. She fired futile punches to my torso as her heels, then toes, lifted off the ground.

"Put her down!" shouted someone from the crowd.

"Don't! She's helpless."

"Look at me," I said. Superior Girl's blue eyes were wide with unshed tears, and her lower lip spasmed as she tried to hold back sobs. "Are you scared, little girl?"

She nodded.

"But I'm telepathic, and I see you're not just scared. No one's ever manhandled you. You've never faced a man who could do whatever he wanted to you, no matter how much you resist. You've never met someone who could overwhelm you. And that excites you."

"What are you going to do to me?"

Reading her subconscious mind, I found her first undiscovered kink. Spanking. No one

had ever been able to slap her ass so it hurt. She was going to love it.

I released Superior Girl's hair. She started to fall, but I grabbed her, my forearm against her shoulder blades, so she was leaned over in front of me. I threw her cape over her shoulder and hiked her skirt to expose her ass. Throughout our fight, her spandex had ridden up her crack. I got a full view of her fat, pale ass.

I drew my hand back and slapped her. Hard. Superior Girl yelped, "Ouch!" But for the next slap, delivered to her other cheek, she moaned something between a pained "Ow!" and a sensual "Oh!" As I kept slapping her ass- upstroke, downstroke, side to side- her groans became more and more erotic. The strip of fabric between her legs darkened with her arousal.

I loved watching Superior Girl's cheeks as I had my way with her. The way they flattened on impact, and jiggled with my follow-through. To change rhythm, sometimes I stopped slapping. Instead, I rubbed, squeezed, traced my finger between her cheeks to press subtly against her asshole. She moaned like such a whore, it was hard to believe she was a virgin.

I placed my lips against Superior Girl's ear and whispered, "As you're now discovering, you

also

have a public humiliation kink."

"No!" Superior Girl elbowed me. I let her wiggle free, curious to see her next move. She bent her knees, raised a fist, and flew away.

Or, she tried to. But I grabbed the hem of her cape.

"Superior Girl, fleeing from a more powerful foe?" I asked.

She whined, realizing the trap, realizing how badly she was about to be pummeled. And did I ever pummel her. Holding onto her cape, I slammed her body to the ground, breaking the stage floor. I swung her tits against the support column, swung her shoulders onto the speakers, swung her ass onto the ground so hard it left a dent in the dirt. And with each impact, I shouted another word. "You. Will. Not. Leave. Until. I. Command." With any one of these impacts, I could have put her on her fat, pale ass. But it turned me on too much to watch her struggle as my helpless prey.

I pulled her cape in, so her lovely face rushed toward me, and punched her in the mouth. When I released Superior Girl, her costume was torn, and her skin grimy from dirt and dust. Most of the crowd remained, despite Superior Girl's beating (or maybe in awe of it!). When the air cleared, they watched their sniveling heroine crawl away from me.

The best thing about watching her crawl: her left tit spilled out of a tear in the spandex. The boob trembled with each movement, while her other tit stayed packed tight under her costume. I'd thought she looked busty in her uniform, but with part of it removed, I realized how tightly that thing constrained her breasts.

"Please, stop," she begged when she heard my footsteps. She threw an arm behind her, as if that could hold me back.

"Look at Superior Girl!" I declared to the crowd. "She can't even run away. She's certainly not flying." I landed my boot on her butt, and kicked her to lie flat on her chest.

"Let her go!" begged a woman from the audience.

"Please," begged Superior Girl.

I stepped on her back, and squished her. She could barely breathe as her tits smushed harder and harder against the dirt.

"Please!" she cried. "You win! You defeated me. I'll do anything."

I lifted my foot. Superior Girl's first breath was a gasp. I pressed the toe of my boot against her waist to flip her over. Fear gathered in her widening eyes.

"You're going to have a word with your fans." I grabbed Superior Girl by a hole in her costume. Her spandex was loose now, from all the tearing ,and she was too weak to support herself. She hung off the fabric, a few inches below my grip, as I pulled her to her feet.

The woman could barely stand, so I held her against my body. I placed one hand on her exposed breast, the other on her waist. We faced a crowd of fans, some agape, other suppressing smirks, still others raising their phones to record. This was Superior Girl, after all, finally emotionally humiliated and physically exposed.

I brought my face close enough to her ear to smell floral perfume (she'd worn

perfume

, she was so excited about this day!). "Tell them you're not a powerful superheroine. You're a scared little girl."

Superior Girl complied, her voice quiet until I twisted her nipple, and she called out, "I'm a scared little girl."

Let me tell you. There's nothing as hot as having a powerful woman scream that when you've got her nipple in one hand and the rest of her body in the other.

I fed her lines, massaging her tit as she spoke. Her breast was so full and pliant, shifting shape under the gentlest touch. I rubbed the smooth skin of her underboob, up the rougher texture of her areola, and then rubbed the pad of my thumb over her hardening nipple.

This part surprised even me. As Superior Girl spoke, she dug her ass against my crotch. She shifted against my hard bulge until it settled between her cheeks. She rubbed, and rubbed. It was like receiving an ass job, with her cape as a cloth. I guess it was some primal comfort to her, to have her conqueror pleased with her like that.

"I'm a scared little girl. I'm in way over my head. The second things looked bad for me, I tried to flee. But really, I'm turned on. After he defeated me, I realized how much I like his touch. How much I crave his approval. I want him to dominate me."

Superior Girl's fear and arousal hardened to determination. I felt her tense before she declared, "No! No, my fans deserve more. I'm Superior Girl, and I won't go down like this." She spun, grabbed me in a feeble bearhug, and flew both of us into the sky.

I'll admit, the feeling of my intestines dropping while my skin skyrockets- it's nauseating. When Superior Girl lifted us above the peaks of the skyscrapers, she unhanded and then punched me. In my gut, my throat, my chest. Her grunts of exertion, though, sounded like mewls.

"Cute." I hovered a few inches over her, raised a hand, and slapped Superior Girl's exposed tit. It flattened, then bounced back after impact. She clutched it with both hands, mouthing, "Ow."

In one motion, I spiraled behind her, grabbed her cape, and twisted it twice around her neck. Superior Girl clawed at the fabric, trying to relieve pressure. When I tightened, she sounded guttural. When I loosened to allow more air, she sounded feminine and flutey. I cycled through less pressure, then more, then less, as, with my other hand, I caressed her heavy chest.

"It turns me on to feel you struggle," I said. My voice hardened her nipples. "All of your strength, but to me, you're just a helpless, squirming damsel." I ripped the rest of her top, exposing her other boob to the sun. "Here's another kink of yours. You can cum just from being choked and having your nipples teased."

Superior Girl attempted to elbow me, but succeeded only in injuring her arm.

I continued to choke her with her own cape, but also played with her breasts. I squeezed one tight, so the nipple stuck out further. Then, still gripping it, I rubbed my thumb around the areola, flicking its peak. I squeezed her nipple, twisting slightly, pulling, sometimes pressing it back into the fleshy fullness of her boob. Her nipples hardened further, and her wetness ran down her leg. Through telepathy, I felt the bubbly heat of her oncoming orgasm. Her knuckles- still on the cape- whitened, and she threw her ass against my erect bulge. She craved to be penetrated as she came, but I didn't allow it. Her body quaked as her orgasm wracked her.

When I released Superior Girl, her eyes were hazy. I slapped her this way, then that, punched her one last time in the face, and threw her toward the square.

It's funny. The onlookers had cheered when Superior Girl flew me to the sky. They expected her third-act comeback, her glorious victory. Instead, minutes later, her limp body crashed into the square, leaving a crater in the grass. And, at the bottom of that hole, a battered, beaten, wet superheroine.

Where she crash-landed, I stepped smoothly from the sky to the ground. Her whimpers led me from the crest of the crater to its trough. Her busty, petite, pale body was sprawled before me. Her costume and skirt were tatters. Only her cape was decently in tact.

"That was your first orgasm," I told her. "Would you like another?"

Photographers watched from the top of the crater as Superior Girl pursed her lips. She hoped to stop herself from responding. But she caved, and admitted, "Yes."

"If you say 'Yes Daddy. Please fuck me,' you'll feel even more aroused."

"Yes Daddy. Please fuck me." Her voice was tiny, but firm.

"Your favorite position will be from behind." I unzipped and lowered my pants. "Get on all fours."

She was exhausted, so it took her some coordination, but she managed to get her face down and her ass up. For the first time, I saw her pussy, sopping wet between her fat cheeks.

I grabbed Superior Girl by her small waist, and pressed her into me. My eyes rolled back when her moisture first kissed the tip of my penis. I felt her labia on either side, and pressed in. She was so wet and hot, her pussy squeezing my dick, leading it in further and further. I stretched her out with each thrust, until I filled every inch.

"Yes Daddy. Please fuck me," she whispered. Then louder, and louder, until she was screaming in heat for the onlooking reporters. "Yes Daddy! Please fuck me!"

I grabbed her hair and clapped her cheeks for minutes. When I added clit-rubbing, Superior Girl was on the verge of climax. I slowed my thrusts, lessened the pressure on her clit.

"Why?" she whimpered. "Please let me cum."

"Not yet." I pressed into her slowly, slowly, then back out. And again. Enough to keep her simmering, but not enough to grant her release. "Tell me. How do I defeat the Amazon?"

"No! She's my mentor."

"Superior Girl," I chastised. "Do I need to kick your ass again?"

"No, please. Don't beat me up more."

"Wouldn't you like to cum?"

"Yes, Daddy. Please make me cum."

"The Amazon."

Superior Girl hesitated, growled, then said, "Her belt. Remove her belt, and she becomes a normal woman."

For a moment, I considered pulling out and leaving her there, ashamed at her betrayal and craving an orgasm. But she was a serious cutie, and maybe I'd developed a soft spot for her.

Superior Girl screamed as I circled her clit and hammered her with my cock. She came twice before I finally exploded inside of her.

The news that night had to censor their footage of Superior Girl, passed out in the hole, completely naked and defeated.

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