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Subject: SG4: Frisking The Cat - Part 1 (CR: 10,10,10)
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These stories are very naughty, and since only
adults should
have naughty thoughts, you shouldn't read them if
you are
under 18 years old!

Supergirl & Catwoman are trademarks of DC Comics.

The entire Supergirl series and similar stories
can be found on the WWW site:

http://www.cris.com/~tooshoes/PenPartners.html
---------------------------------------------------

Frisking The Cat

 Wearing a  red and blue costume, I could move
mountains, and everyone listened when I talked.
But wearing
a brown wig and simple attire, it seemed the only
jobs
available to me were as a secretary or a
waitress.  I was
just one in a million college grads entering the
job market
during a recession.
 I finally landed a job several months after
graduation in a marketing research company,
punching numbers
and names into a database. The night hours sucked,
and the
pay really wasn't enough to live on.
Unfortunately, being a
superhero was voluntary work. Maybe I could use it
as a
charitable deduction on April 15.
 Now, at 1 am, I was a passenger on a subway train

from Downtown Station to South Metropolis.  I
could fly home
in under a minute, but the train ride lasted
almost a half
an hour -- just one more cost of having a secret
identity
and trying to live a normal life. Yeah, right, as
if
commuting home at one in the morning was normal!
 Though I guess it wasn't unheard of, because I
often
shared the train with a small number of fellow
commuters,
usually tired, sometimes insane, and always
looking as
unhappy as I must have looked.
 Tonight (this morning?) there were four of them
sitting across from me, three men and a woman, who
were
obviously together, but who didn't speak a word
for the
first ten minutes of the ride. I crossed my legs
at the
knees, because one of the men was looking at me.
There
wasn't much else for him to look at, I guess, but
he was
almost leering. Maybe he was just admiring my
legs, or maybe
he caught a glimpse up my  miniskirt and happened
to see my
pussy in all it's glory. Maybe he saw the blush on
my face,
because the thought of being "found out" always
turned me
on, which, of course, is one reason why I never
wore
panties. And that often led to an escalating
cycle, as my
excitement made me wetter than any normal woman,
so the
juices dripped down my thighs, making my chances
of being
found out all the greater.
 But he didn't do anything or let on that he knew,
and
I was surprised to feel sad. It made me long for
my college
days, when a glimpse of my bare pussy would draw
men in like
bees to honey -- or at the very least, draw a
reaction.
 Back at MU, people always looked for an
invitation to
meet someone new, and I made new friends almost
every day. I
never ate alone, never walked alone, and rarely
slept alone.
Funny how I sometimes wished for more privacy back
then. At
parties, men packed like wolves around me, trying
to get me
drunk, not knowing that they didn't stand a
chance.  At
getting me drunk, that is.
 Now, I longed for the parties and the harassing.
Now, in "the real world", almost everyone
respected each
other's privacy and minded their own business and
took no
chances until they were in the safety of their own
homes.
What was wrong with society? What happens to
people when
they leave the security of the campus?  And then
it occurred
to me that whatever was wrong with society was
wrong with
me, too. I haven't been with someone in months,
and my best
friend is my cat Calvin.
 I was afraid to approach people, the same as
everyone
else. I don't know what I was afraid of, though. I
didn't
need to worry about criminals or cops, like most
other
people did. Maybe I was just afraid of offending
someone, or
doing something wrong. Maybe I needed the support
of my
friends before I could reach out.
 I know now how much I relied on friends to make
my
life happy. They would push the boundaries, and I
would
follow behind them.  They would knock on my door,
and all I
needed to do was invite them in. But I never
knocked on
doors myself.
 Almost unconsciously, I shifted my sitting
position.
I crossed my legs at my ankles, and my thighs were
slightly
apart. The young man across from me had a straight
line view
to my pussy, now, but it was just a fraction of an
inch
wide. I rested my hands on my lap, pushing my
skirt between
my thighs, stealing away even the suspicion of
daylight.
 It was amazing how just the slightest possible
hint
of an invitation can catch a man's eye, because
the young
man was now sweating, and his friends were taking
notice
now, too. Even the young woman raised an eyebrow.
 I felt a rush run through my body. *Careful,
Linda,
you are losing control again*, a wise voice
whispered. But
I've had a hard time listening to that voice
lately. I swear
that since I came to earth, my sex drive has gone
into
overdrive. That yellow sun melted my will, and the

loneliness of having no lover for several months
fed my
desire and made me a little irrational at times.
 I tried to fight it. I looked away from the
curious
eyes of the strangers and read some of the
advertisements
posted on the train's walls between the windows:
There was a
picture of a rather handsome guy with an eye patch
and a
pistol, starring in a movie called: Escape From
Gotham City.
One poster was for Marlboro cigarettes, which had
a skull
and crossbones spray-painted over it. A third
poster was of
a very attractive woman, with the text: "I'm
Horny, Call Me
at (900) 481-3643". And the last poster from Nike
was very
simple; it proclaimed in bright big red letters:
Just Do It!
 So much for distractions, I thought, as I shifted
my
legs, casually rubbing my thighs together. When I
realized
how erotic that must have seemed to the strangers,
I opened
my mouth in surprise.  Then I thought how erotic
opening my
mouth might seem, so I covered it with my hand and
glanced
at them. They stared back at me in surprise and
fascination,
and I felt like cursing myself. I was so turned on
now that
even when I was trying to act modest, it appeared
like I was
flirting.
 Hell, who was I kidding? I *was* flirting! I was
pretty shy usually, and I didn't have a bubbling
personality, but how modest could I really be? I
liked
wearing a skin-tight shirt that showed my nipples
whenever I
was excited, which was often. I always wore a tiny

miniskirt, with no undies, and every couple of
weeks, I
shortened my skirts even a tiny bit more. My pussy

underneath was completely bare (I burned the hair
off with
my heat vision). Obviously, I wanted people to
notice.
 But denuding my pussy in that way irritated it a
little, exciting it even more than normal, and
now, with
everything else conspiring to excite me, my pussy
was
soaking wet and flowing steadily. I couldn't stand
it. I
closed my eyes and tried to ignore the strangers
as I
pressed my thighs together and gyrated my ass on
the hard
metal seat, trying to satisfy my itch in a most
ineffective
way. My pussy was aching for attention. I opened
my eyes
halfway and stared at my captivated audience. I
opened my
mouth and licked my lips. I couldn't hear that
tiny wise
voice anymore. Instead I glanced over at the
poster: *Just
Do It!*
 I closed my eyes, bit my lip, and raised my
skirt. My
pussy, slightly pink from irritation, glistened in
the
bright overhead lights. I soaked my fingers in the
juices
and spread the soothing moisture over the
irritated skin. I
exhaled loudly, almost a gasp, almost a sigh of
relief, it
felt so good!
 Then, like background noise, I heard that tiny
harassing voice scolding me. It was accompanied by
a
symphony of other voices, that altogether became
white
noise.  The only distinct voice that kept ringing
in my mind
was: *Just Do It!*
 I parted my pussy lips with my finger tips,
showing
my tenderest skin to people I knew nothing about.
And from
that most intimate place flowed the message, *come
to me.*
 One of the men answered the call. He knelt
between my
legs for a better view of the show. I opened my
lips wider,
giving him the best view I could, while I massaged
my clit
with my other fingers. Droplets gathered and ran
down to my
asshole, going to waste. *Oh, please, don't just
stand
there!*
 Another man sat down beside me, watching from a
different angle. He was watching my face, my other
lips, as
they also opened wide in esctacy and longing.
 Then, suddenly, a tongue reached deep into my
pussy,
sending a shock wave through my body. I quickly
withdrew my
hands, moving them to my neglected breasts,
squeezing them
through my blouse, while surrendering my pussy to
the man's
will. He nibbled on my clit. I gasped and cried
out and
wrapped my thighs around his head in reflex. *Oh,
a little
faster! Oh, a little harder!*
 The other two men took hold of my legs, holding
them
apart, while he grabbed two handfuls of my ass,
and pulled
me to his ravenous mouth. I buried my fingers in
his hair,
holding on as if to a support on an amusement park
ride. I
could barely contain my enthusiasm. My ass was
suspended in
mid air now, as he tore into my pussy, while the
others
helped him out. And to think just a moment ago I
was worried
what they would think of me!
 The woman was meandering around the scene,
watching
the action, amused.  She had a vaguely sly smile
on her
face. As my body tingled and an ache consumed me,
about to
turn in an instant into the height of pleasure, I
wished for
the woman to join in. I wanted for her to kiss me
hard,
right now. I think she wanted to. She stepped
closer. But
she didn't, and that disappointed me, even as my
body and
mind were at a critical state, orgasm imminent.
 The skyrockets exploded in my mind. My body
quaked,
my eyes teared, and I was crying out
uncontrollably, but my
cries were overwhelmed by the din of the train
rushing
through a tunnel.
 And then everything seemed silent again.
 As I came back down to Earth, I found myself
looking
into the eyes of the man who sent me to heaven.
His rough
features almost looked beautiful. That's what a
mind
shattering orgasm will do to me. I stroked his
hair and
whispered. "Hi. My name is Linda."
 He smiled, but it was a slightly mischievous
smile.
"Hi Linda with the great tasting pussy."
 I smiled back.
 The train was slowing down and a voice came over
the
overhead speaker: *Now stopping at Washington
Crossing, take
Red Line to Gotham. Next stop: South Metropolis.*
 The man wiped his chin on his sleeve and stood
up.
"Our stop."
 I felt a sudden sense of loss when he said that;
I
didn't want them to go. I hurriedly collected
myself. I
straightened my skirt and made sure my wig was on
straight.
The four strangers gathered at the door to the
subway car,
when it opened.
 "Can I come with you?" I asked hopefully. After
sharing myself with them so intimately, they were
very
appealing to me. I wanted to be one of them,
whoever they
were. I wanted to disappear into their lives.
 He smiled. "You already have."
 The woman laughed wickedly. "Thanks for the
entertainment. We must do it again some time."
 I watched them leave. They never looked back at
me.
 I don't know how I felt. My emotions were
overwhelming my thoughts -- sex always seemed to
do that to
me. What did that woman mean? Was she being
sarcastic? Was
she insulting me? Or did she mean what she said,
but in a
playful way?
 The train pulled away. The strangers disappeared
from
view, leaving me all alone, wondering what I had
gained from
my stunt.
 Part of me was glowing inside, feeling a sense of

power and victory. Bending steel beams and doing
acrobatics
in the air always came easily to me, but I never
thought I
could rise above my inhibitions like that.
 A part of me argued that I didn't rise at all,
but
fell as low as I could fall. My inhibitions were
my
strength, and I had come away from the experience
with less
than I had before.
 Then, suddenly, I realized in horror, how true
that
was. My purse was gone! In all the excitement, I
never saw
the strangers snatch my purse. Inside I had some
money and
IDs, but far more importantly, that's where I kept
my
Supergirl uniform!
 If I hurried, I could break through the door and
chase them down.
 But I couldn't. I was paralyzed by embarrassment
over
the thought of facing them. A few minutes ago, I
was just an
anonymous woman, gambling with my reputation in
front of a
few strangers. Now Supergirl's reputation was
thrown in the
pot, and the whole world might see.
 So I slumped back on my seat, sighing,  and I
stared
at the Nike poster. God, I was so stupid
sometimes! Why
didn't I listen to that wise little voice? I
couldn't help
but listen to her now, screaming her
I-told-you-so-s,
reminding myself over and over again how stupid
and dirty I
was.

* * *
 I stepped off the train about five minutes later,
and
I felt a little better, a little less worried. It
even
seemed a little funny, now.  What was that saying?
*Whatever
will be, will be*. Let them say what they will
say, do what
they will do. Let the naked truth come out, and it
will set
me free! Free from shame, free from fear, free
from clothes,
free from that silly looking costume!
 I laughed out loud, and my laughter echoed off
the
houses nearby, and it sounded so hollow that I
shivered and
realized how truly worried I was. This was a
disaster; there
was no point in pretending it didn't matter.
 But what point was there in worrying, either? I
guess
the only thing I could do now is wait -- and work
on damage
control.
 Ok, think, Linda, what *can*  you do?  The
costume is
the key. When they show it to the media, you are
dead.
 *If* they show it, I reminded myself.
 Then I felt a burst of optimism: how could they
be
sure the costume in my purse was real? Some
companies sell
imitation costumes as fetishes.
 But fake costumes will burn in a fire, I reminded

myself. Fake costumes aren't bullet proof. They
will test
it, and they will know.
 And a fake costume was apparently what I would be

shopping for soon.
 I laughed out loud again, as I walked around the
corner. I don't know if I was laughing or crying
when I
arrived home.
 I was through the door and almost in the kitchen
before I noticed that the lights were on in my
apartment. I
jumped when I felt a hand on my shoulder.
 I spun around so fast that the man attached to
that
hand was thrown to the floor.
 I struggled to identify the intruder through the
fog
of my emotions, until my memory came back to me,
and I
recognized his face.
 No, I thought, shaking my head. He couldn't have
possibly known, not so soon. Hell it only happened
about
fifteen minutes ago! He couldn't be *that* good.

* * *

 "Andrew?"
 "Geez, Linda," he replied while still lying flat
on
his back. "If I had known you were so easy to
sneak up on, I
wouldn't have pretended like we were the
Impossible Mission
Force the last time."
 "The Last Time" was two years ago, when I was a
junior at MU, and, as Supergirl, I was was
brushing people
with political power the wrong way. Andrew was an
agent in
an ultra-secret intelligence agency for the
government.
Apparently, despite all of Superman's and my good
deeds, the
government considered us potentially greater
threats to
national security than even the Soviet Union in
it's prime.
Publicly, we were treated like heroes, but behind
the
scenes, the government tried their best to control
us, how
we acted, who we slept with, what we said. So they
created a
secret branch under the NSA called the SSA
(Superhero
Surveillance Agency).
 Andrew had been the agent in charge of bringing
me to
"justice" for various transgressions, and he
proved he was
up to the challenge. He had actually had me at his
mercy. He
could have done with me whatever he wished. But he
let me
go, breaking orders from above, and no doubt
taking a lot of
flack in the process. As much as I hated what he
had done to
me, I admired him for his courage to live by his
conscience.
 That was the only time we had met each other, but

Andrew did call me several times since. He'd ask
me innocent
questions, like how was college going, did I have
any new
friends, did I really like my hair that way. I
didn't know
what to make of it. Maybe he was just trying to be
my friend
so he could be more influential, but I believed
that he
liked me, regardless of what else he was up to,
and I found
myself opening up to him.
 Then he stopped calling, more than a year ago,
and I
had almost forgotten about him. Until now.
 "I hope you don't mind that I waited for you
inside.
The door was unlocked, so I took the liberty. Oh,
and I fed
your cat. It was the only way to keep him off of
me."
 "Why are you here, Andrew?" I eyed him curiously.

 "Why?" he said, as he stood and straightened his
suit. "Because I think I can help you."
 "Oh?" I sat down on the sofa and motioned for
Andrew
to sit with me.  "What makes you think I need any
help?"
 "Because I've been watching you," he said simply,
as
he sat closer than I had expected.
 "Oh, that's right. I forgot you did that sort of
thing, peeping through my windows, listening in on
my
private conversations," I said with a smile that
contradicted my deeply sarcastic tone. I
accidentally
touched his leg as I tried to adjust my skirt.
 Andrew shifted in his seat, as he conjured up the

appropriate rationalization. "Common, Linda, the
SSA only
does that when we have evidence of a legal
infraction.
Besides, don't tell me that you've never used
those super-
senses of yours to invade someone else's privacy.
We are
only trying to level the playing field a little.
It doesn't
bring me any pleasure to spy on you."
 I knew that much was true. When he had captured
me, I
was totally naked and at his mercy, yet he didn't
take
advantage of the situation at all. He let me cover
myself,
and his dick was soft the whole time. No sign of
hardness
even now, as we sat very close to each other. I
guess I just
wasn't his type.
 And that was probably how it should be, I
thought,
with nothing between us. Getting involved with him
would be
a disaster. Besides, he was always stabbing me
with
criticisms, like saying that I spy on people. I
replied,
"Sometimes I see things that I probably shouldn't
see -- I
can't help that. But I don't go out of my way to
spy on
people's private lives like you do!"
 Andrew held up his hand as if in defense. "OK,
I'm
sorry Linda, I didn't come here to start an
argument. I
guess it's kind of hard to avoid, considering the
nature of
my job, that we'd be on each other's case, but
really I came
here hoping that we could cooperate, for a
change."
 "Cooperate?" I asked, a little amused. "How could
we
cooperate on anything? I mean, isn't that like
asking a deer
to cooperate with a hunter?"
 Andrew smiled and laughed, like he might do if he
was
arguing about sports with his buddies.  He was
acting very
friendly, and I couldn't tell if the emotion was
genuine or
if he was trying to sell himself to me. I always
had a tough
time knowing that about him. He said, "Don't you
think that
analogy is a little extreme? We have a lot of
mutual
interests."
 I smiled back at him, wondering what he was
leading
up to. "Such as?"
 "Such as your well being. Your financial well
being."
 I stopped smiling and looked away. "I don't want
to
talk about that."
 "You aren't doing very well. I know that you are
two
months behind on paying the rent for this little
house. You
are three months behind on your student loan
payments, and
you could go into default soon," Andrew pressed.
 I shook my head, trying not to listen to him, but
I
couldn't help it.  Damn him! He always knew my
weak spots,
and he always pressed them just right.  I had
forgotten
about that sly part of him.
 He knew how  embarrassing it was to be the most
powerful woman in the world, yet to live on the
edge of
poverty just so I could have a somewhat normal
life.  Being
Supergirl could be fun and exciting, but most of
the time I
was happier when I wasn't in the spotlight, when
people
didn't look at me like I was some kind of freak.
 Besides, Superman and I had good reputations with
the
public in large part because we didn't mix heroism
with
personal gain. We had to be super-giving as well
as super-
human, or people would think of us as greedy
invaders rather
than welcome visitors from Krypton. For all of my
powers, I
couldn't force people to like me, so I always had
to be
above reproach. I wish I didn't care so much about
what
people thought of me, but I always did.
 "I understand," Andrew said kindly, "that you
want to
have a private life, and you want to protect your
image.
Believe me, that's exactly what I want, too. But
you aren't
serving yourself or your country well right now.
The crime
rate is skyrocketing at night, as criminals have
noticed the
pattern -- you just aren't around once the sun
goes down.
Fortunately for Metropolis, Superman has a steady
presence.
Why? Because Kent has the right kind of job for a
superhero.
Reporting for the Planet helps him learn about
crimes in
progress, and his heroics pay him back by giving
him a great
story to write about. Your job, on the other hand,

completely takes you out of action."
 "It's the only job I could get," I objected.
 "Perhaps you should have thought of that before
you
decided on a degree in Liberal Arts," Andrew
patronized.
"But obviously you have much more to offer the
world than
just your degree."
 "Don't you think I know that?" I said
impatiently,
"But being a superhero just doesn't pay well,
anyway, except
on those rare cases where there is a reward. And
then I look
bad for accepting the reward."
 Andrew shook his head. "That's not quite what I
had
in mind. The government and the police won't pay
you to be a
freelance hero -- too many legal problems, for one
thing.
But the SSA has different needs and different
legal
requirements, and I have the authority to hire you
as an
agent, complete with good pay and benefits, all of
which
will be strictly confidential and hidden from the
media."
 "What?" I was stunned. "You want to hire me? I
thought your agency only spied on people like me
-- why the
hell should I trust you, anyway."
 Andrew took my attack personally, and I wished I
hadn't been so harsh.  "I'm sorry Linda, that we
always seem
to be on opposite sides of the fence. I know that
sometimes
the agency looks past your rights for the sake of
national
security, and that really sucks, but that's why I
think this
is such a good idea. If you are working for us,
then we will
have enough knowledge of your activities without
the need to
spy, since we will all share the same interests."
 "You mean that I would be your hitman," I said
skeptically, though I was beginning to feel
enthusiastic. I
was also feeling a little warm inside, because
with Andrew
sitting so close to me, the scent of his cologne
was very
distracting to someone with super-senses.
 Andrew shook his head, "No, no, each mission we'd

send you on would be a separate contract. You
could refuse
any of them. And you could be a freelance hero in
your spare
time, saving anyone your heart desires."
 "So I'd be selling my super-body to you for a
couple
hours a night, huh?" I teased, as I crossed my
legs,
brushing my shin against his knee in the process.
 "I guess you could look at it that way," Andrew
said,
suddenly feeling a little awkward, suddenly
feeling a little
aroused, as anyone could see. He moaned so softly
that even
I could barely hear it. But he inched himself a
few inches
further away and put back on his business face.
"So what do
you say? Does it sound interesting?"
 "Very interesting," I almost whispered, making
him
feel even more uncomfortable. I should have been
paying more
attention to what he was saying, but I was feeling
very
distracted. Knowing that I could affect him,
someone I
thought was invulnerable to my sexuality, sent a
thrill
through me that felt a little like passion, a
little like
revenge, since Andrew had been pushing my
emotional buttons
ever since we had met.
 Now, he was in the hot seat. I could hear his
mouth
starting to water. I could taste his fresh sweat
in the air,
mixing with the sharp smell of his cologne.  I
stroked his
leg with my foot and looked into his eyes,
smiling, as if to
say: *would you like to see my pussy?*
 But he edged away from me in his seat and held up
his
hand. "Please stop, Linda, you really shouldn't be
doing
this. You've really got to control that sexual
appetite of
yours."
 "What?" I said, stunned and embarrassed. How
could he
say that? He was as turned on as I was.
 "Please, let's just stick to business," he
continued
in a cold, detached voice, as if the voice wasn't
his. "We
aren't animals who have to fuck whenever they are
in heat.
We can show a little discipline. I don't know how
people
acted on Krypton, but on Earth, we try to act with
a little
decency."
 I just stared at Andrew, not knowing what to say.

Suddenly, I understood why someone as seemingly
nice and
gentle as Andrew could be part of such an
oppressive
organization.  There was a whole other side to
him, a side I
had never seen before. There was a
holier-than-thou side
buried deep within him, a side that turned me off
completely.
 Then his voice softened, and he was Andrew again.

"I'm sorry . . . I didn't mean to be insulting.
Maybe we
should just forget about it and talk about your
new job."
 "Sure," I nodded, anxious to get past the awkward

moment. "Let's get down to business."

 The dark side of Andrew didn't return for the
rest of
his visit, and before too long, we were even
teasing each
other a little, but with the clear understanding
that
nothing would happen.
 But mostly we stuck to business, and we ironed
out
the details and conditions of my new employment.
 Simply put, Andrew was hiring me for two or three

missions per week on average. Andrew asked me to
wear a
beeper, so he could contact me in an emergency,
but I
refused. I hate beepers.  I told him if he really
wanted to
get my attention, wear that sexy cologne he was
wearing, and
I'll drop everything and come for him. I think I
almost got
to him with that.
 But he got me better by waving a wad of $100
bills in
front of my face. He would pay me $2000 up front,
in cash,
for each mission. I'm sure now as I think back I
could have
bargained with him for much more, but I was so
awed when he
handed me the money that I stopped thinking and
started
dreaming of everything I could do with it. All my
days of
debt, coupon hunting, eating leftovers and riding
the subway
were finally over, and I could barely even imagine
asking
for more.
 And Andrew surprised me again by already having a

mission for me to start tomorrow night.
 "The Catwoman has been burglarizing Gotham City
for
years now, but we've never been able to catch
her," Andrew
said, as he handed me a few pictures.
 "Are these the best you have?" I asked, as I
looked
at each photo. Catwoman was barely visible in any
of them.
In three of the four she was in the shadows, and
in the
last, the picture was so under exposed that all I
could see
was her silhouette. "They don't even look like the
same
woman."
 "Really? How many women do you know that have
that
kind of body?" Andrew said with barely hidden
admiration.
"She looks a little different because she wears
several
different costumes. We don't know how many.
Sometimes she
wears black leather, sometimes purple or grey
spandex or
rubber.  Her real name is Selina Kyle, but we only
have this
one picture of Selina when she was very young,"
Andrew said
as he handed me the last 3x5 Kodak print.
 This was a very good picture, but she must have
been
only about 14, and I didn't know how helpful it
would be.
Still, I looked at it for several minutes. There
was
something haunting and vaguely familiar about it.
She was
sitting on a park bench in a playful pose, a bit
too erotic
for a girl that age, with her head slightly
arched, her long
black hair falling away to unveil the full of her
neck and
shoulders. She stared back at the camera with a
hint of a
smile and an aura of confidence.
 "We've been trying to get her for two years now,
but
she's been very slippery. She has many friends,
because she
likes to spread some of the bounty from her
conquests
around, giving some to the poor and to charities,
so she has
a kind of Robin Hood reputation. Sometimes she
even helps
bring other, more notorious criminals to justice,
winning
her favor even among some cops, who confuse her
activities
with those of the many vigilantes that protect
Gotham City."
 Andrew's voice seemed to be glowing as he talked
of
her. Perhaps even he was confused about his
feelings towards
her, I thought,  when suddenly his tenor changed.
"But
really she is an sly opportunist. She is an
example of how
criminals can take advantage of Gotham's
fascination and
need for vigilantes. The city is overwrought with
crime.
Many citizens take the law into their own hands,
because the
police can't handle the epidemics of gangs, guns
and
plunder.  Catwoman courts both sides, mixing good
deeds with
bad, so she tends to slip through the cracks, and
only the
people she steals from realize what she really is
-- a
criminal, pure and simple."
 "How can I find her?" I asked, "or is that part
of
the job?"
 Just then we were both startled by a ringing
sound
from within Andrew's briefcase. "Just a second."
Andrew
answered his cellular phone on the third ring,
listened for
a moment, his eyebrow raised, then he hung up.
 "Well, that was very interesting timing," Andrew
said. "I was just about to tell you that we were
hoping to
use your powers to find the Catwoman, but I guess
we won't
need that. She just sent an unprotected message
over the
internet; she forgot to encrypt it. Apparently she
plans to
rob an art museum  tomorrow evening. We don't know
which
one, but since there are only about five important
museums
in Gotham City, you should have no trouble finding
them."
 "Wow!" I said in amazement. "Looks like my first
day
is gonna be a piece of cake!"
 Andrew frowned. "Don't even think that way. It's
rare
for the Catwoman to slip up like this. She may
even have
noticed her mistake and changed her plans. We've
thought
that we've had her a dozen times before. Once we
even had
her cuffed and in the cruiser, and she managed to
escape and
disappear down an empty street."
 "She won't be able to escape from me," I said
with a
smile.
 "That's what we're counting on."
* * *
 Andrew stayed the rest of the night, sleeping in
a
spare bedroom, and he left long before I awoke
around
noontime.
 For the first time in months, I had a very
pleasant
sleep, and it was all due to Andrew and the hopes
he gave me
for this new job.  He fussed over me, making sure
that  I
wouldn't say no. He even told me that he would
take care of
my former employer, so I didn't need to go through
the
anxieties of quitting or giving my two week
notice. He made
me feel very important.
 I knew that I was making a compromise. I was
giving
up what I had once thought that I really wanted --
living my
life as a normal woman. Lately, though, I had
begun to think
that normalcy was overrated. Normal living has
left me poor
and lonely, especially since Carol left several
months ago.
 Carol never said it, but I always knew she left
because I wasn't as exciting as I was once was,
back in the
days when I enjoyed being Supergirl.  It turned
her on to
see me on TV all the time, rescuing people,
crushing
criminals, and then having me come home to her
every night,
surrendering myself to her.
 Then came the confrontation with the police, the
media attacks, and my capture by the SSA.  I
learned what
came with being a hero. Being a hero meant that I
couldn't
say what I believed, if it wasn't PC. I couldn't
even help
people without worrying that someone would sue me,
for, say,
breaking down an historic wall to prevent a
murder.  And
then I made my biggest mistake by complaining
about it, so
the media jumped on me, portrayed me as an
ungrateful
superbitch on a power trip. That's when Supergirl
all but
disappeared from the scene, and I became Linda Lee
full
time.
 Now Andrew has brought back that old excitement
again
when he told me that my country needed me. It was
a message
I was ready to hear. After struggling as a college
grad for
so long, denying myself the pleasures of my
powers, I felt
like a bird stuck in a cage. I was dying to get
out and fly.
* * *
 But I couldn't be Supergirl without a costume.
Flying
around in my regular work clothes would seem
wrong.
Inappropriate.
 Unfortunately, I had very little time to solve
this
problem, since I had to be Supergirl in just a few
hours. I
called all the costume stores in Metropolis. Most
had
Superman and Wonder Woman costumes, but they
didn't carry
Supergirl costumes even during Halloween. Finally,
I slammed
down the phone in disgust.  I felt that
unappreciated
feeling again, but really what did I expect,
anyway, having
virtually disappeared from public view for so
long.
 Only three hours left. I had to think of
something
fast. Maybe if I bought a Superman costume I could
modify
it.
 Then I thought about the vast array of costumes
that
the Catwoman had, and I smiled: Why not completely
redesign
my costume? After all, I had always thought that
cape and
those long red boots looked more than a little
silly.
* * *
 The Luther Lakeside Galleria was only a five
minute
ride on the subway. It was a beautiful outdoor
shopper's
world, with a Japanese Garden on one end, a
stadium on the
other, and hundreds of stores in between. I felt
excited
being there with money in my pocket, for a change.
I was
drawn to the shop windows, and I kept thinking how

reasonable the prices seemed -- prices that would
have
seemed obscene only yesterday. Thankfully, I
didn't have
much time on my hands, or I might have lost
control of
myself. I kept reminding myself that I was
shopping for a
new costume, nothing else.
 I had a hundred ideas about what my new costume
should look like. I struggled to keep my
imagination from
getting too lavish or impractical. I saw a
stunning blue and
red designer dress that would be extremely awkward
when I
was flying, and a daring bathing suit that would
probably
ruin my reputation again. I tried to keep myself
sensible.
 The most important part of the costume was
probably
the shirt. People should realize who I am as soon
as they
see me, and I thought I had the perfect solution:
There was
a store in the mall that would print any picture
onto a T-
shirt in under a half hour.  I felt conspicuous as
I handed
my "S" symbol to the young man at the counter.
Maybe he
would recognize me or put two and two together.
While he was
clearly looking me over, his eyes didn't light up,
and I
don't think he made the connection. Even if he did
make the
connection, it shouldn't matter, as long as I
didn't
identify myself as Linda Lee.
 "Small, Medium, Large, or X-Large," he asked.
 That was a simple question I wasn't at all
prepared
for. I had a chance to remake my image for the
world,. My
real costume had  always been a little tight, and
some
people even claimed it was indecent because my
nipples would
show through the fabric. There was one issue of
Metropolitan
Weekly in which I swear they air-brushed my
nipples out. The
rebel in me demanded the small T-shirt.
 But another part of me wanted to do things right
for
a change. I didn't want to offend people, least of
all
Andrew who was giving me another chance. He wasn't
sure
about me. He had put his reputation on the line to
get me
this job. He didn't say it, but I could see it in
his eyes.
The SSA wouldn't never have hired me if not at his
urging,
and I owed it to him to be the model superheroine.

 "Well?" The impatient young man asked.
 "Medium," I finally replied. Then, after a long
pause, "and a small one, too."  That was just for
me -- I
wouldn't need to wear it in public.
 I was surprised how nice the red "S" looked on
plain
white. It was simple and fresh and liberating. It
felt like
a discovery. Supergirl was long past due for a
makeover.
 Still, I was a little afraid to experiment with
my
traditional uniform. I spent about 30 minutes
trying to find
a simple red miniskirt before I realized that
miniskirts
were  out of fashion. So once again I was forced
to be
creative. Maybe a simple pair of blue jeans  would
be the
right touch to go along with the T-shirt. It
sounded
sensible, practical, decent. Millions of women
wore long
pants every day.
 But I couldn't convince myself to do it.  I hated
the
way loose fitting jeans hid my legs. I was very
proud of my
legs. Tight pants looked attractive, but they tore
too
easily. Finally I decided on a pair of loose
fitting sky-
blue athletic shorts, which showed off my legs
almost up to
my hip, yet were conservative where it counted
most.
 My biggest challenge was deciding on footwear. I
wanted shiny, red walking shoes,  but I couldn't
find a
single pair that would stay on my feet while I was
in
flight. I was so frustrated that I even considered
being the
first barefooted superhero. After all, I didn't
really need
shoes, anyway. But even with my terrible sense of
fashion, I
knew that would not be well received. So I finally
settled
on a pair of red ankle-high boots, which wasn't
too bad a
compromise.
 Now, the sun was almost down, and I didn't have
much
time left to shop, so I hurriedly found a Filene's
dressing
booth. I was pretty excited, now, and I almost
forgot to
check for hidden cameras.  Some stores spied on
these
dressing booths, in their ongoing war against
shoplifters,
but Filene's apparently had some respect for their

customers.
 First, I donned the small t-shirt, which, as I
had
expected, hugged my breasts so tightly that my
nipples were
clearly visible. A bra would have solved that
problem, of
course, but I hated bras even more than panties.
Underwear
in general turned me off. It just wasn't sexy --
or maybe I
was prejudiced, because underwear was foreign to
Kryptonian
culture.
 The medium sized t-shirt was much more modest,
showing just enough of my breasts to catch the
attention of
the young men I would save. I wished that I could
give them
more to look at, and I felt a touch of regret that
my days
of skirt-flirting were over.
 Still, this new costume had a lot to offer. It
showed
off even more of my legs than the miniskirt. The
muted
colors made my skin tones stand out more. Maybe
the simple
design was even sexier than the garish blues and
reds. I
looked more approachable, more human, more like
the girl-
next-door, less like a comic book character.
 I just looked at myself in the mirror for a few
minutes, striking a few poses, alternating between
loving
and hating the new look.
 Then I packed up Linda Lee's wig and clothes into
my
shopping bags, and I took a gulp. I was out of
time now. The
Catwoman would be making her move soon. It was
time for the
new Supergirl to make her move, too.
 I stepped out of the booth. A dozen eyes
gravitated
towards me as I left Filene's and entered the
walkways of
the outdoor mall. One young man carrying a shiny
new surf-
board was walking past me, when he stopped and
stared.
 "Woah, could this be the one and only Kara from
Krypton?" he asked excitedly.
 I nodded and smiled. He looked familiar, but I
couldn't place him. "What do you think of my new
look?" I
asked, fishing for compliments.
 He nodded and gestured widely. "Totally hot! You
could surf with me anytime!"
 That was what I needed to hear. I gave him a
quick
kiss on the cheek. "Thanks!" And then I waved
goodbye, as I
lifted off straight up into the sky.
* * *
 Gotham City was just a hop, skip and a jump away
from
Metropolis for someone like me.  It was only about
150 miles
away, and I could fly there in under 30 minutes at
a nice
casual pace. I don't know why I had never visited
the dark
city before. It was about time I did.
 Gotham City was over-run by vigilantes and
anarchists.  I had always thought  Metropolis was
so much
more peaceful and civilized than Gotham City
because
Metropolis had two superheroes paroling the skies
and
maintaining order, while Gotham had none. All
Gotham needed
was a hero it could count on.
 Clark didn't agree with that theory. When I first

came to Earth, he warned me about going to Gotham.
He said
it was hard to be a hero in a place so confusing,
where the
the line between good and evil was fuzzy at best.
Rich were
pitted against the poor, whites against blacks,
gangs
against gangs. Everyone felt like a victim, and
everyone
wanted revenge. The social fabric was turned
inside out, and
Clark believed that going in there to help people
would
backfire. He compared Gotham City to a country in
civil war:
To avoid getting caught in a quagmire, America
should never
send troops into a civil war -- unless they have
clear
objectives.
 And that's why I was going in. I had a clear
objective: To capture the Catwoman and bring her
into
justice. I knew that I couldn't save Gotham City
from the
mess it was in, but at least I could do this one
small
thing, remove this one cause of chaos, and help
stem the
tide of crime.
 Gotham wasn't as ugly as my expectations. In
fact, it
didn't look much different from Metropolis at
night. But
when I looked more closely, I could see the piles
of litter
along the streets and the graffiti on the walls.
When I
listened more closely, I could hear screams and
sirens
running together into a steady wail. My first
impulse was to
seek out those alarming sounds, offer my help, but
I forced
myself to focus on the task at hand. I wanted to
keep my
objectives simple.
 If Catwoman's message was to be believed, then
she
would be robbing one of Gotham City's art museums
tonight,
and I had to keep my eyes on all five of them. But
first I
had to find them. Andrew had marked their
locations on a map
last night, but finding them in a big city at
night was a
very different thing. I felt a little angry at
myself. I
could have scoped out the area earlier in the
afternoon, if
I wasn't having so much fun shopping for a costume
at the
mall. But scolding myself now wouldn't help. At
least I
remembered to bring the map with me, and I felt
confident
that I could find all five museums within just a
few
minutes.
 The first museum I found was The Wayne House
Monument. Ah-ha! I thought, as I saw stealth-like
movement
in the darkened building. But when I looked a
little closer,
I was disappointed to find only bats flying around
in the
caverns underneath. I glanced at the map and flew
on.
 The second museum, The Art Expo, was still open
to
visitors, and it would remain open until 9 pm.
That worried
me a little. Maybe Selina intended to commit her
crime under
the watchful eyes of the museum security with some
slight of
hand. Maybe she had even bribed the security to
steal the
art for her. I would have to pay very close
attention, but
first I had to find the other three museums.
 The Gotham Museum Of Fine Arts was on the other
side
of town, and before I was even near the building,
I could
see the crime in progress.  All of the rooms were
dark,
except one, where several people wearing black
were
scurrying around, removing paintings from the
walls. They
weren't even being careful, I thought. Anyone
could see the
light from the main street outside the building.
Several
museum employees were watching on helplessly from
another
room as a fortune in paint and canvas was being
plundered.
 I landed on top of the building and scanned the
room,
trying to locate Selina, but I couldn't tell her
apart from
the other people. Unfortunately, my x-ray vision
can yield
some pretty fuzzy images, and all I could see was
blobs that
resembled people moving around inside. But I could
see that
there was no Kryptonite awaiting me inside, and
there were
no lead boxes hiding unseen surprises. So there
was no point
in sneaking around.
 With a crash, I pushed my way though a security
door
that led into the room. The door was a little
tougher than I
had expected, so I had to hit it twice before it
fell away.
So much for the element of surprise, I thought
casually.
 The criminals gained nothing from that extra
second
or two. They just stood and stared at me as I
paced to the
middle of the room.
 "Slumming today, Supergirl?" One of the men asked

with a wicked grin. He, like his companions, was
dressed in
black.
 "Interesting clothes," commented another, as he
walked up to me and looked me over. "Let me guess.
Your
regular threads are still in the wash."
 A third man, wearing a cat mask just like the
Catwoman's, watched on with a smile on his face
and a hard-
on in his pants.
 I just stood there, surprised by their attitude.
Why
did they seem so cocky? I tried to see their faces
through
their masks, but I couldn't. Obviously they
treated their
masks with lead or something similar. And that
meant that
they were expecting me, or were at least prepared
for me. I
felt a tingle in my back, as I came fully alert.
Could this
be a trap?
 I looked around the room carefully.
Closed-circuit
cameras were recording the robbery from multiple
angles. Six
witnesses, all men dressed up in identical
security guard
uniforms, were watching on from the next room. I
couldn't
even see where the robbers were taking the
paintings. It
almost seemed like they were taking the paintings
off of one
wall and replacing them on another. What was going
on here?
 "Where is the Catwoman?" I demanded, barely
hiding my
confusion.
 "Why, I was taking a catnap in the corner," came
the
reply, as Selina stepped into the lit room,
drawing all eyes
to her. All I could do is stand and stare as she
sauntered
gracefully towards me.
 I knew that Selina had several Catwoman costumes,
all
of them daring, and I had anticipated this moment,
wondering
what she would be wearing tonight, whether
spandex, leather,
silk, or even black lace.  But she took my breath
away,
dressed in transparent purple tights from her cat
mask down
to her knee high black books.   Her nipples were
hard and
prominent behind the sheer fabric. Her trimmed
pussy was
moist with excitement, leaving a small dark purple
spot
between her legs.
 I felt my pussy react sympathetically, as Selina
walked right up to me, looking me right in the
eyes. "Can I
interest you in a work of art?" she purred.
 I looked away, as I tried to regain my
composure.  I
swallowed and said, "I'm here to take you in."
 Selina smiled and posed, "Oh, by all means take
me
in! Do you like what you see?"  Then she stepped
even
closer, so that we were nearly touching.  "Or did
you have
more in mind? You came here to experience
something new.
That's what museums are for, aren't they?"
 I felt myself sweating, and the scent of her
perfume
weakened my will. I tried to meet her eyes, tried
not to
blink. "I'm taking you in for stealing valuable
art."
 Selina stroked my shoulder carefully with her
clawed
black glove, and I stepped back. "I didn't steal
anything.
We were just rearranging things a bit."
 "Well ... I'm taking you in anyway," I said. "We
have
a long list of crimes over the years."
 "I'm sorry, but you aren't taking me anywhere,"
she
whispered in my ear. "Instead, I think I'll be
taking you."
 I felt my heart racing. "What do you mean? How
will
you stop me?"
 Selina gestured towards the security guards in
the
other room, and then rested her glove on my hip.
"You see,
if you don't do exactly as I say, my friends on
the other
end of these closed-circuit cameras will blow
these nice
people to tiny bits."
 It was a trap! "What do you want me to do?"
 I gasped when Selina's glove stroked down my
shirt
and slipped into my shorts. My knees gave, and I
collapsed
against her her larger body, suddenly breathing
heavily,
suddenly staring deeply into her eyes.
 "Why nothing at all, for the moment," she purred.
And
then she kissed me.
 The power of her kiss sent shivers down my body,
weakening me. What kind of perfume was she
wearing? It was
making me dizzy, and my heart was racing . . .
 But I had to keep my wits about me. I couldn't
let
these feelings overwhelm me. These were dangerous
feelings
that could sap my powers. I should be trying to
think of a
way out.
 I stepped away from the Catwoman and tried to
collect
myself. "I can't do this," I said, scanning the
rooms,
looking for bombs, but I couldn't see them. Maybe
they were
plastic explosives, because I would have seen
anything else
right away. "There has to be something else you
want."
 Selina touched my face with one claw, lightly
scratching my skin. "Maybe I'll think of something
else
later," she said, then she sniffed at my neck and
ear,
purring. "But for now I have a craving for
super-flesh."
 "I don't see any bombs," I said, stepping away
again.
 Selina glanced at me hard, looking slightly
offended.
"Oh, would you like me to set one off? It will
only kill one
or two people."
 I shook my head quickly, and I let her touch me,
"No,
please, don't."
 What else could I do?  I thought of the guards
who
were watching, the people I was "saving," and I
felt
extremely embarrassed.  What was Selina going to
make me do?
I wouldn't let myself think of it.
 Selina smiled. "So you'll be good?" She let one
clawed finger travel lazily down my chest, cutting
through
my T-shirt along the way, exposing my cleavage,
biting into
my skin.
 I nodded.
 When her finger reached my shorts, my shirt hung
loose like drapes. She reached inside with both
hands,
followed the length of my side up to my shoulders,
exposing
both of my breasts along the way. Then she pushed
my shirt
back so that it hung loose behind me, trapping my
arms like
cloth handcuffs behind my back.
 "Say it," she demanded, and she leaned over and
sucked on my right nipple.
 "I ...." I started, and then suddenly gasped when

Selina pinched my other nipple with her claws.
"I'll be
good."
 Now Selina was kneeling in front of me with her
clawed hands digging into my shorts. She licked
her lips.
"Say it again, I didn't hear you."
 "I ..." I started again, when Selina viciously
tore
the shorts into shreds. "I'll be good."
 "Oh, I don't I believe you," Selina said, as she
looked at my bare, glistening pussy. My juices
were running
down my thigh. "Good girls don't shave themselves
down here.
Good girls never get this wet. I think being good
is the
last thing on your mind."
 I couldn't speak. I could barely even think.
 I closed my eyes, realizing that everyone else's
eyes
were wide open, staring at me, stroking my skin
like ghostly
fingers, filling me with fear -- and excitement.
My
excitement overflowed, running down my thighs
almost in a
stream.
 I could barely stand still as Selina licked my
thighs
clean.
 "Mmm, you taste so good!" she purred, as my
juices
ran down her face. "But you've barely quenched my
thirst.
Open up a little."
 She pushed my feet apart, sliding my shoes on the

floor, and I struggled to keep my balance. Then
the Catwoman
kneeled between my legs and sniffed at my pussy.
My heart
was beating out of control, as I worried and
anticipated
what she would do next.  I shuddered when she just
barely
touched my pussy lips with her tongue, stroking
from one end
to the other, but she stopped too soon. Then she
held my
pussy open wide with two clawed fingers, that felt
like two
needles, and she puckered her lips and blew on my
clit. I
nearly fell from the shock of the almost agonizing
pleasure
that shot through me.  My hips thrust and spasmed.
My pussy
gushed like an orange being squeezed.
 Then Selina grabbed my ass and buried her claws
in
deep, as she dove into my pussy like a carnivore,
licking
and sucking and even biting.
 I couldn't keep my balance anymore, as wave after

wave of pleasure stung me, and I fell like a deer
torn down
by a lion. But someone caught me before I could
hit the
ground. He held me up, as the Catwoman kept on me,
ravaging
her helpless prey. All I could do was moan "no"
over and
over.
 I gazed through half open eyes at the guards in
the
next room -- the innocents for whom I was offering
up my
body.  I couldn't tell what they were thinking.
Why weren't
they at least using this distraction to escape?
Maybe I was
crazy with passion, and maybe Selina's wonderful
tongue was
confusing me, but that look in their eyes didn't
look like
disgust or disappointment or even worry. They
seemed to be
in wide eyed attention, and one man was even
trying to sneak
into the room for a better look. I couldn't
believe it. I
was a featured exhibit, like an x-rated Monet or
Renior. I
felt the last of my resistance give. My body was
limp. I was
defeated.
 "Mmmm, don't you pet a cat when she's
affectionate?"
Selina whispered, reaching behind me to free my
hands.
 I closed my eyes and stroked the Catwoman's hair,

while I moaned softly, then louder. Finally I was
crying out
without even thinking, again and again: "YES!" I
buried my
fingers in Selina's locks when she dipped her
tongue inside.
I twisted when she squeezed her claws into my ass,
leaving
marks that would last several days, as my powers
melted
away.  I yelled out when she nibbled on my clit. I
was oh so
close!
 But Selina pulled away just a moment too soon,
leaving my body shivering and aching and empty.
"Oh, no," I
begged, totally powerless, not even able to stand
on my own,
"Please don't stop yet!"
 "Now let's not be greedy," Selina said, shaking
her
finger and licking her lips. "Remember, you
promised to be
good. You've had your fun, and now it's time to
share."
 I nodded and reached out to her. I didn't resist
her
orders anymore. I only wanted to come now.
 "Oh, no, not with me," she replied. "Maybe you
could
start with the man who's holding you up. I think
it's his
turn. I think he earned it last night."
 What did she mean by that? I thought, but I
forgot
the question when the hands that had been
supporting me let
go, and I fell to the floor at his feet. When I
looked up at
him, he just grinned at me from behind his black
mask. The
cat-man. And then the cat-man lowered his pants,
freeing the
erection he had since I first saw him. His
excitement hadn't
waned, and seeing his excitement started my mouth
watering.
 "On your hands and knees," Selina said, reaching
down
to slap my ass.
 I did as she told me without qualms. Her orders
didn't seem like orders anymore. It was like her
will became
my will. I kneeled with my ass facing Selina and
an audience
behind her. I opened my knees slightly, wanting
them to see
my pussy, wanting someone to use it, to get me
off, while I
looked at the swollen dick being offered to me,
and I took
it in my hand. He was so hot, he might have had a
fever.
 I glanced up at the cat-man, and his grin was
gone.
His mouth was open in expectation.
 Back down at eye level, a tiny drop of pre-cum
emerged from his dick. I licked it off and circled
the plump
head with my tongue, but when I did, another drop
replaced
it.  So I opened my mouth and took him in, working
him like
a Lifesaver with my tongue. I don't know why, but
I really
wanted to please him.
 Someone was behind me now, touching my pussy,
stroking me with his finger. *Oh, please don't
stop!* I
arched my back, jutting my pussy up even higher.
Now the
finger found my clit and massaged it slowly. I
couldn't
think about the dick in my mouth anymore. I was
coming fast
again, and I needed to breath.
 But the cat-man was coming fast, too, and when I
was
about to release his dick, he suddenly grabbed my
head and
thrusted in deep. He would have pushed right to
the back of
my throat, if my hand wasn't in the way. He thrust
again,
and again.
 And then I felt my ass being lifted into the air,
as
someone thrust in from behind, pushing in his dick
in so
deep I could barely fit him. I had to gasp and
take a
breath, when the dick in my mouth came crashing in
again.
And again. And again, in rhythm, the dicks filled
my pussy,
filled my mouth, until I could barely tell them
apart.  I
couldn't even move. My body was suspended in the
air, my
hair and my ass being pulled in both directions,
tossing me
like a rag doll, -- except for one hand that I had
firmly
planted on the ground.  A million sensations
overwhelmed me,
but I focused on that hand, putting all of my
strength into
it, thinking that it was my anchor, and if it
went, I would
be lost.
 Suddenly, the cat-man stopped thrusting and
pulled my
hair until it hurt. I knew he was about to come,
and I had a
sudden impulse, something I had always fantasized
about. I
wrapped my lips around his dick tight, and I
pressed hard
against his dick with my tongue, cutting off his
semen flow.
I felt his dick shaking like a volcano ready to
erupt, but
he couldn't. He moaned in frustration. He thrust
again, but
only a drop escaped before I cut him off again.
He needed
to come so bad that he wouldn't let me stop him.
He grabbed
my hand, pulling it from his dick, and then he
thrust until
he hit the back of  my throat. I opened my mouth
in reflex,
just as he exploded. His hot, salty essence
escaped into my
mouth, shocking me, riddling me with confusion.
 I didn't know what to think or how to feel. I
didn't
know whether he tasted good or bad. I didn't know
whether to
feel violated, or to accept his essence as a gift.
I only
know that I didn't *want* to feel violated.
 And I liked the way he was stroking my hair, now,

making up for the pain he caused only a few
moments ago. It
was enough. It let me savor his salty taste before

swallowing. It let me suck him until his plump red
dick
wouldn't give anymore and I needed some air.
 And now I could concentrate on the man behind me,
who
was fucking faster, now. *Oh please don't come too
fast,
now! Finish me off!*  I don't know know if I ever
wanted
anything more in my life.
 I was almost hyperventilating, when two more
hands
grabbed my legs and lifted my ass high into the
air, and the
fucking accelerated. Each thrust gave me greater
pleasure
and increasing pain. My pussy was very sore, now,
that my
lubrication was all used up, and my powers were
all but
gone. I couldn't bear it, yet tears ran down my
cheeks, and
I yelled out: "Oh, oh! Don't stop!"
 He didn't stop, and now it was too late.  Like
magic,
the unbearable aching and pain changed into a mind

shattering orgasm. My arms gave way beneath me,
and my head
fell to the ground. The world was spinning, and I
was
screaming, as if in pain or terror, but I felt
nothing like
that. I felt . . . full. I felt relieved. I felt
so fucking
awesome that if it didn't stop soon, it just might
kill me.
 I was barely conscious when I came again, or the
third time. I only remember feeling my body spasm
and my
arms going limp.
 Before I knew it, it had stopped, and I was just
lying there, naked on the floor, sprawled out, at
peace.
What had happened to me was like a dream, but I
felt the
hard cold waxed floor against my chest. I felt a
cool breeze
soothing my irritated pussy.
 The cat-man kneeled beside me and stroked my
hair. I
looked up at him. He had taken off his mask. I
stared,
thinking I should recognize him. He said, "Hi
Linda with the
great tasting pussy."
 Selina stood over me. Her tights were now
soaking,
and I felt strangely sorry for her.  I was very
confused,
but I actually pitied her, that she had to work so
hard to
conquer me, that she plotted this rape fantasy so
carefully,
all for me and her friends, but not for herself.
 "Thanks for the entertainment," she said. "We
must do
it again some time."
 "You are going?" I asked, suddenly confused and
disappointed. Then, as an afterthought, "What
about the
security guards?"
 "Didn't you guess?" she asked in amazement. "They

aren't security guards. There is no bomb. They are
just
friends who wanted to be here. See?" she said with
a smile
as she grabbed a guard and kissed him hard on the
lips.
 No, I had never guessed, and I felt a little
angry
and embarrassed at being fooled so easily. I tried
to get
up, but I could barely even manage sitting down.
 Selina, sensing my anger, raised her hand. "Don't

bother trying to stop us. You won't get your
powers back for
at least ten more minutes yet."
 "Huh? How do you know that?" I asked. I didn't
even
know how long it would take.
 "My dear Supergirl," she smiled smugly, and she
pushed me over with her boot, just to show her
confidence.
"Knowledge is everything. It's the only thing that
keeps a
vigilante alive and free. Tell Andrew that, like
always, I
was a step ahead of him."
 "What?" I asked, understanding her only a tiny
bit at
a time. The web I was caught in was much more
intricate than
I had imagined. "How do you know about Andrew?"
 "You mean he never told you? Really, you should
know
more about your friends before you put your trust
in them."
 "We have to go now, before you get strong and
angry
and forget all the nice things we did for you."
She gestured
to the cat-man, "We owe her something to wear,
after
destroying her clothes."
 He dropped a very familiar purse onto my lap. "I
hope
you don't mind if I keep the cape," he said,
grinning. "Just
something to remember you by."
 And then they were gone, before I could rise to
my
feet. A few minutes later, just like Selina said,
my powers
were returning, but by then they were long gone,
hiding
among ten million faces in Gotham City.

(continued...)


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