The Chattel Girl

BY : tooshoes
Category: DC Verse Television > SuperGirl
Dragon prints: 1807
Disclaimer: I do not own Supergirl, nor the characters or any story elements from TV show. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter image:

I hang up the speakerphone in a panic, and then I stand naked, frozen in place.

Alex knows where I am, but where is she? I was foolish to think a SWAT team could protect me. Alex and the DEO came from nowhere to capture me a week ago. They can do it again.

“What’s wrong?” Winn asks with his pants down to his knees. “Who was that?”

“My sister. She’s coming to get me,” I say with a sense of doom.

Winn lifts his pants back up and puts his arms around me. “Shhh, don’t worry Kara, this place is locked down. There are around twenty armed men downstairs, five more on the roof, and a helicopter flying around the building. That government agency would have to start a war to get in here.”

“Really?” I ask, feeling more confused than comforted. “Why is everyone protecting me?”

“You are very important to this city and CatCo. And you are very important to me.”

“Why? I’m the most pathetic superhero, ever,” I admit. I close my eyes and sink into him. “My sister is not going to stop. If she doesn’t get me now, she’ll get me later, because I really do belong to her.”

“What do you mean? Nobody belongs to their sister. Who is she, anyway?” he asks.

And then I realize how much of my life I’ve kept a secret from him. Sure, I eventually told him where I was born and a little about what it means to be a chattel girl, but as far as Winn knows, I’m just a formerly shy girl he knows from work with some special abilities and a reputation for sex.

“We need to talk, Winn,” I say, determined but afraid. “You need to know everything.”

“Okay,” Winn says gently. “But you are trembling. Come with me.”

I bend to his will because that is what I do. Winn leads me to the balcony again. He lays me down on the chaise lounge, but this time he lays down beside me. We are both naked, except for his jeans, but I feel very warm with him laying so close to me. We gaze into each other’s eyes as lovers do. We share the same air, the same moment, the same space. I trust him completely, and I stop trembling.

“Do you feel better now?” he asks.

I smile and we kiss lightly.

But then his eyes turn serious.

“I haven’t told you much about my life, either,” Winn says. “But I don’t want to have any secrets between us anymore.”

I nod. “Me, too. But I want to go first. I have too many secrets, and I want to confess them all before I chicken out.”

“Alright,” Winn agrees and hastens to add, “but I will love you no matter what you tell me.”

That’s not as reassuring as he hopes. How can anyone promise that? Nobody who ever really knew me loved me. Maybe truly loving me is impossible. I always wanted to be loved and to be in love, but I never believed that was possible for me.

Still, I take a leap of faith. I tell him everything from the beginning, from my very earliest memory to how angry I was at him for not fucking me a few hours ago, and everything in between. It takes me two hours, and he never tires while I talk. He never judges me with his eyes. He never stops caressing my face and my body, but he doesn’t escalate to sex, either.  He is shocked when I tell him that my family poisoned me for years, and that my sister raped me all of last week with her nine-inch cock. I spare him nothing, and he never wavers. It feels like a miracle in the end because I can see in his eyes that despite all of it, he still loves me!

And now I know that I’m in love with him. I feel a joy that I’ve never felt, and I regret waiting so long to tell him everything. We lay still, holding each other and gazing into each other’s eyes. The sky is orange like daytime on Krypton, and he looks beautiful in the light.

“I’m sorry, Winn, I didn't know how you felt about me. I was scared that maybe I was like one of your sex dolls, and I would have been happy with that. Now I feel really stupid,” I confess. “I couldn't believe that you loved me, but you won me over that first day when you welcomed me to the office with a bouquet of roses.”

“I met you before that,” he responds mysteriously. “And those roses weren’t my first gift.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, staring in his eyes, looking for some hidden meaning.

He strokes my face and draws a circle around my left eye. “When we first met, you had a black eye.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. He never saw me with a black eye.

“Yes,” he insists. “You just don’t remember me from back then. It was about ten years ago, in my parents’ store in Midvale. I was just twelve then. I looked very different, but you haven’t changed much. You looked a bit younger but just as beautiful and haunting as you are now. My parents’ store sold comic books, collectibles, and custom-made toys. Your parents came in to buy a birthday present for your sister, and they weren’t paying attention to you. But I sure did. I tried to talk to you, but you wouldn’t speak. You didn’t even want to look at me. I tried to touch your arm, but you started to cry. You were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen, but you were … broken. I couldn’t let you leave like that, so I gave you a gift – a special stuffed unicorn that my dad had made. Then you smiled and hugged me before your parents swept you away. I wanted to find you again ever since, but my life went haywire after that.”

“Oh my god!” I gasp, barely believing what he is telling me. I don’t remember that trip to the toy store, but I do remember a little boy giving me a very special, stuffed unicorn. I would have kept the toy forever, if the Danvers hadn’t taken it away, saying it was inappropriate. “Why did you never tell me that was you?”

“I didn’t want to creep you out,” he confesses. “That toy was not meant for kids.”

I giggle. I always assumed it was a kid’s toy, and I embraced it like a teddy bear. I did other things with it, too, but I thought that was just my sick imagination at work.

“None of my gifts to you have ever been appropriate, and my feelings haven’t been, either,” Winn confesses. “I hope you can forgive me. There is too much of my father in me. I hate that, but I express my feelings in the same ways.”

“Appropriate gifts are boring and forgettable,” I reassure him, making him laugh. “I loved your gifts … even when I didn’t know they were inappropriate.”

He smiles and we kiss, but when I go for more physical affection, he hesitates again.

“That’s not all,” he says.

“You don’t have to tell me anything else,” I reply, caught between curiosity and impatience.

“I want to tell you everything,” he insists. “I want to share everything.”

“Okay,” I say with an encouraging smile. I never imagined anyone would trust me this much, and I’m not going to push him. I want all of this gentleman.

Winn struggles to begin his story. He feels ashamed, and he can barely look me in the eyes. I know that feeling too well.

So I roll over and inch my body backward into his. “Spoon with me,” I request while I hug his arms and hands to my breast. “Talk to me like I’m your teddy bear.”

He holds me close, squeezing my boobs like pillows and touching his lips to my ear. 

“I didn’t have a difficult life as a child,” he begins, contrasting his life with mine. “At least, I didn’t know it was difficult. I didn’t have anything to compare it to. My dad made custom toys on the second floor of our family store, and my mom sold those toys along with comic books, candy and other things. Dad was funny, and my mom was beautiful. It seemed like a wonderful life for a young boy. When I wasn’t at school, I spent all of my time at home making toys with my dad or reading the comic books mom couldn’t sell. I had no idea that my father had a problem. He used to follow one of the local cults, and he never made the adjustment when Superman changed everything. My mom knew, but she never talked about it, not even when the problem became serious. People just didn't talk about religion back then."

I nod, encouraging him to go on, but I have no idea what he is talking about.

“When I was seven, dad’s jokes got increasingly dirty. He made me promise not to repeat the jokes to anyone, because the world had become fascist and repressed. I was too young to understand how true that was.

“When I was eight, I was shocked to find several old hentai mangas hidden among the comic books I was allowed to read. I knew the mangas didn’t belong there, but I was curious, so I hid them under my mattress and checked them out at night. The series was called “La Blue Girl.” It’s about an ordinary girl named Miko who had sexual powers and had to fight off tentacles, demons and other ninjas. She always seemed to be on the losing end of her battles, but the villains were more interested in making her cum than in killing her.

“Those mangas messed me up. I had only recently learned where babies came from, but suddenly I was in love with Miko. She haunted my dreams.

“But I only had five issues, so after a while, I immersed myself back into comic books. Spiderman and Xmen had better stories and better art. They made New York City seem like a real place that I might want to visit. So I lost interest in Miko.

“Then, on my ninth birthday, I found a new stash of hentai among my comic books, this time from a series called Bondage Fairies. The art was better. The stories were more fun. I forgot Miko, and now I was in love with Pfil!”

“You gave me Bondage Fairies last month,” I remind him excitedly.

Winn pauses at this point and asks me, “Is this creeping you out?”

“Not at all,” I reply breathlessly. Every time he mentions Miko or Pfil, I feel his cock pressing against my ass through his jeans. His hands are sweaty as he pinches my nipples. He is so conflicted!  I can barely pay attention to what he is saying, but this is important to him. So I say, “Go on.”

“Soon, it wasn’t just the manga. Dad’s compulsion was affecting other things. His dolls suddenly had anatomically correct bodies. Mom didn’t notice because she only saw the dolls in their dressed form, but I was the person who put their clothes on. The female action figures got bigger boobs, new holes, and the male action figures got retractable penises. Dad was making secret toy sales online, and he rarely ever left his workshop.

“On my eleventh birthday, dad gave me a huge pile of hentai with many titles.

"Finally, I confronted him and asked him why he was giving me the sordid gifts and making sexy toys. He told me that his parents gave him similar gifts at my age, and that everyone is too afraid of sex these days. I really liked the hentai, so I wasn't about to argue with him. 

“By my twelfth birthday, dad had pretty much forgotten about me and he spent all day in his workshop, even sleeping among his toys.  He was very creative and increasingly subversive. He was a master toymaker, and every one was a masterpiece, but his new toys belonged in a sex store rather than our family-friendly store, so mom filled our shelves with standard fare instead, while I helped dad sell his toys online.

“I started to think like my dad. Then you showed up in our store and I… uh … I thought you were, like, Pfil incarnate. You were so beautiful and innocent-looking and I was instantly in love. I knew you were suffering. I wanted to help you. I wanted to show you that I cared. I should have given you a normal stuffed animal, but instead I gave you that stuffed pony with a rainbow-colored dildo sticking out of its head.

“A week later the police came to our store and took dad away. He had given sex toys to a politician’s daughter, just like I had given an obscene unicorn to you. But he got in trouble for what he had done.

“He spent a month in jail as a sexual offender--for something that wasn't even illegal 20 years ago. Then he was transferred to Arkham Asylum. They told us that he might never leave because his compulsions were getting worse, and he couldn't adjust to society.

“Mom found my stash of hentai and the sexy dolls, but she didn’t punish me. She didn’t even take them away. She knew they were gifts from my dad. She didn’t want me to feel like I was doing anything wrong by keeping them. Instead, she took me aside and told me to keep them hidden. She didn't want to lose me like we lost my dad. She was very understanding, but my court-ordered therapist wasn't. He told me that my father messed me up in the head, turning me into a sexual addict.  He said that people can't escape the fantasies we develop during childhood, but even worse, he said that I might not be able to unlearn those lessons. They are hardwired into me, now.  He told me that one day I'll probably end up in Arkham Asylum with my dad because I have no self-restraint and no desire to change.”

Winn pauses, and I feel like he would pull away from me, except that I’ve trapped his right arm against my breast. So he hugs me against his body instead, but there is nothing sexual about it at all. He’s clinging to me for security.

“Do you understand?” he asks me.

I nod. How could I not understand? His story reminded me so much of my own, though much less severe.

But then he says, “I’m afraid that I'm a bad influence on you,” which totally surprises me.

“That’s crazy,” I try to reassure him, and I immediately regret my choice of words.

“Is it? I mean, ever since I first met you, I’ve been doing to you what my dad did to me. You were a broken, abused child, and I tried to comfort you with a sex toy. You somehow found your way back to me, and I gave you purple roses. I gave you volume one of “Slave Heroines” for your birthday and snuck other volumes in your desk every week. Then I made those obscene costumes for you. You see? I’m just like my dad. He manipulated me, and now I’m manipulating you. You were so sweet and innocent, and I got you into all of this trouble. I can’t help myself. I don't want to mess up your life the way my father messed up my life, just because he couldn't control himself. But I'm afraid that I'm turning out just like him!”

I turn over to face him again. He’s actually crying, overwhelmed by self-hate.

That's something I know too much about.

“Hey! Listen to me!” I say. “I was messed up long before I met you, and all you ever did was help me. Besides, maybe what your dad did wasn't wrong, anyway. Maybe he was a hero. Maybe that girl your dad gave those sex toys to really needed them, just like I needed that unicorn you gave me. You did not manipulate me, and maybe he didn't manipulate her. You gave me the perfect toy that I needed right then! It's like you could read my mind. Everyone else was trying to make me into something I’m not, but you helped me accept who I am! I’m a chattel girl! I wish I was a superheroine, but I’ll always be a slave heroine. I'm not proud of that, but I’m not going to fight it, anymore. And you!” I say while pulling him on top of me. “You shouldn't fight your destiny, either. I think you have TOO much self-restraint! I’ve been saying yes for months, but you keep hearing no.”

“Really?” he asks with the hint of a smile. He finally gets it. “So ... you want to make love?”

I shake my head. I've seen his fantasies, and I know what turns him on. “I want you to rape me.”

“What? No! I mean, I don’t think I can…” he hesitates, distressed by his own desires.

“You don’t want to tie me to this bed thing?” I tempt.

“Well…” he hesitates.

“I don't want to be your hero; I want to be your slave! I want to be your magical girl. Do whatever you want with me! Spank me! Drink my nectar! Fill me with your tentacles! Spray me with your cum!” I say, trying to sound like one of his hentai. 

Winn finally gets it, and the relief on his face is only matched by the fire growing in his eyes.

He stands up and finally removes his jeans. I bury my hands in the straps of the chaise lounge as though I am being tied up. I pull my knees to my chest, so he’ll need to pull them apart and see how wet I am.

Then Winn attacks me like he always wanted to. He’s not as rough as Alex or as cruel, but he plays the game. He tries to give me what I want, but he’s too hung up on what he thinks girls really want. “Fuck me, already!” I beg.

He tries fucking me missionary style. That doesn’t work well on this kind of bed, so I lay on my belly sideways on the chaise lounge and present my ass to him doggie style.

Now that’s more like it! He’s fucking really hard, but I’m not crying out loudly enough, so he spanks my thighs and pulls my hair! It’s such a shock that I gasp loudly and I moan with each thrust!

When he's getting close, he grips my hips like I’m a motorcycle and slams against my ass like we’re riding off-road.

I finger my clit with my free hand, and I throw my head back and cry out! My nectar gushes, and I feel Winn’s warm cum spray on my back!

We climax together, at the same moment, proving we were meant for each other!

The moment lingers, and I watch the rising sun glow around him like a halo.

We don’t move for a long moment, catching our breath. He looks at me, his dominated heroine. I glance back at him with a smile and say, “Thank you master!”

Then we both jump from a too familiar voice coming from the doorway.

“Meh. I had to wait through that sob story for this?” Cat says with a grin while holding up her iphone. “Even Fifty Shades had a better payoff.”


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