Chapter 4: The Watcher's Choice
The silence was a physical thing, thick and velvet, broken only by the soft, rhythmic drip of condensation from a pipe somewhere in the shadows and the faint creak of the chains holding Kara’s weight.Time stretched, meaningless. Her world had contracted to the burning stretch in her shoulders, the dull ache in her hips from being spread open, and the throbbing, hypersensitive pulse between her legs.The cool air on her wet skin raised goosebumps. She hung there, adrift in the aftermath, her mind a blank white page slowly staining with the ink of shame.In the dark archway, Rick Flag lowered the monocular. His breathing was shallow, controlled, a tactical rhythm he used in high-stake ambushes.It didn’t help. The image was burned onto his retinas: the powerful, toned body straining against the bonds, the shuddering climax, the utter vulnerability on the face of Earth’s mightiest girl. His cock was a rigid, aching presence against the fabric of his tactical pants. A part of him, the soldier, screamed to retreat, to report, to let the spooks at Argus handle this profound security breach.But another part, older and more primal, was rooted to the spot.
He watched her try to adjust her stance, her toes slipping on the cold stone. A soft whimper escaped her lips, so unlike the triumphant cries he’d heard on news clips after she saved a falling aircraft. This was a sound of pure, overwhelmed need.
His hand moved of its own accord, unbuckling his belt, the sound impossibly loud in the quiet. He pushed his pants and boxers down just enough to free himself. He was painfully hard, the head slick with precum that gleamed in the low candlelight.The duty was a shrill voice in the back of his skull. The desire was a thunderous drum in his veins.He stepped out of the shadows.
His boot scuffed against stone. Kara’s head snapped up, her blonde hair falling away from her face.Her blue eyes, wide and glistening, found him instantly. He expected terror, outrage, a demand to be freed.It wasn’t there. Instead, he saw a flicker of recognition—vague, from some briefing file—then a deeper, more shocking comprehension. Her gaze dropped to his erect cock, and her breath hitched.Not in fear.In hunger.
He walked toward her, the echo of his steps a death knell for his career. He stopped just in front of her, so close he could feel the heat radiating from her skin, smell her sweat and the sharp, musky scent of her arousal mixed with the sterile lubricant Stella had used.
“You saw,” Kara whispered, her voice raspy from screaming.
“All of it,” Rick confirmed, his own voice rough.Her eyes searched his face. “Are you… here to arrest me?”
“I should be.”
A long pause.Her throat worked as she swallowed. “But you’re not.”
“No.”
He saw the conflict warring in her: the hero’s pride, the alien’s isolation, the woman’s devastating, newly-awakened need. The last one won.She gave the faintest, almost imperceptible shake of her head. A plea.
“You want this?” he asked, his hand wrapping around his shaft, giving it a slow stroke.“You want a stranger to fuck you while you’re chained up like this? After everything she just did to you?”
Her chin trembled. “Yes.” The word was a shattered thing.“Please.”
That broke the last of his resolve. He moved in, the head of his cock nudging against her slick, swollen folds. She was so wet, so open from the strap-on, but still incredibly tight. He pressed forward, not with Stella’s controlled domination, but with a raw, desperate thrust of his own.
He slid into her heat in one deep, smooth motion.A groan was ripped from his chest. She felt unbelievable—a silken, vice-like grip around him, yielding and impossibly hot.
“Christ,” he hissed, his hands finding her hips, his fingers digging into the firm muscle there.
Kara cried out, a sound of pure relief, her head falling back against her suspended arms. Her inner muscles fluttered wildly around him, grasping.He didn’t wait. He pulled back and fucked into her again, setting a hard, desperate pace. The chains took up the rhythm, a metallic clinking and groaning with every thrust.He was losing himself, the mission forgotten, the reports and dossiers ashes in his mind. All that existed was this: the incredible feel of her cunt milking him, the slap of their bodies, her ragged, pleading moans.
“You like that?” he grunted, driving into her deeper. “You like being a fucking slut on a chain?”
“Yes!” she sobbed, her body straining to meet his. “Don’t stop… god, don’t stop…”
He fucked her harder, his thrusts becoming brutal, punishing. He leaned forward, his mouth near her ear, his voice a vicious whisper.“Look at you.Supergirl. Taking a dirty, ordinary cock in your pussy.Dripping all over it. You’re just a hole, aren’t you? A tight, wet hole begging to be used.”
His filthy words sent another violent shiver through her.Her cunt clenched around him like a fist. “I’m your hole,” she panted, the admission breaking something fundamental in her. “Use it… use your hole…”
He slammed into her, over and over, the base of his cock hitting her clit with each punishing stroke. He could feel the tension coiling in his gut, an unstoppable wave.Her cries were getting higher, sharper.
“Come for me,” he commanded, his rhythm faltering, becoming frantic.“Come on this cock. Let me feel you.”
It was all the permission she needed. Her orgasm exploded through her, a seismic wave that locked her body in a rigid arc. A raw, broken scream echoed off the stone walls as her cunt spasmed around him, gushing a fresh flood of wetness that slicked his thighs. The sheer intensity of her climax pushed him over the edge.
With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside her and came.His release was a silent, powerful eruption, pulses of hot cum flooding her depths. He held himself there, throbbing, as she shook and whimpered through the aftershocks.
Slowly, the world seeped back in.The chill of the dungeon air. The smell of sex and candle wax.The hard reality of what he had done.
He pulled out of her, softening, and a trickle of their combined fluids dripped onto the floor. He quickly tucked himself away, fastening his pants with fumbling fingers. Kara hung before him, utterly spent, her body gleaming with sweat, her breath coming in ragged hitches.She wouldn’t look at him.
The soldier in him reasserted control, cold and swift.He had compromised the mission. He had compromised himself.This was a terminal error.He wanted more. He turned her around and lined up.
He turned her around and lined up. The head of his cock, still wet from her pussy and his own release, pressed against a different, tighter opening. She gasped, a sharp intake of breath that was all fear and dark, shameful anticipation.“No,” she whispered, but her body didn’t fight.It trembled.
“Yes,” he said, his voice low and final. He spat into his palm, slicking himself roughly before guiding his tip back to that clenching, virgin entrance. He applied pressure, a steady, insistent force that made her cry out.Her powerful legs shook, muscles standing out in cords. The metal of the spreader bar clinked softly against the chains.
“It’s too much,” she choked out, her forehead pressed against the cold chain between her wrists.
“You can take it,” he growled, pushing forward. The ring of muscle resisted, a fierce, burning barrier, then yielded with a soft, devastating pop. He was inside, buried in an impossible, searing heat that was tighter than anything he’d ever known.
Kara screamed, a raw, ragged sound that echoed off the dungeon walls. It wasn't a scream of pain alone, but of shocking, brutal violation and a strange, unwelcome thrill. He held still, feeling her body convulse around this new, profound intrusion.“Fuck,” he breathed, the tightness overwhelming him. He pulled back slowly, watching, mesmerized, as her ass stretched to accommodate him. He pushed back in, a fraction deeper.She sobbed, her tears dripping silently onto the stone below. He established a rhythm, slow and deep at first, each thrust a conquest. The slick, filthy sounds of the act filled the air.
“Your ass is so fucking tight, Kara,” he grunted, his hands gripping her spread hips for leverage.“Tighter than your perfect little cunt.You feel that? You feel how deep I am?” She could only moan, a broken, continuous sound. Her world dissolved into the scrape of his zipper against her skin, the bite of the chains, the burning, full sensation of being split open.
He fucked her harder now, losing all pretense of control.It was primal, a claiming.His balls slapped against her wet labia with each thrust. “You’re just a set of holes now,” he whispered harshly into her ear. “A hero reduced to a fuckable ass.And you love it. Your body loves it.” She shook her head, denying it even as her rear muscles clenched rhythmically around his invading length, pulling him deeper.His pace became punishing, brutal. The tension coiled again in his gut, a spring wound impossibly tight.He was going to come inside her here, in this forbidden place. The degradation of it, the utter defilement of her symbol, fueled his final, frantic drives.
“Take it,” he commanded, his voice guttural. “Take my come in your ass.” With a final, deep snarl, he jammed himself fully into her and erupted. The release was violent, a torrent of heat flooding that dark channel. He pulsed inside her, each jerk of his hips forcing more of his seed deeper.He collapsed against her sweaty back, spent, breathing heavily. After a moment, he pulled out.The sound was wet and obscene. He tucked himself away, the reality of his actions crashing down with the silence.Kara hung limply, utterly broken. A slow trickle of his fluid leaked down the inside of her thigh.She didn’t move. Rick Flag took two stumbling steps back, his eyes wide with horror at what he’d done, and at the part of him that still burned with satisfaction.
“They’ll find you,” he said, his voice hollow.It wasn’t a promise, just a statement. He turned and walked away, his boots echoing decisively until the sound faded into the palace’s depths. She was alone again, suspended in the silence, the cooling proof of her violation drying on her skin.