Supervillain Journal: Red Widow

Supervillain Journal: Entry #1 Red Widow

The First Time I Destroyed a Superheroine

The first time I destroyed a superheroine was a surprise. She was Red Widow, world famous spy, with a twisty mane of red hair and a curvy body that she somehow squeezed into her iconic black spandex. And after fighting her in person, I can confirm: that suit fit so tight you could see every shift and jiggle of her hefty chest. Though technically not superpowered, she was a top-tier martial artist, with dozens of guns and gadgets strapped to her tight outfit.

The day I dominated Red Widow, I led a convoy of humvees across a desert highway. Our charge was to haul a small fortune of mystical Mesopotamian artifacts. I don't know how Red Widow got the drop on us, but one glance in the rearview, and I saw only my line of trucks and empty sky. The next glance, I saw Red Widow running on the roofs, hopping vehicles, slinging herself through windshields and tasing the drivers. She stayed connected to the humvees, by the way, through magnetic cuffs on her wrists and ankles.

My earpiece blared with warnings from my fellow mercenaries. Their voices were first urgent, then disturbingly relaxed. The Widow's Sedative, I knew, must be the cause. One of the superheroine's best-known tricks: sting her opponents with a drug that turns their pain into pleasure. You wouldn't think that'd be helpful, but here's the reality of combat. Pain activates the fight response. It sharpens the senses and hikes adrenaline. Pleasure does the opposite. One dose of the Widow's Sedative, and the warrior instinct dies.

I'll admit that I panicked when her boots thudded against the top of my truck. I slammed the breaks. Any moment, her fists would shatter the driver window and take me down.

But then I cooled, and remembered that for emergency, I'd left on the passenger seat the Vibro Gauntlet: a long, faded-gold cuff that ejected high-frequency sonar blasts. It was a bit of the Mesopotamian loot that I

should

have been driving to my client, but a mercenary's got to be loyal to himself above all else.

Before Red Widow could shatter my window, I threw the door open and staggered onto the asphalt.

"Gonna make it easy for me, huh?" She leapt from the roof, flipped for show, and landed in front of me.

And here I learned the first thing I would come to

love

about dominating superheroines. They start so cocky. The smirk that tightened Red Widow's pink lips, the domineering glimmer in her eyes, the arrogant bounce in her step as she approached me. It's so sexy, to see such misplaced confidence, to know I'm about to put this smug little thing in its place.

"You're last in line, so forgive me if I take you out with a little less

pizzaz

," she gloated. "You know that end of work-"

I lifted my arm, the one encased in the Vibro Gauntlet, and fired.

The effect was profound and immediate. Red Widow's lips widened from a smirk to a silent scream. She leaned forward and covered her ears with her hands. Those long scarlet locks waved behind her like she was riding a roller coaster.

The pulse passed, but Red Widow was clearly spent. Her eyelids flickered, her arms wavered as she raised them, and her punches missed me by inches. "I can- still get- you," she slurred as she swung her arm at me.

Instead of dodging her punch, I grabbed her wrist. She whimpered as she attempted to yank herself out of my grasp. She was less a superheroine now, and more a pathetic little girl in a halloween costume.

I don't know what overcame me, what instinct guided my hand, but I backhanded that superheroine like a bitch. Her yelp of indignation was a rush of pleasure to my core. Still holding her arm, I slapped her backhand, fronthand, backhand, fronthand. I learned the second thing I love about dominating superheroines: the way their gorgeous faces twist in pain.

As I held her, Red Widow reached into the zipper that rode up the front of her suit.

"Not so fast!" I tore Red Widow's zipper down, exposing her torso. She wore a hot pink sports bra. Her tits already looked big in spandex, but that color really made them pop. And, I noticed, both her nipples were hard.

"You're enjoying this?" I asked. I shouldn't have been so incredulous. I'd later learn that superheroines

love

to be dominated. Almost all of them. Your guess is as good as mine as to why. Maybe when you're that powerful, it's just exciting to be helpless.

"Now, what were you reaching for?" I tweaked one of her nipples, which made her moan, then reached into her inner pocket. I found a dart. Engraved on its metal casing: Widow's Sedative.

That gave me a wicked idea. Red Widow was

already

sexually aroused. Perhaps the pleasure she would feel from the sedative would also be erotic. I poked the dart into her left tit, and the serum seeped into her bloodstream.

"No. Stop," she groaned, padding my shoulders with her useless fists.

"Let's test out my theory," I replied, and I pulled her into a bearhug. She let out a startled yelp, and let me tell you. There is nothing as satisfying as hearing an arrogant superheroine cry out like a hopeless damsel.

I squeezed Red Widow so tightly that I thought my biceps would pop off my bones. She writhed and grunted. Her soft, full chest pressed against my pecs, jiggling and twitching as she writhed. She kicked my shins, pounded my elbows, braced her hands against my shoulders and pushed. But she was far too weak. Her hair was just below my nose, and I enjoyed the scent. Strawberries, shockingly feminine.

And, it turned out, my theory was correct. As I squeezed the fight out of Red Widow, her grunts softened into moans of pleasure. Eventually, she stopped wriggling, and focused more on rubbing herself against my hard cock.

When I released Red Widow, she collapsed, dizzy with physical exhaustion and sexual arousal. I knelt over her, grabbed her sports bra, so my knuckles brushed the swell of her cleavage, and hoisted her to her feet.

Back in the driver's seat of my humvee, I stripped her of her superheroine costume. Slowly, of course, admiring the way the spandex accentuated her ass before pulling it down her legs. In just her underwear and magnetic cuffs, she looked far more dainty and feminine than on the news.

I laid Red Widow over my knee, enjoyed the way her fat ass ate the strap of her thong, and spanked her. I slapped her ass over and over, relishing every jiggle of cellulite, every extra bit of pressure of her body on my crotch as my palm connected. Before I'd finished, her ass was red and her thong wet from arousal.

Red Widow gasped in disappointment when I flipped her over. Her eyes, once sharp and domineering, were now submissive and doey. "What are you going to do to me?" she whimpered.

I answered by ripping her sports bra off her chest. Her tits bounced free. That sports bra

must

have been tight, because once released her boobs expanded. They were huge, with large pink areolas and hardened nipples. Of course, I played with them a bit. Slapped them around, squeezed them together, pressed them to watch the way they changed shape under pressure. I twisted Red Widow's nipples and she screamed like she was on the verge of orgasm.

That's when a diabolical thought occurred to me. I removed Red Widow's thong, reprogrammed her magnetic cuffs (I've always been a tech nerd), and wired her ear microphone to transmit to my headset. Then I threw her over my shoulder, her juicy ass jostling against the side of my face, and walked her to the front of my car.

Too aroused and exhausted to resist, I threw Red Widow onto the radiator grille, just over the bumper. The magnetic cuffs glued her, spread-eagle to the front of the car, her heaving chest and dripping pussy exposed to the open air.

"You're really going to enjoy this," I said with a smirk. She just pursed her lips and nodded.

I got back into the truck and drove, Red Widow strewn on my truck like a hood ornament. The dust coated her body, and the wind lashed her bouncing tits. All the while, I heard her moans and shrieks of pleasure in my ear. By the series of crescendoes, I figured she came about five times. After that, her moaning subsided, and I decided to cut her a break.

When I stepped out of the truck and deactivated her gauntlets, her body was caked in sweat and dirt, and her hair was a frizzy scarlet cloud. She fell to the sand, still shaky with arousal, and crawled toward me.

That crawl! Red Widow's fat tits swinging with each shift of her shoulders, her ass swaying as she dragged her knees on the ground. I'll tell you, I will never forgive myself for not taking a video.

She crawled until her face was against my bulge.

"Please," she begged, lips brushing my pants. "I'm so fucking horny. Please let me suck your cock."

I didn't put up a fight. My cock was already hard, and so popped out when I unzipped my pants. I grabbed Red Widow's hair, and face fucked her. Those lips were cracked and dry from exposure, but her little mouth was hot and wet. Her back arched as she sucked me, emphasizing her slender waist and wide hips. She looked me in the eyes as I came in her mouth.

I left Red Widow naked, defeated, and satisfied by the edge of the road. Her team later rescued her. She'd reach out to me, several times, begging me to fuck her again, but I never responded.

I'd developed a taste for dominating superheroines, and Red Widow was only my first.