Tam-Ra, Part 7 - Knockout!
By Jobber Joe
Supergirl and Tam-Ra continue their fight to a knockout finish!

Yes, the 8th round has come to a close in this epic, see-saw battle 
between two voluptuous, powerful, and stunningly beautiful young 
super women.  Tam-Ra backs off slowly from the carnage she has 
wrought this round, pumping one gloved fist in the air, screaming at 
her battered foe, "you're going down, SLUT! Supergirl, MY ASS!"   
Kara still dangles from the ropes in the neutral corner, as shocking as 
this may seem to so many loyal followers of this thought-to-be 
invincible Maiden of Might, seemingly "out on her feet" at the bell.  
For sure, the world's "mightiest woman", indeed none other than the 
8th Wonder of the World, to quote the over zealous ring announcer in 
his pre-fight intros, is calling on all the recuperative powers she can 
still muster in that great, if wounded, Kryptonian bod.  And she is 
slowly coming around, but with head still bowed; and with Tam-Ra's 
cruel taunts  still echoing through her dazed mind.  

As Lois and the ref help the wobbly superheroine to her corner 
between rounds, Kara mumbles confusedly through puffy lips, 
"gunnnhhh, what hit me?;" then, "not a slut; Supergirl, can't defeat 
me!"  Suddenly a strange deep sigh escapes her bloodied and swollen 
lips, and her battered body trembles noticeably even as she sags on the 
arms of the ref and her sexy dark-haired ring attendant. Below the 
wringing wet patch of blue at her crotch, a veritable river of moisture, 
heavier and slicker than simply sweat, course down the broad expanse 
of her full, luscious upper thighs.  Watching from barely fifteen feet 
away, standing in her corner with loving attendant, Valora, the 
stunning blonde amazon top lieutenant, massaging her shoulders, and 
with Wonder Slut presently suckling one huge turgid nipple that 
protrudes from her wonderfully uplifted young, buoyant bared breasts, 
while Slut Boy, on his knees, reverently towels off her magnificently 
sculpted thighs and bulging calves, ravishing Tam-Ra, the Towering  
Teen Tyro of Tiburra, knows it certainly ain't sweat.  She laughs 
huskily, gestures to Valora, "lookee there, permanent meltdown has 
begun, That bitch is hotter than a pistol. I knew it; she's just like her 
slutty jerk-off cousin here, getting off on getting whupped, hah hah!" 
Valora laughs with her, bending the red-haired Amazon queen's head 
around to plant a loving kiss on her lips, and cooing, "you'll get her 
this round, my Queen; I know it." Tam-Ra brashly responds, "maybe, 
maybe not; I may just choose to beat on that lovely bod a bit more, use 
the slut up completely before finishing her. Yeah, now, wouldn't that 
be sweet?". 

Back in the other corner, Lois tries to soothe her battered mate as they 
lay her back on her stool, and the leggy news reporter snaps an 
ammonia capsule under Kara's nose to bring her around.  With the ref 
watching concerned from a few feet back, Lois coos, "You're right, 
you ARE Supergirl. You'll show em next round, honey. Nobody can 
beat you. You go, girl!" The ref just shakes his head and walks away, 
preparing for the next round.  Kara is much more alert now; she rises 
up quickly seconds before the bell, perhaps too quickly as her long, 
luscious, smoothly muscled legs wobble ever so slightly.   But she 
quickly steadies her shaky legs, Lois puts her mouthpiece back in, and 
the embattled Maiden of Might pounds her gloves together, glaring at 
the imperious Teen Tyro in the far corner. "I cannot be defeated", she 
tells herself as she comes out with renewed determination for round 9, 
quickly going on the attack when she hears the bell.

The ever hopeful crowd, which had groaned with every vicious 
pummeling blow Kara had taken in the previous round, now rises as 
one, lustily cheering on their heroine.  Chants of SUPERGIRL, 
SUPERGIRRRRLLLLLLL!  fill the air as the blue clad Superheroine 
zings a left jab in with blazing hand speed that has not been seen since 
the very early rounds.  Tam-Ra just manages to catch the blur of a 
punch on the side of her glove, but still the very velocity knocks her 
back a few feet.  The crowd is in a frenzy, sensing the tide turning yet 
again in this scintillating match.  Kara, buoyed, slashes in a again, 
another left, not blinding fast, but fast enough, rolling Tam-Ra's head 
to one side and knocking her back to her own corner; then a follow-up 
right hook, going for the bullseye, namely Tam-Ra's comely mug.  
But the redheaded Amazon swivels her head just in time and the 
vicious punch whizzes on by.  Supergirl backs up a step, feinting, 
dodging darting, slamming a left hook down low.  Tam-Ra, displaying 
amazing coolness under fire, not to mention impressive hand speed of 
her own, blocks the body hook.  Supergirl, chanting to herself, "I am 
Supergirl, I will WIN!", launches a right uppercut at the elusive 
Amazon's jaw, but Tam-Ra swivels her head away again. Kara is 
puzzled; nobody can dodge her supersonic fists.  She tries again, back 
with the left, this punch albeit noticeably slowed, far from supersonic 
in its velocity. Tam-Ra brushes it aside disdainfully, then slams a 
countering jab over Kara's outstretched arm that pounds into the 
blonde's jaw.  Supergirl blinks, throws an awkwardly slowed right 
uppercut that misses completely. Tam-Ra's right flashes now, budda 
budda thump, two rapid fire jabs that Kara barely catches on the 
gloves, a wicked hook that she doesn't, the slashing blow rolling her 
head to one side, her mouthpiece floating up as she stumbles sideways 
away from the blow.  The Maiden of Might feels real PAIN rippling 
through her great body from the punishing jaw shot.   She blinks 
again, tries to answer with a left, but its horribly slow and telegraphed 
and Tam-Ra laughs tauntingly as she easily swivels her head to one 
side and the ponderous left sails harmlessly by.  

The bell clangs, ending Round 9, and Supergirl, her brave rally having 
fizzled out late, trudges with slumped shoulders to her corner, plops 
down heavily on her stool, arms draped over the middle strand of 
ropes as Lois feverishly works on her.  The leggy brunette coos 
soothingly to her weary charge as she massages Kara's arms and 
shoulders, "you showed them, came back and made a fight of it, 
dearie; you'll get her this round; you're Supergirl, nobody can beat 
you!"  Privately, Lois is thinking, "gadds, Kara threw everything AND 
the kitchen sink at that bitchin looking muscle freak this time, and still 
she's on her feet, mocking poor Kara at the bell.  Gawwwwd, what's 
going on?"   

In her pain-addled brain, an insistent inner chant, almost like a mantra, 
begins to flash across Kara's brain, "SUPERGIRL, SUPERGIRL, 
THERE IS NO PAIN" Kara tries to draw strength from it as the 10th 
round bell approaches. The bell clangs and a grimly determined 
Supergirl moves in on the taller redhead, who still lounges in her 
corner, her back to the turnbuckle.  Kara tries to go to the body, 
slamming a left, now a right to Tam-Ra's washboard abs. The 
punches, alarmingly slow and ponderous, seem to have little or no 
effect on the strapping young redhead, who shrugs them off as if they 
were nothing.  Supergirl, in seeming desperation, digs deep, left, right, 
left, right, laboring horribly to toss the heavy, tired leather into Tam-
Ra's unyielding gut.  The big redhead laughs again, clinches, drawing 
Kara in bosom to bosom.  Kara groans, wiggles free, tries to go 
upstairs again with a sloppy right uppercut.   The statuesque Amazon 
easily brushes the telegraphed blow aside, comes underneath with a 
rollicking right to the blue clad heroine's upper stomach. 

 Kara blanches, feeling the  punch, and the very real, sudden PAIN, 
even as the strange mantra yet again plays across her brain, 
SUPERGIRL, SUPERGIRL, THERE IS NO PAIN".  She shuffles an 
awkward left, the punch slapping softly, harmlessly, off Tam-Ra's 
side.  Tam-Ra slams another right, this one on the belly button, the 
force lifts a gasping Supergirl up to her toes.  Supergirl is gaping for 
air. She clinches now,  desperately trying to catch her breath, Tam-Ra 
slamming lefts and rights, 6 or 7 rapid fire blows, into her gut; the 
young amazon's gloved arms a blur as she pummels poor Kara with 
savage glee.  The embattled Maiden of Might holds on desperately 
until the ref breaks the clinch.

Tam-Ra comes off the ropes now, moving forward, Kara shakily 
trying to fend off her younger, heavier foe. She misses again.  Tam-Ra 
is making the vaunted superheroine look old, way older than her 
comparatively still tender years, and terribly slow and very, very bad. 
Tam-Ra snaps the right cross, catches Kara on the face. Kara blinks, 
looks stunned by the power in the Amazon's punishing blow, then 
launches a weak countering left of her own, missing badly.  Tam-Ra, 
showing complete disdain for the faltering Supergirl, follows  up with 
the left uppercut to the solar plexus and another right to Kara's chin. 
Supergirl's knees go wobbly as REAL INTENSE PAIN floods 
through that Kryptonian bod thought to be impervious to such mortal 
stuff.  She shuffles back in weary confusion, reefing with pain, the 
mantra almost desperately pounding against that pain addled brain 
now, fighting the truth, "SUPERGIRL, SUPERGIRIL, THERE IS NO 
PAIN!" Kara stumbles all the way back until she is resting with her 
back up against the ropes near the neutral corner.  Tam-Ra is 
relentless.  She rains lefts and rights and lefts into Supergirl's luscious 
body. Kara is totally defensive, desperately trying to cover. 

In a fiery rage, the ravishing  young redhead, tautly muscled body 
rippling powerfully, continues the onslaught, pummeling the hunkered 
superheroine against the ropes. Grunts and groans accent the smacks 
and pops of  gloves connecting with yielding flesh. Supergirl is doing 
little more than sagging helplessly against the ropes while Tam-Ra  
uses and abuses her voluptuous body like she's doing a speed bag 
workout.   Then, seconds from time, the pillaging Amazon slams a 
vicious right hand  a full fist deep into Kara's battered, horribly 
softened abs,  the force and velocity of the monster belly buster almost 
doubling poor Supergirl over in gasping, wheezing agony.  Supergirl's 
system shuts down almost completely for a brief second. The faltering 
Maiden of Might's  usually brilliant blue eyes glaze over, head 
nodding forward;  her leaden arms drop helplessly to sweat streaked 
flanks and her knees buckle, those normally wondrous, steely strong 
legs startling  rubbery and weak.  She is all but knocked out, even 
though somehow she remains on her feet, weaving and wobbling in 
groggy confusion. Tam-Ra's final blow of this round is a cruelly lifted 
left uppercut that slams into poor Kara's lowered face, lifting the 
battered superheroine's entire body with its force.  Poor Supergirl 
twists around on trembling, rubbery legs, lurches sideways, then 
forward, falling over the upper strand of ropes in the neutral corner.

At the bell she is still draped there, in that neutral corner, the same all 
too familiar  "rope prison" that held her sagging body at the end of the 
8th round.  Her gloved arms are slung over the top rope and dangling 
down toward the ring apron, head also hanging down outside the ring, 
foamy spittle mixed with a thin streak of blood dribbling out of one 
corner of her gaping mouth, her glassy blue eyes staring vacantly out 
at the sea of faces ringside.  The ref has moved in to begin a standing 
eight count over the battered heroine, but the bell rings before his 
count can even begin.  With an assist from the ref in untangling her 
pummeled body from her rope prison, Supergirl finally stumbles in 
groggy confusion to her own corner, her slow, wobbly journey a sad, 
weaving, lurching odyssey of a seemingly broken, beaten fighter.  She 
gets only halfway there before sagging down along the ropes yet 
again, too weak to go on.  Dangling there helplessly, once steely 
thighs melting away, indeed absolutely sizzling hot, and buzzing, with 
perverse arousal from having Tam-Ra's red hot, ravishing form 
swarming all over her during the steamy beatdown along the ropes , 
poor Kara whimpers softly, desperately, "gadddds, Lois, pleeeezzz 
help me!"  Lois, on the verge of a massive onrushing orgasm herself at 
rounds end, irreversibly caught up in her own perverse state of 
dangerously surging arousal fueled by the sight of that sculpted 
goddess of a young amazon pummeling her beloved companion 
virtually senseless, finally recovers enough of her own faculties to 
stumble out to the slumped superheroine and help her to her corner 
stool; where the leggy news reporter, still fighting desperate, perverse 
arousal, feverishly tries to bring the dazed superheroine around.  

But there is little to be done for the battered, and over-stimulated, 
Supergirl at this point. Over in the far corner, the ravishing young 
redhead, barely breathing hard, smiles wickedly.  She has fought off 
every attack by an increasingly desperate Supergirl, retaliating with a 
furious assault to which poor Kara has sadly had no answer; and the 
tautly muscled young Amazon smugly realizes the fight is hers for the 
taking.  Meanwhile, in newsrooms around the globe, reporters are 
already making copy on tomorrow's stunning headlines, all depicting 
the tragic demise of the blonde tressed Justice League member.   As 
Lois drags her off her feet for the 11th round, the inner voice, 
relentless Mantra, is now beating more incessantly than ever through 
poor Kara's dazed mind, but the tune has changed, "SUPERGIRL, 
SUPERGIRL, TAKE THE PAIN!"

Round 11 - the final destruction of the once venerable, formerly 
thought "invincible", Maiden of Might begins.  Tam-Ra is in total 
command, Supergirl shockingly stumbling around the ring on shaky 
legs, covering meekly, blue gloves drawn up around her pretty face, 
taking a savage body beating the likes of which few in the fight game 
have ever seen before, or will likely ever see again.   The beating is 
shocking, fierce, horrifying to so many loyal fans of the comely 
superheroine; Tam-Ra teeing off on the cowering, melting Maiden of 
Might with savage impunity, while poor Kara mostly just sags back on 
the ropes now, the desperate mantra flooding her pain-wracked brain, 
"SUPERGIRL, SUPERGIRL, TAKE THE PAIN!".  

Then it happens; a vicious flurry of body blows along the ropes, 
Kara's blue clad torso jolting and trembling with each punch,  
followed by a murderous right uppercut to the jaw. Supergirl's head 
snaps back violently, then rolls forward limply, Her blue eyes blink in 
groggy confusion as blood and spittle trickle from between bruised, 
puffy lips.  She staggers off the ropes a step or two, wobbles to her 
left, rubbery legs buckling weakly, her once superpowered system 
shutting down systematically even as one small part of her, a tattered 
remnant of pride perhaps, still fights to stay off the canvas from the 
monster punch.  Tam-Ra just watches with undisguised bemusement, 
mighty gloved arms cocked menacingly while the ref tries to move her 
back from the stricken blonde.  Supergirl stutter steps back to the right 
now, does a slow pirouette around in a wobbly half circle before 
finally slumping heavily to her knees with a feeble little moan, 
accompanied by the anguished groans and cries of thousands in the 
arena, and countless millions more watching on closed circuit TV, as 
they see Supergirl, SUPERGIRL, actually go down to the canvas  
beneath Tam-Ra's relentless, pillaging, amazon fists.  She slumps 
there, battered and groggy, the so-called "mightiest woman on the face 
of the earth" cruelly chopped to her knees by, to quote Lois Lane, a 
"bitchin looking muscle freak;" indeed a stupefyingly beautiful and 
powerful 19 year old Amazon Goddess , while absolute bedlam, 
bordering on stark, terrified panic, reigns in the huge arena.  

Over in Kara's corner, barely 15 feet away from the fallen 
superheroine, Lois Lane, a deep desperate ache consuming her over-
sexed body as she watched the ravishing young Teen Tyro batter her 
beloved mate to a bloodied stupor, slumps weakly down to one knee, 
almost losing it in desperate arousal yet again at the sight of her once 
superpowered lover so helplessly hunkered there  on all fours beneath 
the strapping amazon.  Supergirl, glassy eyed and rubbery legged, 
somehow beats the count, staggering up at 7, but a follow-up right 
hook slams her head to one side and lifts her off her feet as she 
stumbles back, slamming back against her own corner ropes.  She 
slithers slowly to her butt while Tam-Ra towers over her, taunting her; 
and while poor Lois Lane, distraught and over-stimulated by the sight 
of her beloved companion knocked silly not two  feet away from her, 
drops to the ring apron, shuddering in a sudden, violent orgasmic 
tremor.   

Supergirl just slumps there, on her butt, uncomprehending, her blue 
eyes fixed in the glassy eyed vacant stare of a kayoed fighter ,one arm 
draped limply over her quivering, jellied, slicked down legs, the other 
pawing weakly at the ropes in a vain attempt to get up while the count 
reaches 5 before the bell clangs.  She is saved by the bell, but her 
whole world is crumbling down around her battered body.  The 
superpowered bod has flamed out, the superpowers of concentration 
long gone as well.  And Lois is in no shape to help her, being led off 
in a giddy daze to be attended to in the dressing room after falling off 
the ring apron to the concrete floor in the midst of her sudden, 
devastating orgasm.  Poor Kara, despite, or maybe even because of,  
the desperate beating she's taken these last few rounds from the 
physically and sensually overwhelming 19 year old amazon, is almost 
there herself, almost to the monster orgasm, that is, that has already 
consumed her leggy companion. Her battered body is a jumble of 
frayed nerves, an electric hum vibrating from her sopping wet crotch 
throughout her over-stimulated, formerly super-powered system.  She 
is all but gone, in more ways than one.

With Lois being carried out, it is left to the ref and ring doctor to pull 
the battered superheroine up on to her corner stool, where the doc 
snaps an ammonia capsule under her nose to bring her around.  He is 
about to wave off the fight before Kara lifts her head wearily, just a bit 
revived by the smelling salts, and weakly protests, "no, no, can't stop 
it, she can't beat me, gunnnnhh".  From the far corner, Tam-Ra, all 
hepped up, full of herself, snorts, "fight rules say KNOCKOUT only; 
that means OUT COLD in my book, asshole! Now clear out and let 
me at her!" Against their better judgment, and admittedly with each 
cowering with more than a little fright at the sight of the big, powerful 
amazon looming so close, the ring doc and referee grudgingly decide 
to let the fight go on.   

Now, as she struggles to get to her feet, managing to do so only by 
slinging both arms over the corner ropes and dragging her savaged 
body up inch by excruciating inch, the incessant mantra in Kara's pain 
and sex-addled brain has changed to: SUPERGIRL, SUPERGIRL, A 
SLUT FOR PAIN! GIVE IT TO ME, GIVE IT TO ME! PAIN IS 
THE GAME! She leans back groggily on the ropes awaiting the bell, 
the ever increasing sexual tension in her wet, hot loins and rock hard, 
aching nipples bursting on her dazed brain and mixing with the agony 
of bruised, battered and exhausted muscles like a buzzsaw of perverse 
pain/pleasure. 

So it is that Supergirl wanders out dazedly, almost dreamily, to face 
the ravishing young red-headed ring assassin in the 12th.   Like a lamb 
going to slaughter it is, or seems, with the comely young blonde, 
particularly with Wonder Woman's recent demise, generally regarded 
heretofore as the world's mightiest superheroine, getting only a few 
shaky steps away from her corner before she is bullied back by the 
overpowering amazon.  Propping poor Supergirl against the corner 
ropes, Tam-Ra unleashes a furious head salvo on the defenseless blue 
clad Maiden; a left uppercut to the jaw, right hook to the temple, left 
cross up high on that pretty face, this last slashing punch opening up a 
gash above Kara's right eye.  Rubbery legs long since turned to mush, 
the hapless heroine sags forward into Tam-Ra's strong arms, begins to 
slither slowly down the strapping amazon's magnificently sculpted 
body.  An equally hapless referee moves in tentatively to begin 
another count over the doomed Supergirl; but Tam-Ra hauls the slack 
bodied blonde up quickly, throws her back on to the ropes, snidely 
dismisses the trembling ref, "get away, she just slipped, it wasn't a 
knockdown, heh heh. "  The ref quickly backs away, shaking his head, 
having lost all semblance of  control over this steamy fight. 

Left alone with her battered victim, Tam-Ra, merely toying with the 
woozy, yet also still strangely giddy superheroine now, brazenly 
gropes at, pushes the sweaty blue  top down off Supergirl's beautiful 
breasts, exposing the ivory orbs, which are taut and fully erect, the 
tight elastic of her crumpled blue top pushing up against her breasts 
and accentuating the fullness and erectness of her already considerably 
well endowed chesty assets.  And the pinkish brown nipples fairly 
tremble with forbidden pleasure as well as soon as Tam-Ra runs one 
leather clad thumb over their tips, abrading the stiff swollen nubs 
while poor Supergirl moans with ever mounting anguish and arousal.    
Tam-Ra keeps up the steamy torment as the melting Maiden of Might 
lays back, moaning plaintively, heatedly, arms draped over the top 
ropes to keep from going down, while the ravishing young redhead 
thrusts her huge, firmly jutting breasts in her face, battering the 
mammoth mammaries back and forth across Supergirl's flushed, 
bruised and battered face.  It is the ultimate humiliation for this once 
proud and revered beauty, who weaves drunkenly, her head lolling 
back, just from the force of Tam-Ra's marauding titties. 

 And when the domineering young amazon pulls her bodacious ta tas 
back at length, a half dozen pillaging blows down low, her cruel fists 
digging deep and painfully into Supergirl's soft, ruined abs, is enough 
to nearly double the doomed Maiden of Melted Might over as Kara 
slumps forward, clutching feebly at the rippling hot bod of her young 
tormentor.  Laughing wickedly, Tam-Ra holds the sagging Supergirl 
tight against her voluptuous body, letting the hapless heroine's gaping 
mouth slide down across her big, firm and jutting breasts.  Mindlessly, 
her blue eyes glazed over, the dazed and woozy Supergirl begins to 
work her lips dreamily over the hard, distended nipple of Tam-Ra's  
awesomely uplifted breast, soon enough hungrily suckling one meaty 
nub as the hapless referee bravely, if vainly, tries to pull the 
marauding redhead back from her savagely beaten and sensually 
mauled victim.  

Looking on in the far corner, Slut Boy has a raging hard-on at the 
sight of his cousin now lovingly suckling his adored  Mistress's huge, 
tautly erect breasts.  He has barely acknowledged Kara this whole 
evening, and, even if there is some latent recognition there still, and 
sadly there appears to be "none", he feels no sympathy for his horribly 
battered and humiliated blood relative even at this moment.  Rather, 
the former superhero is unavoidably aroused simply by viewing what 
he regards as Tam-Ra's newest slave candidate properly worshipping 
that magnificent body he, himself, knows and worships so fervently.    
And next to him on the ring apron Wonder Slut, for similar reasons, is 
feverishly fingering her hot and wet womanhood beneath her clingy 
star spangled panties while watching this alluring blonde,  a virtual 
"stranger" now despite their intimate past, slavishly worship those ripe 
titties she, as well, knows so intimately.

Tam-Ra shoves the urgently suckling Supergirl's head down away 
from her ripe, youthfully uplifted breasts at last, and steps back, one 
arm wrapped tightly around the slack bodied superheroine's slim 
waist as poor Kara dangles like a limp rag doll from the mighty 
muscled arm of the ravishing Teen Tyro.  Blood and drool dribbles 
down from poor Kara's gaping mouth as Tam-Ra, glorying in her 
stunning dominance, turns slowly around with her captive victim, her 
free arm raised high, pumping her gloved fist in the air.   With her free 
arm, Tam-Ra slams a sizzling uppercut square into that dangling, 
bloodied jaw, the punch lifting poor Supergirl up and splatting her 
down on her back with such force that the peeled down blue top tears 
partially apart, a jagged three inch gash opening right across the 
crumpled Red "S".  She lies there, bared breasts jutting skyward, one 
leg splayed out crookedly, the other bent at the knee, arms flung 
limply behind her head, as the referee moves in slowly to begin his 
count.  At three, poor Kara lifts her head weakly, one arm flailing up 
as well, waving feebly.  But at six, the head clunks back down, rolls to 
one side, one eye swelling shut from the gash above it, the other 
staring glassily out at the anguished ringside crowd.   She is, for all 
intents and purposes, KNOCKED OUT!  The ring announcer 
hysterically, and prematurely, announces such, babbling, "OH  
GAWWWWD, SUPERGIRL IS DOWN FOR THE COUNT! NO, IT 
CAN'T BE!"   Almost cruelly, the savagely beaten superheroine is 
"saved" by the bell with the count at 9. 

So officially its now in the one minute break between rounds 12 and 
13.  But poor Kara Zor-El, still lying  gaping on her back at ring 
center with her storied Supergirl suit torn and bloodied and big, melon 
breasts all spilled out and heaving fitfully, ain't going nowhere, not in 
a minute, not in five minutes perhaps.  And the cowering referee and 
ring doc aren't going anywhere close to the tyrannical, overpowering 
Teen Tyro from Tiburra at present, probably wisely.  So Supergirl is 
alone, broken and battered in imminent defeat, until Tam-Ra casually 
leaves her own corner, stands over the helpless Maiden of Melted 
Might, reaches down with one big red glove, grabbing poor Kara's 
matted blonde locks, and hauls the moaning superheroine up and over 
to her corner the hard way, dragging her along like some lusty 
cavewoman hauling the days "kill" back to her lair.  Poor Kara moans 
pitiably as she is drug by the hair, her long, lovely legs dragging 
lifelessly behind her, arms dangling listlessly.  Tam-Ra haughtily 
releases her tight grip on the rag doll blonde, laughing loudly as the 
shattered Supergirl clumps to the canvas in her own corner, lying face 
down in a small pool of her own sweat, spittle and blood, ravaged 
body jerking and trembling spasmodically, her one good glassy blue 
eye yet again staring blankly out at the sea of faces ringside.   As the 
seconds tick down on this break period, Kara lies unmoving, save for 
her twitching body and limbs, gurgling softly, lips moving against the 
small, but spreading pool in which her face lies, her weak voice a faint 
whisper, "unnnnggh, Lois, slipped, gunnnnhh, I can get up.  Why 
won't she let me get up, Lois?"

This should be it, the last sad moments of a destroyed superheroine's 
career spent broken and twitching  in her own corner, a devastated, 
vanquished Supergirl left alone in abject defeat and misery.  But of 
course Tam-Ra wants more, and who is to stop her now? Certainly it 
won't be the enfeebled shells of the two former Justice League 
members cowering submissively on the apron in her own corner. Nor 
will the weak willed referee, timekeeper and/or ring doctor, who are 
all trembling in fear of the inhumanly powerful young amazon now, 
dare confront the Terrifying Teen Tyro. And poor Lois, maybe the 
only one with enough guts to stand up to the imperious young 
amazon, is till presently indisposed, her sleek, over-sexed body 
rattling her to a near stuporous state with endless orgasmic tremors as 
she unavoidably stares at the closed circuit screen back in the dressing 
room, the famed news reporter having to be physically restrained and 
sedated by frantic medical staff.  

  So, on Tam-Ra's barked demand, the ring doctor, shaking like a leaf, 
clears out of the ring, the referee stands back, frozen by indecision and 
stark terror at the surreal scene in front of him in the ring, and the 
timekeeper, after a stern glance and nod from the supremely powerful 
and menacing Amazon Queen, dutifully rings the 13th round bell.   In 
all the commotion, perhaps two to three minutes have elapsed since 
the bell ending the 12th round clanged, not that it matters much to  
Supergirl.  She wouldn't be ready to fight in 10, make that 20, 
minutes, maybe more; she is that far gone.  Yes, poor Kara is still 
crumpled face down and twitching in her corner, a final desperate 
mantra beating upon her numbed senses, tearing at her ravaged 
psyche, shaking her savagely beaten, trembling, terribly over-aroused 
body with its thunderous urgency: SUPERGIRL, SUPERGIRL, A 
SLUT FOR PAIN! GIVE IT TO ME, GIVE IT TO ME, PAIN IS 
THE GAME!. SUPERGIRL, SUPERSLUT, WE'RE ONE AND THE 
SAME! 

And now out comes Tam-Ra, bold, breathtakingly beautiful, 
awesomely, supremely powerful, and totally unchecked in her savage 
dominance; even as the ring announcer babbles hysterically, 
"somebody PLEEZ STOP HER, this is a travesty, SUPERGIRL IS 
HELPLESS; she'll KILL HER, gawwwwdddd NOOO!" Clucking to 
herself, "Round 13, how sweet; This is your lucky round and lucky 
day, Super Slut,"  the raging young amazon pulls poor Kara off the 
canvas, yanking her up by her damp, matted blonde locks yet again, 
with barely a feeble moan of protest from the savaged superheroine.  
Tam-Ra props her comely victim up in the corner ropes now, almost 
gently, if tauntingly, slapping the helpless heroine across her pretty 
face with one glove as if to bring the woozy blonde around while the 
other gropes and  mangles poor Supergirl's already raw and ravaged 
bared titties.  Supergirl moans thinly, sighs loudly, a sudden, goofy 
grin crossing her bruised and bloodied face, the smile of a woozy, 
kayoed fighter for sure, perhaps something more.  Tam-Ra is pushing 
in hard on both heaving melon orbs now, squeezing the hard, swollen 
nipples between gloved thumb and fingers, mashing the delicate ivory 
flesh beneath her powerful, gloved fists.   Supergirl's one good eye 
blinks, glazing over even more, she whimpers fitfully,  then abruptly 
gasps and trembles,  slumped body shaking violently, the juices 
pouring down her slack  thighs as she offers the ultimate submission 
to a vastly superior woman, a shuddering orgasmic release.   Tam-Ra, 
feels the warm flood spilling over on to her own close pressed legs, 
glories in the sensation of that luscious body jolting in orgasmic 
surrender as she holds it tight to her mighty, rippling amazon's bod.  
She snorts huskily, laughs haughtily, and exclaims loudly, "YES, a 
horny little SUPER SLUT you are! And you are all mine now!".  

Poor Kara is still gasping in the throes of her shattering orgasm when 
Tam-Ra pushes her back hard into the  corner, loops the feebly 
moaning  superheroine's arms over the top strand of ropes, then steps 
back, measuring the doomed blonde for the final vicious  blows that 
will forever destroy the last vestiges of pride and power in the slack 
bodied  Maiden of Melted Might. From a safe distance, the terrified, 
anguished ring doc weakly begs the ravishing redhead, "please no, 
can't you see she's beaten, can't defend herself.. please stop, miss!" 
But, after a stern glare from the ruthless Amazon Queen, who snorts 
loudly, "KO only, as in OUT COLD you miserable little limp dick!", 
he quickly shuts up and turns his eyes away, unable to watch the 
carnage  that he is helpless to stop.

Now, with savage glee, Tam-Ra tees off on her slumped, helpless 
victim; first, a pillaging right hook to the face,  poor Kara's head 
jerking violently to the right in a spray of sweat, foamy spittle and 
blood;  now burying her left glove deep into Supergirl's ruined abs, 
the red leather almost disappearing from sight as it burrows into the 
soft and fleshy stomach, the vicious punch accompanied by a whoosh 
of air being forcefully expelled from Kara's lungs as she sags forward, 
coughing and gagging weakly, foamy spittle mixed with blood now 
running in a steady stream from her gaping mouth as her slack jaw 
hangs almost to her bared, desperately heaving breasts.  Then follows 
a sadistic right uppercut square on that hanging, slack jaw, the 
murderous punch blasting poor Supergirl's head back in another 
bloody spray.  Her battered body jerks so violently from the force of 
the blow that her already partially torn blue top, made of a substance 
previously thought to be indestructible, rips further apart now, 
hanging together solely by a thin, elastic band circling the bottom 
edge of the mangled halter top.  The telltale red "S", symbol of 
Supergirl's great legacy as a world renowned crime-fighter and 
protector of justice, now flaps loosely, grotesquely, beneath the 
vanquished superheroine's heaving left tit.  

Supergirl's head is laid back over the top rope, blood streaming out of 
both corners of her slack mouth, blood soaked mouthpiece floating up 
and plopping out, falling to the ring apron beneath her lolling head.  
Her one good blue eye is glazed completely over and  rolled back in 
her head.  The other eye is glued shut by a purplish, monstrously 
swollen welt.  For all intents and purposes, the fair haired Kryptonian 
lass is completely KO'd, perhaps more dead than alive, her ravaged 
body held up only by her stretched out arms, which are tightly wedged 
between the upper and lower ropes. Loud shrieks and gasps are heard 
from ringside as horrified fans view their beloved superheroine, the 
tragically doomed, would-be defender of all that is right and good in 
this world, lying there on the corner ropes, beaten to a bloody, 
twitching pulp.  Ringside fans, the closest to the grisly scene, are 
screaming for somebody to help even as they back up in raw terror 
from the savagery of the powerful young redhead.  

 But no security folks are rushing to the ring, the ring announcer and 
timekeeper have both fled the arena in stark terror, the ring doc has 
collapsed to all fours, his legs weak and unresponsive as he too has 
tried to flee, and is now weeping shamelessly.  And the referee is 
cowering in the far corner, trembling violently in abject fear and 
revulsion.  All the so-called fight officials are terrified of the raging 
young Amazon; and Supergirl's ring attendant, the sex crazed Lois 
Lane, is back in the dressing room, drugged up and bound to a gurney, 
babbling groggily, incoherently as  her lithe body  slowly comes down 
from its orgasmic meltdown.   Though Lois is barely conscious,  her 
glazed over green eyes still stare numbly at the closed circuit screen 
overhead  showing the bloodied twitching Kara lying back utterly 
whipped and helpless on the ropes.  A small tear works it's way down 
her angular face at the sight as she mumbles groggily, "oh gawwwdd, 
Kara, oh gawwwwwd, it's ALL over!"

Indeed, it is ALL over, or at least all but Tam-Ra, and perhaps Valora, 
think so.  And poor, broken, battered Kara is left all alone now against 
the unchecked savagery of the wild flame haired Amazon from the 
Island of Tiburra.  She is completely at Tam-Ra's mercy, and the 
Towering Teen Tyro has NONE! As she stops her murderous 
punching for just a moment, coolly running her gloved thumb down , 
roughly abrading yet again one stiff nipple of the savagely beaten 
Supergirl, Tam-Ra smiles as she sees a telltale twitching of Kara's 
battered body in response, followed by a feeble little gasp and another 
fresh rivulet of heavy, musty juices running down the vanquished 
superheroine's slack muscled thigh.  "Super Slut is alive," Tam-Ra 
whispers to herself, "and ready to cum yet again in the presence of her 
new Mistress. "How sweet", she muses; " she'll make a good slut, 
maybe better than Wondie even."  Just for kicks, taking complete 
ownership of that fabulous, if now horribly beaten and battered,  bod, 
Tam-Ra ruthlessly  twists the captive nipple between gloved hand and 
thumb, laughing wickedly as Kara whimpers thinly, then gasps as a 
new stream of love juices traces down her jellied thighs while her 
over-stimulated body jolts again in orgasmic surrender to the majesty 
that is Tam-Ra, Queen of the Amazons! 

 In the dim recesses of her mostly unconscious mind, poor Kara has 
one more flashback to that troubling nightmare the previous evening; 
to a warbly vision of her battered, beaten body being placed on a 
stretcher after the devastating defeat, and then carried to and laid at the 
feet of her imagined flame-haired conqueror.  Now, with her ravaged 
body still in the throes of yet another shuddering orgasm, she 
whimpers thinly, "My Goddess, my Mistress, I am yours, gunnnnh!"  
Her stunning, flame haired conqueror in the present moment, upon 
hearing the faint, garbled words, nods her head, smiling, hoarsely 
rasps, "yes, you are Super Slut, all mine!"

Over in the far corner, zombie like Slut Boy has pulled his big super 
dong clear of his flimsy blue loin cloth and is flogging his meat 
urgently while his glassy eyes look vacantly over at his adored 
Mistress sensually mauling his cousin, Kara Zor-el.  And Wonder Slut 
too, Slut Boy's fellow slave, has her whole fist inside her sopping wet 
panties, crying out in orgasmic ecstasy as she watches the steamy 
physical and sexual conquest of her former Justice league compatriot 
and long-time former lover.

 As Slut Boy shoots his wad and falls back, spewing cum all over his 
stomach and massive chest, Wonder Slut also falls back in orgasmic 
exhaustion, and Valora smiles knowingly, wondering what it will be 
like to use and abuse Supergirl's voluptuous bod herself, Tam-Ra 
winds up for the final cruel, needless blow to a destroyed legend.  
Driven by all the latent strength in that incredible superbod, the 
sensually sculpted, rippling body of the new mightiest woman on the 
face of the earth, the brutally powerful right handed punch rises 
swiftly from her flanks, magnificently muscled legs powering it up, 
sinewy body twisting mightily with the effort, providing more sizzling 
torque to carry it along; all of this massive muscular energy coming 
together with an inhumanly loud crack of fisted leather against slack 
jaw.  The titanic force of the blow shakes the ring, pulling the doomed 
maiden's arms away from the ropes as it blasts poor Supergirl's 
battered body up and over the wildly whipping fibers.  The beaten 
blonde's jettisoned body somersaults dizzily in mid-air before 
clumping down hard on heel and butt on the apron's edge; then 
crashes heavily to the hard arena floor, the ravaged body of the 
savagely beaten superheroine jerking and twitching as it rolls another 
ten feet purely from the force of this mighty last blow.  Finally, poor 
Supergirl, or what's left of her, and it ain't much, comes to rest on her 
back against a recently vacated ringside seat, arms and legs spread-
eagled, broken, mostly nude body continuing to twitch and jerk 
spasmodically as she lies battered to a stuporous, bloody pulp. 

  Her desperate fight against a bigger, stronger, vastly superior 
Amazon Warrior is over, her career as a revered and beloved 
Superheroine crushed asunder by the pillaging fists of flame haired 
Tam-Ra, the Towering Teen Tyro of Tiburra, truly a Mistress of Pain 
and Humiliation in the ring today, perhaps even, as she has so boldly 
predicted, now Mistress of the World!  

And sadly, the vanquished superheroine  may already be in another, 
much graver "fight"; for Supergirl's devastated body lies very pale and 
unmoving, save for the endless spasmodic tremors gripping its ruined 
muscles.  Her breathing, such as it is, is shallow and irregular.  Blood 
oozes steadily from her gaping mouth, mixing with the sweat and 
spittle in a pool beneath her head.  She is not only pitifully beaten, but 
to all appearances,  Supergirl's very life seems to be hanging on by a 
thin thread.  

Indeed, Supergirl, or the limp, pale shadow of what used to be 
Supergirl, lies defeated for the first time ever after the most vicious, 
savagely cruel ring beating anyone, anywhere, has ever seen.  And 
Tam-Ra, standing proud and alone over that tragic, broken creature, 
doesn't really care if the vanquished superheroine is alive or dead, but 
guesses, from the shallow rise and fall of the beaten blonde's big 
bared melon breasts, that poor Kara Zor-El clings to life yet.  "Good," 
murmurs Tam-Ra to herself as she leaves the splayed figure for the 
moment to return to a jubilant Valora and her adoring slaves;  "I have 
big plans for you, my comely little Super Slut!"

Only a few brave photographers lurking in the shadows, furtively 
taking pictures and video captures that will live in the collective 
nightmares of an entire world, are still in the arena when Tam-Ra and 
Valora, after a long, passionate, tongue groping embrace, finally 
unwrap from each other and gather up their belongings and notorious 
slaves, Wonder Slut and Slut Boy.  Valora leads each with a leash 
attached to their studded red collars while they crawl meekly, 
obediently, after their Mistresses.  Tam-Ra, at the head of this 
grotesque parade, pauses briefly once again at the crumpled, bloodied 
figure of the comatose Supergirl, or rather Super Slut as she will be 
known from now on, assuming, that is, that she even survives this 
brutal beating.  

She lies still where she had fallen after that horrifying jettison over the 
top ropes and tumble into darkness against the first row of ringside 
seats.  The one good eye of the battered blonde beauty is still rolled 
back in her eye socket, her arms slung lifelessly behind her head, long, 
lovely legs splayed limply out from that voluptuous, blood spattered, 
and now startlingly pale body.  The bared breasts are pointing 
skyward, mangled nipples still hard and swollen, the big, soft ivory 
orbs barely rising and falling from the shallow, tortured gasps that 
pass for this shattered creature's involuntary attempts to cling to basic 
life functions.  Coolly reaching down with one big, powerful hand, the 
mighty Amazon Queen grabs poor Super Slut by her blood and sweat 
streaked blonde locks, dragging the unconscious blonde up the arena 
aisle, the "spoils of victory", as it were.  


(to be continued)