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After a long hiatus, I thought I might try to finish the story. Hope you enjoy ;)
Power Girl
“GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!”
Moon and the Crime Doctor watched the blonde Power Girl screaming brokenly. Her naked body trembled as sweat dripped down in small rivers over the curves of her flesh.
Karen was currently fully stretched upon a large metal while, six feet in diameter, strapped naked to the outside hub. It was suspended above the stone floor of the chamber, hanging by large chains that were attacked the axle around which it could pivot. Manacles circled her wrists and ankles, chained together to keep her arms and legs extended straight out hugging the curved of the wheel.
Normally this would have posed no problem at all – the heroines Kryptonian strength could tear free of the chains with barely a thought. But the sadistic villains controlling the torture had linked Karen’s manacles to metal collars locked around the throats of two gagged Amazons bound spreadeagled on either side of the circle of metal, one with long dark hair and the other with curling brown tresses. The bondage was diabolically simple – if Karen used her strength to free herself, she would decapitate one or both of the prisoners.
Karen shifted slightly on the hub. The curve was sharp enough that her back was bent painfully to keep in contact with the metal, but if she allowed herself to relax the increased tension on the chain instantly began choking the Amazons. Her lower back throbbed with the discomfort of having held her position for so long. Her blonde hair was matted to her head with sweat, while her position with her shoulders and head angled back over the curve of the wheel thrust her already prominent breasts into bold highlight.
That, however, was the least of her worries.
An iron bench sat directly below her. It was made of metal, like the device she was shackled to. Also made of metal were the wicked inch long spikes protruding from the outside surface.
Karen breathed in sharply as the wheel lifted up, rolling her head down over the top of the curve and bringing her into eye level with the men hurting her. She blinked sweat out of her eyes, only to have more immediately run down as her head hung backwards over the hub under her. She sucked in air, trying to ignore the chuckles of the sick torturers watching her full breasts jiggle slightly as she did so.
“You’re doing very well, my dear,” Moon said to her. “Of course, if you want to stop, you could just tear loose of those chains and kill us both.”
Karen said nothing, gritting her teeth in frustration.
“I don’t think she wants to talk to us, Moon,” the star-spectacled Crime Doctor said in a hurt voice. “That’s very rude, you know,” he went on, leaning into Karen’s field of vision. She imagined his head vaporizing under the slightest touch of her heat vision, but the sensors built into the walls of the room would respond to any such action by setting off explosives in several chambers throughout the complex, killing dozens of hostages.
The Crime Doctor moved to where the curly haired Amazon hung beside Karen’s outstretched arms. She had to watch the scene upside down as she craned her head back over the wheel. The bound woman glared at him. “You think it’s rude too, don’t you miss?” he asked the Amazon. She said nothing, just continued staring at him.
Abruptly the masked sadists booted foot swung back, then up, kicking the helpless woman between the legs.
There was a meaty thunk and the captive gurgled into her gag. Without waiting he kicked her again, his boot slamming toe first into the soft mound of her sex. Her stifled cry was louder, more desperate. His foot swung back again.
“Stop!”
The Crime Doctor paused and looked over at her. “Is there something you want to say, Powerless Girl?” he asked politely.
Karen breathed deeply, forcing herself to say the words. “I want to keep going,” she said softly.
Moon stood looking down at her and shook his head. “You must be more precise, my dear,” he said with a fatherly smile that made her stomach turn.
“I want to keep going with the torture,” she said icily. She wanted to add “you fucking degenerate pig” but knew that the Amazons would only suffer for her temper.
“Yes, that is good,” Moon told her. He reached out and touched her breasts. She wanted to scream but didn’t. “Your invulnerability is such a gift. A normal woman would have been mutilated by now, but you remain physically perfect.” His finger circled one of her nipples. “And ready for more pain.” He patted her tit affectionately. “How lucky you must feel.”
Karen said nothing, only flexing her fingers in their restraints.
The wheel turned, moving her head first back down towards the floor. Inch by inch she approached the bench with its protruding spikes.
The blond fought to control her breathing. The spikes could not wound her, could not penetrate her Kryptonian skin. But the neural stimulator the degenerate scientists has used on her meant that the receptors in her skin that transmitted sensations of touch to her brain were now thousands of times more sensitive. The spikes could not damage her, but they could hurt her.
Karen knew how badly they could hurt her. The last hour had taught her that.
As the Crime Doctor worked the medieval style machine her scalp came into contact with the points. It was like railway spikes were being pushed into her skull. She moaned, then gave a sobbing gasp as she was pushed round further, the cruel metal points gouging bloodlessly over her head and then down towards her eyes. Some of the iron fixtures bent as her super-dense body was forced over them, but the vile torturers had a ready supply of replacements on hand that could be bolted to the bench to repair the damage.
The turning continued, and she felt the points raking across her face. The neural enhancer made it feel like she was being whipped around the eyes, the nose, her cheeks and mouth. The stinging pain was horrible, and she moaned as her the points finally nudged past her chin. For a brief moment she was free of new pain and the spikes failed to reach up to her throat, but she knew was coming.
Her breasts.
She never said so, but Karen was proud of her breasts. She knew they were the source of millions of fantasies, thousands of photo-shop fakes. Sometimes they meant she was not taken seriously, but all in all she enjoyed having them and the unique power they possessed.
But Moon and the Crime Doctor had taken that and made it into a curse. They enjoyed her breasts as well, but their pleasure was in making them hurt, making her suffer as they were hit and hammered and burned.
As the pliant globes reached the spikes, Karen twisted her head back, trying to flatten herself impossibly, trying to get even a little less pain.
The metal points indented her tit-flesh, sending signals to her brain. Signals amplified by the unholy technology working on her. That took the gently feel of the spikes rubbing against her impenetrable alien skin, and made it into dozens of power-drills boring into her flesh.
She screamed.
The Crime Doctor allowed himself a little chuckle at the sound of womanly pain. He felt himself hard in his pants just at the quality of the scream, its mixed texture of outrage and misery. His hands on the controls of the wheel pulled back an inch or so, rubbing the blond heroines boobs back over the spikes, then pushed forward again. Back and forth, back and forth, grinding tit-meat over the sharpened points.
The screaming was wonderful.
At the front of the wheel Moon also was beside himself with sadistic pleasure, watching the two perfectly formed mounds of woman-flesh scraping against the hedge of metal thorns and drinking in the accompanying shrieks of pain. It would have been even better had the spikes been lacerating the skin, actually tearing into those soft bags of fat, but there was something to be said for being able to do this over and over for hours without the fainting from blood loss. Even more satisfying was the way Power Girl’s muscles rippled and flexed along her arms and legs as the pain hammered at her mind. The urge to tear herself free from the torture machine must have been incredible, but the stupid girl kept used her willpower to keep herself in place, keep herself in pain, rather than sacrifice the hostages chained to her. The pleasure of being able to turn her ridiculous moral code on her to make her blubber in agony was almost as much to do with the erection in his pants as the sight of her curvaceous body covered in pain sweat.
The wheel creaked as it moved, each metallic squeak punctuated with a female cry.
Karen panted, trying to keep her breathing shallow and not add to her misery by forcing her own breasts harder onto the barbs under her. She was shaking so hard she could feel the heavy metal contraption vibrating, and tried to stop herself. With her strength she could easily tear the whole vile machine to pieces, killing her two fellow prisoners as she did.
The wheel paused a moment, angled slightly back so that her boobs were pushed forward by the frame of studs. To Karen it felt like a beast from Kryptonian nightmare was pushing dagger-like claws into her tits from below and then peeling them off her chest inch by inch. The matching globes rose up under her chin, nipples stiff with sensation. She kept her lips pressed tightly together, but she could stop neither the hateful little whimpers nor the tears sliding down from her narrowed blue eyes.
A pudgy hand wrapped itself in her damp hair and pulled her head up further.
“You are so absurd,” Moon told her. His spectacles glinted coldly, mirroring the inhumanity behind them. “You have strength to stop your pain, but you hang her and moan like a whore to save others.”
Karen took a breath, grunting at the torment of it. “…sick…fuck…” she whispered.
“You are the sick one,” he smiled back. “Your laughable heroism is a disease, girl. A mental disease.” He reached down and touched her right breast, pushing his fingers against it. The flexible boob bulged slightly, expanding against the spikes.
“Oh Rao!” Karen burst out, fresh tears sliding down her cheeks. The claws of the beast that her mind imagined were pulling her breast apart from the inside. She felt the agony of the skin bursting into red tatters. On the wheel behind her toes pointed straight up to the ceiling, every muscle in her legs visible as her body clenched.
“You want to kill me,” Moon said softly.
Karen said nothing, only suffered wordlessly. Moon noticed the Amazon women looking at him with murder in their eyes. So satisfying.
“Say it, girl,” Moon told her. ”I want to hear you say the words.” He nodded at his companion. “Help her, my friend.”
“With pleasure,” the Crime Doctor replied. He reached over and moved a lever on a post behind him down.
Instantly, the torture wheel dropped two inches.
“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!”
Power Girl’s scream was raw, primal agony. The pain in her breasts was beyond imagining. She was being impaled and flayed alive at the same time. One of the points drove deep into a nipple, filling her mind with horror. She wailed, her arms flexing instinctively as the trapped Amazons choked and gurgled.
Karen didn’t even try to stop the tears. She didn’t care any more that they saw her bawling like a child - the pain was too much. Every part of her wanted to tear the sick torture machine apart and be free of the pain but she couldn’t. She forced herself to relax her arms, knowing that even a twitch while she was in this much agony cold tear the hostages heads from their shoulders.
The wheel moved, dragging her fulsome breasts forward over the spikes. Karen’s scream was a horrifying combination of primal anguish and racking sobs. It continued as she was winched up, her sternum and belly moving over the metal tips that felt like they were gutting her.
Finally she stopped at eye level with Moon. He looked at her, watching how her tits moved as she panted. Her blonde thatched pussy was directly above the spike, just pressing gently against them but even that was painful for her.
“You want to kill me, but you don’t,” Moon told her.
Karen made no answer, just gulped in air. She closed her eyes, trying to forget the pain.
“You let us hurt you. Torture you.” He leaned closer. “Because you are weak.”
The blonde heroine’s head dropped. Tears ran down her cheeks and splashed in her incredible tits.
“You hate yourself for your weakness,” Moon told her. “You hate these women for making you weak. For making you suffer.”
Karen mustered what little strength she had and brought her eyes up to look at him. “I hate you!” she snarled.
“But not enough,” he smiled, and nodded to the Crime Doctor at the winch.
Karen heard a switch being thrown, and felt heat between her legs. She smelled the odour of iron being heated, like the carbon tang of frying pan left empty over an active stove-top.
“You could end this with a flick of you fingers,” Moon reminded her, still smiling. She looked at him with unmasked disgust, but said nothing.
The wheel lowered again, pressing her pussy against the spikes.
The red hot spikes.
Karen screamed and screamed. Her sex was twisted inside out and burned at the same time. She was being impaled on blistering metal spears, stabbing up into her womanhood. She shook in her chains, and the vibration of her cunt against the grate made the pain worse.
“GAAAAAAAAAAAAA – AAAA aaaaaaaAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!”
Moon and the Crime Doctor watched her incredible tits expand, and then heard her scream again and again. She howled and wailed, lips pulled back and face twisted in horror. Her fingers were spread, toes pointed, her whole body tight as a violin string as she screamed her heart out. Her boobs shook in front of her, shiny with perspiration.
Karen felt her control slipping. At any moment she would loose it, kill the women chained to her.
“MAKE IT STOP! PLEASE…PLEASE!!!!!!”
“You are a weak cunt,” the Crime Doctor said from behind her. “Say it.”
The agony was white hot in her pussy. Karen blubbered piteously, knowing she had no choice now. The pain was right against her clit, inside her pussy lips. She was going to kill the hostages and there was nothing else she could do to stop it. “YES – I’M A WEAK CUNT. I’M A WEAK CUNT. PLEASE!!’
The wheel rose a few inches, enough to lift her sex off the spikes. Karen almost fainted with relief, but hung moaning and weeping.
“That is good, Power Girl,” Moon told her. “Very good. I am sure there will be many people who enjoy hearing the recording of your admission.”
She heard both sadists walk across the room, and a door open and then close.
Karen let her head fall forward as she cried brokenly.
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