She walked into the bar with confidence radiating from every curve—skin-tight jeans hugging her hips, a teasing glimpse of cleavage as she pulled on her top. She was Supergirl, powerful, untouchable… and bored. Spotting a quiet, mysterious man across the room, she smirked and summoned him with a crook of her finger. “Looking for a good time?” she purred, promising he wouldn’t last more than three minutes with her. No one ever had. Back at her place, she put on a show—slow, sensual, and dominant. She was in charge. Or so she thought. When her teasing didn’t get the reaction she expected, frustration turned to surprise... and then to submission. With a sudden, raw force, the silent stranger flipped the script—using her, controlling her, pushing her past her limits. No longer the one calling the shots, she was gagging, moaning, gasping, and cumming harder than she ever had. Even when she transformed into Supergirl, determined to regain control, he overpowered her—grinding, spanking, pounding, and utterly breaking her will. By the end, breathless and trembling, she’d been humbled… and loved it. Stripped of her dominance, she looked up with teary eyes and whispered, “I’ll be your submissive Supergirl anytime you want…”