Supervillain Journal #4: The Amazon
I Tamed the Arrogant Amazonian
I've never dominated anyone as thoroughly as I dominated that proud Amazonian warrior. When the fight started, she wore only a towel, fresh from the shower. When it ended, her costume was in tatters, her head lay in my lap, and I pressed the chloroform rag to her submissive lips.
I broke into Diana Lorde's penthouse as she showered, and waited on her bed. Beside me lay her golden bracelets, the lasso of truth, and her power belt. She'd left them there and, without them, she was powerless. Through the open doorway, I watched her clean herself in her glass shower.
If Superior Girl's presence was angelic, the Amazon's was godly. But in that moment, she seemed so vulnerable, so mortal. She hummed absently to herself, unaware of my presence. Her big, natural breasts squeezed against her body as she soaped her chest. They were maybe the best tits I've ever seen. Full, hanging forward when she bent to scrub her legs, perking up when she leaned back to wash her hair. With those big, natural boobs, thick thighs, and pronounced butt, it was hard to imagine that anyone saw her as a God of War. If I had to compare her to any deity, in that moment, it would be a Fertility Goddess.
The bed curtain blocked me from the Amazon's view as she stepped out of the shower and dried herself. She ran the towel several times through her wild raven hair and tied it around her chest. Just as she reached for the light, she spotted me.
A moment before, her posture had been leisurely, her eyes hazy in thought. Now she stood straight, wearing the towel like armor. "You dare to trespass?"
Without rising, I swung the Amazon's lasso over my head and threw the rope. It looped over her shoulders, around her chest. I yanked, and the lasso held tight. Everything seemed right, except the rope didn't glow golden-red, as I'd seen on the news. I hadn't activated its power.
The Amazon grinned. "Why do men always try to tie me with my own lasso? It responds only to its master." She placed a hand on the rope, and it glowed. "When I use it, it's impossible for another to unknot. But when
you
use it--" The Amazon tugged, and the rope unfurled. "I know you. You like to use a superheroine's tools against her. It won't work on me."
"Superior Girl informed me that, without this--" I raised the Amazon's belt. For a moment, anxiety loosened the intensity in her eyes. But the confidence flared back a moment later. "You're just a normal woman. Without this, even with your lasso, you don't stand a chance against me."
I threw the belt on the floor, then her cuffs. To reach them, she'd need to walk past me. "Go ahead. Get them."
The Amazon hesitated.
"Get them. Or you're in for the worst ass kicking of your life."
She knew she was trapped, that I could grab her, crush her, the moment she stepped into arm's reach. But what choice did she have? The Amazon stepped with bare feet from the bathroom, to the bed. She was so close I could smell the citrusy waft of her shampoo, could see the nervous goosebumps on her shoulder. When she leaned down, she basically wagged her toweled ass in my face. I wanted to spank her, but resisted. In fact, I didn't touch her at all as she grabbed the belt and bracelets.
"That was foolish," she said. The towel dropped, the belt clipped around her waist, and the cuffs slid over her wrists. For a moment, she was nearly naked before me. But she clapped her wrists together and white light flashed from her belt. When my eyes adjusted, the Amazon stood before me, hands on hips, in uniform.
You've all seen the outfit on TV, but in person, it's sexier than you can imagine. Red leather boots, knee high, with enough heel to break the form of any but the best fighters. Blue shorts, as small and tight as a bikini bottom, bedazzled with stars. When she turned, you could see the outline where her cheeks met. Then the bodice. A perfect lipstick red that highlighted the hourglass-lines from her wide hips, to her slender waist, and up again to her massive bust. The sweetheart neckline pushed her breasts together, and dug deep to expose a generous line of cleavage. The uncovered collarbone and armpits would make another woman look fragile, but the Amazon exuded confidence. Then there's the golden tiara, both regal and adorable, that matched her bracelets. All this strikes your eye at once, and impresses you with her strength and beauty.
"Without my belt, you might have stood a chance," she continued. "Your arrogance is astonishing."
"I gave you the belt so that you can see, even at your full power, I can beat you senseless. Once you've begged for the fight to end, I will rip the belt off you, and fuck you like the helpless damsel you are."
The Amazon roared and charged me. Without competition, she was the fiercest of the superheroines. As skilled as the Red Widow and the Bat, with far greater strength even than Superior Girl. She shifted effortlessly between fighting styles, sometimes landing several fast blows, other times striking with less frequent but more explosive fists, other times bobbing and weaving. At first, I struggled to hit her.
Now, don't let me overstate things: she never stood a chance. But I had to keep focused, and her kicks sometimes legitimately hurt. A few times, she managed even to throw me into the wall. But for every punch she landed to my chest, I landed a harder one to her face.
After countless exchanges of attacks, I wore the Amazon down. Her skin glistened with sweat. It gathered between her breasts, which heaved a bit out of her corset with every exhausted breath. Her hits became less frequent, slower, more feeble. First, I could block them, so her knuckles would hit the cross of my forearms instead of my neck. Then, I could parry, throwing her arm to the side so I could land a foot in her stomach. Finally, I could grab her hand, wrist, or ankle, and hold her steady as I slapped the shit out of her.
"Admit defeat," I commanded. I bent her over the bathroom sink, pressing her face into the marble.
"Never," she growled back.
I grabbed her shorts and pulled them up, so they disappeared between her thick butt cheeks. The wedgie drew screams from the Amazon.
"Say it: 'You defeated me.'"
"An Amazon is never defeated."
I released her shorts and punched her three times in the ribs. Her tears rolled across the sink.
"You think you're tough. But your reluctance to admit defeat just makes you more pathetic."
The Amazon yelped as I grabbed her shoulders and pulled her off the counter. With my other hand, I grabbed her thigh, and lifted her. I laid her back against my shoulders, and stretched. She screamed and squirmed in my over-the-shoulder backbreaker, but couldn't free herself.
One hand reached under her corset, and pinned her against my body by squeezing her tit. The nipple was hard on my palm. The other hand held her between the legs. I felt the plushness of her ass against my wrist, and the moistness of her hotpants against my fingers.
"This won't do," I said, under her cries. "You're not
nearly
wet enough."
I massaged her over her pants. Her pussy lips shifted and stretched and curved under my grip. Occasionally, I circled my pointer finger directly around her clit. The sounds she made, how they echoed in the bathroom, nearly compelled me to throw her on the ground and fuck her there and then. If her pants were wet before, they were soaked now. Every rub drew a pronounced squelching sound, and her arousal ran down my hand.
I stretched the Amazon so hard against my body that sweat sprang from my forehead. Her vertebrae cracked. I almost split her in two, but instead walked to the bedroom and threw her on the floor. The Amazon whined and writhed, rubbing one hand along her bruised back, and the other on her wet pussy.
"Look at you. You don't know whether you're more hurt or turned on. Admit defeat."
"N-- never."
With her hands on her back and pussy, her belly was vulnerable. I drove my foot into her stomach once, twice, three times. She groaned with each impact.
"Admit it."
"I'll beat you," she cried as she rolled on the ground and clutched her stomach.
I placed a foot on her head and pressed down.
"Admit it."
"Wait for my second wind," she groaned.
I grabbed the Amazon by the neckline of her corset and pulled her to her knees. Her arms flung back, not even attempting a defensive posture. The bodice was already quite ragged, exposing one of her nipples, so I ripped it down. The Amazon's massive tits bounced out. After the tightness of the corset, it took a moment for them to swell back to full size.
"You're bloody, bruised, with your boobs on display," I said as I unzipped my pants. "Admit defeat."
The Amazon's voice was barely stronger than a breath. "I-- can still-- beat yo--"
The last syllable became a yelp as I grabbed the back of her head and shoved my cock into her mouth. Despite her gagged protests, her tongue immediately went to work. It rubbed up the length of my shaft and, when I pulled her back, readily swirled around my head. I don't think she realized how much that action alone proved her enjoyment.
I fucked the Amazon's face, thrusting as I pulled her head closer to my stomach. The gargling sound, the saliva running down her chin, her gorgeous lips stretched around my shaft: it all drove me wild. And her hot, wet, little tongue worked wonders as her teeth subtly scraped my shaft.
When I finally pulled her face from my cock, she gasped for air and fell to her hands and knees. I placed a hand firmly under her jaw. I tilted her chin up so her wide, vulnerable eyes gazed at me.
"Has anyone ever backhanded you, Amazon?"