Time had begun to have little meaning to the once all-powerful maid of might. One by one, each guard proceeded to abuse her, continually prolonging and renewing both her pain and her humiliation. Every inch of her-once inviolate form was available, and virtually all were explored. Slowly her protests subsided, either falling on deaf ears, or just promoting more ridicule. Her engorged mammaries, still tormented by the batons firmly wedged beneath them, competed with her abused derriere for the part of her body racking her with most pain. Every inch of those cheeks were now blood red, her epidermis exposed by deal weals from the constant abuse; which continued longer than she could contemplate. Finally, as only her agony kept her from fading into unconsciousness.
"Now then Supertits", leered the head guard, "I hope that you may be finally beginning to learn your place here. We make the the rules, and you obey them. Any time that you think that things are unfair, or we're being a little harsh, you're perfectly welcome to make your feelings known - but don't forget that we'll very happily make our own riposte. Have you got that, Slut?"
"Yes", she whimpered, like the broken little girl she had been reduced to.
"Who's in charge?" "Y-you are"
"And what can you do about it?" "Nothing"
"Well done funbags, maybe you are finally learning. Now then boys, I think this little princess deserves to sit in her throne for a little while"
Powerful hands swept in and hoisted her by her shoulders, dragging the impossible weights with them as they did so - she struggled to believe that they didn't tear away from her, and almost wished they would - but at least the constant electrocution ceased as they finally lifted from the floor. But Supergirl's relief was short-lived, as she saw the 'throne' they had prepared for her - quite simply a sturdy chair padded with a deep tray of salt. Slamming her down into it, her lacerated heiny absorbed it instantly. Begging for mercy pathetically, she squirmed in her seat of pain, as she tried to raise herself - but the weight of her breasts was still too much to stand unaided, and their size and handcuffs too much to lower her hands to help herself in any way. Her desperate wriggling succeeded only in driving more of the unwanted substance deeper into ever more unwanted areas.
"Ok, that's enough I think" chucked her tormentor when he was satisfied that she could absorb nothing more. "And a bit of good news for you; we're not going to drag that heiny of yours around all day, so I suppose we'll have to give you a bit of a boob reduction". The remote once again triggered the collar into life, but this time her orbs oh-so-slowly reduced - nowhere close to normality, instead onge again the size and shape of basketballs, but enough that using her very last reserves of strength, she managed to stagger to her feet, and lift her throbbing cheeks into the open air.
"Tsk, look at you, covered in blood, salt and sweat", he rebuked her. "You were supposed to come in here to get clean. Oh, well, easily rectified".
He stepped aside as a colleague triggered a fire hose upon her. Briefly she tried to block the blast with her cuffed hands, but a look from the guard suggested that it would prove an unwise manoeuvre; she succumbed instead to turning on demand to have the the hated particles blasted roughly from her delectable derriere; eventually the rosy hue of her devastated cheeks shining brighter than Rudolf's nose.
"Now toots, time to shift that delectable ass", he murmured, stepping forward and possessively running his hand down through her bedraggled golden mane, down her dripping back to rest in her curvaceous cleft; "Move it!"
Without further ado, the helpless heroine staggered forward as fast as she could, desperate to avoid further abuse; but knowing that whatever was next in store for her was going to be unlikely to be to her liking.
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