Wonder Woman versus Dr. Z and the Collars of Obedience a superheroine story by Dangerguy
Part 1: The Redhead
WARNING: This story is strictly fictional and is not intended to portray any real persons, living or dead, nor is it at all intended to encourage the type of activity portrayed here. It is not to be sold for profit; Wonder Woman, Batgirl, Supergirl, Superman, Batman, et al are the property of DC Comics. It is strictly a fantasy, intended for the personal enjoyment of those who appreciate the superheroine in bondage/peril/sexual situations genre. The story depicts graphic sexual situations, including bondage, violence, and non-consensual sex, among a number of other nasty things. It is NOT intended, nor is it at all suitable, for minors. If you are under the age of 18, or if this type of thing offends you, you shouldn’t be reading it.
Preface Looking back on my admittedly-limited oeuvre, I'm surprised I haven't previously used Batgirl (the silver-age Barbara Gordon version) in a story. I mean, I've always had this thing for redheads and, obviously, superheroines. Time to fix that. But, to keep everybody happy, Wonder Woman will be along for the ride, mostly in Part 2, as will the silver-age Supergirl (Kara Zor-El), mostly in Part 3.
Chapter One: Bat-Trap
Gotham City. Near midnight, on a cold evening in February. A dark, caped figure moves silently in the frigid moonlight, swinging from building to building at the end of a thin, taut line of rope. As the dark shape swung and leapt, lithely and skillfully, from rooftop to rooftop, its movements into the faint city lights revealed long, flowing red hair and decidedly feminine curves.
The costumed crime-fighter known as Batgirl moved deftly through the night. She sized up the gap from the roof she now ran across to one on the other side of a narrow alley, then leapt across to it easily. The exertion kept her warm. Her dark gray spandex full-body costume, with its yellow gloves, utility belt, and knee-high boots, clung to her shapely, athletic body like a second skin. A dark blue cape flapped behind her in the cold winter air, producing the only sound she made as she moved towards Gotham’s docks. On her chest, atop her firm, medium-sized breasts, she wore the stylized yellow symbol of a bat. The dark blue cowl that covered most of her head and the top half of her face, with a slit at the back of her neck that allowed her long red hair to flow out, echoed the stylized bat's ears of her chest symbol.
Batgirl paused at the top of an old, three-storey office tower and studied the street below as her breath swirled from her nostrils in small, pale clouds. The street was almost empty, save for a couple of drunks rummaging through a trash bin in a nearby alley, and two streetwalkers, shivering in the pale yellow glow from a streetlight. Batgirl had no interest in them. Across the street was a high chain-link fence, topped by barbed wire, that cordoned off Piers 26 through 30 of the Port of Gotham, and that was the Dark Knight Demoiselle's focus. An informant she occasionally worked with had told her of some sort of illegal shipment--"something big"--coming in that night, to one of these piers. Probably it was drugs, possibly weapons or ammunition, but it didn't really matter. Batgirl would be there to capture the smugglers and make sure the illicit cargo never hit the streets of her city.
The dark-suited heroine took a batarang and line from her utility belt. She swung the batarang over her head, and flung it around a tall crane across the street, just inside the shipyard. She tested the line, then swung silently across the street, landing perfectly and silently atop the roof of a two-storey shipping warehouse within the yard. Batgirl retrieved her line and batarang and studied her surroundings.
She had chosen a perfect vantage point. The warehouse was centrally located within the shipping yard and offered an ideal, high-level view of the five piers. The area was dimly lit by the sickly yellow-orange glow of industrial halogen lights; their buzzing and the soft lapping of Gotham's filthy port water provided the only sounds in the night. Batgirl gauged the distances, and felt satisfied that she could use any of three nearby loading cranes to swing into action at whatever pier the criminals were going to use to off-load their contraband. She gathered her dark cape around her lithe body for warmth, crouched down on the edge of the warehouse roof, and settled in to wait.
A few minutes later, she heard the mechanized gate to the shipping yard rumbling open. She turned and saw an unremarkable black van drive through the gate, which rattled closed behind the vehicle once it had entered. The van slowly drove alongside the warehouse, its progress watched closely by Batgirl's green eyes, and came to a stop in front of Pier 27. Batgirl had noted that Pier 27 was the only one without a ship currently docked there; perhaps the ship had yet to arrive. Once the van stopped and the engine was turned off, Batgirl saw the van's rear doors open from within. Then...nothing. No one got out, no one approached the van, and Batgirl could neither see nor hear any sign of a boat of any type coming near the pier to meet it.
"Well this is damn peculiar," the red-headed vigilante muttered after more than a quarter-hour of waiting in the frigid air. She shifted her shapely legs yet again to keep them from cramping and sighed impatiently. After another quarter-hour of inactivity had gone by, her impatience and curiosity got the better of her. She walked over to a fire escape several yards from the van but on the same side of the warehouse. She slowly, silently climbed down to street level, keeping the van in sight the whole time.
Carefully, Batgirl approached the dark, silent vehicle. Her eyes scanned the shipyard for any activity but found none. She kept her dark, scalloped cape draped forward over shoulders, letting it fall in front of her chest so it hid the bright yellow highlights of her costume. The Batman had often told her--in that spooky, condescending tone of his--to change the color scheme of her costume, but she had refused. While she knew it would have made more sense to use nothing but dark colors, as he did, she got a certain perverse pleasure from the fact that the bright yellow boots, gloves, and belt irked him. She also had no desire to turn into a female carbon copy of the Dark Knight, and, as she had pointed out to him, "Your partner's get-up isn't exactly subtle, is it?" That had earned her an annoyed grunt from the Batman; Batgirl smirked at the memory as she stealthily closed in on the van.
Batgirl hid behind a large dumpster a few feet away from the van and peered inside the silent vehicle. She could see that the driver's and passenger's seats were empty, but could not make out anything else in the van's dark interior. She wondered if there was anyone in there at all; she hadn't taken her eyes off the vehicle since it had arrived, though, so someone, the driver at least, must be inside somewhere.
After a moment's hesitation, Batgirl decided that catching and interrogating the driver was her most promising course of action. Her eyes had adjusted to the limited light and she decided that the driver must be in the only area she could not make out, the gloomy left-hand side of the van's rear compartment.
Her decision made, the flame-haired crime-fighter sprang into action. Her lithe body exploded from her hiding place to a full run, her scalloped cape flapping behind her. She reached the van in seconds and leapt into it through the open rear doors. She crouched as she leapt and landed inside the van in a defensive martial-arts stance, ready for battle. She faced the dark driver's side of the rear compartment and confronted...nothing.
Batgirl glanced around the inside of the van; it was completely empty, save for a few lengths of coiled rope. Then her green eyes spotted an antenna, like a car's radio antenna, rising from the floor in front of the driver's seat. She followed the antenna down and saw a large metal box which had electrical cables hooked up to the van's brake, gas, gear shift, and steering column. A remote control...?
Trap!!! Batgirl's instincts, honed by years of crime-fighting, screamed inside her mind. She prepared to launch herself out of the van as quickly as she had entered it. But she reacted a split-second too late. Just as she coiled her leg muscles to spring, a muffled explosion went off inside the van. Thick smoke obscured her vision.
"OHH!!" she gasped in surprise and shock. Noxious fumes filled her lungs. Batgirl sprang from the van, landing on the asphalt outside and rolling her body, but the damage was done. She tried to rise to a defensive, fighting stance; instead, she fell to her hands and knees. Her head swam and her eyelids fluttered as she fought off the effects of the gas. She took a deep breath of fresh air and crawled away from the van, coughing the debilitating gas out of her lungs. If only she could get enough air...
Suddenly, she felt a pair of hands grab her from behind and pull her back onto her knees. Then one of the hands clamped a wet rag over her nose and mouth. Instinctively, Batgirl took a breath and inhaled the unmistakably sickly-sweet fumes of chloroform. Her green eyes widened in panic and she began to struggle, albeit feebly, in the grip of her assailant.
Not again!! she thought as she writhed uselessly. She'd been chloroformed so many times in her crime-fighting career that she'd lost count. She usually wound up bound securely in some sort of elaborate death-trap, and more often than not, Batman and Robin had to rescue her, to her on-going embarrassment and chagrin.
"MMMRRRRPPPHHH!!!" she yelled angrily into the stifling rag. She had enough strength for one chance. She pulled her right arm forward and across her chest, then drove it back around her body, the elbow driving sharply into her assailant's ribs. Her blow merely bounced off her attacker's side as if it had hit a trampoline--or a balloon. Some sort of...inflatable body armor...? she thought.
"Heh!" a masculine voice laughed, "nice try, Bat-bitch." He sounded young, and he was strong as well; Batgirl continued to struggle in his grip.
"MMMPPHHH!!" Batgirl groaned into the chloroform-saturated cloth that covered her nose and mouth. She struggled weakly in her opponent's arms, impaired by the knockout gas in the van and her brief whiff of the chloroform. Sooner or later, she'd have to take another breath, and when she did, she was done for. She writhed more frantically, desperately seeking a way to escape her assailant. The man responded by reaching down with his free left hand and grabbing her left breast. He squeezed her breast harshly, then pinched at her nipple through her costume and bra with his thumb and forefinger. Batgirl's eyes flew wide open at this appallingly intimate assault.
"RRRRPPHHH!!" she growled angrily, then instinctively took a breath. "NNNNMMM..." she then moaned in despair, realizing her mistake as the chloroform took effect. Batgirl's eyelids fluttered and her green eyes rolled up into her head. She flailed her arms feebly and uselessly, like a puppet on strings, as she slumped against her captor. Through her thin cape and spandex costume, she could feel an erection pressing against her shapely behind, and a suppressed shiver ran up her spine.
"MMMRRRrrpphhh..." Batgirl's groan softened as she took another breath and her body succumbed to the chloroform. Her head lolled against her right shoulder, then rolled forward to hang over her breasts as her eyes closed and her red hair tumbled past her shoulders to hang over her chest. Her attacker held the chloroform-soaked rag over her face the whole time. Her arms fell to her sides, hanging limply, and her body collapsed against her assailant's. She took one last, shallow breath of the knockout chemical, then sighed softly and drifted into unconsciousness.
The young man who had subdued her so expertly pulled the chloroform-drenched rag from the beautiful heroine's face. He remained still as he watched her for several moments, ensuring that she was, indeed, unconscious. He then dropped the rag, placed both hands on the vigilante's breasts, and began to avidly grope them.
"Oh yeah," the man breathed, "these are so nice. Just a little more than a handful, and so fuckin' firm...I'm gonna have fun with these, Bat-babe!" he finished with an evil laugh. He then lowered the unconscious vigilante's body to the pavement, leaving her lying on her right side. He walked to the van and retrieved several lengths of rope.
Returning to Batgirl's unconscious body, the man rolled her from her side onto her stomach. He pulled her arms behind her back and bent them at the elbow so they were folded, one forearm against the other, her gloved hands at her elbows. He coiled a length of rope around her forearms several times, binding them together behind her back, and tied it off securely.
The man then took two lengths of rope and tied one end of each around her ankles. He folded her legs back, one at a time, so her calves pressed against the back of her thighs. He tied the other end of each rope to her bound forearms, binding her legs in that bent, helpless position. He sat back on his haunches to admire his handiwork: a perfect hog-tie.
"Whoops! Almost forgot," he admonished himself, and rolled the hog-tied heroine over onto her back. He then undid the buckle of her utility belt and removed it from her hips. "Can't have you pulling some tricky little doo-dad out of this thing and escaping," he muttered as walked away from Batgirl and tossed the utility belt into the passenger's seat in the van. He then obtained a fresh facecloth and chloroform bottle from the van's glove compartment. He doused the cloth lightly with the chloroform and tied it over Batgirl's face, ensuring that she would not wake up at an inconvenient moment. He stood up, looming over the unconscious, helplessly bound vigilante, and studied her helpless, curvaceous body.
"Something's missing..." he murmured, then snapped his fingers. "I know!" He grabbed another length of rope from the van and then knelt down over the flame-haired beauty. He wrapped the rope around her trim waist twice, then knotted it just above her navel, leaving a considerable length of rope free of the knot. He took this free end and ran it down between her thighs. He rolled Batgirl's body over onto her front again, brushed her cape out of the way, and tightly pulled the rope up between her ass cheeks. This elicited a soft moan from the unconscious heroine as the crotch rope bit into her pussy. Her assailant then tied off the crotch rope around the coils of rope at her waist and rolled her over onto her back once again.
"There," he said with satisfaction, studying how the crotch rope pressed into her spandex costume and between her pussy lips. "I know the crotch rope serves no practical purpose, but a bound superheroine just doesn't seem complete without it!" he said with a laugh.
The man then walked around to stand above Batgirl's cowled head. He reached underneath her shoulders and grabbed her by her armpits, then dragged her to the rear entrance of the van. He lifted her into the back of the van with a grunt, pushed her bound body inside, and closed the rear doors. He then walked around to the driver's side and deftly detached the remote control box from the vehicle's controls and placed it on the passenger-side floor. He climbed into the van, started it, and drove out of the shipyard and into the night.
"One down, two to go," the man said to himself as he drove away, then began to whistle happily.
Chapter Two: Bat-Slave
Some time later, Batgirl stirred from her chloroform-induced slumber. Slowly, her head rolled from left to right, and she moaned softly as her eyelids fluttered open. She took a deep breath, then jolted upright, suddenly recalling how she'd wound up unconscious in the first place. The dizziness and nausea that sudden movement produced in her immediately told her how unwise it had been. Batgirl pressed her right hand against her forehead and she moaned again as she squeezed her eyes shut. A moment later, her eyes opened wide in surprise, staring at her unbound hands.
She had expected to awake bound and gagged; that was the usual drill whenever she took a chloroform nap. She'd wake up tied or chained into some nefarious and overly-complicated deathtrap, the villain-of-the-week cackling over her predicament and inevitable demise. Sometimes she managed to escape on her own, but too often, at the last possible moment, the Batman would usually arrive to save her. God, she hated it when that happened! It would inevitably be followed by some stern, condescending remark from the caped crusader, and some taunting wise-cracks from his annoying, half-pint, ridiculously-costumed sidekick who so obviously had a crush on her--eeewww. (Why the villains didn't simply put a bullet in her head, she never figured out, but when one was dealing with whackos like Two-Face and the Joker, logic was not something one came to expect.)
Batgirl recognized her wool-gathering as the usual side-effects of the chloroform. She took another deep breath and gave her head a slow, careful shake, attempting to clear it. She then began to take in her surroundings.
She was in some sort of clinical chamber--white fluorescent lights, white institutional ceiling tiles studded with standard industrial fire sprinklers, white institutional walls, white linoleum floor. It looked like a set out of 2001: A Space Odyssey. The only break to the blinding, bland whiteness was the black vinyl cushion on which she was seated. The body-length cushion sat on top of a tall platform made of chrome metal tubing; it looked like an examination table from a doctor's office. The thought did not give the flame-haired crime-fighter any comfort. Near the examination table was an armless plastic chair--white, of course. In one corner of the room was a white porcelain commode and a sink, their plumbing hidden behind the wall.
"Damn," Batgirl swore quietly as she noticed that while she still wore her costume, including her cape and cowl, her utility belt had been removed from her hips. "They always gotta take the utility belt," she muttered, thinking about how many of the things had gone missing in her crime-fighting career. The Batman had told her, several times, to carry items in her cape and boots as well, as he did; she had willfully ignored him, and once again, found herself regretting it.
She noticed a door across the room from her. Batgirl slid off the examining table and walked carefully across the room, having to concentrate to maintain her balance, as the chloroform was still making her slightly woozy. She pulled on the handle of the heavy metal door and felt no surprise when she found it was locked. She turned around, looking for other escape routes; on the opposite wall, she noticed an air duct. A smile formed on Batgirl's delicate lips and she walked towards the metal grating that covered the duct. Reaching up on her tip-toes, Batgirl tried to pry the grate loose with her fingers. It wouldn't budge. She began to study the grate, noticing several large screws that held it in place.
"Don't bother," a man's voice said from behind her. "You'd need power tools to get that cover loose, and I searched you pretty thoroughly last night to make sure you weren't carrying any."
Batgirl gasped and spun around. She hadn't heard the door open, hadn't heard anyone come in; the sound-absorbing rubber sealant around the door edge told her why. Standing in the open doorway was a young man, barely in his twenties, if that. He stood just under six feet, had slightly unkempt sandy-brown hair, parted on the right, and was clean-shaven. His face was somewhat thin and angular, and he had the pasty complexion of someone who didn't spend a great deal of time out of doors. His long white lab coat, worn over a black polo shirt, faded blue jeans, and worn sneakers, told her he was a scientist, or at least had pretensions of being one. He held a large, bulky briefcase--more the size of a small black suitcase--in his right hand.
"Who are you?" Batgirl demanded, placing her hands on her hips.
"Is that supposed to be a threatening pose?" the young man said, raising his light brown eyebrows. "'Cause it's not." Batgirl only glared back at him. The young man sighed irritatedly and shook his head. "Superheroines. So predictable. My name is Doctor Douglas Zupan, formerly of S.T.A.R. Labs. But you can call me...Dr. Z!" He concluded, his blue eyes widening and a smile crossing his face as he proclaimed his super-villain title.
"Dr. Zed?" Batgirl responded, frowning dubiously at his strange pronunciation of the alphabet's last letter. "Don't you mean Dr. Zee?"
"Absolutely not!" Dr. Z (pronounced 'zed') replied, offended. "I'm Canadian," he declared proudly.
"Yeah...okay," Batgirl said through a nasty smile as she slowly stepped towards the arrogant young man. "First of all, Canada--not really known for producing super-villains, eh? Maple syrup, hockey players, really strong beer...but not super-villains. Second--nice job capturing me, but next time? You might want to--oh, I don't know--tie me up, moron! ...Of course, 'next time' will be in ten to twenty, after I drag your sorry ass..."
"BATGIRL: STOP." Dr. Z declared flatly. Batgirl had approached to within two yards of her captor. Now she stopped dead in her tracks. She blinked, then frowned. She tried to move forward, but her body was frozen in mid-stride. She could only move her head, which she began to do, looking at her immobile body in growing confusion and panic.
"What the hell..." Batgirl said as she kept trying, unsuccessfully, to move anything besides her head. She looked at Dr. Z angrily. "What have you done to me?!?" she demanded.
Dr. Z's lips formed a thin, arrogant smile. "Batgirl: touch your neck," he said.
Without her telling them to, Batgirl's hands rose to her throat. She felt something there, against her skin, beneath the cowl she wore. It felt like a thin metal band, about an inch wide and an eighth of an inch thick, and as her hands felt around her slender throat, she found it ran all the way around her neck in a continuous, seamless ring.
"What is that?" Batgirl asked, striving to quell the feeling of alarm that was growing inside her.
"You haven't asked what I'm an Doctor of," Dr. Z responded, his smile growing in response to her question. He walked into the room, shutting the door behind him, and sat down in the white plastic chair. He set the large black briefcase down on the floor beside him. Unable to turn her body, Batgirl turned her head to watch him. "Batgirl: turn your body to face me, then remain stationary," he ordered.
Batgirl's body obeyed. She took a half-step to the left, turned forty-five degrees to face him, and then just stood there, her hands hanging limp at her sides. She screamed inside her mind for her body to move, to run for the door, or to grab this arrogant twerp and pummel him, but it wouldn't respond to her anymore. She had no choice, she realized, but to play along.
"What--what are you a Doctor of?" she asked, forcing a tremor from her voice.
"I have doctorates in metallurgy, robotics, and computer science," he told her, his voice filled with no small amount of pride, "and just over a year ago, I left S.T.A.R. and went back to study medicine. Finished the degree in a year!"
"So you're...what? A child prodigy?" Batgirl remarked.
"I AM NOT A FUCKING CHILD!!" Dr. Z yelled, leaning forward suddenly, spittle flying from his mouth, then took a deep breath to calm himself. He sat back in the chair. "...as you're about to find out. I was a child prodigy, yes, but now I'm simply a genius. And an evil one to boot," he assured her.
"An evil genius, huh?" Batgirl said dubiously.
"Yes, an evil fucking genius!!" he reiterated, annoyed at her doubt. "Come on! A medical degree completed in one year?!? Before my twentieth fucking birthday?!? Do you have any idea..." he stopped, calming himself again. "No, of course you don't. You're just a dumb bitch in a tight costume playing vigilante. And now? You're my prisoner," he finished with a nasty half-smile.
"Why? What does this have to do with me?" Batgirl asked with as much calm in her voice as she could muster. He might be young and arrogant, but her respect for the young man she faced was growing. And her fear; he'd just betrayed a hair-trigger temper, and a certain misogyny, that could prove dangerous.
"Glad you asked that, Bat-Bimbo," Dr. Z answered, the tone of superior sarcasm growing in his voice. "You're my guinea pig for my latest invention. I call it the ZACC--Zupan Advanced Control Collar. That little ring around your neck, which I installed while you were tied up and out cold," he explained, pointing to her throat. "It has a probe at the back that's embedded into your spinal column, where it controls your body's motor functions. Well, except for your head and vocal cords; some bug in the software...fucking Microsoft!" he said with a scowl, paused for a moment, then went on. "I should have use Linux, but I didn't have the time to rewrite the Goddamn kernel. Anyway, it has a powerful on-board AI unit and is voice-activated and voice-controlled--by my voice only, of course. Basically, it allows me to completely control you--to make you do WHATEVER. I. WANT. So you see, I don't have to tie you up, moron. Or even lock you in here. This room isn't your prison; your own body is."
"W-what are you going to do with me?" Batgirl asked. Inside her helpless body, she could feel her heart beginning to pound in her chest. Dr. Z smiled back at her. It was not a comforting sight.
"You know, all the time I was at S.T.A.R., you super-bimbos were always coming around, demanding that I analyze some metal fragment or circuit board or something...'It's a matter of life or death! Oooo!'" he said in a mocking, high-pitched voice. "I was doing important research, and you sluts would sashay in there, in your tight little outfits, and..." Dr. Z. was breathing heavily; veins began to stand out on his forehead. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and calmed himself yet again. "Well, that's why I left to study medicine. And why I got laser surgery for my eyes, and started working out. So I could get back at you bitches. You're just the start, cupcake. But first, I have to run you through a few tests."
"Tests...?" Batgirl asked nervously.
"Yeah," Dr. Z said, leering, his cold blue eyes running up and down over Batgirl's lithe, curvaceous body. "Tests. I have to make sure you'll do exactly as I please."
Batgirl's breath caught in her throat. She remembered the erection she'd felt when he was chloroforming her, and how he'd groped her breast as well. If he could make her body do anything he wanted... What I wouldn't give for an good old-fashioned deathtrap right now, Batgirl thought. She cast a furtive glance at the door; Right now would be a good time to show up, Bats...
"Let's start with a lap dance," Dr. Z said with a broad, lascivious smile.
At that very moment, not far from Gotham in Manhattan, two of the world's foremost superheroines were royally humping each other's brains out.
"OH GOD!! FUCK ME!! FUCK ME!! YES!! YES!! YES!!" Kara--Supergirl--screamed as Diana--Wonder Woman--did exactly as she commanded.
Both heroines were naked in the bedroom of Diana's penthouse apartment--naked except for the special appendage Diana wore around her hips. The Déviante Strap-on Vibra-Cock™ had been "liberated" by the two heroines from Déviante Industries when its President and C.E.O., Doctor Irene Déviante, had kidnapped Wonder Woman and subjected her to several perverse experiments more than a year ago. Diana now used it to pleasure her young Kryptonian lover.
Kara rocked back and forth on her hands and knees as Diana fucked her doggie-style, her ass slapping against Diana's hips. The Amazon gripped the Kryptonian's slender hips as she thrust the huge dildo into her spread pussy. The Vibra-Cock™ returned its erotic sensations to the wearer, so Diana felt a reflection of every thrust, every vibration she inflicted on Kara. Sweat ran down her naked, statuesque body as she knelt behind her lover, pounding away at her creamy-white behind with the monstrous black dildo. Her huge breasts slapped against her rib cage as she rocked her hips back and forth in an accelerating rhythm.
"OHHH...APHRODITE..." Diana groaned through clenched teeth, "...IT FEELS...SO GOOD..."
"YEAH...YEAH...I'M CLOSE, BABY, I'M SO CLOSE!!!" the blonde Kryptonian, her voice high-pitched with ecstasy, squealed at her lover.
Diana reached forward, grabbed a handful of her partner's long blonde hair, and yanked it back. "CUM!!" she ordered. "CUM NOW!!!"
"OHHHH!!!" Kara shouted as Diana pulled her hair back, and her head with it. It didn't hurt the invulnerable Kryptonian, of course, but Diana, with her Amazonian strength, could certainly make Kara feel like it would. Kara loved that, and Diana knew it, and it sent the Maid of Might over the edge.
"OH!! DIANA...I'M...OH!! RAO!! OHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" Kara yelled, her face contorting as the climax took her. "NNNNUUUUUHHHHHH!!!" she groaned loudly as yet another powerful orgasmic wave crashed over her.
"KARA!!! MY LOVE!!! UHH...HHHUUUUUUUHHHH!!!" Diana cried out as she, too, climaxed. She tossed her head back, eyes shut tight, dark hair flying, as her hips continued to thrust the strap-on in and out of Kara's sodden pussy.
"OHHHHHHHH!! OHHH... Ohhhh..." Kara moaned as the last tremors of the orgasm vibrated within her. "Rao..."
"UHHHHHH!!!" Diana groaned as her climax continued, "UHHH!! UHHH...Huhhh...huhhh..." she panted as it ended. Suddenly, she yanked back on Kara's hair again, pulling the Kryptonian onto her knees and her naked back against Diana's large breasts. The Amazon spread her fingers around the back of Kara's head and twisted it around. She leaned forward and covered Kara's mouth with her own, kissing her passionately, deeply, rapturously.
"MMMMM..." Kara moaned as she felt Diana's lips crushed against hers. Diana's tongue invaded her mouth. Kara responded by twirling her own tongue around it and then into Diana's open mouth. She felt Diana's hands grab her firm, perky breasts and squeeze them, her thumbs gently flicking Kara's erect pink nipples. As their kiss lingered, Kara reached behind her and placed her hands on Diana's curvaceous bottom, squeezing then slapping the Amazon's ripe ass.
"MMMPHH!! OW!!" Diana exclaimed in response to the powerful slap, breaking the kiss. She laughed, Kara giggled, then she slowly pulled the Vibra-Cock™ out of Kara's pussy, making both women moan softly. They then fell forward onto the bed with an exhausted peal of laughter and lay in one another's arms. Diana unbuckled the strap-on Vibra-Cock™ and Kara helped her gently extract it from her dark, wet pussy.
"That was great," Kara sighed as Diana idly caressed her firm, medium-sized breasts.
"It's always great," Diana murmured as Kara returned the favor, gliding her fingertips over Diana's deliciously large breasts. "Nice to use the Vibra-Cock again."
"Yeah," Kara said with a satisfied grin. "Been awhile. Next time, I get to wear it."
"You're on," Diana said with a wicked smile as she reached down to squeeze her lover's bottom.
"I think we both need a shower," Kara said, pushing herself up from the bed. Rather than walking, she remained horizontal and slowly floated into the en suite.
"Show-off!" Diana called after her. When she heard the water running a moment later, she also got up and joined Kara in the shower. The two women spent a quarter-hour soaping one another up and washing it off, pausing frequently for languorous kisses and intimate caresses. They emerged from the shower, dried themselves off, and went to the bedroom to dress for their day.
"So where are you off to?" Diana asked her lover as she pulled on her costume, sliding the star-spangled briefs and unzipped bustier up over her shapely legs.
Kara pulled her red panties on and reached for her tight, sky-blue tunic. "Well, I'm flying to Metropolis for this hokey key-to-the-city ceremony, then I'm going to buzz the LexCorp building for a quick X-ray peek--yeah, yeah, I'll be careful, then S.T.A.R. labs wants me to stress-test some new alloy they've developed." Kara slipped her tunic over her head and pulled it on.
"Hey, what about your bra?" Diana asked her as she sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on her red-and-white boots.
"With these perky puppies? Who needs it?" Kara quipped, cupping her firm breasts inside the tight blue tunic, beneath the red-and-yellow stylized S.
"Good thing you never get cold," Diana chuckled as she took her red-and-gold bustier from where it lay in her lap and pulled it over her magnificent breasts. "What else are you doing?"
"Funny you should mention cold; I'm going to the Arctic after lunch," Kara continued as she grabbed her red cape and tucked it inside the neck of her tunic. "When I'm done there, I'm off to Gotham--Batman's going to teach me how to analyze explosives--and then I'll be back here for dinner with you. Thought I'd make Chicken Kiev and a salad. Sound good?"
"Sure. Zip me?" Wonder Woman asked Supergirl as she turned her back to her lover. Supergirl zipped up Wonder Woman's bustier, then gave her bare white shoulders a tender caress. "You're seeing Kal up at the Fortress? What about?" the Amazon asked as she grabbed her power belt and magical golden lasso from the top of her dresser.
"I knew you'd pick up on that," Supergirl, sitting on the edge of the bed to pull on her red boots, said with a sigh. She paused a moment. "He wants to have 'a talk'," she admitted, with a slight roll of her eyes.
"About us?" Wonder Woman turned to look at her lover, who sat immobile on the bed.
"Yeah, about us, what do you think? Rao, it's all he ever talks about with me now. When he does talk to me."
Wonder Woman sighed. Kal-El--Superman to the rest of the world--hadn't taken the news of their relationship well. Though she and Kara had been lovers for nearly two years, they had only revealed that fact to a select few, and only recently. Diana had surprised herself by deciding to tell the Batman first. She'd been concerned about how their enemies might use the information, and that cold, calculating mind of Bruce's would, she knew, provide insight in that regard. But he had surprised her.
"Are you both happy?" Bruce had asked in his usual, brusque manner.
"Yes," Diana had told him.
The Batman had nodded and grunted. "That's all that matters," he'd said. "Both you and Supergirl have proven yourselves quite capable in the past. You don't need my help."
From the usually laconic Batman, that was high praise indeed. Kal, however, had been quite another story. His Norman Rockwell-esque upbringing in Smallville had apparently not prepared him to easily accept homosexual relationships, especially between a colleague and his only surviving cousin. He seemed convinced that Diana had somehow seduced his innocent, naïve relative.
"She's barely out of her teens!" Superman had admonished her.
"Clark, she's a grown woman, and she's perfectly capable of making her own decisions," Diana had responded calmly.
"You Greeks...Great Rao!" Superman had said, shaking his head angrily. "If you hurt her..."
"She's invulnerable, like you," Diana had said.
"Physically. That's not what I'm talking about, Diana," he had said, frowning.
"This is not some idle dalliance on my part, Clark," she had assured him.
"That's what I'm afraid of."
"Y'know," Supergirl said, bringing Wonder Woman back to the present, "it's a good thing Kal is invulnerable, otherwise his head might have exploded when I told him."
Wonder Woman looked at Supergirl, blinked, then burst out laughing, as did her lover. "KARA!! What a terrible thing to say!"
"It's true, though!" Supergirl said with a laugh, flopping her upper body back on the bed. Then her laughter died abruptly; she sighed heavily and grew serious again. "When I fell in love with you, Di, I wanted to tell the whole world," she said in a sad, quiet voice. "I wanted to fly to the moon and carve your name in it. I nearly did, too. But when I told Kal...and saw that look in his eyes, and got this lecture...he spoiled it. Just a little. I stopped wanting to tell anyone."
"Clark's a good man," Wonder Woman said softly as she sat down on the bed beside her lover and ran her fingers through Supergirl's blonde hair. "He'll come around. It just might take some time."
"Yeah, I guess you're right," Supergirl said, but in a dubious tone of voice. Both women remained silent for a moment.
"Are you having second thoughts?" Wonder Woman asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Kara looked at Diana in surprise, then sat up abruptly when she saw the vulnerable look on her lover's face.
"About us? About being together? No way! Oh Di!" she said, cupping Diana's face in her hands, "...don't even think that! I love you! I love you so much!" she declared, then kissed Diana's lips tenderly.
"I love you too, Kara. I'm sorry," Diana whispered, blinking away a tear, "I had to ask."
"I understand, baby," Kara said, smiling. "But don't you worry. We'll set Supes straight, even if we're not!" Diana gazed at Kara and blinked, then burst out laughing as Kara giggled. "Well, I better get going," Supergirl said, standing and approaching the open apartment window.
"Hey, hot shot! Aren't you forgetting something?" Wonder Woman asked, one dark eyebrow raised. Supergirl only looked at her quizzically. Then Wonder Woman's eyes glanced pointedly at Supergirl's red miniskirt, which still lay on the bed. Supergirl's blue eyes opened wide and her mouth fell open as she gasped and looked down at her loins, which were clad only in her skimpy red panties.
"GREAT FUCKING RAO!!" Supergirl cried as she grabbed the miniskirt and stepped into it. "Blonde moment!" she said as she pulled the skirt up her slender legs and Wonder Woman laughed.
"Don't feel so bad," Wonder Woman teased her. "Everybody looks up your skirt when you fly overhead anyway."
"DIANA! They do not!" a now fully-costumed and appalled Supergirl said, placing her hands on her hips. "Do they?" she asked dubiously.
"I would!" Wonder Woman declared with a laugh as she fastened her metal bracelets on her wrists.
Supergirl wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Eeewww. Not you, but everyone else...eeewww. Maybe I should go back to wearing hot pants."
"Yes--and if you wear them long enough, I'm sure they'll come back in style one day," Wonder Woman said archly.
"ME-OW!!" Supergirl chided her. "I thought I was sleeping with Wonder Woman, not Catwoman!" She paused a moment, then asked, "So what about you? Where are you headed today?"
Wonder Woman sighed heavily and rolled her blue eyes. "JLA monitor duty," she said wearily, placing her golden tiara on her forehead. World-threatening catastrophes and evil plots did not occur nearly as often as the public seemed to suppose. The greatest challenge Wonder Woman usually faced during monitor duty was a test of her power to stay awake.
"What a thrill," Supergirl declared sarcastically. "Better you than me. Yet another advantage to honorary membership..."
"Get out of here!" Wonder Woman shouted, throwing a pillow at her as Kara giggled. A moment later, both heroines left their apartment to attend to their duties.
Chapter Three: Batusi
"LAP DANCE!?!" Batgirl shouted indignantly at her captor, her green eyes open wide, "...you've got to be JOKING!!"
"Lady, I just turned twenty," Dr. Z said in a bemused voice. "I never joke about lap dances. Nor do I have green hair. Now, we'll need some music..."
Batgirl watched with growing trepidation as Dr. Z leaned over in his chair and reached down towards his large, bulky black briefcase. He opened the briefcase, reached in, and pulled out a small portable stereo, a little silver number with a CD slot on top and two small but powerful speakers on either side. He set it on the ground on his left and pressed the Play button. The sounds of Britney Spears' "...Baby One More Time" filled the clinical white room. Batgirl scowled at the budding supervillain's choice of music.
"Oh, please, anything but this..." she murmured, shaking her head gently in despair and disbelief.
"Batgirl: command mode," Dr. Z said over the music. 'Command mode' allowed him to issue commands without having to preface each one with her name. He smiled broadly and settled into his seat with a broad smile, overjoyed at the prospect of having one of his favorite fantasies fulfilled. "Dance," he ordered, "slow and sexy,"
Though she tried with all her will to resist, Batgirl's body began to move in response to his orders. To her alarm, Batgirl began to display Barbara Gordon's hottest nightclub moves for her audience of one. Batgirl's hips began to sway back and forth, her knees bending and straightening in time to the music. Her hands flattened against her thighs, then slowly ran up over her hips and waist. Her hands spread over her trim tummy, then cupped the sides of her breasts before she lifted them past her shoulders and over her head.
"Yeah!" Dr. Z exclaimed. "Good stuff, babe! Keep it goin'!"
Batgirl clasped her hands together. She straightened her arms over her head as her hips and legs continued to gyrate to the music. She began to rotate her mid-section in a wide horizontal circle, then dropped her arms and held them behind her. Batgirl arched her back, thrusting her breasts forward, and her hips now rocked from left to right in time to the beat.
But Batgirl's lovely face, though partially hidden beneath her dark cowl, betrayed her inner struggle. Her dark red brows were knit together and her teeth clenched in concentration as she attempted, vainly, to resist the collar's control over her. Every now and then she shook her head and gave a feminine grunt of resistance, but this futile act only tossed her long red locks about and thrilled her captor even more.
"All right!! YEAH!!" Dr. Z shouted, sounding like a typical denizen of a strip club. Batgirl glanced over at him as she gyrated seductively and noticed, to her disgust, that his right hand was rubbing the crotch of his jeans. His next remark chilled her to the bone. "Time to start losin' the costume, Bat-slut!"
"No!" she exclaimed as she crouched slightly, rocked her hips backwards and forwards, and rubbed her hands between her thighs. "I won't!"
Dr. Z laughed. "Oh, yes you will! Take off the cape first."
To her dismay, Batgirl still could not resist his commands. She straightened but continued to sway her shapely hips to the music. Her hands reached for the clasps that fastened her cape to her cowl, and she slowly undid them. Her scalloped dark blue cape fluttered to the floor behind her.
"Strut and sashay your ass over here," Dr. Z ordered with a grin. "Time to start puttin' the 'lap' in 'lap dance'!"
Batgirl reluctantly obeyed. She lifted each slender leg, bending it at the knee and pointing her toe down, until her thigh was parallel to the floor. She then stepped forward, planting the leg in front of the other, crossing them slightly. Her arms were clasped behind her head. She continued stepping this way to the music until she stopped immediately in front of her adversary.
"Stop this," she begged him, her green eyes wide and pleading.
"No fuckin' way!!" he responded with an wide grin, mocking astonishment at her request. "Turn around," he commanded. Batgirl planted one booted foot slightly behind her and pirouetted 180 degrees, swaying her hips as she did so. "Crouch down, and rub that cute little ass against me," Dr. Z ordered, slumping a little in the chair, pushing his crotch forward and spreading his legs so his knees were on either side of the helplessly gyrating crime-fighter.
Batgirl watched helplessly over her shoulder as her heart-shaped bottom lowered into the young villain's lap. As her behind contacted his loins, she could feel a bulging erection pressing through his pants and against her ass. A shiver ran up her spine as she thought of what he would likely do to her when the dance was done. She wiggled her bottom seductively against him, earning a moan from her captor.
"Ohhhhh yeahhhhhh..." Dr. Z breathed as Batgirl's gorgeous tush wriggled against the erect cock in his jeans. "Keep doin' that," he ordered. He laid his hands on the heroine's ass cheeks and began to grope her through the dark gray spandex as she ground her ass against him. "Ooooo baby!" he moaned in response.
"You...disgusting pig!" Batgirl cried as her body moved against him like a stripper's.
"Music to my ears!" Dr. Z answered with a laugh. "Here. Let me help you with this..." he said and reached up to her costume's zipper at the back of her neck. Slowly, torturously, Batgirl felt him pull the zipper down her back, between her shoulder blades, over her bra strap, down her spine, all the way to where the zipper ended at the top of her behind. He then reached into the gap in her costume and ran his fingertips over the creamy-white skin of her back. Batgirl felt another shiver run up her back as she continued to gyrate in his lap.
"Put your hands behind your head and lean back," he ordered. As Batgirl bent back towards him, he cupped her breast with his hands and squeezed them. Batgirl grunted angrily at the sensation. Dr. Z then shifted his grip to her nipples and pinched them through the spandex and bra with his thumb and forefinger. His actions elicited a surprised squeal from the beautiful redhead.
"Stop it!" Batgirl snarled. "You sick little twerp!"
"Yeah, yeah. Stand up," he ordered, and she straightened her legs, while her body kept swaying to the music. "Turn around." Again, she obeyed. She looked down at him, her green eyes open wide, knowing what would come next, but not wanting to believe it. "Take off the gloves...slowly," he commanded, and she ran her right hand over her left arm, caught the edge of the spiked yellow glove with her fingers, and gradually pushed it off of her forearm and hand. It dropped to the floor at her feet, leaving her left hand naked. She then repeated the action with her other arm, dropping the right glove to the floor as her hips continued to swing in sexy circles.
"Turn around," Dr. Z ordered, "bend over, keep your legs straight, and take off your boots," and again Batgirl complied. She turned and bent forward, her behind thrust back towards him as she leaned over. She put her weight on her left leg and lifted the right, pulling it out of the yellow boot. She gasped slightly when she felt his hands grab her ass and grope it again. She nearly toppled over, but stayed on her feet, bent over in that vulnerable position. Batgirl then shifted her weight and removed the other yellow boot from her left leg, leaving her feet clad only in the feet of the grey spandex body stocking.
"Stand up and turn around," Dr. Z said, and Batgirl performed another 180 degree pirouette. The song ended and the next, "Oops! I Did It Again", started.
"What are you, president of 'Geeks for Britney Spears' or something?" Batgirl asked disdainfully.
"Keep dancing," he said, and Batgirl's body obeyed enthusiastically; her hands clasped behind her head as her hips rocked with slow pelvic thrusts and she arched her back, pushing her breasts towards her captor. "You've got spirit," Dr. Z commented in reference to her scornful remark. "I'm going to enjoy crushing it."
"You won't get away with this," Batgirl said angrily. She could feel her spandex costume sliding down on her shoulders as she continued to dance.
"How about we play a game," Dr. Z responded. "Every time you utter some tired, worn-out cliché, you have to remove an article of clothing."
"Screw you!" Batgirl snarled as her body writhed seductively.
Dr. Z laughed. "Oh, don't worry, you will!" he said ominously. "But first...start sliding that costume off. Do it slow and sexy. I want to get my money's worth!"
"Noooo..." Batgirl moaned as her arms lowered and crossed in front of her chest. Each hand took hold of a loose shoulder of her costume and began to pull it down. She closed her eyes tight, as if she could shut out this nightmare. The dark gray spandex slid off her pale shoulders and down her chest, revealing the tops of her lightly-freckled breasts, as well as the black sports bra that enclosed them. She kept pushing the costume down, past her lean abdomen to her hips. She bent forward slightly, showing off her cleavage, as she shifted her hands to her sides. The red-headed vigilante pushed her costume down over her slender hips, revealing skimpy black panties. She pressed her legs together and bent them slightly, leaning forward even more as she pushed the costume down over her lithe and shapely legs to her ankles. She stepped out of the costume, straightened, and kicked it aside.
Batgirl stood before the young evil genius, swaying seductively to the music, clad only in her cowl and black sports bra and panties. A thin film of sweat, produced by her exertion and her growing fear, covered the heroine's alabaster skin and made it shine in the harsh white fluorescent lights. Instinctively, in the absence of any commands to the contrary, she crossed her arms over her breasts in a feeble attempt to cover them.
"Turn around," Dr. Z ordered, his breathing growing heavier as he rubbed his hand against his bulging crotch. Batgirl reluctantly complied.
"You sick bastard," she snarled as she turned, "I'll get you for this..."
"Oh, goody! Another cliché. You know what that means," Dr. Z said, amused. "Unfasten your bra strap," he commanded, "slowly."
Though she'd been expecting the order, Batgirl whimpered softly as she heard it and felt her body obey. She reached behind her back with both hands, her behind swaying to the music, and slowly undid each hook and eyelet. The strap came undone and Batgirl let go of it, moving her hands to her sides.
"Slide the straps off your shoulders, but hold the bra over your tits," Dr. Z ordered. Batgirl's hands raised and crossed in front of her and she seductively slid each black strap over her pale white shoulders. The straps fell down her upper arms, but Batgirl pressed the bra cups against her breasts.
"Turn around and dance a little. Hold the bra where it is," her captor commanded. Batgirl slowly turned around, holding the bra over her breasts, swiveling her nearly-naked hips to the relentless beat of the music. She blinked away a tear of frustration.
"Good stuff," Dr. Z said. "Now turn around again." Batgirl again pivoted and faced away from him. "Take the bra off and hold it out to the right." Batgirl peeled the bra away from her breasts and held it out as he commanded, holding it by one bra strap between her index finger and thumb. "Drop it." The black bra fell to the floor as Batgirl released it. "Cover your breasts and turn around." Batgirl crossed her arms over her breasts and turned to face him, rocking her hips to the music as she did so. She realized that the arrogant bastard was going to make her perform every move and action exactly like a cheap lap dancer; her mortification grew accordingly.
"Play with your tits," he told her, and Batgirl slowly pulled each arm back across her breasts until she covered and cupped each mound with her hands. Though not excessively large, her breasts weren't small either--her hands could barely cover each breast. She groped and fondled her firm breasts as if masturbating, then she pulled her hands down, exposing her pale pink areolas and nipples to the young villain's eager gaze. Batgirl began to pinch and tease her nipples until they grew erect.
"This is turning you on," Dr. Z said with a cocky smile.
Batgirl's green eyes opened wide in offense. "The hell it is, you...!!" she began to say, but cut herself off as she felt her breathing and heart rate accelerate and her pussy start to lubricate. She gasped as she realized he hadn't meant the statement as an observation, but as yet another command.
"Oh God nooooo..." Batgirl moaned as she felt her nearly-naked body betray her. Blood rushed to her breasts, pussy, and other erogenous zones, and the beautiful vigilante began to pant. She threw her head forwards then back, her bright red hair swirling about her neck and shoulders, as she felt a fire growing in her loins. She fought off a growing desire to press her hands in between her thighs and masturbate.
"Okay, game's over," Dr. Z declared. "I haven't heard another cliché, Bat-slut, but I want the panties gone. Take them off."
"No! Don't make me do this!" Batgirl pleaded as her hands slid from her naked breasts and down across her tummy. She slipped her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and pulled the tiny strip of cloth down over her hips and down her thighs. She let go and the panties dropped down her legs and fell to the floor. Batgirl stepped out of them and spread her legs to shoulder width as the music stopped. Her pussy was now exposed, save for a trimmed patch of dark red pubic hair.
"Hmmm...a natural redhead. Nice," Dr. Z remarked as the next song began, Santana's "Smooth". "Keep dancing, bitch," he ordered, and Batgirl raised her arms above her head and began to rock and sway to the Latin-Rock rhythm.
"You've...had your fun..." Batgirl said as her legs moved in time to the music, each knee bending and each bare foot stepping in front of the other in a sexy dance. "Now...make it stop!! Please!!" she begged as her naked body continued to gyrate for her captor's entertainment. She felt a drop of her female juices run down her thigh as her body continued to succumb to the artificially-induced passion.
"No way, babe," Dr. Z informed her. "The one thing I always hate about a lap dance is that no matter how much you're willing to pay, the best you get is a dry hump," he said. "Well, not tonight."
"No...you can't mean...!!" Batgirl cried with alarm as her green eyes went wide inside her cowl. She turned to look at her adversary as she danced, squeezing her breasts and thrusting her hips like a professional stripper.
"I definitely mean," Dr. Z announced as he stood up, threw off his lab coat, and undid the belt buckle that held his jeans up. He unzipped his fly and let his pants drop to the floor. He then pushed his white jockey shorts down as well, exposing his cock. Batgirl gasped at the sight of it. It was huge! At least ten inches long and two thick, it wasn't the largest cock she'd ever seen--not that the demure librarian had seen many--but it looked formidable, to say the least.
"Hell of a tool, huh?" Dr. Z declared proudly, his hands on his hips. "And now I finally get to use it..." he said, then caught himself at the unintended disclosure.
Batgirl couldn't help smirking as she danced. "A virgin, huh? It figures..."
"Shut up, bitch!!" the young villain spat. "I'll wipe that smile from your face," he said, his upper lip curling into a snarl as he sat his naked butt down in the chair. "Stop dancing and come over here," he said, his right hand stroking his hard, erect member.
"No!" Batgirl whispered as she stopped moving to the music and her naked body walked towards him. She whipped her head back and forth, her fiery locks tossing around her shoulders, as she tried to resist the collar's commands. She came to stand before him, naked and vulnerable, her pussy sopping with her juices.
"Straddle me," he ordered, and Batgirl lifted her right leg forward and over his left thigh, then placed her left leg over his right. Her pussy was spread wide and vulnerable, mere millimeters from the tip of his cock. "Place your hands on my shoulders," he commanded, and she helplessly obeyed.
The young villain paused a moment and ran his eyes over the captive heroine's toned body, focusing especially on her high, firm breasts with their light pink peaks, and her sodden pussy. He could see drops of moisture on her dark red pubes, and could smell the heady scent of the arousal his commands had induced in her. He reached out and ran his fingertips over her moist pussy lips, eliciting a gasp and a low moan from the crime-fighter.
"You're going to ride me like a whore," he told her, "and when I cum, you'll cum too, and hard."
"No!" Batgirl declared through clenched teeth. "I won't! You can't make me!"
"I can pretty much make you do anything I want, bitch!" Dr. Z declared, laughing. "For example: lower yourself onto me, slowly. Put my cock in your pussy."
Batgirl had been expecting and dreading the command. Her naked body trembled as its desire fought against her repulsion, but desire--with the help of the control collar--won; she bent her knees and lowered her torso. She felt the tip of his prick at the entrance to her vagina and couldn't stop herself from allowing him to enter her.
"OH GODDDDD..." Batgirl moaned through clenched teeth as his cock pressed into her. His cock felt hot, rock hard, and huge. Barbara Gordon had not had a lover in some time; in spite of how wet her pussy had become, she found herself painfully stretched to the limit to accommodate the young villain's cock. Her eyes clenched shut, her mouth formed a tight grimace, and her hands clawed at his shoulders as she pushed down onto his prick. Finally she sat her behind on his thighs just as the tip of his cock touched her cervix; she gasped and her eyes went wide at the sensation.
"OHHHHH YEAHHHHHH..." Dr. Z groaned as his captive sheathed his huge cock with her moist pussy. "UHHHH...a perfect fit, eh?" he said with a leer and a smile. His raised his hands and placed them on Batgirl's breasts. He began to squeeze and grope the firm mounds.
"You bastard..." Batgirl murmured as a tear rolled down her cheek.
"Quit complaining and start fucking," Dr. Z ordered, and Batgirl straightened her legs slightly, lifting herself off of him and pulling his cock partway out of her pussy with a slurping sound. Then she lowered herself onto him again, taking the length of his member into her moist love tunnel while he kept toying with her breasts.
"UHHHHH..." she moaned as she lowered herself onto him, then pressed herself up again.
"YEAHHHH..." he breathed in response. "You like it, Bat-whore. You love it!"
"OHHHH!!!" Batgirl cried as her body responded to the command; a pre-climax tremor shook her body, and she convulsed as she collapsed onto his cock. "OH GOD..." she moaned harshly as her body betrayed her, giving in to the pleasure as it was ordered to do.
"Faster," Dr. Z ordered, and Batgirl began to ride his cock harder, quickening the pace at which she raised and lowered her naked body. Her ass cheeks slapped against his thighs when she fell onto him; her breasts bounced in her captor's hands.
"OH!! OH!! OH!! OH!!" Batgirl exclaimed as each downward thrust of her hips drove his cock deep inside her. Sweat began to run over her body, down her back and over her breasts.
The motion of Batgirl's sweet mounds in his grip drew Dr. Z's attention. He leaned forward and took the peak of Batgirl's left breast into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around her nipple, making the tender bud grow in response. He then caught the nipple in his lips and sucked hard. His left hand squeezed her right breast, his thumb and forefinger pinching its nipple to erection as well.
Batgirl's head fell back at the intense sensation in her breasts, her green eyes closing. She arched her back and pressed her breast into her captor's mouth. She tried to resist the pleasure her captor forced upon her body, but thinking had became difficult now. The command collar ensured that her body would be receptive to the sensations inflicted upon it, and her body's reaction had the side effect of scrambling her thoughts. She began, slowly but surely, to surrender to the ecstasy building within her.
"AH! AH! AH! AH!" Batgirl cried as she fucked him. She had stopped raising and lowering herself onto him, and now ground her hips back and forth on his thighs, furiously rubbing his cock inside her pussy and against her swollen clit. Dr. Z thrust his hips against hers in turn, his face twisted into an angry sneer. He continued to molest her tits with his hands, eliciting the occasional gasp and groan from the heroine as he tweaked her nipples like radio dials.
"C'MON, BITCH!!" he snarled, "FUCK ME!! FUCK ME HARD!! YEAH!! YEAH!! YEAH!!"
"OH!! GOD!! OH!! GOD!!" Batgirl exclaimed with each thrust of her hips. "NO!! NO!! I WON'T...I WON'T!!" she screamed in defiance, but to little avail. She could feel the climax building inside her, however much her mind resisted.
"YES YOU WILL!!" Dr. Z shouted, "YOU'RE GONNA CUM!! YOU'RE GONNA CUM WHEN I CUM!! AND I'M CUMMING...NOW...OHHHHH FUUUUUUUCCCKKKK!!!" The young villain's head fell back and he clenched his eyes shut as he climaxed and his seed exploded into Batgirl's defenseless womb.
"UH!! UH!! UH!! nnnnnnnuuuuuUUUUUUGGGHHHHH!!!" Batgirl screamed as she felt his hot cum deep inside her and her own orgasm claimed her. "OH GOD!! OH GOD!! OHHHHHHHHH!!!" she cried as her hips jerked on top of his. "OH GOD...OH God...ohhhhhhhhhhhh..." she moaned as her pelvic thrusts slowed. She then collapsed, her naked body falling forward so her head rested on his shoulder. She couldn't remember the last time she'd experienced such a powerful, devastating climax. She lay against her assailant's body, gulping air.
Dr. Z panted beneath Batgirl's naked body, then patted her behind condescendingly. "That was really good, Bat-slut. You fuck like a pro," he whispered maliciously in her ear.
Batgirl pushed herself away from her assailant, breathing heavily, tears beginning to run from her green eyes. "You Goddamn sack of shit," she hissed, then spat into his face. The young villain closed his eyes as her spittle landed on his left cheek. He exhaled angrily and glared at his captive.
"Get off of me," he ordered.
"Gladly," Batgirl snarled as she pushed herself off of him; she didn't need the collar to obey that command. She grunted with disgust as she pulled her dripping pussy off of his cock. She stood in front of him, glaring, her hands hanging at her sides, her body refusing to obey her furious desire to beat the crap out of him.
Dr. Z stood up and pulled up his underwear and pants. He fastened his belt, then wiped the spittle from his face with his hand.
"That was a mistake, Bat-bitch," he growled. Batgirl simply glared back with a look of open defiance and hatred. A sadistic smile crossed the young man's face. "PAIN," he said.
Batgirl gasped as the most excruciating agony she had ever known exploded within her body, overwhelming her. Her muscles contracted and her mouth dropped open in a silent scream. She dropped clumsily to her knees, then fell over onto her side. Her fingers curled into obscene talons. She bent her knees and pulled her legs up to her chest. Still the pain did not go away. She spasmed, flipping onto her back, her torso arched upwards, breasts pointing at the ceiling and shaking as she writhed in agony. She could not breathe, could not think, could not even scream or groan in response to the pain. Dark spots formed in front of her eyes. As Batgirl writhed in agony on the floor, Dr. Z casually sauntered over to the CD player and turned it off.
"Pain end," Dr. Z finally said, and Batgirl's tortured body collapsed on the floor. She drew a loud, relieved breath as the agony left her body as suddenly as it had arrived. She lay on her back, splayed out on the cold linoleum floor, as she gulped air raggedly.
"Since I couldn't get the collars to control your speech and head movements, I built in...an enforcer, I guess you could call it. If I left it on too long, you'd eventually die...after several minutes of incredible agony, of course." He knelt down next to the wheezing, trembling, naked heroine. "So I'd advise you to mind your manners in the future. Got that, bitch?"
Batgirl glared at him, fire and hatred in her green eyes, but held her tongue.
"You'll learn soon enough," Dr. Z snorted as he stood up. "Well, play-time's over. I gotta get back to work. There's a sandwich and a bottle of water in my bag; help yourself. You're going to need your strength," he said ominously. He walked towards the door and opened it. "Collar off," he said, and Batgirl could feel control of her abused body return to her as her captor closed and locked the door to her sterile cell. When she was sure she was gone, she lay back down on the floor, curled into a fetal ball, and for the first time in several years, she wept.
Wonder Woman walked into the JLA monitoring room and over to the bulky green figure seated in front of the vast array of television and computer screens.
"Okay, J'onn, you're relieved," she said.
"In more ways than one, Diana," the Martian replied, turning his bald, heavy-browed head away from the monitors to greet her.
Wonder Woman smiled at J'onn J'onzz' joke. He'd adapted quite well to life on Earth over the years; he'd even developed his own rather dry sense of humor.
"Slow night?" Wonder Woman asked.
"Indeed. I admit I am not sure if that is a good or a bad thing," he observed.
"I know what you mean," Wonder Woman said as the Martian Manhunter vacated the monitoring chair and she assumed it. "It's like that old movie cliché: 'It's quiet...'"
"'...yes, too quiet'," J'onn finished the statement. "Well, let us hope it is simply quiet. The Flash is on alert status, and Green Lantern is your alternate. Good day, Diana," J'onn said as he walked back to the transporter.
"See you," Wonder Woman called over her shoulder, then turned to face the screens with a heavy sigh as the hum of the transporter behind her indicated the Martian Manhunter had left. Her blue eyes darted from screen to screen, waiting for the JLA's super-computer to call her attention to something worthy of it.
Chapter Four: Bat-Bait
"C'mon, Barbara, get it together!" Batgirl chided herself as she pushed her naked body up off the floor. She removed her cowl and wiped the tears from her face. Once she had collected herself, her first instinct was to put her clothes back on. She gathered up her cowl, boots, and gloves, as well as her cape. She searched the room for her spandex bodysuit before she finally concluded that Dr. Z must have taken it with him.
"Bastard!" she snarled angrily, then looked at the remnants of her costume and shrugged. Better than nothing, she told herself as she pulled on the cowl, gloves, boots, and cape, covering her body as best she could. If she'd had a mirror to look into, she would have concluded that in the absence of her bodysuit, the remaining elements of her costume only emphasized her nudity. But Batgirl had much more pressing concerns.
She remembered the control collar her adversary had fitted around her neck and reached for it. She managed to press a couple of fingers beneath the slim metal band and gave it a solid tug. The resulting explosion of pain was not quite as debilitating as the one Dr. Z had administered before he left, but it made her gasp and drop to her knees. Batgirl shakily stood up and resolved not to try that again. The collar would have to remain in place for now.
She began to glance around the room, her thoughts turning once again to escape. Then her stomach growled and she realized several hours--and a considerable amount of physical exertion--had passed since her last meal. The arrogant bastard was right about one thing: she needed her strength. But not for what you think, asshole, she thought as she walked towards the bulky briefcase he'd left behind.
Batgirl opened the briefcase and immediately spotted the sandwich and bottle of spring water her captor had mentioned. She tore the plastic wrapping from the ham and cheese sandwich and wolfed it down. She then washed her parched throat with the water, emptying the bottle. When she had finished her meal, Batgirl studied the rest of the briefcase contents, pulling them out onto the floor. She found little of any use, mostly file folders stuffed with paper, a few plastic pens, and a couple of pencils. But at the bottom of the briefcase, beneath all the useless items, Batgirl saw something that told her that her luck had just changed. She pulled out the tiny item and smiled.
"Oh yeah," she said with a smile as she switched on the cell phone. "Some fucking genius," she muttered as the phone came to life with a digital chime.
Then Batgirl paused. Who could she call? She didn't even have any clue where she was! And she was practically naked--it shouldn't have mattered, but it did. She remembered one number she had always avoided calling, but decided that discretion was the better part of valor and punched it in.
"I just hope a female member is available," Batgirl muttered as she held the cell phone to her ear.
"Incoming call," the JLA computer announced. "Priority Delta."
Wonder Woman sat up in her chair. An Alpha priority call came from a full JLA member, Beta priority from honorary members such as Supergirl. Delta priority was reserved for certain trusted allies and friends.
"Put it through," Wonder Woman commanded.
"Hello?" a female voice on the other end said.
"This is Justice League of America headquarters, Wonder Woman speaking," the Amazon said calmly.
"Wonder Woman! Thank God! This is Batgirl!"
"Batgirl?" Wonder Woman responded curiously. She'd never used the JLA line before, to Wonder Woman's knowledge; in fact, Diana had not known until that moment that Batgirl even had the carefully guarded Delta priority number. No matter, she thought, Batman must have given it to her.
"Yes! I need your help! I've been captured and imprisoned, I don't know where!"
Wonder Woman couldn't help rolling her eyes. Like many others in the superhero community, she'd heard about Batgirl's frequent forays into captivity at the hands of various villains. I suppose she got tired of having Batman rescue her, Wonder Woman thought. Still, she kept her voice even and reassuring; Batgirl was a sister, a fellow crime-fighter, and though Wonder Woman did not know her that well, Supergirl considered her a friend.
"Stay calm, Batgirl," Wonder Woman said as her slender fingers danced across a computer keypad. "The JLA GPS is using the cell phone signal to lock on to your position. I'll have the Flash there in seconds..."
"NO!!!" Batgirl's emphatic plea surprised Wonder Woman. "Please, can't you send...um...a woman? What about Black Canary?"
Wonder Woman frowned at the request. Why would she insist on a woman? she wondered. The Amazon Princess glanced at the JLA assignment screen. It indicated that the Black Canary was off-duty; Wonder Woman noticed that matched Green Arrow's status as well.
"Hrmph. They've been doing that a lot lately," Wonder Woman muttered, resolving to raise the issue of certain team members' availability at the next meeting. "I'm sorry, Batgirl, the Canary's not available."
"She and Hawkman have temporarily gone back to Thanagar."
There was a pause at the other end of the line. "Well...could you come and help me, then?"
"I'm on monitor duty," Wonder Woman said, frowning, though surprised that she actually found herself preferring watching monitor screens to springing into action; but Batgirl's strange insistence on being rescued by a female heroine was beginning to annoy her.
"Yeah, but...you have a back-up, right? Someone who can come and take over for you?"
"Yes, I do," Wonder Woman replied with a sigh, though she suspected Green Lantern wouldn't be pleased. "Very well, Batgirl. The computer has pin-pointed your location. I'll be there shortly."
"Oh thank you so much, Wonder Woman! I owe you one! Please hurry!"
"I will. Wonder Woman out," she said, cutting the line. She pressed another keypad control to make a connection to a JLA communicator.
"Hello?" a male voice on the other end said.
"Lantern, this is Wonder Woman," she said with a slight smile. "You're not going to believe this..."
In a small room filled with computers and communications equipment, Dr. Z listened to the conversation between the two heroines on the cell phone he'd intentionally planted in his briefcase. He smiled broadly as his fingers worked skillfully at a computer keyboard.
"Wonder Woman!" he exclaimed enthusiastically as he issued commands to his servers. "PERFECT!!"
GASP!!! COULD THE AMAZING AMAZON BE HEADED STRAIGHT INTO A TRAP?!?
WILL SHE BE THE NEXT HEROINE FITTED WITH A DR. Z (pronounced 'zed') CONTROL COLLAR?!?
WILL DR. Z MAKE WONDER WOMAN PERFORM VILE, DEBASED ACTS OF SEXUAL PERVERSION?!?!
(Well, I should imagine you hope so--why the hell else are you reading this?)
BE SURE TO COME BACK TO THE DANGERCAVE NEXT MONTH FOR THE NEXT THRILLING INSTALLMENT OF...
Wonder Woman versus Dr. Z and the Collars of Obedience!!!