Disclaimer: 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. 100% fiction means real life rape is WRONG. The author does not condone illegal and immoral actions described. If you feel rape in the real world is a good thing, bend over in a prison and whistle dixie. While I'm disclaiming, racism, homophobia and other bigotry of any kind are also really fucking stupid. I do not own Black Cat, or the Marvel comics she appears in, or any other characters of the comics. Marvel comics own all that intellectual property. Everything I have written is purely fictional, means no harm, and again is solely a work of fiction. I make no profit from this story. Please read the story codes above to ensure that you are not going to be offended by, or otherwise dislike, the content. This story and several detailed plot elements were requested by KZ-01

Description: Caught mid-theft, the Black Cat finds herself blackmailed into degrading sex by a physically repulsive guard.

Content Codes: MF, nc/reluc, humil, preg, creampie

Black Cat: The Taking Of Felicia Hardy
by JD ([email protected])

New York City in a heat wave smelled even worse than usual. The alleyways and service roads of the five boroughs were filled with trash from a dispute between the city and the garbage men, and it added to the pervasive smell of car fumes, body odour and plain old NYC. Of note only to purists, a passing Watcher might tell you that this New York City was located on an Earth with history almost exactly like that of Earth-616, but here the Black Cat, Felicia Hardy's, college days passed without incident. Call it Earth-616A until the Watchers can properly define it in the manner of their observant race.

So, stinking New York had an internally happier and better-balanced Black Cat to occasionally count amongst its many costumed guardians. Felicia hadn't always been the good girl she became known as, fighting for justice and the attention of Spider-Man. Her father's exploits as a daredevil cat burglar had seen Felicia choose a life of crime, before later reforming and turning her own burglary skills to be a force for good in that dark, cruel world. Those skills aside, two other things remained indelible from those days of crime; there was the thrill of a heist, and the thrill of planning a perfect heist. Felicia had laughed so hard she'd almost slipped over in the shower when she planned her night's work.

A new diamond, announced as the third largest cut stone in the world and absolutely flawless, had been bought with drug money and smuggled into America. There were rumours that The Hood was ultimately involved, though the face man was a mafia boss, Vincent "Don't call me Vinnie" Orfanelli. The main source of rumours for the Hood's involvement came from the overkill quantities of super-thug security; smuggling it, getting it into the city, and moving it to a luxuriantly appointed high security mansion under even more security from guys who only got their asses handed to them by Spider-Man or Daredevil one or two our of three times.

In all such things there must be some degree of human error, and Felicia had identified a weak spot in the chain. When the diamond was smuggled back to America, a consignment of junk was also being sent from Orfanelli's African property. She had flown out herself, and managed to fill the diamond's box with a worthless stone of the same reported weight, while the diamond was slid in with the consignment of junk going to Orfanelli's warehouse in a far less salubrious area of the city.

Unlike the oodles of super-thugs who would be left guarding a hunk of rock worth cents, the diamond would be left under virtually no guard at all. Felicia, as the Black Cat, had cased the joint and seen that while the day guards were basically decent if unimaginative, the night guard was a grossly overweight loser who barely even walked around the place. She wondered if it was a combination of local knowledge that the warehouse was owned by the mob, or even that the mob only kept hoarded junk in it, that allowed the useless tub of fat to be in any way effective. The other option the heroine considered from her vantage point was that he maybe smelled so bad that even bums kept away.

If the plan ran to course, all Felica would need to do would be to wait for the diamond to be delivered then swing on in, avoid any CCTV, and pick it up. Stealing the diamond that way might even mean the diamond's criminal owners wouldn't even work it was gone for a while - Vincent being called upstate on business, and nobody else likely to risk his anger by messing with the stone - and when they did, they wouldn't even know where to start looking. The brilliance of the plan was that it beat stealing the diamond in transport and having tough, relatively capable, super-powered mercenaries intervene and knock her pretty head right off, or stealing it when she'd had it in Africa and having to either smuggle it herself, or try to offload it there.

The corrugated metal of a warehouse rooftop supplied a perch to watch a van arrive with, basically, boxed garbage. The Black Cat supposed a guy didn't get to be a mob boss without some weird traits; compulsive junk hoarding was better than what some of those evil bastards got up to. She had already mapped a route avoiding the CCTV on the surrounding buildings, and double-checked there wasn't anything newly installed to catch her out. A light sheen of sweat covered the visible skin of her face and cleavage. There were positives and negatives to a skin-tight leather costume, but Felicia had always considered that as the Black Cat she got mostly positives.

The occasional unwanted creak of material or unpleasant sensation in heavy rain or sweat was counterbalanced by the hard wearing, easy to replace aspects, and the ever useful ability to distract the stupider thugs just by walking around or bending over to show her impressive chest 'ballast'. Felicia's costume as the Black Cat really did seem designed with the display of her physical assets at the forefront. It mapped the contours of her shapely butt, slim waist and most of her superb breasts. There had quite literally been minor car accidents just from drivers becoming distracted as she swung by. Practically, the costume allowed Felicia to carry the tools of the breaking and entering trade in easy concealed places just when needed.

The delivery of Orfanelli's junk had been completed in quick time, the driver apparently not wanting to spend time talking to the guard, and he was soon pulling away from the warehouse. The Black Cat made her final preparations to enter the warehouse as the delivery driver sped away down the street. Metal chinked against metal as the Black Cat secured a grappling hook designed by her father to a solid metal stanchion above the opposite fence, then swung through the muggy night air to land expertly by the warehouse wall. She bit back a yelp of pleasure at the sheer fun of swinging through the air. Like the thrill of the heist, it never got old.

The night guard was back watching television as The Black Cat slunk stealthily towards the side door of the warehouse. She just had to retrieve the diamond from the newly delivered junk and be on her way back across New York to a luxuriantly appointed hotel room in which she could admire her prize. Given the warehouse didn't even have attack dogs, the job was turning out even easier than a walk in Central Park; and a lot easier than a night walk there. Felicia couldn't understand the mentality of a man hoarding all his junk, then barely protecting it. There were less-sane people in the city, but few quite so pettily weird as Orfanelli.

The inside of the warehouse was a little musty, but surprisingly dry and well organised, as the Black Cat entered. Flicia had had her picks to the ready, but the door hadn't even been locked. She supposed this eased the already minimal-effort patrols the useless guard sometimes managed. Dim lighting showed a trail of wet footsteps and water drips, which led her down a high-shelved aisle to the newly delivered junk. A footstep detour halfway along revealed to Felicia that the delivery driver had stopped in to use a port-a-john half way down the warehouse. A certain quality to the air suggested that it wasn't cleaned as regularly as it might be.

The amount of junk was stunning, even to Felicia, who'd seen some piles of crap in her time. Washed up empty tin cans, plastic bottles, broken and merely worn furniture, toys and outdated computer equipment. There was everything that Orfanelli personally, and seemingly his operations, had used and discarded in the previous few years. There were two other warehouses already rammed to the rafters with the mob boss's collected tat, but Felicia was willing to bet that all of it added together was worth less than the diamond she had swung in to steal.

At the end of the rain-spattered trail, the Black Cat stopped by damp boxes and unboxed items. It took mere seconds of opening and searching before the impressively huge diamond was glinting in her hands. The pure brilliance of the heavy stone was apparent even in the gloom; enough to momentarily take Felicia's breath away, as it had the first time. A truly special stone that she felt sure could change her life if she fenced it, though she suddenly had no desire more than to keep the gem for her private collection. Some items were worth more than any money, and taking it from a scumbag mob boss felt... morally right.

The Black Cat was still staring into the heart of the diamond a moment later when the night guard sprayed a tube of knock out gas in her face, and she dropped limply to the cold concrete floor. Reflected sparkles of light danced across the walls as the diamond rolled from the unconscious heroine's fingers to the scuffed boot of the night guard. Though a man of little religion, he mentally thanked whatever deity might be listening that he'd needed to go take a piss when he did. The guard's dirty, ill maintained gun actually trembled in the shaking grip of his other hand, before he holstered it in an extra holster that was belted too tight to his podgy frame.

The guard slid the knock out gas into his pocket and grinned crazily. The name of this worthless human trash was Ian Hunt, though the bullies back at school had always called him Isaac. His height was around the 6' mark, but that was the only remotely handsome feature someone might claim for him. Never a good-looking child, Ian had been tested for early manifesting x-factor mutations at several occasions as he grew up, to see if anyone could be so naturally ugly. Surprisingly, medical science proved he was 100% homo sapiens, though doctors fought the urge to include '(barely)' on their reports. As he grew older, he grew fatter, balder, smellier, until by his 40th birthday, grossly obese, he put any observer unfortunate enough to behold him in mind of an ugly, charmless pig.

His only recent achievement in life was managing to hold down a night guard job for Orfanelli for six years. He could claim, truthfully, that nothing of value had ever been stolen on his watch - if only because he never guarded anything worth stealing. As slow thoughts trundled through his thick skull, he couldn't fathom why this costumed superheroine was stealing trash, and simply picked the rock back up and replaced it in the box. He had no idea of its value, and didn't even take his eyes off of the Black Cat's leatherclad curves. Besides once coming close to groping Ms Marvel in a panicked crowd, Ian had never found himself so close to a costumed babe. As he shifted his weight, he realised his erection was raging hard in his pants; his urge to piss quite forgotten.

The Black Cat's large breasts shallowly moved with her breathing. She ought to be out cold for a good half hour, the theory being that even the mob sometimes needed to ask questions first and beat with lead pipes later. As a regular Internet user and follower of the capes and costume crowd's antics, Ian knew enough about the Black Cat to know common theory held she no longer had super powers, and relied on tools and other gimmicks. As he ran his eyes up and down her body, sweat ran down his face, and a thoroughly unpleasant plan formed in the lonely depths of his mind - perhaps the first original thinking the vile man had done in years. Here, he saw, was an opportunity he would experience only once.

A short time later, Felicia's limp body was sat in a cold metal chair, and allowed to drape face forwards over an equally cold metal table. Once, under a prior Capo, mob goons had used the basement room of the warehouse for interrogations. Besides needing a new light bulb, which Ian had rooted out, it was still in good condition. There was even a two-way mirror across one wall, because on occasion even gang bosses didn't want people knowing they were watching their thugs at work. Ian had dug out two older model digital camcorders from the boxes of junk. The batteries were dead, but luckily the mains power adapters were in the same boxes and still worked. He set them on a barrel, aimed to film through the mirror.

He bent over enough to check each viewfinder and was happy to note the tiny digital displays contained every strand of the Black Cat's hair and the shiny leather and fluffy forearm patches on her costume's arms. As soon as she sat up, the cameras would both capture her awesome cleavage. Ian nodded, satisfied that he hadn't messed up the line-of-sight, and that he would surely have good quality footage of him fucking the Black Cat before the night was done. It was all he could do not to grab his cock and jerk off against the two-way mirror glass as he felt a rush of superiority over the beautiful woman in his power.

On returning to the interrogation room, Ian sank heavily to one knee and fumbled for the last remaining 'almost-adamantium' chain left behind, and manacled it to the Black Cat's ankle. Ian's heart was beating like a hummingbird's wings in the heavy cage of his chest. As he stood up again, he ran his hands up the Black Cat's legs to her ass. His sweat sticky fingers squeaked as he traced toned musculature beneath the shiny fabric. As he worked them under her ass, he realised he had to stop or climax then and there into his pants. Low self-confidence had seen Ian unable even to approach a prostitute and so, at 40, and with no sexual experience beyond masturbation and thousands of hours of porn, he didn't want to come before she awoke. The remaining chair in the interrogation room creaked horribly as Ian's bulk sank down into it. He tried to catch his breath and prepare his pitch for when the Black Cat awoke.

Felicia came round slowly, initially only aware of the coldness pressing her buxom cleavage slightly flat. She tried to position herself more comfortably before mental questions about where she was, and what she was doing, battered her back to full consciousness. With a shake of silky blonde hair, Felicia sat up and stared into the mirror before her. The two cameras hidden behind caught her expression of surprise and the hoped-for cleavage footage at the same time. Surprise turned to disgust as she recognised the night guard sat to the right of the mirror, his ugly face unimproved by a lecherous leer. Surely... surely she hadn't been captured by this loser?

Ian nearly forgot his words before breaking into a slightly rushed spiel,

"I gotta tell you, Black Cat, I am having a real good night. It's not often a leather wearing foxy babe puts herself in my lap! Your night though? It's not going so good! That chain ought to hold you 'til the boss sends a couple costumes to take you up his place, someone like that grizzly guy. Just between you and me, Orfanelli's not the tie up, death trap and rescue at the last minute type. He's more likely to rape the ever-loving shit out of you until you're bruised and bleeding, then let all his torpedoes have a shot, then sell you to some Arab as a harem slave, or keep you himself. A sad end for the Black Cat, eh?"

"Oh, boy, fat man, am I going to pound you into burger meat!"

"You could do that, sure you could. Thing is, you don't have anything good enough to cut through that chain, and you won't pick the lock either. No sense having a lock that could be easily picked down here, 'cos it always used to be criminals manacled up. So, you pound on me and then in the morning you go off to your new life as Mob or Arab cum dump. Or, you can agree to spread your legs for me and I'll not pass you on to Orfanelli."

He broke off to catch his breath and hear what answer came. The Black Cat's mask only surrounded her eyes, and Ian could see the cold fury burning in her expression at his proposition. He watched her slash her short mechanical claws at the chain, and examine the lock with professional eye. When the heroine met his gaze again, he saw the anger draining away, and a sad acceptance setting in along with something he recognised from his own daily look into a mirror: a growing self disgust. He hoped the cameras caught it all, at least from the side, because the Black Cat's gaze increased his arousal greatly. She gave him the barest nod, and then looked away from his leering face.

Felicia had not felt anything approaching the level of humiliation she then experienced in her life; to be taken down by one of the most useless disgusting slobs in New York, and then be taken by him. The things Orfanelli would do to her were probably far worse than the guard imagined, so she had no real choice but to submit her beautiful body to his lecherous grasp. Felicia thought she might actually be sick at the thought, and a violent shudder shook her body for a moment. It was clear to her that the guard relished her disgust.

"Strip, Black Cat! Make it nice and sexy, and give yourself a rubbing down there. Play with your pussy, I mean! I read it don't feel so good going in dry."

With no choice, Felicia stood from the chair and swayed her hips as she began to unpeel her costume. She thought for a moment that if she looked away she could pretend she was stripping for someone else, but the guard cut that thought off by demanding she look at him. He clearly enjoyed the speed with which she followed his instruction, and whooped as her bare breasts were fully revealed to him. Felicia was justifiably proud of her breasts, being large but still as firm as they'd ever been. She paused for a moment, aghast at revealing herself fully nude before a man so repulsive to her both physically and mentally.

"What are you waiting for slut? Show me your cunt! Say Yes Sir!"

"Y... Yes Sir."

A little more of Felicia's dignity felt burnt away as she peeled down her tight leather costume pants and revealed to the guard her pussy, recently shaven but for a small blonde tuft at the top. Once her costume was off along the chain, and her boots removed, she complied with commands to turn around, bend over, and spread her pussy with her fingers to give the guard a good look. Her cheeks burned with shame as he prodded a pudgy finger at her dry entrance.

"Take off your mask, too, but leave the collar. Then start rubbing"

The Black Cat's collar had been part of her gimmick, like the claws, that suggested a cat to observers and to her own mind. At the mercy of the guard, it became a symbol of her captivity, like the manacle on her ankle. She almost expected him to go and find a leash to put on her, and drag her around like a lap dog. There would never be a shower hot enough to cleanse her after the night was done, she thought. Felicia peeled her mask off and revealed her face to the guard.

"I've told you to call me Sir, but what's your real name Black Cat?"

"I can't tell you that!"

"Come on, I've seen your face and I'll probably spray my load on it before morning. I can find out anyway now, right? And don't lie to me! I could google you before I untie you and if the picture don't match the name.."

"It's... Felicia. Felicia Hardy."

"Felicia, huh? Well I'm gonna keep calling you Black Cat because it's sexier!"

In the short exchange, the night guard had taken something else from Felicia; the secret identity that was known only to the authorities and a few friends. The nearly nude heroine masturbated as commanded, having realised she would feel less pain on penetration if she was a little wet. Normally, she might expect to work out a little frustration while pleasuring herself, but that clearly wasn't an option in the warehouse basement.

Ian couldn't believe how compliant the Black Cat was being. He'd half expected her claws to turn out stronger, or the lock weaker, and find her beating the hell out of him rather than give in. Nothing ever seemed to work out for him and yet, hear, the Black Cat had docilely stripped, told him her real name, and started fingering her snatch right near his face. Ian's features were red with excitement, and he sweated buckets in anticipation of his first time ever screwing a real live human girl. In his fantasies he'd had everyone from Susan Richards to Squirrel Girl, but they paled before this sensual spectacle.

The fat guard's gaze flitted from where the captured heroine's slim fingers worked her pussy, to her occasionally heaving breasts, to her eyes filled with revulsion and disgust. He waited until the blonde slut's cunt showed signs of arousal, dripping moisture and lips engorging with blood, as he'd read they did and some of the porn even showed. He didn't want to cause the Black Cat any physical pain, and secretly hoped to make her orgasm like the guys always got the girls to in porn. Ian unbuttoned his own shirt, peeling sweat patches away from the hairy fat rolls of his torso, and dropped it to the floor. He felt his muscles complaining as he bent down and tugged off his scuffed shoes and tatty socks, and paused for breath before beginning to lift his ass and work his pants down and off his legs.

He heard the Black Cat gasp as his cock was revealed. Even with his fat, Ian was well above average in both length and girth. His balls were like swollen plums in his slack hirsute scrotum; heavy with the semen he intended to squirt deep into the super-heroine, rather than his more usual crusty tube sock. Fully naked, Ian was even more physically disgusting, and he glanced into the mirror to compare his physical repulsiveness with the Black Cat's beauty. She seemed more beautiful than any porn star, any actress or model under normal circumstances, but compared to Ian the Black Cat was like a descended angel next to a dog turd.

"Will you wear a condom? Please? Sir?" the Black Cat's quiet voice was filled with momentary hope, dashed as soon as Ian replied.

"Fuck, no! I'm riding you bareback, Black Cat!"

The guard was clearly too excited for much further in the way of foreplay, and grabbed the masturbating heroine roughly. Felicia felt her stomach turn as she smelled his breath, and turn again as he forced a sloppy kiss on her. It would have been so easy then to kick him in his surprisingly large balls, or bite his tongue, but Felcia didn't want to risk Orfanelli, so she let him explore her mouth with his slimy tongue. Felicia was a strong, skilled, powerful and confident woman, but to this grotesque nobody, she was powerless fuckmeat. She let him grab at her breasts and cup her crotch, before bending her passive body over the table.

Felicia again felt the cold metal pressing against her breasts. She could hear the laboured, excited breathing so close behind her. She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror, and the greedy lust in her captor's eyes. He was drooling visibly, and tugged stunning blonde her hair back sharply as she tried to look down. The moment's pain told her she was to watch as she was taken from behind. The guard's foot kicked her legs wider, and then he prodded his cock into her pussy. Despite his inexperience, he penetrated her on his first attempt.

"Oh holy fuck! It's amazing! I can't believe how good your cunt feels! What do you think of my cock, Black Cat?"

"It's big!"

The words were out of Felicia's mouth before she could stop them, and in the mirror the guard saw the heroine's face blush the darkest shade of red yet. She had been concentrating on expected pain at the violation, on her shame at her defeat, and so when she felt a surprisingly fulfilling sensation, the first thought in her mind was put into words. The smirk of arrogant pleasure in the fat guard's face only compounded her fresh degradation, but there was no doubt that as much as Felicia hated being taken by this nauseating loser, his cock felt good sliding inside her.

Ian nearly came at the Black Cat's gasped phrase. He doubted he would last long anyway but for this sexy slut to bend over and tell him how big he was, was almost too much. His heart thudded even faster in his chest as he released her blonde hair, and mauled the heroine's toned butt with fat fingers. A lot of porn featured anal, of course, but Ian felt that was kinda gay. His hairy belly rested on the Black Cat's ass with an inch or so of his cock still outside. Ian paused to catch his breath, and leaned forward over the Black Cat. He admired again the erotic contrast of his hugely obese body pressing down over her toned and beautiful form.

"I... knew you had to be a whore, dressed like that. Tell me you want me to fuck you, make it sound good!"

The words almost stuck in Felicia's throat. The guard's sweaty soft body pressing into her back was utterly disgusting to her, and he smelled atrocious. What she wanted to cry was 'No! God, no! Please just let me go!' but what she said was,

"Please... fuck me! I want to be your whore!"

"Yeah, baby!"

Ian felt like he had a second wind. He pressed his hands down on the metal table, either side of the blonde's slim waist and withdrew himself from her. He slammed back in hard enough to elicit a yelp, but after that first time fucked less deeply. There was nothing in Ian's life up to that point that matched the sensation of fucking the Black Cat from behind. He kept looking from the mirror image of her flushed face, down to where his belly rocked and obscured his thrusts from his sight. He was going to come far too soon, of course, but in an almost religious revival he swore to any gods who might be listening that this wasn't going to be the last time he fucked the blonde heroine slut.

Lubricated and no stranger to sex, Felicia felt unwanted pleasure growing in her stomach as the fat guard rutted on her. The guard had one of the largest cock's she'd ever been fucked by. Even the cold metal rubbing against her nipples with each deep fuck thrust added to the frissons of pleasure in her traitorous body. It was so shameful to find that she was physically enjoying this blackmailed sex from possibly the ugliest man in New York. She moaned, then clamped her mouth shut.

"C'mon, Black Cat you slut! Open your dirty mouth and moan like a whore for me!"

"Yes Sir..."

Felicia's moaning clearly had a powerful effect on her captor. His thrusts grew shorter and faster, and she could tell that he was close to coming. 'Oh, No,' she thought, 'to be filled by his rank slime would be too much'. There seemed enough of a gap between Felicia and the table for her to slide off as the guard came, and let him come on the floor. She could blame it on a hard thrust or losing her balance. It was hard to concentrate, with the unwanted orgasm building inside her; the flush on Felciia's skin was as much arousal as humiliation by then. Still, as the guard started to stiffen, Felicia pulled forward with a spark of hope in her heart.

It seemed the guard wasn't going to accept that act of defiance! He pushed forward hard, and wrapped his arms around Felicia. She was completely crushed between him and the table, barely able to breathe, as he shot his pent up seed as deeply into her as it would go. Felicia's humiliation seemed complete as her beautiful body of feline grace was marked by the dominant male's essence. Worse, his last desperate thrusts triggered the building orgasm inside her to reach climax. Felicia's scream of pleasure was translated to a strangled gasp as she shuddered in the guard's fat grasp, but her squeezing pussy milked fresh blasts from the large cock sheathed deep inside her.

Ian thought he was having a heart attack, such was the pleasure he experienced. He staggered backwards and landed heavily on his fat ass, withdrawing from Felicia's gaping cunt with a wet slurping noise. He wiped sweat away from his eyes in time to see the juices and sperm oozing from her hole as the last spasms wracked her body. He regretted not having another camera to hand to capture that moment, before lying back on the concrete and trying to catch his breath. His cock wilted, leaking a few drops of his seed into his hairy belly as a thin drizzle leaked down the Black Cat's inner thigh.

Save to draw breath, Felicia hadn't moved since the guard had pulled out of her. She lay prone over the table, unable to raise her face or look her reflection in the eyes. To agree to sex and get out of a tight spot was one thing, but to come like the whore he said she was? To become a cum dump for a man who was so worthless he worked a job guarding junk nobody wanted to steal? Felicia had never felt so degraded and defeated as she did there on the table. Aftershocks of pleasure radiated from her sensitive clit and compounded her shame, and so she lay passively until finally the guard pulled himself up to his feet.

"Get on your knees and lick me clean!"

Felicia slid slowly off the table, and twisted on her knees. She didn't look up, didn't say a word. The disgusting stench was even worse close to the fat guard's groin. Juice and semen began to puddle on the floor between her legs. Surely even the X-Men's Beast wasn't so hairy down there? The smell nearly made her gag, as she raised her hands,

"Wait! Use your tongue only, that's how you sluts like it, right, Black Cat? Look me in the eye and tell me you like it!"

With the last spark of hope extinguished in Felicia's heart when he sprayed inside her, she raised her eyes to the guard's ugly face and obeyed him,
"Yes... Yes, I like to use my tongue."

Ian made the Black Cat lick his shaft and balls next to the table, so the Camera's could catch all the action. He kept her tongue off his sensitive crown until he could bare the too-pleasurable licks. He liked the shame in the heroine's eyes as he pulled her face into his crotch and smeared her beauty with sweat and semen and her own whore's juice. He briefly entertained dirtier commands, before deciding they probably weren't all that fun for him. After a few minutes, he shifted himself up onto the table. The Black Cat's body heat had warmed the metal slightly, and he noticed two smudgy marks left by her breasts. The table legs groaned under his heavy bulk, but held. The chain on Felicia's ankle was long enough for her to follow Ian onto the table. As she worked, he muttered the filthiest most degrading names he could almost constantly, demanding she break off now and again to agree,

"God you whore, you slut, you filthy bitch, look at you fucking a guy like me just for my huge cock, isn't that right?"


"You should change your name to Black Slut, if that mutant bitch Storm doesn't sue, you probably fuck bad guys all the time don't you?"

"Yes Sir."

The insults continued on and on. He wanted the cameras to catch her breasts from another angle as she worked to clean him, though she just assumed he was too lazy to stand. The smell and taste lessened as Felicia worked, or perhaps she grew used to them. She realised she was so far under the guard's control she couldn't even bite his soft cock shaft now. A moment later, she barely managed to stop herself from playing with her own pussy as she lathered expert licks on the guard's shaft. She worked on him until he grew hard and straight again, and again was impressed with his size.

"Climb on, Black Cat. I see the lust in your eyes. This time I'm just going to lie here while you ride me!"

Felicia actually had to stand up on the table to follow the command, bending her head low to avoid the ceiling. She slowly lowered herself onto the fat guard's rigid shaft. Her sticky toned thighs descended until she sat astride his legs. Ian grabbed his breasts suddenly, groping eagerly at her tender flesh and stiff nipples. A fresh moan escaped her lips as began to move on top of the fat man,

"Hey... you know something? I have cameras through that mirror... uploading you to a secure server! You're a porn star, Black Cat!"

Not knowing truth or lie, or a mixture of both, Felicia didn't stop fucking the guard, it was too late for that. She found that on top of all the humiliation the night had wrought, the footage could hardly make things much worse. Riding on top, controlling the depth and speed of the fuck, Felicia realised she was moving like a willing lover on the guard. She looked down past his groping hands to his bulk spread on the table, and into the lust twisted ugliness of his face, and found she was moving even faster. He was going to come inside her again, add further essence to her core, and she wasn't even going to try and stop him this time.

The beautiful and brilliant Black Cat had truly become a whore for the fat guard, the obese tub of lard who was surely going to blackmail her many more times, if he really had filmed her. The thought of being forced into ever more degrading acts brought a now almost welcome sense of humiliation to Felicia's mind. Perhaps one day the fat guard would burn away the last of her shame, but for now the last of Felicia's pride kept her blushing as she rode the guard to a loud grunting climax on his part. He stiffened beneath her, and she knew he was shooting more of his filthy seed into her.

Afterwards, with his lust temporarily sated and dawn approaching, Ian wasn't entirely sure how to proceed. In the moments after his second orgasm, he felt a stab of guilt. Although the Black Cat had agreed to trade sex with him to avoid the punishments his boss would mete out, he could have been a good guy and let her go. He could have... Ian's heart hardened. He wasn't the one to feel guilty; he was just doing his job. The bitch had strolled into the warehouse dressed up in cocktease leather and tried to steal something from right under his nose!

"Alright, Black Cat. You can get dressed now and go home filthy, because you're a filthy slut! I'm going to release your ankle chain, see?"

Ian did so, unlocking the manacle and then stumbling for his own clothes. He worried for a moment that she might attack him, but there was no defiance left in her. He dressed slowly, because pulling the clothes onto his body and bending required made a lot of pain for his flabby muscles. The Black Cat moved slowly too as she pulled on her leather, and he saw a kind of dullness in her eyes where defiance or disgust had earlier burned. He confirmed her fears over the footage,

"Oh, one last thing... If you don't want that tape going public, then you're going to come and fuck me once a fortnight! Meet me here on the 15th, wearing your costume, got it?"

Felicia's fear had come true, but she wasn't going to fight him. She nodded acquiescence. Ian pulled her costumed body to him for one final slobbery disgusting kiss before allowing her to leave the interrogation room. The route out of the basement was easy to follow. She heard the fat loser, her new master, laughing as she departed. The costume she wore had once felt empowering, and sexy, but now seemed to weigh her down just as the collar had become a sign of her submission. She wanted to burn it, to scour her flesh. To put forever the image of the guard from her mind... but she would be there on the 15th and she would feel him inside her again, smell his stench and hear his laboured breathing.

And so it continued. The Black Cat visited the guard with increasing regularity, as he demanded. She sucked and fucked him at the warehouse and a porn cinema, in the filthy toilets of a bar and in a dozen alleys rank with piss and decay. Sometimes he came inside her mouth or pussy, and sometimes he came across her face or ass or breasts. He overcome his initial fears of anal sex and allowed her to apply copious lubricant before screwing her butt.

Felicia's run of bad luck saw her impregnated, and as soon as Ian realised her belly was swelling, refused her permission to abort it. A few months more, and her costume had to be altered to fit her swelling belly. Her life as a happy go lucky heroine was over, and her life as a whore would last as long as Ian's heart held out.


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