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Stargirl: Black Bred White Bread	By : JayDee Category: DC Verse Comics > Justice Society of America Views: 27442 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own the comic entitled JSA, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Please stop a moment - If you’ve read part one and came back for part two please would you leave a review or comment on part one before reading part two. I don’t get anything for my writing except feedback. Have you done it? You have? Thank you for your time and please continue!
Content Codes (Part 2): 3Plus Angst, Bond, Contro, Fingering, Humil, M/F, OC, Oral, Preg, PWP, Racist, Rape, Solo

Warning: This story contains content that should not be read by people underneath the age of 21. It is 100% fiction and has no bearing on reality whatsoever. Real life rape is WRONG. The author does not condone illegal and immoral actions described. Please read the story codes and stop reading if you can’t stomach that shit. Seriously, you’ll just hate it if you keep reading. If you didn’t like part 1, but came back anyway, it won’t get any better.
Part 2: Courtney Couriered
The flight in the helicopter was as unpleasantly tactile for Courtney as her time with Tyrone. The guards were under strict instruction not to stick their cocks in their white girl charge, but there was nothing to say they couldn’t do everything else they wanted. They didn’t give a damn about the law, and quickly set out to grope Stargirl while jerking off. Caramel had his hand under her tight top, stretching the cheap fabric. He had a natural talent for foreplay, and smirked to feel Courtney’s nipples harden, and see the skin of her neck flush. Both men had their cocks out, the heady scent of sweaty arousal filled the small aircraft as they stroked shafts. Mohwark rubbed his fingers against her cream pie’d pussy, and made the cuffed superheroine moan helplessly with humiliating unwanted pleasure.
“The rest of the JSA are coming for me!” she told them, “you should stop this and take me to the police.”
They laughed. Mohawk spat straight in her face before replying,
“Shit, you’re coming for us! I ain’t scared of them. What they gonna do? Hit us a couple times and throw us in prison? Then the boss’s lawyers will get us out. Maybe call it superhero brutality.”
Stargirl pulled her wrists inside her cuffs just to feel the pain of metal against flesh. She bit down on her lip. Neither did any good; sexy moans escaped from her mouth even as she pleaded and protested her assault,
“Stop! Let me go! Please! I know… I know rich people, they can pay you… Oh, gawd…!”
Every word of Courtney’s speech was distorted by panting and groans and shouted over the rotor noise. It was so gross, she thought, so disgusting, to have these men pawing at her like meat, and to react like some cheap whore. She’d seen prostitutes on the street, selling their bodies for drugs, and always felt superior… but surely none of them would find physical pleasure in rape? In her conscious mind their eager fondling her want to throw up, but her body just wanted to be touched, and groped and fucked. Stargirl hated herself so much right then, and screwed her eyes shut to avoid seeing the guards lustful expressions and hard, precum dripping cocks.
“Open your mouth wide!”

The command came suddenly, shouted in her ear, and she complied in shock to ask a question that was quickly cut off,
“What do you…?”
Mohawk had stood as he shouted. Limited space saw him bent awkwardly in the small chopper as he pulled Courtney’s face to his cock. He wrapped blonde hair around his fist, dampening it down with his victim’s own pussy juice and stroked quickly. The thug remembered his instructions and stopped short of her lips but that didn’t stop him unleashing his creamy mess into Courtney’s mouth. It looked good drenching her braces and pink tongue. Good enough that he drained an extra spoonful or so of semen into her mouth before ordering her to swallow. He slapped his shaft against her face, and even snapped a picture on his phone. Black and purple against flushed white skin and spermy red lips.
“Oh, ack!” Courtney coughed on the salty load, but swallowed it all down.

There was one way in which it made no difference that the men failed to fuck the superheroine. Courtney had been pregnant since Tyrone fired his potent sperm deep into her fertile teenage womb and one of the little tadpoles had breached an egg. There was a history of multiple births in both families, and if nothing intervened then in around nine months she’d be giving birth to two or three identical babies with skin similar to Caramel’s own tone.
The paler skinned guard followed Mohwak’s example, but got Mohawk to actually film his ejaculation into Courtney’s mouth. She looked up into the camera lens with defeated eyes. If they were foolish enough to share the pictures, put them online, even, her friends would find her more easily. Courtney wasn’t sure she could face the JSA, knowing they had seen her with a rapist’s cock resting across her face, or the shot of Caramel’s balls tea-bagged inside her mouth in a technical non-violation of their instructions.
“You gonna come for us now! We in real trouble,” Caramel laughed.
“No! You’ve had your fun, please, leave me alone! I feel sick!”
“You throw up, you lick it up, you hear me?”
Besides that threat they ignored her begging. Mohawk’s fingers rubbed her skillfully, so hot in her wet bush. She was strapped into the seat, cuffed securely, and couldn’t get away. She pressed her thighs around his hand, but couldn’t stop him molesting her. He used a two handed technique, finger and thumb rubbing and punching her clit, while his other hand rubbed her labia, slipping just inside and out again. Caramel’s sticky hands found their way back up under her top, both of them together. Each of the Superheroine’s pert breasts faced assault, nipples hard under relentless teasing and squeezing. She was helpless, unable to resist the pleasure that her body took from their rough pawing. He worked her top up further, and then bit down on around her nipple,
“Don’t… don’t do this.. don’t do this dontdodontOhOHOHHHH!”
The pilot looked glanced back to see the blonde girl grunting and screaming between the boss’s guards. They’d been upfront with him that it was a kidnapping, no different to other illegal flights he’d done for the boss, but on seeing Courtney he thought they were yanking his change and that she was just some whore with a bondage fetish. He was actually impressed; he’d never seen a whore enjoying her work so apparently sincerely, though he couldn’t hear her pleading for mercy over the rotor blades. He remembered one girl had been brought on hogtied, lifted aboard by her pimp. The new girl reminded him of carry on girl. He thought it was nice of the whore to give the working guys a freebie on the way.
They rubbed her pussy and groped her breasts for the entire flight. Courtney’s determination not to give them anymore of a show was defeated by her body’s orgasms; she squirmed and stifled and groaned with self-disgusting regularity. Courtney felt as if a little bit more of her willpower and self respect died every time she came under against the fingers of the two guards. Whenever a little more of Tyrone’s semen leaked out, they flicked it into her mouth, or rubbed it into her hair. Towards the end both men got hard enough to make her swallow a second load from each of them. The flavor no longer bothered her; had even her taste buds turned against her?
The helicopter finally set down near a huge mansion style house. Armed guards were clearly visible as one of the many trappings of wealth. Courtney found herself hustled off the chopper in short shackled steps and led back around to the staff entrance. Caramel told her she wasn’t worthy of going in through the front door, but her back door would be well used, and both laughed uproariously as they dragged her in. The laughter faltered as they found themselves faced with their employer’s father, Mr Lloyd Wedge IV. The old man was known to have somewhat different attitudes to his son.
“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded of Mohawk.
The formerly tough acting guard looked down at the floor and mumbled. Having received no answer, Mr Wedge turned to Courtney.
"What are you doing here? What is your name?"
The old man didn’t look like someone who would order a kidnapping. She could hear genuine compassion over her rumpled state and the way she was dripping. There was also surprise in his voice, and the obvious shock of the guards in encountering him unexpectedly in the under stairs portion of the house made her hope that the man would help her. Though they were armed, the guards’ deferential body language towards the man suggested they wouldn’t try to shoot him if she told him the truth,
“I’m… I’m Courtney Whitmore. I’ve been kidnapped and… and hurt! Please help me! Tell them to let me go!”
"Kidnapped? What? Is this some kind of play acting thing? With the shackles? I know my son has certain… tastes… but surely he wouldn’t? I must say, you are dressed like trailer trash. Young lady, are you a whore?”
"I…" Courtney couldn't take it. She dropped to the floor and started to wail, sobbing out "What do you want from me? I want to go home! I'm only 18! It’s not supposed to be like this! I’m one of the good guys!"
The old man put two and two together. His son Lloyd V had used his wealth and power to have a teenager abducted and brought to the house for perverted entertainment. His first reaction was to send her home. His second reaction was that, when their political enemies found out what a member of his family had done, it would ruin them far more completely than their earlier financial reversals under his father and himself. The days when wealth could completely obliterate this kind of offence were long past, and his younger son Tiberius would never realize his ambition to become President.
It could not be allowed to happen. He looked down at the crying girl for a moment, and knew the right and honorable thing to do. He also knew he couldn’t do it. He had to stand with his family, but it would never happen again. Lloyd V would have this girl, but no more. It was that damn thug of a bodyguard, the old man thought, luring his boy ever deeper into perversions.
“Take her… take her to my son. See that she does not escape. I will be having harsh words with him over his conduct. Surely a trained courtesan can better pretend unwillingness and helplessness than a girl off the street actually experiencing it?”
There was unwitting truth in the old man’s words. Despite all of Courtney’s pleading, her body had not appeared remotely unwilling to be groped and fucked. Even her throat had accepted Tyrone’s cock without undue gagging, as if being filled with cock was as natural as eating or breathing to her. Still, she begged,
“No! Please, no! Please, sir, they've… they've hurt me. These men…"
"These are not men. They are animals,” he glared angrily at the guards as he spoke, “but they are animals that are loyal to my son. I must be also. I am sorry.”
"Can I go home? Please? My mom will be worried sick."
She hoped the appeal to family would work, though she spent more time at the JSA brownstone than back home.
"I… I'm sorry, Miss Courtney. If I allowed you to leave all of our money, our property… would eventually be taken from us. My sons’ futures would be forfeit, thanks to the mistreatment of, and I mean this without disrespect, poor white trash. You must remain here forever."
“I’m not trash! I’m a superheroine, I’m Stargirl of the JSA! They will make you pay for this!”
The spark of defiance drew a quick laugh from Mohawk, which died at the old man’s renewed glare.
“I’m afraid, Courtney, that they must never be allowed to find out. We will not meet again. Good bye.”
Courtney broke down into fresh tears. She didn’t care that Hourman would never beg before an enemy. There was even a story that the original Red Tornado had once thought herself about to be murdered, and before her allies arrived had told her assailants to all go fuck themselves rather than ask for mercy. Courtney just repeated her barely coherent cries for help over and over. She was unaware that her ridden up far-too-short skirt gave Mohawk and Caramel a fine view of her well fucked and fondled cunt. Still dripping sperm, it was as if Tyrone had filled her with a gallon of his cream. She looked up through misery blurred eyes and saw that the old man had hardened his heart against her tears.
“Take her away, you vermin.”
They pulled Courtney back onto her feet, and made her walk. As soon as the old man was out of earshot Caramel thought brave enough to lighten their mood with a muttered,
“She-itt, we’ll take her any way you want. Right here in the corridor.”
“No time, bro,” replied Mohawk, before slapping Courtney’s ass, “not now, anyway. We’ll get another turn.”
Courtney's tears slowly ceased as she was led through the luxurious mansion. It was not normal for a superheroine to be so weak, but the trauma of her rape and sexual assault had completely overwhelmed her psyche. She tried to toughen her resolve; just one slip up from her captors and she could escape, or maybe contact the JSA. Power Girl alone would go through these scumbags with their guns like they weren’t even there, but make them feel it. The thought was almost enough to make her smile.
She thought about her recent treatment; the rape and her body's repeated betrayal of her. How nothing since or throughout her whole life had felt as good as being stuffed full of Tyrone's cock, and how ashamed the pleasure had made her feel. She could feel the air conditioned breeze in the mansion against her short teen bush, her damp vulva. She thought about how if she didn’t escape or get rescued she'd never see her family again. Never be a superheroine again. She would force herself not to give up hope. She wondered if she had caught anything from Tyrone (she hadn't) and she wondered if she was pregnant (she sure was).
Neither of the guards spoke after the initial display of bravado. The encounter with the old man was definitely against their instructions, and the boss’s chief Bodyguard would make his displeasure known when he heard about it. It didn’t matter that the boss paid for everything around the mansion, the old man would still give him both barrels and that short of shit splattered downwards. Their mocking fun with Courtney seemed a long time ago as they finally arrived before a large set of wooden doors, and pushed them open.
She saw that the room within had been made up like a doctor’s waiting room. A man sat at the desk as if he worked as a doctor’s receptionist, but had the build of one of the guards. He even wore a nametag, Jacques. The respectful, even fearful, posture of Caramel and Mohawk identified him as a man of power. Everything in his body language suggested he didn’t appreciate playing the role of a receptionist. . He was an imposing African with skin as black as midnight. She felt her pussy twitch as she remembered Tyrone; her rapist. The receptionist looked as if he could beat up even Tyrone one handed. At least he hadn’t been asked to put on a dress.
"We’ve brought this girl to see Doctor Lloyd. She has an appointment.”
"She’s late, but we’ll fit her in,” Jacques replied.
“Thank you, sir… uh, receptionist.”
Mohawk received an absolutely withering look back. Courtney’s ankle shackles were removed, and her cuffs, and then she felt a gun barrel nudge between her shoulder blades. She took the hint and walked inside. The heavy doors shut behind her; the noise seemed like a final closure on her life as a superheroine. Even the worst criminals the JSA had faced had never violated her so thoroughly. Jacques approached her from behind the receptionist’s desk. When he spoke, his voice was almost impossibly deep, and accented like a Congolese soldier she’d met once.
"Ok, bitch, listen up. I have to play receptionist, fine, but the rest of the time I’m the doctor’s personal bodyguard. You do anything at all to try and escape or to hurt him, I will feed you your uterus and that’s just for the start of it. You will feel my cock in your brain before you die, understand?”
She had heard many over the top, unlikely threats since becoming a superheroine. Still, she understood that this man could make his threat happen. She nodded as he continued to speak,
“He is your master now. You will refer to him as Doctor. You will call me Sir. You will do as you are told. Everyone you will meet is your superior. You will do what everybody tells you. You will learn your role. If you learn fast, and well, then things will go well for you. If you do not, you will be punished until you do. If punishment does not work, you will star in a snuff movie. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
Courtney chewed on her lower lip. She knew instinctively that this was not a man who would listen to pleading, or begging, and that trying to threaten him would be incredibly dangerous. His hands around her throat would end her life before she could even finish the threat. He didn't sound like he even understood the concept of mercy, and the receptionist roleplay had him good and pissed. He was easily fifteen inches taller than her, and probably 200+ pounds heavier, but very little of it was fat.
"I see that you do not understand. If you understood, you would have said Yes, Sir."
"I mean, Yes S-"
"SILENCE! Now, Strip off your clothes; I strongly advise you not to make me ask you twice."
"Yes, Sir."
Frightened of being naked again but even more frightened of her new captor, Courtney stripped naked and piled the trailer trash outfit in front of her. She exhaled heavily, and saw his nose wrinkle at the smell of her breath.
"No panties? I could guess then that you are no virgin, and your semen stinking breath would confirm the matter."
Courtney blushed. She tried to cover her perky teen breasts with one arm, her pussy with her hand. It wasn’t a conscious act of defiance, and as she touched her pussy she felt wetness.
"Hands by your sides."
Courtney complied. The bodyguard walked around the naked girl, examining her closely. He pushed open her mouth with his dark fingers and checked her teeth. He pushed his index finger into her vagina, and wiggled it around. The girl felt good and tight. She was the first superheroine he had examined closely; she looked to be in better physical condition than the whores brought previously. They were elite whores, but Stargirl’s body was a cut above. Despite what the old man thought Jacques had given the opinion that abducting a girl for sex would be more trouble than it was worth, especially one with powerful friends. His employer had made him very rich and he would continue to serve a year or so yet, until he could live comfortably for the rest of his life, so he would endeavor to see that they got the best value from Stargirl.
"How old are you?"
"18, Sir."
"How many times have you had sex recently?"
Courtney couldn’t look up.
"I didn’t… I mean I hadn’t… I mean I was raped, Sir, and on the helicopter they…”
"Are you a slut?"
Courtney felt a tear slide down her cheek,
"No Sir. It was rape."
"I give you my word that you will be raped not one more time while you are in Doctor Lloyd’s house."
It took a moment to sink in, but he didn’t sound like he was lying. Courtney looked up with sudden hope, and then Jacques pushed his finger back inside her. It felt too large, too hot, to be a finger.
"This is because from this point forth you have no human rights. You are property. You have no more right to give consent, no more right to say no, than a fleshlight."
He had slid another finger inside Courtney's snatch while he spoke. The second stretched her as much as the first and he began pumping them inside her. He felt her body respond straight away, getting even wetter.
"Do you understand?"
There were tears in Courtney Whitmore's eyes, but her heart started beat faster, her pussy began to feel so good again. She hated the pleasure. She hated what feeling physically good made her feel about herself.
"Yes Sir."
"Very good. You will find your primary duties here consist of being the Doctor’s patient. Some of his tests and treatments have a place in mainstream medicine. He will test you for certain diseases. Our medical facilities are extremely advanced and we will have results in times that compare with… medical facilities. He had decided that you have been brought here to be treated for superheroine nymphomania, and other conditions on the Doctor’s whim. While you adjust to your life here you will be locked in a solitary room and fed daily. I will discuss your secondary duties with you tomorrow.”
He paused, enjoying Courtney Whitmore's soft moans as he finger fucked her. Jacques knew exactly how to touch a woman, even one unwilling to be touched, and she had already been pushed close to another climax. Her clit was swollen and when he caught it with his thumb the girl's whole body juddered. She clasped and unclasped her hands, barely able to stand; chasing the climax. It was another form of rape, but Stargirl’s body wanted the pleasure. She almost screamed when the bodyguard pulled his hand away, and clasped it with the other behind his back.
Courtney wasn't going to beg him to get her off. Not a rapist. Not after all that had happened. Yet the burning heat between her thighs was so great, she heard herself whine slightly. Her thighs were sticky, her bush soaked; drops of arousal continued to splash freely onto the floor. She clenched her fists by her sides, refused to give him the satisfaction. Calling him Sir was one thing, but this…
Her flushed face and barely controlled frustration told Jacques all he needed to know. He laughed heartily and plunged his fingers back inside Courtney Whitmore, thrusting until her knees buckled and she collapsed to the floor, shaking and shuddering with pleasure. He wondered if his employer’s proposed diagnosis of Nymphomania theory actually had something in it. He knew the girl had been raped, he knew what the couriers would have done to her. Hell, he knew she was abducted and held against her will, and yet he had gotten her off. The assault on Stargirl had given Jacques a powerfully throbbing erection, but there wasn’t time to do the things he wanted to do with his boss’s new property. That would come the next day. He motioned for the naked superheroine to follow him into a small room off the reception.
It was tiled from floor to ceiling with a powerful shower built into the wall. There were two chairs, soaps, scrubbing brushes and a plastic bag Courtney couldn’t see into. A bored looking woman in dirty cleaners overalls and rubber gloves lent against the wall chewing gum. She too had a name tag; Moesha. Courtney saw her nose wrinkle in disgust as she caught the powerful smell of sweat and spunk from the helicopter ride, and a lingering odor of piss that Tyrone hadn’t quite cleaned away.
“You one filthy ho, ain’t ya?”
“Do not talk to our patient.”
“Won’t happen again, sir,” Moesha replied, with a shrug.
Courtney almost felt sorry for the woman, even though Jacques hadn’t sounded angry. After briefly entertaining taking the woman hostage, threatening to break her neck, she decided Jacques would probably just shoot them both in his role as bodyguard. She meekly submitted to a far more thorough cleansing than Tyrone had given her, and let herself be manhandled. She was disgusted to realize her body even responded to the servant’s rough hands as she was scrubbed from head to toes. When the work-coarse fingers washed warm, soapy water across her pussy she felt her nipples stiffen anew, and a moan escaped her lips. Moesha shot her a look of contempt. Courtney had never felt so physically clean as she did after the woman had finished. She’d even had her teeth scrubbed, flossed and washed out with minty liquid. The extreme cleansing seemed to emphasize the separation from her old life as a superheroine.
Jacques stayed the whole way through. Though he felt confident he had put the fear of Jacques into her, he didn’t trust a superheroine an inch, even one who didn’t have any powers and relied on the tools of men. If the Wildcat had trained her any, she could probably manage a powerful punch although he was certain he could outbox the girl in a straight fight. He thought she looked very attractive; the long blonde hair was especially fine, and he considered his employer’s decision to have it removed a real shame. Sure, the Doctor had a few ‘superheroine’ wigs for her to try, expensively made form real hair, but it wouldn’t be the same. He’d have to see if the girl’s hair could be made into a wig too.
Moesha dried her body off with a surprisingly soft towel and sat her in one of the chairs. Courtney felt her hair taken up in those rough hands, and then the rustle of the bag. A moment later and she heard the snipping of scissors as the cleaning lady began to cut her hair. There was no mirror in the room, but the sheer quantity of blonde falling about the chair told her she was losing a lot of it.
"Wait! What are you doing? Please don't!"
Jacques snarled at her, “All of the servants are above you. You ain’t allowed to so much as kiss Moesha’s feet, never mind talk to her. Now shut the hell up!”
“Yes Sir.”
The servant selected a tub and a straight razor from the bag. When she knelt between the 18 year old's thighs, Courtney tried to hold her legs closed – the woman was wiry and strong, and forced her hand in to rub the shaving foam into Courtney's bush. She was used to the whores turning up playing a role, and wondered if Courtney had been told to act reluctant, or was genuinely unwilling. The amount of spunk she’d washed out of the girl suggested it was a weak act. Surely she’d been fucked by several guys without rubbers? It never occurred to the woman that Courtney had been the victim of vaginal rape by just one man, but even if she had known, she wouldn’t have helped the girl. All of the staff members were paid more for their loyalty than would be normal for their roles, and Doctor Lloyd had even paid for Moesha’s oldest son to go to college. His family could afford it.
Soon the same foam was being applied to Courtney's closely cropped head, and before long the only hair left was in her eyebrows. Then those were shaved, too. The servant lifted her arms, but after a brief examination she decided that Courtney’s recently shaved pits could wait until her crotch and head were shaved again. It wasn’t unusual for one of the girls to stay for a long engagement but the Doctor might only want her playing a cancer patient at the gynecologist the first few times, or whatever weird fantasy he had next. She smiled, remembering the whore who’d supposedly come to be treated for smelly feet during the boss’s dalliance with foot jobs.
“Five minutes, Doctor,” Jacques spoke into a cell phone, when it was obvious Moesha was nearly done.
Courtney Whitmore held her hands against her incredibly smooth head with a sense of wonder. After all the sexual violations, this seeming denial of her femininity felt the worst of all. She had seen racist skinhead girls at protests, shouting abuse at friends of her. She’d wondered how anybody could find that look attractive. The servant applied an after shave salve to her head and crotch, and then the newly bald girl was led back into the reception and out into another door. Beyond lay a place that she, as a superheroine, could viewed as the nerve centre of a villain's lair.
The doctor’s consulting room.
End of Part 2

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Stargirl: Black Bred White Bread