The Ritual Part 2 Bound and Tested
She came here because Red Kryptonite had made her hair grow uncontrollably, it now ran behind her like a Princess wedding train in a Disney wedding, and worse, the hair was uncuttable. Green Kryptonite would kill her before it would weaken the hair enough to cut and it just kept growing. When Director Henshaw told her there was a magic solution, she expected something flashy like Gandalf or Zatanna, but what she got were four overweight middle aged soccer mom’s and a butch lesbian that looked like she lifted trucks when she wasn’t fixing them. She didn’t take it seriously. Their so called magic was nothing more than an excuse to get young girls who didn’t know any better naked for their perverse games!
But orders made her go along, humour them, just for the chance it would work. I mean, magic was just science we didn’t understand yet right? There was no goddess given sex magic, they just didn’t understand what they were doing. She would go along with the charade long enough to get her hair fixed and fly out before the perverts could lay a finger on her!
Lay a finger on her?
Fingers in her! Worse. The magic worked. The priestess had aroused her so her mind, already fighting the Red Kryptonite hormone surges, was too confused to flee. Worse, her tongue had brought Supergirl to a soul shattering climax. Just as she was about to flee a situation running out of control, the priestess had CUT HER HAIR with teeth still shining with Kara’s own juices. Covered with Supergirl’s cum, she had bit off strand after strand that were used to bind her painfully erect nipples and then strung to the bow of Diana the Huntress.
Sweet Rao the pain! Her hair was stronger than her skin since the Kryptonite exposure, and the painfully erect nipples were clamped by the twined bowstring crueler than any nipple clamps science could construct. Worse, the bow kept flooding her entire body with desires of submission and service, images of countless women broken before the goddess for daring to carry the faith of a man god into her bower. Sweet Rao, her Kyrptonian body was immune to most damage and healed at an inhuman rate, so her experience with pain was limited to battle or the minutes after. She had no ability to handle the pain as she was lead by her nipples like an ox from its nose ring, an animal lead to sacrifice.
Worst of all, her body, her trained Kryptonian weapon of a body made her feel so much less a woman than her tormentors. She had barely even dared to masturbate, even then only with shattering guilt. She feared to give in to any of her base desires as her power made her too dangerous to ever lose control. That path lead to villainy too easily. The pleasure these middle aged women ripped from her was worse than the pain. Only the pain allowed her to hold onto any sanity at all as the pleasure threatened to break her pride in a way no beating or even near death had ever done. She was Supergirl, but these were women, and commanded her body in ways she never dreamed.
Lead by the bowstring on her nipples, she was forced to kneel and beg. Beg to be bound, beg to be tested, beg to serve.
The shame of it burned her cheeks like the pleasure of it burned her loins. Only the matching burning in her painful nipples allowed her to draw upon the teachings of Rao and call upon her battle spirit to resist. She was Supergirl, she would not be broken!
The women laughed, the archer Rue held Supergirl face down to the ground kneeling as she pressed the bow into the ground with her foot. Her other foot she raised to Supergirl’s lips.
“Kiss my feet, Supergirl. Show the goddess your devotion by sucking and licking my toes in repentance for your arrogance.” Rue demanded. Behind her the short haired muscular butch Myrrh tried to force her fingers into Supergirl’s pussy, but the Maid of Might clamped down so hard a pile driver couldn’t force her. Supergirl glared up at her saviour/captors and shouted back.
“NEVER!”
Then Rue rolled the bow along the ground with her foot causing Supergirl’s vulnerable and inexperienced nipples to be nearly garrotted by the bowstring. Her body curled to the ground to avoid pain, all other thought shattered. Myrrh laughed as she forced first one then two fingers into the vulnerable Kryptonian and she began to finger the young girl’s clit in time with the savage fingering. Rue laughed as Supergirl lapped and sucked on her feet obediently.
As she lapped and sucked at her captor’s toes, her long hair was braided into ropes to bind Supergirl’s hands behind her head, then around her ankles and finally back around her throat. Now she was bound kneeling, and any attempt to rise would strangle her with her own hair. Limited to shuffling on her hands and knees she was led around by the bowstring like a puppet on the strings as each Priestess sat upon a stool at her point of the pentacle.
Rue lead her to her own seat, bringing her nose to mons with her captors womanhood as Supergirl shuffled in a fog of sensation she used all of her warrior training to hold even a shred of control through.
Rue spoke, her voice that of the school teacher she was. “Do you know what the rule of three is?”
Supergirl shook her head.
Vervain tugged on the hair rope around Supergirl’s throat, forcing her gasping to lean backwards in a painful arch. Vervain let an olive skinned hand trail down the hard ridges of the Kyrptonian’s sculpted abs to her aroused and open sex. She traced a finger lightly around her labia, teasing, arousing, but not allowing the tortured girl desperately raising her hips to those fingers to reach satisfaction.
“When we give you pleasure in her service, you receive from us the gifts she gives us. This is one. This is holy, but it is only enough power to cut a hair or two.” She released Supergirl’s hair and stepped back, pushing her face into Rue’s equally blonde but untrimmed bush.
Rue laughed throatily. “When you who beg to serve make an offering of your service to us, the goddess will repay you three, and with that power we can cut your hair, we can break the unnatural forces that drive you out of control, with that we can bind you safely again, back in control.” Rue rasped, her voice husky as she humped herself on the captive superheroine’s face, getting her scent in her nose and lips.
“If you would be free of this curse, then please me. Please us all. IN DIANA”A NAME!” Rue cried, pulling forward on the bow painfully to cause Kara’s mouth to open in shock. Open, and fill with the taste and feel of a mature woman’s pussy.
Need and instinct took over, and Supergirl found herself remembering all those dirty things she heard Alex tell her lovers to do. Those long lonely nights she cursed her super hearing as she used all her willpower to do no more than hump her pillow while listening to her lesbian sister on the other side of the house telling her girl of the night how to please Alex with her mouth.
Supergirl dove into her pussy like a starving woman. She lapped at her labia, tracing each fold with her tongue as she explored with a sense of wonder and awe, truly worshipping at the altar of a mature woman. She was the aspirant, the girl who knelt before the woman, and she felt the urge to be worthy, to please, to serve rise in her. She sucked gently, lapped, as the taste began to fill her senses. There was wild magic in the circle and power roared through the Kryptionian’s veins, power that was rooted in the flesh and desire of women and she gave herself to it. Her tongue now darted into the depths of Rue’s blonde furred pussy like a striking serpent. A tongue stronger than any on earth ravaged Rue lovingly and endlessly, for unlike human women, Supergirl did not have to breathe for hours at a time if she chose.
“Oh goddess, oh goddess. She is a born slave. Oh my goddess, you have not been eaten until you have been eaten by a superheroine who does NOT HAVE TO COME UP FOR AIR!” Rue cried, then screamed and came so hard she bent in half and almost fell from the stool. Only hands gripping Supergirl’s hair like safety bars kept her upright. Kara was lost in her lust and did not stop, she lapped and lapped, sucked and devoured like a starving woman as Rue went into a second orgasm more shattering than the first.
Then it happened. Rue screamed again and the pleasure given to her shot back into Supergirl three for one.
Kara screamed, and bucked. Had she been human, the force she spasmed with would have torn muscles, tendons and ligament. Had she been bound by steel or the most advanced carbon fiber nanotubes she would have torn free, but she was neither human, nor bound by the chains of science. Her flesh shattered in orgasmic bliss but she took no harm. Only her Hair flashed pale silver of moonlight as Rue rose, unstrung the bow from Kara’s abused nipples and restrung it with a swift natural motion. Taking the bowstring of golden hair, she reached down to where the hair ran another ten feet past her bindings and cut it free as if it was so much cotton candy.
Vervain laughed, and grabbed Kara by the nipples. The returning blood caused the pain to shock her from her orgasmic state, and she whimpered like a dog as Vervain dragged her to the bench of the spinning wheel. It was not a normal chair, it was a Queening chair. Kara was forced on her back, face up, legs bent painfully under her.
Vervain sat on her chair and began to spin the fine hair just cut by Rue, spinning them into a whip knotted with the goddesses beloved jade, amethyst and moonstone.
Kara found herself not faced with Vervain’s pussy, but her puckered rosebud. She cried out in defiance.
“No, not that. Not that. I am not a whore!” Kara cried out, shutting her eyes to block out the sight of the olive skinned woman’s asshole and the rising need she felt to kiss it.
Vervain laughed again, feet pumping and hands flying on her spinning wheel as she crafted the lash of the Goddess from Supergirl’s own hair.
“Of course you are not a whore. Diana does not tolerate such. You are a slave. Her slave. You will show your devotion by kissing my ass. You will show you understand your place by making me cum without touching the pussy you have not earned the right to touch.” Vervain wiggled and pressed her ass to the Kyrptonians moaning mouth, but leaned over and asked Aconite, “Could you instruct the slave, My Lady?”
Taking spindle in hand, Aconite used her hand to begin to finger Supergirl’s pussy, getting them nice and wet before running her fingers along the girl’s virgin bum hole. Supergirl tensed her ass cheeks, denying the black woman entry to that most vulnerable spot, but Aconite was waiting for that and slid the spindle that she had been caressing Kara’s sex with deep into the girls pussy. As she relaxed in shock, Aconite worked her first finger into the aroused Supergirl’s asshole.
Kara opened her mouth to scream, and her nose brushed Vervain’s asshole. Aroused beyond reason, she began to kiss it. To suck it. As fingers worked into her own asshole, she began to probe Vervain’s with her tongue. As fingers were replaced with a spindle, Supergirl drove her own tongue into Vervain’s asshole with unconscious echo of the spindle now being worked into her virgin asshole.
Soon she was lost in the worship of the other woman’s ass, a fever of need taking over her. A need to serve, a need to please. A girl among women, she needed to earn her place, to prove her devotion. She would die before speaking the words aloud, but she felt in the darkness of the Queening chair that she had found her place beneath these women.
Vervain struggled to tie off the last of the whip and thrust it into the waiting hands of Myrrh before she had to grab the arms of her chair and let her own breathing stop as she hung in endless resistance against the orgasm to come. The longer she held it, the more powerful it would be, but the tongue of the Maid of Might was working magic in her darkest depths that no human with a need to breathe could equal. At last, she screamed like a Maenad and came.
Aconite grabbed the Supergirl by the hair ropes and dragged her out before the shattering orgasm of the threefold law forced her into convulsions that might well have shattered the chair and injured Vervain. Watching in awe as Supergirl was bathed in moonlight, she pulled the spindle handle from her tight pink little rump, and offered it to the whimpering Supergirl.
“Clean your nasty ass off my tool, slave.” Aconite cooed to Supergirl, stroking her face.
Supergirl opened her mouth to the tool just removed from her ass and looking deep into the dark eyes of Aconite with her shining blue ones, she worshipped the spindle with her mouth like the finest of Aphrodite’s own prostitutes.
Taking the spindle from her, she wound it in the hair that was already growing a foot since the start of the ceremony, and wound it tight. Gesturing for Myrrh to step forward with the knife, she cut the hair at the first bind of the braid, freeing Supergirl from the long and binding hair.
Aconite embraced the trembling Supergirl for the first time. She stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. A small fat black woman cupped the athletic white girl as she shuddered in uncontrollable spasms post orgasm. She pulled her to her heavy black breasts and chanted the goddess chant softly and slowly, rocking her as she would a child. Soon Supergirl stopped whimpering, stopped weeping.
Kara was lost. So lost. Her body was shattered, her mind, her pride. All she had was sensation. She heard the heartbeat of the black woman and slowed her own to match it. She heard the motherly crooning and felt safe, felt protected. She felt loved. She turned and took one of the heavy black breasts into her hand, and let her mouth suckle upon the dark plum like nipple with reverence and awe.
Aconite caressed the blonde as she nursed at her heavy black breast. Soon she felt the girls hands begin to caress her body. So different from her own. Old not young, black not white, soft and plump not hard and unyielding. A woman, not a girl. Soon, cautiously, as if afraid of being denied, she let her fingers trace down to the other woman’s pussy. Slowly she stroked, feeling the other woman arch into her touch and sigh. She stroked, caressed, then at last, slid a finger in.
Daring to look up now, she sucked and nursed at the heavy black breast while looking upward for approval as she began to finger her, first slowly then faster.
Feeling power of a sort strange to her, she brought Aconite to the edge first once, then twice, then a third time with her fingers, before Aconite took her hair in her hands and pulled her up for a fierce kiss.
Their tongues dueled as Kara stroked her fingers into the black woman, then she felt Aconite pull Kara’s head back, and push it down to her purple edged flower of perfection.
Kara whimpered in her own need as she knelt before Aconite and worshipped her pussy with all the love and reverence she could muster. It wasn’t long until Aconite came, and Kara found herself drowning in her womanly essence. This time the shattering was not as terrible, as Aconite held her, staring into her eyes and staying with her through the three fold orgasm.
There was the crack of a whip on her back, and Kara felt the welt raised in her skin, a mark in her flesh no bullet could produce. A whip made of her own hair, powered by the sacred magic of Diana, it cut her flesh as it would that of the softest fruit.
Whimpering, Kara turned to see Myrrh, the black haired butch lesbian had breasts smaller than hers, but muscles and frame far larger. In any rational respect, Supergirl was ten thousand times stronger, but Myrrh was every kind of womanly power, while Supergirl was just that, a girl before her.
Myrrh wrapped the whip around Supergirl’s neck and walked her around the pentagram like a dog before settling her on all fours facing the altar.
“You aren’t going to be as lucky with me. I don’t get my kicks from little girls like you serving me, I get them by making them whimper and cry. I am going to make you love this whip, and then I am going to give you to it.” Myrrh rasped in her ear, voice harsh and throbbing with lusts too dark to examine closely.
Kissing Supergirl fiercely, she worked the blonde while caressing her body with the whip. Finally, she began to rub the end of the whip shaft against the girl’s overstimulated sex.
“NO!” Said Kara, eyes pleasing, voice shaking.
“A woman says no once and means it. A girl like you says no while pushing her twat against me begging for it.” Myrrh said pulling Kara’s head down to see where her hips were indeed seeking to deepen the contact where the whip touched her pussy.
“Beg for it.” Myrrh growled as she began to chew upon the ravaged girl’s breasts.
“Please” Supergirl begged, probably meaning stop.
“Please” Supergirl begged, arching into the masterful tit sucking she was receiving and the raw dominance of the experienced butch.
“Please” Supergirl begged, thrusting against the shaft pushing just into her sacred self, but always retreating short of going deeper.
“Please what, slave?” Myrrh asked, face suddenly pressing into Supergirl’s, eyes blazing with hunger.
“Please fuck me, Mistress.” The Maid of Might begged to be fucked with the whip that would be used on her.
Looking her right in the eyes, Myrrh worked the shaft into Supergirl’s ravaged pussy. She was surprisingly gentle, waiting for the girl to push for more before beginning to thrust it into her.
This should have been impersonal, should have been brutal, but Myrrh was looking at her so fiercely, so deeply, so hungrily that Kara knew that Myrrh needed her and what she was giving as much as Kara did. She let her face show the pleasure of every thrust, she chose to be helpless before it. To be nothing but a fuck toy for Myrrh. Rolling her eyes back, she cried out in ecstasy, then reached out and twined her own hands around Myrrh’s neck and kissed her softly, lovingly, as the butch whip fucked her through an orgasm that was as much a willful offering of submission as it was a conquest. Tears in her eyes, she whispered “Thank you” to the priestess whose eyes were still full of hunger, but no longer of contempt.
At last she was led to the altar. Belladonna and woven ropes of golden hair to link to the heavy iron ring that hung from the roof.
Belladonna stood tall and proud, heavy in body and years, silver and black in the hair on her head, and on her pussy. Her skin shone in a pale moonlight that should not be possible in this underground chamber, but Kara no longer questioned the ways of the Goddess.
“In ancient Sparta, the Spartan warriors were only men, and all they could offer the goddess was their devotion of suffering. They would show their devotion by standing and receiving the whip in joy and not suffering, crying out never in pain, never for it to stop, but only to glorify the goddess. It wa all a warrior could offer, but the Lady loved them for it. She would grant them miracles. All you are is a warrior, so this is the only path to her favour that is open. The goddess can empower us to cut your hair, but even now it grows back. Only she can stop it, and only if you earn it. Will you ask to be tested child?”
Kara felt the welt at her back and knew the potential cost to be like no suffering she had ever felt. Yet too she had felt the power of these woman and their goddess. For all their cruelty, there was love too, and the promise of protection for those who submitted. Kara could not put it into words, but she needed this.
“Please High Priestess, let me be tested.” Supergirl asked.
Myrrh took her place behind the hanging Supergirl with the whip, the other priestesses began a song/chant that seemed to fill the room with power until all she could see before her was the shining body of Belladonna.
The whip cracked and a line of fire cut her flesh. She felt blood, a thing unheard of save for the most dire battles, to flow down her back.
Again it cracked, and Kara cried out in pain.
Belladonna asked, “Will you stop?”
Supergirl shouted back “NO!”
Again the whip cracked,
Again
Again
Weeping uncontrollably, using the hair ropes to support her weight, her chest rising and falling uncontrollably, she was barely conscious. Her body strove to push away from each new stroke like an animal in a trap.
Belladonna asked, “Will you stop child. One word, and it ends.”
Supergirl looked at her in desperation. “Please, no. Don’t stop.”
Belladonna kissed her, hard. Supergirl pushed into her body as the next three strokes hit. She screamed into Belladonna’s kissing mouth, then sucked her tongue in frantic submissive need as her hands sought, not to be free, but to reach down and hold the Priestess.
Myrrh had watched the girl as her strength was torn from her, as her pride was torn from her, until she was nothing more than a wounded animal begging for release and yet she still refused to stop. At the end, she rode the stroke of the whip by pressing her naked perfection into the high priestess in mindless slave need. It was more than she could take.
Throwing the whip down, she pressed her naked body into the bloody and visibly healing back of Supergirl and ground herself against her blood covered young ass. Reaching down, she fingered the little Super-slave’s pussy until the tormented girl reached her own orgasm. Myrrh humping the whipped girls blood covered ass like a mating Hyena matriarch, she lost herself in her own shattering climax.
As the three fold law hammered the orgasm of a lifetime into the broken Supergirl, the chains of her hair binding her to the iron ring of the altar broke and the two fell into a hugging heap, the butch clasping the bloodied and broken girl to her in strong protective arms until her mind recovered from the last shattering.
Belladonna sat at her chair before the altar and smiled down at Supergirl.
“You have offered enough. Your curse is broken. The goddess has blessed you. You are free.” She said smiling down at the abused superheroine.
Kara rolled to all fours, and looked up at Belladonna and shook her head.
“No Mistress, I am not free.” Kara said as she crawled of her own free will to kiss the feet of the Arch priestess. Kissed her feet lovingly, caringly, worshipfully. Kiss by kiss she traced up her unshaven legs to her thighs. Kissed and stroked along the length of those smooth thighs until she reached the altar of the goddess. Kneeling before her Mistress, she looked up.
“Please Domina, let me serve.” Supergirl asked.
With a regal nod, she parted her legs, and Supergirl began to worship the pussy of the High Priestess with every art this long night had taught her. There was no temptation for her hands to stray from the body of the priestess to play with herself, because bound by the three fold law, there was no pleasure she, or anyone else could give her that would ever be a third as powerful as the pleasure she got from pleasing these women. Rao help her, she would rather die than be free.
In the morning, a short haired Supergirl floated in her own window to the shocked gaze of her sister Alex. They hugged, and Alex was shocked at how her sister’s body reacted with instantly hardening nipples and the flush to her face that argued a total body response to the touch of a woman.
“Rough night?” Alex asked, pulling back to a more comfortable distance.
“Life changing.” Supergirl said with a haunted smile.