DISCLAIMER All the characters in this story are the copyright property of DC comics. This story is not a challenge to the legal copyright of the owners.
This story is a work of fiction and parody. It is a fan fiction, and is not to be copied, altered, modified, or posted on any website without the express permission of the author.
No characters in this story are based on real people. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental. All characters are over the legal age of consent. There is "Adult" genre involved in this story. Be forewarned. This is in no way meant to be misinterpreted of any characters who are the properties of DC comics or anyone else. The following is strictly for amusement.
Batgirl and Supergirl were bound, hand and foot. Each was stretched out and strapped down to a large wooden inclined table, now in a nearly vertical position. The women were next to eachother. Each woman’s legs were strapped together, their ankles bound tightly by heavy leather straps, their arms at their sides, their full ripe breasts presented invitingly, thrust dramatically forward, barely contained in only the flimsiest remains of their once proud, and now shredded uniforms.
Batgirl’s infamous Bat-symbol, and Supergirl’s world-famous “S” symbol were now ripped wide open to reveal the sumptuous views of the nubile heroines’ heaving bosoms, blossoming breasts, and dramatic tempting cleavage.
The lower halves of their uniforms were completely ripped away. Only Supergirl’s tiny red thong, and Batgirl’s daring blue thong made any play at protecting their virtue. Long sleek shiny boots emphasized the length and femininity of the heroines’ shapely, seductive, glistening oiled legs.
Both girls were conscious, their breasts dramatically rising and falling with each nervous desperate gasping breath. They knew what was to come.
As the King of Vampires glided from the shadows, he admired the forms of his helpless bound captives with unbridled lust.
“This night,” he spoke in commanding tones, “you will know passion and surrender as never before. . .”
Batgirl turned her head away, unable to look, as the Vampire Lord approached her hopelessly vulnerable pinned form. She wriggled uselessly in her bindings, unaware that this only increased her seductive appeal. Lustfully, his eyes drank in the sight of her sharply pointed heaving breasts, and the taut contours of her womanly mound, tightly clad in a tempting little thong, neatly framed by her tempting curvaceous thighs.
She whimpered gratifyingly in submission, “Oh, Master!! . . .” she gasped, in a pleading desperate tone.
“Professor Crane has prepared you nicely,” he gloated, lording his power over them.
Removing a panel from the inclined table, he reached behind Batgirl and cupped her full yielding ass in his large hands, causing the young girl to gasp. Groping the lovely plump form, he enjoyed the gratifying heft of the fleshy form possessively, “You will do . . . nicely, my tiny little bat!”
Then turning to Supergirl, he stared down the once defiant blonde, who now lowered her beautiful eyes and long dark eyelashes submissively. “And you!” he began, sliding his hands disgustingly up the length of her long lovely oiled thighs and hips, “You, my pretty little Supergirl, have no more fight left in you, under the effects of my Kryptonite. Now, you will share my carnal bed with me. . . for all eternity.”
Moving his hands, he now groped and pawed her outward-thrust breasts lasciviously, enjoying the feel of her forbidden fruit, and the close-up view of her gratuitous cleavage as he manipulated the soft supple yielding forms. Supergirl writhed, defenseless and disgusted at his advances, as he groped and mauled her famous chest. As her body was mauled, her gloved hands twisted helplessly in her bindings, and her long oiled legs writhed and scissored seductively. “Unghh-hh. . .” was all she could think to utter, as she whimpered helplessly in his powerful dominating grip.
Then, knowing that she had been beaten, she looked up, her large innocent watery blue eyes looked deeply into his, a look of total vulnerability and submission plainly written on her face.
His fierce intense eyes met hers, and in that moment he sought to take her mind completely.
Finally she whispered, . . . in barely audible tones, “ . . . Take me!”
Now a fierce fiery red glow came over his eyes. A moment later, the same red glow appeared in Supergirl’s large innocent eyes. A blank slack-jawed stare overcame the delicate features of the innocent heroine’s beautiful face.
As Supergirl’s surrendering eye’s locked with those of the Vampire Lord, Batgirl screamed out in terror for her friend, “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”
24 hours earlier:
“The Mystery” 9:45pm - The Batcave
Deep in the recesses of the legendary Batcave, the lovely young Batgirl and Supergirl were working together on a particularly puzzling case. Seated at the main console of the Batcomputer, was the young and beautiful “Batgirl.” At her side, the svelte “Supergirl” stood looking up at the main screen of the Batcomputer. Although she was completely unaware of it, Supergirl’s casual pose showed off her curvy ass in a decidedly flattering way had anyone but the Batcave’s 17 motion-detecting security monitors been watching. The shiny blue micro-miniskirt hugged the form of her plump curvaceous buttocks in a way that was impossible for any healthy heterosexual male to ignore. On the screen before the two stalwart heroines was the black and white image of a beautiful young woman in a snug revealing sweater, and an alluringly short skirt. She was elaborately bound in studded black leather restraints, gagged with a black silk scarf, and chained inside an iron medieval looking cage. She cut a striking image in the picture as she strained sensuously against her strict expertly designed bindings, a mixture of excitement and fear filled the captured girl’s eyes.
“The missing girl is one, Melanie Beauchamp,” reported Batgirl, her trim physique nicely displayed by her tight jumpsuit, and handsomely illuminated by the glow of the huge monitor. “According to the Batcomputer, she’s a cheerleader for the Gotham City Knights. That look of fear in her eyes is our first clue.”
“How do you mean?” inquired Supergirl, fascinated to watch Batgirl’s powers of deduction in action.
“Jonathan Crane, alias ‘The Scarecrow,’ escaped from Arkham 8 weeks ago,” explained Batgirl. “If I was a gambling woman, I’d bet a week’s pay that the Scarecrow is behind this.”
“The picture was sent by the kidnapper. Was there a note or any other clues for us to work with?” asked Supergirl.
“There was no note, but I did find a string of very small numbers at the bottom of the photo. I’ll magnify them on the main screen.” There on the monstrous main screen of the Batcomputer, in 2 foot high numerals, appeared a long string of numbers.
“Those look like global coordinates to me,” quipped Supergirl as she whisked her long blond hair over one slender shoulder.
“If they are, let’s see what location they indicate,” replied Batgirl, deftly tapping away at the keyboard with. Soon a computer generated map came up on screen, indicating a location north of Gotham.
“I’ll try to zoom in on the exact location,” Batgirl added. As the Batcomputer accessed recent satellite imagery, the two girls watched. Soon the computer imagery was replaced with computer-enhanced satellite photography. The display then began zooming in closer and closer to the exact coordinates. As the image zoomed in, the girls saw that the coordinates indicated a remote rocky wooded area, north of Gotham. Finally, the zooming image settled on the distinctive sprawling outline of an massive stone estate.
“That’s Carthax Castle,” Batgirl exclaimed, surprised at where the clues were leading. Tapping a little further, she called up more data on the structure. “According to this, it was built in the 1950’s by Alexander Carthax, an eccentric millionaire inventor who wanted to create his own castle getaway.”
“You’ve got to watch out for those eccentric millionaires,” quipped Supergirl with a teasing wink, as she enjoyed an innocent jest at Bruce Wayne’s expense.
Batgirl returned a knowing smile, then continued, “After the death of Carthax, the house was converted into a museum, but the museum went bust, and recently the estate was sold.”
“Whoever bought it, seems to be up to no good,” Supergirl speculated.
“It says here, that it was purchased by a ‘foreign investor,’ but no name is given,” Batgirl’s glossy lips formed the words crisply.
“By Batmobile it will take about an hour to get there,” Batgirl observed.
“Melanie Beauchamp may not have that much time,” Supergirl commented with genuine concern in her voice.
“Flying, you can be there in 10 minutes,” Batgirl replied. “Assuming that we are right about these numbers being global coordinates, then we can conclude that whoever put those coordinates on the photo wanted us to find them. And if that’s the case then, . . .”
“Then we need to go in expecting a trap,” finished Supergirl.
“Agreed.” Then, standing up, Batgirl smoothed the shiny black fabric of her tights over impossibly tight abs and marvelously swelling hips, “I’ll fire up the Batmobile and meet you there as soon as I can. Scarecrow, or whoever you are, . . . here we come.”
“Greetings” 10:02pm, Sunset - at a remote location North of Gotham
Supergirl flew on toward the looming silhouette of Carthax Castle. As she approached, she was struck by how convincingly it appeared to be an gothic medieval structure. As her eyes devoured the breathtaking splendor of the wooded setting, she soon drew closer and dropped down to a lower altitude, scoping out the site, before finally landing on one of the outer turrets. As she looked around curiously at the ancient structure, she saw no obvious signs of life.
“Greetings,” a voice called from the shadows. “Unless I am very much mistaken, you are the famous Super-girl, are you not?” Supergirl whirled toward the voice suspiciously, surprised that she had not detected the figure’s approach earlier.
“Yes, I’m Supergirl,” she responded. “I’m sorry to intrude, but--”
“You are conducting an investigation,” the voice interrupted. The man’s voice was deep and smooth, and thick with an Eastern European accent. While he remained in the dim dusky shadows, her super vision could easily make out his classic Slavic features. This was not Jonathan Crane. The man was average height, perhaps in his 40’s, with a long white moustache and sideburns, and a receding hairline. He was dressed in a simple black suit, but it was his piercing eyes that got her attention. “A missing persons case, perhaps?”
“What do you know about it?” Supergirl asked defiantly, her gloved fists propped defiantly on her lovely hips.
“I know everything about it. I am the, . . . how do you say, . . . ‘perpetrator.’ The lovely Melanie Beauchamp is here, . . . in my care.”
Touching the small comm-unit on her ear, Supergirl reported in, “I’ve got him Batgirl.” After a moment, the radio hissed empty static, but there was no response. “Batgirl? . . .”
“Ah, you’ve come with the lovely Batgirl. Excellent! Do not be distressed that you cannot contact your svelte partner. Sometimes the terrain here, can interfere with your . . . How do you say? . . . electronic communications. Nevertheless, your adventure is at an end. You have captured me. I surrender myself into to your custody.” Stretching out his arms, he made a gesture which seemed to invite Supergirl to put handcuffs on him.
“Um. . . I don’t actually carry handcuffs, mister.”
“What a pity,” He responded, with a hint of sarcasm.
“Step out here,” Supergirl commanded.
As the setting sun dipped just behind one of the towers of the fortress, a dark shadow fell across the turret, engulfing the scene in a pale darkness. For an instant, Supergirl glanced at the quickly vanishing sun . . .
When she looked back, an instant later, the man had traversed well over 20 feet, moving from the niche where he had been standing, and was now at her side. His hand took her gently but firmly by the elbow.
“Ahh!” Supergirl exclaimed, surprised by his sudden silent approach, and uncomfortable closeness. Quickly, she pulled her arm free, and took a few steps back. “Stay where you are, mister!” Just to be safe, she hovered a couple of feet in the air, to keep her distance.
“I apologize if I startled you. . .” he went on, somewhat mockingly. “I have a tendency to frighten people. But surely the mighty ‘Supergirl,’ whom one sees in all of the television news broadcasts, has nothing to fear from an old man such as myself. . .”
Just then, she began to feel a bit dizzy. Her hover began to falter, and she found that she needed to land. Stepping over to a crenellated stone wall, she leaned heavily on it. “Batgirl!” the young heroine called on her comm. unit again, with more than a hint of desperation, but still got no response.
“You do not look entirely well, my dear. Would you perhaps like to come into my home, . . . of your own will and volition. Perhaps you would like to lie down. . .”
The slender young heroine began to remember ghost stories of creatures using hypnosis on their victims, and so she began to avert her eyes from the stranger. But it was no help. Now the young heroine began to feel not only dizzy, but weak, . . . and strangely aroused.
“What did you do to me?!” Supergirl called out, desperately. She tried using her X-ray vision to spy any Kryptonite in the area, and only then, noticed a tiny purple gem bauble on a cufflinks of the man’s suit, and another on his tie pin.
“The Violet Kryptonite, works very much as promised, my dear. I assure you, you never actually had much of a chance.”
“V-violet Kryptonite? What are you talking about?” Supergirl stammered.
“Ah yes, I am not the expert on such matters, but . . . my ‘associate,’ . . . spent a great deal of money to acquire these small gems for me, from a company known as, Lexcorp, I believe. The Violet form of the gem is quite rare, and is theorized to have both a weakening, and, perhaps more interestingly, an ‘arousing’ effect on ‘Kryptonians’ such as yourself. I cannot speak to the details of these matters, as I am not a man of science. But I have only to observe from the evidence at hand that the gems seem to be having . . . the ‘desired’ effect,” as the man spoke, he wore an expression of supreme confidence on his refined face, an expression that Supergirl found most disturbing.
As Supergirl began to slip down the side of the stone wall, her micro-miniskirt hiked up high on her thighs, revealing a tempting glimpse of her toned thighs, and the front of her panties to the menacing stranger. As he stepped closer, looming over her, he spoke in an ominous tone, “Welcome, my dear. . .”
As she crumpled to the stone floor of the turret, she was weak, delirious, and overcome with arousal. As he reached out to take her in his arms, everything went black, and she collapsed with a whimper. “Ohhhhhhhh. . . Oooooooooooooooooooooooo. . .”
“How lovely.”
As the stranger gazed down on the form of the sleeping defenseless young heroine, he admired the expression of utter innocence and submission on her face. He enjoyed the view of her pale blonde hair, cascading over delicate shoulders, her clean sparkling white Lycra belly-shirt, the dazzling red “S” emblem stretched tightly over two remarkably firm pointed breasts. Her abs were firm and tight. Her insanely brief micro-mini skirt was cut low on the hips and high on the thighs, so that it was little more than a wide belt of shiny blue material. With her legs akimbo, he could easily admire the exposed front panel of her panties. The daring “V” of fabric was framed on either side by pure perfect pale blemishless thighs, and long slender legs.
Hoisting her lithe frame to her feet, he propped her up so that her ample chest was pressing his shoulder and chest. He enjoyed the sensation of her firm young breasts crushing against him. Her arms were dangling now, and her head lolling to one side. He held her here long enough to reach down and grasp the lower hem of her tight blue nano-skirt, and hoist it up over the fullness of her buttocks. Her fleshy toned glutes bounced out with a rewarding jiggle, revealing her perfectly plump pale tender buttocks, neatly bisected by a naughty thong.
“Perfect!” he hissed. I suppose no one was ever meant to see this clever bit of lingerie, but it is an absolute crime to keep such a masterpiece covered. Know then, that it will be well appreciated. . . in my dungeons.”
With this, he hoisted her over one shoulder, his gnarled hands with their long pointed fingernails lustfully cupping her perfect defenseless nearly-naked ass. The cool yielding flesh of her ass dimpled easily under his fingertips. As he strode toward the dungeon, he heard his victim’s comm. unit beep, the signal of an incoming transmission, causing him to smile with supreme satisfaction. Batgirl was coming.
“Bats” 10:50pm - The grounds of Carthax Castle
The high-performance engine of the legendary Batmobile revved with power to spare as Batgirl piloted the advanced vehicle toward her destination. The wide racing tires gripped the asphalt with authority as she turned off the road, and parked the sleek Batmobile a short distance from the castle, opened the hydraulic canopy, hopped out, and proceeded on foot. A wrought iron fence blocked her path to the parking area, so she was forced to park further away than she would have liked, but it couldn’t be avoided. Now the terrain was rough and rocky, so it was slow going, but Batgirl was in excellent condition, and her sleek sexy boots and slender shapely legs were making good progress toward her destination. She was now in her classic gray jumpsuit, enhanced with a daring and suggestive shiny blue-black thong.
As she looked toward the castle, she noticed one of the castle’s turrets had fallen completely into the shadow of one of the structure’s many towers. Wondering what had become of her partner, she keyed her comm. unit. “Batgirl to Supergirl, come in. . .”
It was the second time she had tried to contact her invulnerable partner, with no success. The first time, she had chalked it up to interference, but now she was so close that it was hard to figure. It was possible Supergirl might already deep inside the stone fortress, rescuing Miss Beauchamp. Perhaps the signal just couldn’t penetrate that much rock. Batgirl tried to stay optimistic, but couldn’t dismiss the growing feelings that her partner might be in trouble, so she re-doubled her efforts and soon made it to the castle grounds.
As she approached, she noticed that the small “man-door” in the main draw-bridge entrance was flung wide open. Running through an outer guard house, her slender booted legs clopped over the bridge, Then she carefully peered through the doorway, into a dimly lit foyer.
There was no time to use her high-tech gear to search for laser detectors or security systems. She would have to go in ready for action.
Seizing a Batarang from the utility belt that hung on her full hips, she stepped through the door, into a warmly lit, and lavishly decorated foyer. Wood paneling, massive medieval shields, and various medieval era artifacts were densely displayed on the walls. Narrow stone corridors split off to the left and the right. A number of intimate niches lined the --
“POOF!” a thick cloud of orangish-yellow smoke exploded out of the floor, engulfing Batgirl entirely. Though she coughed and sputtered a second, her Bat-reflexes kicked in, and she quickly dived to the floor and rolled into the clear.
“Greetings, Miss Batgirl. . .”
In a blur, Batgirl whirled to face the unexpected voice. Before she could even focus, she reflexively flung her Batarang with impressive speed and unerring accuracy toward the source of the voice, that came from one of the small niches.
“A bat, . . .” the voice responded calmly from the shadows. The voice was even and steady, apparently utterly unphased by Batgirl’s lightning-fast attack. Then the man in the black suit calmly stepped from the shadows, holding the Batarang delicately in his hands, examining it curiously. “How clever to make a weapon. . . styled like a bat.”
“Where’s Supergirl?” Batgirl demanded, stunned at the ineffectiveness of her attack, and now somewhat on the defensive.
“It is you who are breaking and entering, here, young Miss. Is that not against your law? Perhaps it is I who should ask the questions.”
“I am a duly deputized officer of the law, investigating the disappearance and apparent kidnapping of Miss Melanie Beauchamp.”
“Are not warrants required before entering a person’s domicile, young Batgirl?”
“Under the circumstances, I--”
“It is no matter,” he interrupted. “Do you enjoy being bound as a captive, Miss Batgirl?”
“What?!?” Batgirl responded, taken aback by his apparent calm, his supreme confidence, and his abrupt change of topic.
“Surely, in your line of work, you must have studied the ancient arts of bondage, restraint, . . . ligature. Otherwise, how might you have affected all of your remarkable ‘miraculous” escapes from the hands of villains and scoundrels.” With this line, he began to slowly walk toward her.
Not liking the direction the conversation the conversation was taking, or his movement toward her, Batgirl adopted her classic Bat-fighting stance. After years of training in Tae Kwon Do, Tae Chi, Jujitsu, Kung Fu, Karate, Ninjitsu, and countless other fighting forms, Batgirl’s combination of training, natural skill, fitness, youth, and combat experience made her one of the leading female fighters in all the world. Under the watchful guidance of the BATMAN, she had blended the various forms into a seamless, flexible, and highly effective style, that few on the planet could match. Robin called it “Batjitsu,” but whatever its name, the seamless blending of fighting styles was remarkably potent.
Batgirl warned the man to keep his distance, “Stay back, or I’ll be forced to--”
As he got closer, Batgirl was forced to unleash a round-house kick with blinding speed, but the man dodged it, apparently effortlessly.
“With all of your training and experience, surely you have studied the fine art of restraint,” he continued, “Did you notice then, in the picture of the hostage, the skill and style that I used in binding the lovely Miss Beauchamp? I have been perfecting my technique for centuries. Now, I consider myself a master. Did you notice how the bindings skillfully enhanced her beauty, emphasized her most alluring features, and celebrated her sensual vulnerability? Of course Professor Crane’s photo doesn’t really do my work the justice it deserves, but I wanted to give you a small taste of what I have in store for you.”
“Professor Crane!! So you’re working with the Scarecrow?” Batgirl barked out accusingly.
“He likes to think of me as his ‘partner,’ . . . Imagine! But yes, that was a dose of his exploding fear gas that you walked through as you entered. It was, I believe, . . . a particularly strong dose, of his latest formulation.”
As Batgirl was forced to yield ground, she continued with a dazzling barrage of attacks, all of which somehow missed her target by mere fractions of an inch, until finally, “THUD! . . .”
She landed a punch right in the middle of his chest.
Suddenly everything seemed to stop, as she came eye to eye with him, her fist planted firmly on his chest, his hands gripping her punching arm.
Their eyes met. His searing eyes burning like embers, boring into her psyche. Then in an instant, he spun her around with alarming strength, whipping her arm around behind her back, and pulling upward so that she thought her arm might break.
It was all over in a second. In an instant, he had her immobilized, her back pressed against his chest, her firm pointed breasts thrust outward and upward, rapidly rising and falling with loud gasping breaths.
As her lithe body, dressed in revealing tights, strained in his grip, she suddenly knew exactly who was in command.
“Your performance was most impressive, my dear. No one has landed a blow on my person in many, . . . many years.”
Now she could feel something pressing against her backside. It was hard and insistent. The man’s erection, was pressed firmly and unmistakably into the groove between Batgirl’s soft round, tightly-clad buttocks. Suddenly, she wished that she hadn’t wore the revealing and suggestive shiny blue-black thong over her tights today, as the man’s hard stalk pressed eagerly against the underside of her alluring feminine ass.
“Perhaps you will impress me in other ways, as well, Batgirl. . .” he said, nudging his member a little tighter against her inviting bottom. She gasped as she struggled against his grip, but his grasp on her was like steel.
“Your short gasping breaths excite me, Batgirl,” he continued as he held her. “They betray your body’s excitement and display your firm pointed breasts most. . .admirably”
“Let go of me, you--” her tone was defiant, but as he tightened his steely grip even more, she gasped again, thrusting her breasts skyward. She tried to pull away, but there was nowhere to go.
Suddenly, she felt dizzy, lightheaded. What was going on? She tried to stamp at his feet, but somehow she couldn’t land a direct hit. Now one hand began to grope her chest, slowly and casually gripping and massaging her left breast. For some reason, . . . it felt good. Her nipples were rapidly hardening.
“Ooooooooooooooooooo. . .” she moaned, surprised at her own reaction.
“Squeeze it again,” was all she could think, but fortunately, she didn’t utter the forbidden thought aloud.
As if in response to her thoughts, his large hand did squeeze her soft breast again, as the prominent form jutted outward. The size and shape of its pointed mass were doubly emphasized by the way her back was arched, in his strict vice-like hold.
Nervously, Batgirl looked left and right. Was this what had happened to Supergirl? Surely the powerful Kryptonian would have bested this strange old man. Where was she? Where was the Scarecrow? And who was this strange man that had gotten the better of her so easily?
As he held her tightly, the man’s prominent nose nuzzled into her auburn mane, breathing in the sweet intoxicating fragrance of Batgirl’s soft red hair. He admired the shiny blue-black texture of her mysterious and tantalizing cowl, as he shamelessly enjoyed the rapturous feeling of her perfect toned, tightly-clad, soft, nubile buttocks wriggling and pressing hard against him.
As he devoured the smell of her, she too had been breathing in the man’s intoxicating alluring sweet-smelling scent.
Now the unmistakable tingle of arousal sparked between her thighs. What was happening?!? It was strange but wonderful. As she wriggled, her shapely thighs parted temptingly, then squeezed together enticingly. Batgirl was excited as she had never been before. For some reason, beyond her understanding, Batgirl reveled in the feeling of utter vulnerability in this man’s arms. He was enjoying her, taking her, mastering her, celebrating her feminine sensuality as no man ever had. Reflexively, she wriggled her wide hips against him, enjoying the intense feeling of sensuous vulnerable helplessness, of being desired.
Batgirl was held from behind in his iron grip. It was then he placed one hand over her beautiful mouth. Though her athletic frame struggled ferociously against him, she could not break his hold on her. A certain lightheadedness came across her. Now she was dizzy and her vision became unfocused. It was as though she was being chloroformed. Desperate to escape, she pulled hard on his arms, but to no avail. Her full thighs scissored invitingly. “MmmmMMMMmmm-MmMMmm!”
There was no doubt about it. She was now having distinct feelings of full blown arousal. Her full thighs, hips and buttocks wriggled seductively against him. Now he caught her large heavy breasts in his hand, mauling them unapologetically. They were huge. Wrapped in the clingy fabric of her Batgirl suit, they were a breath-taking sight to behold. As her eyelids began to sag, and her eyes began to roll up into her head, she pulled against him again, this time more weakly.
“I assure you, Miss Batgirl, that you have resisted me quite admirably, but my vampiric pheromones eventually get the better of all young females. You see, vampiric pheromones are at least a thousand times more powerful than their human counterparts. What’s more, Professor Crane’s gas now permeates every inch of this room. You have doubtless inhaled a great deal of this most potent concoction. From what he tells me, it can in fact, induce nearly instantaneous arousal, fear, and delirium, as well as causing a pronounced susceptibility to hypnosis, suggestion, and eventually, even a loss of consciousness. You never actually had much of a chance.”
“MMMmmmmmmmmmm. . .” she moaned as her strength left her, and her arms began flailing weakly and without coordination. Now her lovely blue eyes rolled up deep into her head, as his erection pressed hard against the groove between her buttocks.
“Welcome, my dear. . . to Castle Dracul. Actually, I have grown most weary of my family’s name. It has become so hackneyed in your entertainment and culture, so you must please only refer to me by my true name, . . . Vlad.”
“And now, my pretty, I think that you will come with me.” Suddenly the feelings of lightheadedness intensified, and Batgirl’s world began to spin. Her eyes rolled up into her head, and the world was quickly replaced by darkness . . . and weightlessness. As she slowly lost consciousness, she could feel his hands lustfully squeezing her breasts again, . . . just the way she liked it. And with that she passed out and fell limp in his arms, “No . . . Unnnnnnnnngggghhh…”
As her entire body went limp, he removed his hand from her mouth, allowing her head to loll forward against her chest, then he continued to grope her prominent chest at length. Naturally, the unconscious Batgirl offered no resistance as he groped, fondled, mauled, and man-handled her succulent mammaries for several minutes. Then, reaching lower, he groped her soft pliant buttocks at length.
“Ha ha ha . . . and now, my dear, how do they say? . . . The real adventure begins. . .”
Holding her svelte slumbering form in his arms, he groped her large pouting breasts at length. Then with apparent effortlessness, he turned her around, and flung here lithe body over one shoulder, patting her pert wide upturned bottom possessively, enjoying the contours of her ass, neatly bisected by her thong, as her arms and legs dangled helplessly. And with that, he turned and walked into the depths of Castle Carthax.
“The Art of Suggestion” 11:30 pm - Castle Carthax
Batgirl was carried a short distance through the hallways of Castle Carthax, to a cell situated at the base of a narrow spiral stone stairway. As her captor chained her to the wall in her cell, and removed the utility belt from her wide hips, Batgirl began, ever so slowly, to regain consciousness.
Lying on the floor of her cell, the groggy Batgirl was chained by the wrist to one wall, so she could do little more than lie there propped up on one elbow. Her heart sank as the door slammed heavily shut and the heavy bolt of the lock turned loudly, locking her in.
As her captor left, and his footsteps grew faint, Batgirl observed her surroundings, tested the heavy clinking chains of her cuff, and listened carefully to the sounds around her.
The cell was prohibitively small, perhaps 5 feet in diameter, and was illuminated by a bright red light. A small barred window on the heavy wooden door to each cell allowed passers by easy view of the hapless heroine where she lay chained within.
Presently, she heard the sound of wind blowing by.
As the wind picked up, Batgirl thought she heard her name being called, “shhhhhhhhhhhbaaaaaaaaat - shhhhhhhgirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrl . . .”
Was it Supergirl calling her, or just the wind? As she listened more closely, she could only hear the wind.
“shhhhhhhhhhhbaaaaaaaaat - shhhhhhhgirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrl . . .” There it was again. After another few moments, the masked heroine was certain it was only the wind, and her own imagination playing tricks on her.
Then a strange feeling came over her. A feeling of groggy arousal. Her captivity had been tense to say the least, and filled with strange feelings of arousal, but now, she had a moment of privacy, and an opportunity to vanquish the feelings that swelled within her.
“Now’s not the time,” she thought to herself. But her sleek trim tightly clad body felt particularly sensuous. She was still undoubtedly fighting off the effects of whatever had caused her to lose consciousness, so her mind was still clouded and disoriented.
Thoughts of Bruce fondling her sensitive thonged buttocks filled her normally well-disciplined mind. Now she imagined his hands cupping her full bounteous breasts. There, on the thin mat of the hard cell floor, she could feel her nipples begin to harden. Now she imagined his full thick bulge, nestling against her bottom. Now his thick hard member was sliding up and down along the groove between her thonged buttocks. The amorous feelings were persistent, and soon her slick glossy lips parted to release a low moan of submission to the imaginary lover. Absent-mindedly, Batgirl began to paw one of her breasts, sensuously kneading and massaging the massive mammary to her own taste. The other gloved hand reached between her legs to stroke the front panel of her shiny blue-black Lycra thong. Irresistably, she moaned, “Unnnnnghhhhhhhhhhh… Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…”
She stopped for a instant to consider taking a few moments to pleasure herself.
“THAT’S RIDICULOUS!” she reminded herself abruptly, “I’m in the midst of a mission. “Lives could be at stake! I’ve got to get out of here. Focus, girl!”
But the feelings were persistent. “It would only take a minute. Its not like I don’t deserve a break,” she thought. “A little release just might help me concentrate better,” she conceded at last. “It might actually help me focus, if I could just do this and clear my mind.” It was still out of the question.
Suddenly, she felt dizzy.
“Bruce,” the wind seemed to whisper. Batgirl’s hand reached back to stroke her own full bottom. The Lycra felt so good, so smooth. Her tender bottom felt so round, so needy. The tight thong so neatly cleft her bottom, further accentuating the roundness of her ass. Now she could really feel Bruce’s hands on her breasts. Cupping them. Needing them. His erect member was pressed against her ass, hard and insistent. She pushed her ass hard back against him. His breath was warm on her sensitive neck. “Ohhhhhhhh Batman. . .”
As she lay back in the Dark Knight’s arms, his fingers found the front panel of her thong. His strokes were gentle and clever, and soon her had her worked into a lather. Her sensuous body writhed in his arms, as his fingers dipped inside her thong. “Unnnnngh!” “Yess! Yess! Yess!. . .”
This was the loving that she needed. Her head snapped from side to side, as she gasped, and strove for release. His body felt so good, his stroking so skillful. Everything was warm and wonderful, and “UUUUUUUUUNNNNNGHHHHHH!” the climax came with surprising force, robbing Batgirl of all coherent thought. For long moments she basked in the heady throes of a well deserved sparkling gleaming glorious climax. The feelings were so good, so sweet, so intense, so all-encompassing. After a long spiraling ride, at last she came down, and rode the wake of her pleasure, her body renewed and refreshed, her thighs scissoring against her damp tingling triangle.
Now lost in the afterglow, Batgirl fell asleep, sprawled out seductively on the floor of her cell. Above her, standing over her, looking down in at her through the cell door window, stood Vlad and 3 women dressed in whispy white gowns. One was blonde, one brunette, and one redhead.
“She will make for great entertainment, my Lord,” spoke the blonde. “Yes, she is so vulnerable to our ways,” said the brunette. “So willing, so comely,” continued the redhead.
“Yes,” spoke the Master, “just like the other one.” Then opening the door, he crouched down, next to the dozing heroine, broke the chains that bound her as if they were made from butter, and picked up her slumbering form. Her short cape quickly swept out of the way, and his large hand palmed her soft thonged ass with satisfaction. “Come, . . .”
“Release” 11:45 pm - Carthax Castle
Supergirl lay helpless in the bottom of a small stone dungeon cell. The Violet Kryptonite must have still been nearby, for she was hopelessly groggy and weak. As the blonde bombshell lay limply in her cell, she looked around and listened carefully for clues about her situation.
Presently, she heard the faint sound of breathing. Tuning in her incredible Kryptonian super-hearing, she was able to her it more distinctly now. It was the sound of a woman breathing rapidly, in quick breathy gasping breaths. Listening more closely now, she could make out a faint rhythmic rustling sound. Now weak whimpers could be heard.
Two cells away, the captured Gotham Knights cheerleader, Melanie Beauchamp, lay gasping in her cell, desperately trying to quench the needy feelings pulsing between her legs. As she lay there, the sexy college girl, ran her hands up along the fullest part of her shapely young thigh, under the pleated cheerleader skirt, and over the tempting curves of her bottom. Her hand moved to gently caress the full round contours of her thin pink panties, stretched tightly over the generous curves of her plump little ass. Her ass felt good in her hands, so soft and so round. As she groped her round ass, she fingered her mound with rapid urgent circular strokes.
“Unghh! Unghh! UNGHH!!” Supergirl heard it all, not yet realizing what she was overhearing.
Melanie’s face winced into a twisted grimace as she neared the release that she so desperately needed. “Oh Yeahhhh!”
As the grunting and whimpers approached their climax, Supergirl had finally deduced what it was that she was listening too. Intrigued, but embarrassed, she went on listening, with guilty rapt attention. While Supergirl had no interest in females whatsoever, it was impossible not to be interested in the desperate erotic rapturous sounds. The sounds made Supergirl think of the men in her life to whom she was most attracted, and what it might be like to . . . be with them.
Finally, “UNNGGHH!!!!!!!” the sharp grunt of the young woman echoed throughout the corridor as a fierce piercing pleasure stabbed mercilessly through Melanie’s groin, causing her entire body to convulse. Her back arched sharply, and her hand moved from her smooth ass to her clutch her full sweater-clad breasts. “Ohh Godd!” she groaned, unaware that anyone was listening. One hand still desperately clung to her mound, buried between soft full thighs, grinding out every last drop of pleasure from the well-earned release. Now she rolled over onto her back, her legs spread, her short skirt flipped up out of the way, so that the front of her panties were clearly visible to anyone who might have been looking into her cell. Now she lay awash in her afterglow, spent and squirming.
When the sounds were suddenly replaced by silence, Supergirl imagined the young woman’s rapture, and recalled her languorous feelings that she herself often enjoyed after a session of self-pleasuring in her bed.
Supergirl wanted to call out to the girl, but also wished to spare the girl the indignity of knowing that Supergirl had overheard her self-pleasuring. So she waited a minute or two before speaking. When sufficient time had passed, Supergirl called out into the corridor in a loud whisper, “Are there any other people out there being held against your will?”
After a long pause, the whispering voice of the girl responded, “Yes! I’m here!”
“Are you Melanie Beauchamp?” called out Supergirl.
“Yes, . . . how did you know?” she whispered nervously in return.
“I was investigating your disappearance when I was kidnapped myself,” replied Supergirl. “Are you OK?”
“Yes. Who are you?” the girl asked?
“I’m . . . Supergirl,” replied the young heroine with a clearly discouraged tone. She was not feeling very ‘super’ at the moment.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” came the response.
“SILENCE!” came the man’s commanding voice as he glided silently down the corridor. Stopping at Melanie’s cell, he stopped, unlocked the cell, and entered. Supergirl could hear the heavy dungeon door swing open with a loud squeal of aging rusty hinges.
The imposing figure of the cloaked man towered over the terrified cheerleader, and she cowered in the corner of her cell.
“Rise!” he commanded. The girl complied and followed his directions as he directed her to stand on a large raised stone block in the floor of the cell. Standing on the block, the girl’s chest was level with the man’s head.
It was then that he spoke to her, “As I have told you before, I have no plans to turn you into my kind. You are simply here to quench my thirst, and to provide a mild diversion. By sparing your throat, I will spare you the blood disease, and keep your blood ‘fresh’ for later.”
The girl trembled in fear, then the lingering effects of her latest dose of the Scarecrow’s gas began to convert her fears into arousal, and suddenly she began to feel calm, cool, . . . and remarkably aroused.
Extending one hand, the Master gripped the back of her muscular meaty thigh with one hand. He enjoyed the tone and heft of it. Sliding his hand upward, he savored the contours of the back of her thigh, up under the short suggestive pleated skirt, through the transition between thigh and buttock, and finally rested his hand on her full shapely young ass cheek. Now his hands tested the firmness of her ass, and glided over the surface of her silky smooth pink panties as his hand rummaged under her skirt. The girl offered no resistance, but calmly allowed him to continue his uninvited exploration of her body.
Now his hands slid under the hem of her panties and squeezed the ripe toned fruit of her meaty ass with satisfaction. Lifting the front of her skirt, he viewed her naked thighs, and her tight little mound with interest. “It may be necessary for you to service me,” he said in a matter of fact tone.
“Leave her alone!” cried Supergirl from 2 cells down the corridor, but he ignored her completely.
Now his gaze rose to the cheerleader’s chest, with its ample proportions. It was evident that she wore no bra. Pulling the plunging neckline of her V-Neck sweater down, and under her right breast, he totally exposed the succulent-looking mammary, as the girl, locked in some sort of pheromone-induced trance, offered no resistance.
“Yesssssss. . .” he beamed with supreme satisfaction.
Then lunging forward, he began lustfully kissing, licking, and suckling on the breast, while his hands shamelessly groped and palmed her buttocks, both outside and inside her thin silky panties, until at last, his large mouth opened wide and long twin fangs appeared. Then in one smooth motion, his fangs plunged into her ripe fruit.
“Ahhh-hh!!”
The girl cried out in a faint high-pitched whimper as he bit her, and Supergirl listening from her own cell, just a few feet away could guess what had happened.
The man drank from her for long seconds, as he slaked his vampiric thirst. Two tiny beads of blood dripped down the full contours of her nicely rounded breast, leaving long red streaks. As he suckled her hot blood, his hands continued to clutch and grope her naked ass, thighs, and chest.
Now Supergirl could her the girl’s breathing become more rapid, deteriorating into desperate ragged gasping breaths.
“Oh god, Yesssss, Ohh-hh, Yesssss! . . .”
“What was happening down there?” Supergirl wondered silently to herself.
“OHHHH GOODDD YESSSSSSSSSS YESS YESSSSS!!! YESSSSSSSSS!!!!!! UNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!”
With her naked breast locked in the jaws of this vampire, Melanie Beauchamp, cheerleader for the Gotham Knights, succumbed to the most intense rapture of her young life. As the Vampire Lord took his fill, her head threw back dramatically, and her body quaked and trembled in his grip, as warm wet liquid-pleasure exploded between her legs. The feelings were devastating, incomparable.
When he had had his fill, (and she had had hers) he withdrew, and allowed the spent rapturous girl to drop the floor. Here she basked languorously in a post-orgasmic, post-vampiric stupor. It was so good.
Moments later, Supergirl heard Melanie’s cell door close with a heavy slam, and heard the man’s footsteps in the stone hallway, coming nearer to her own cell. Outside her cell, he stopped and looked in at Supergirl and spoke, “Worry not, my dear, the lovely Miss Beauchamp will recover. I will take my sustenance from her for many nights yet. She will live. Worry more for yourself, . . . for you are next.” And with that he slowly walked away. And with those words echoing in her ears, Supergirl suddenly started to become, . . . very drousy.
“The Succubus Brides” 12:00 Midnight - Castle Carthax
As Batgirl slept, she had the strangest dreams. She was carried into a cozy inviting bedroom, stripped down to her thong, bra, cowl, and boots, and laid out on a bed. Supergirl was there with her, unconscious. Both young heroines were then dressed in the tiniest, flimsiest, most revealing attire.
Looking up from the bed, Batgirl groggily observed three of the most beautiful women that she had ever seen, all with long flowing hair that seemed to glide and float on an undetectable breeze. One blonde, one brunette, and one red-head. Their faces were exquisite; their bodies, dressed in wispy white shifts, were sensuous and voluptuous in the extreme. They were speaking to one another, but their sweet silvery sing-songy voices were, for some reason unintelligible.
Batgirl tried to speak, but as in many dreams, she found herself unable to do so. She tried to rise from the bed, but found her limbs simply unwilling or unable to comply.
As the three women hovered over and around the two groggy reclined heroines, their pale beautiful faces were alive with excitement and mirth. Were they speaking another language? Whatever it was, the lyrical tones of their voices were beautiful and entrancing. Their prominent pale breasts were heaving, pointed, and round, with deep, obvious, impressive, showy cleavage.
Now the three women in the dream seemed to have decided something, and the woman nearest to Batgirl now reached down to touch her. Gazing down with a strange look in her eyes, she began to smooth warmed oils along the length of Batgirl’s sleek toned legs. Wet sound of the oil massage filled the room, as Batgirl’s unresisting body basked in the remarkable sensations. Now Batgirl’s thighs slowly scissored as the brunette gracefully and enticingly smoothed the oils all along the insides of Batgirl’s thighs, as the sweet fruity scent of the hot oil wafted through the air.
The three strange dream-girls began to giggle a mirthless laugh, as the blonde and the red-head began a similar process of hot-oil massage on the exquisite curves of Supergirl’s lithe groggy limbs.
Casually unhooking the front of Batgirl’s bra, the brunette freed Batgirl’s sharply pointed breasts to the cool evening air. The shapely breasts sprang out of the confines of the bra to reveal their inviting shape and impressive dimensions.
Now the delicate white hands glided over the curves of Batgirl’s upturned breasts, smearing the hot oils over the rounded hillocks and deep into her yielding cleavage. The sensation caused the young heroine to reflexively arch her back, and inhale deeply. Batgirl’s nipples became fully erect, her breasts expanding as she responded to the skillful touch.
Now Batgirl found herself being rolled over onto her stomach, her face and skin relishing the feeling of the soft furs stretched out across the bed. She saw Supergirl’s top had also been removed, and the stalwart young blonde heroine’s breasts were also oozing with thick exotic-smelling oils. Supergirl offered no resistance to the women tending her. Briefly Supergirl’s eyes met Batgirl’s, but neither heroine spoke a word.
Batgirl knew from experience that neither she nor her heroic friend had any lesbian leanings, and strangely, she sensed that the three women in her dream did not either. Instead, Batgirl sensed that she and Supergirl were being “prepared” for something, for someone, for . . . a man.
Nevertheless, as the skillful hands of her attendant smoothed the hot oils all over her back and full rounded buttocks, it was impossible to deny that her body felt alive as never before. She would be ready for this man.
As she watched Supergirl’s pert buttocks being kneaded and massaged, she basked in the sensations of profound relaxation.
Now both heroine’s oiled sweet-smelling bodies glistened in the dim candle light, as they collapsed again onto their backs, next to one another, into the downy-soft pillows of the bed. As they lay there, the 3 dream women glided away and seemed to vanish into the mist, with the silvery tones of their laughter still echoing throughout the room.
“The Boudoir” 1:00am - Castle Carthax
Batgirl awoke to find herself in a finely appointed bedroom, rich with lush, ornate, but tasteful furnishings, all in a classic medieval style. Trefoil stone windows were fitted with leaded glass. Fleur-de-Li, patterns adorned the walls. Inviting fur rugs covered the floors. The room was lit only by the golden warm flickering of candle light. Batgirl was laid out on the soft thick quilts and softer furs which covered the impressive bed of the master bedroom. Lying on the bed next to her, on her back, was Supergirl. Supergirl was clad in the flimsiest of pink negligees. The nearly transparent gauzy attire consisted of a daring thong, which disappeared between her tender white blemishless thighs. The thong was accessorized with a delicate pink fringe that was masquerading as a skirt. The fringe was about 4 inches long, so it was really too long to be considered fringe, but it was also far too short to be considered as a skirt. In any event, it did little to cover Supergirl’s spectacular hips and pelvis, but instead rather effectively teased any onlookers to inspect this part of her physique with even greater attention. Another gauzy fringe of pink fabric ineffectively covered her perky nipples, which were still plainly visible through the transparent fabric. Batgirl was dressed in similar lingerie that was blue.
For her part, Supergirl was still sleeping. Even dressed in her flimsy lingerie, the gently dozing girl was a picture of perfect innocence. With each long slow steady breath, her keenly pointed perky breasts rose and fell enticingly. Her eyes were closed, revealing violet eye shadow, and long dark lashes. Her tender pink lips were plump and pursed, as if to say, “Oooooooo.” Her pale silky shiny blonde spilled out alluringly across the shiny black silk sheets.
As Batgirl sat up, she noticed that she too was dressed in a tiny thong, with lacy fringe at the hips, and a brief top. Her legs were shaved and oiled slippery-smooth, as were Supergirl’s. Had that part of the dream been true?
Gazing around the room, Batgirl noticed 3 trefoil windows, with diamond-pattern leading. The stone framework around the tiny windows was far too small to allow her to try to escape through the window, but looking out afforded her a view of the main entryway, where she had first entered. It was still night-time, but the full moon illuminated the castle grounds with enough eerie light for her to see the area clearly.
Inspecting the rest of the room, Batgirl observed that the room had no doorways, nor any obvious means of entering or leaving the room. Looking more closely, she quickly identified 2 sections of the wall, that were outlined with a clear seam. Pushing on the first panel revealed that that door was locked. Stepping quietly to the second door, Batgirl pushed gently on it, and was relieved to find that it slowly sung open, to reveal a narrow spiraling stone stairway that led both upward and downward. A dim electric sconce, designed to look like a candle illuminated the rough passageway.
“What are you doing?” asked Supergirl, who had apparently just awoken, and was now lying invitingly on her side on the bed.
“Getting out of here,” replied Batgirl flatly. Spotting her uniform folded neatly on a nearby chair, along with Supergirl’s, she grabbed her own, and tossed the other one to Supergirl. “Quick, put that on.”
“Are we going up or down?” asked Supergirl as she sprang to her feet, excitedly.
“I’m willing to bet all of the exits are down,” replied Batgirl as she quickly dressed.
“Good idea. I’m in no condition to fly. Down it is!” and with that, the two newly dressed heroines began to make their way down the dimly lit stone stairway.
As the two shapely heroines made their way down the sharply curving secret stairway, their hearts pounded in their chests.
At the base of the secret stairway, the two heroines found themselves in a massive Great Room, of staggering proportions. Shields and banners lined every wall, and dramatic windows overlooked a striking moonlit night. A massive organ lay ensconced in a nearby niche. They were dumbstruck by the magnificent proportions of the impressive room.
“Greetings, ladies, and welcome to my Grand Hall,” came the Master’s voice. “It is so easy to become lost in this grand old home. If you are lost, perhaps I can assist you. If you were not comfortable in the accommodations that were prepared for you, . . . then perhaps you will be more comfortable, . . . in the dungeons.”
Finding herself again in close proximity with the Master, and his Violet Kryptonite jewelry, Supergirl found herself quickly and uncharacteristically overcome by a sudden wave of heady dizziness.
“Unghohhhhh. . . .” she groaned, as her slender legs swayed on suddenly unsteady feet.
“Not feeling well, are we, Supergirl?”
“OHHhhhhhhhhhhh . . .” she moaned again, as the girl’s slight frame fell heavily to the floor, falling onto her hands and knees.
“Supergirl!” cried Batgirl in concern for her fallen comrade.
“Batgirl, . . . Go for h-- . . . help!” Supergirl cried, weakly, as she fell fully to the floor, writhing with weakness and inexplicable sensual desire. Though she was barely able to move, the Violet-K was enflaming feelings of profound arousal within her. As she squirmed seductively on the lavishly tiled floor, in her tiny revealing micro-skirt, Supergirl’s shapely thighs squeezed lustfully together, as her pelvis writhed toward the Master, and her pert latex-clad buttocks churned enticingly in the moonlight.
Despite the obviously growing effects of the Violet-K, again, she repeated desperately, “Go for h-- . . . help!”
In an instant Batgirl’s Bat-reflexes sprang into action, and she bolted for a nearby door, which opened up onto the moonlit castle grounds. In a moment, her sensuous Bat-legs quickly carried through the door, and out into the cool air of the night.
“Bride of the Zombies” The grounds of Carthax Castle - 1:15am
Batgirl’s mind was swimming. She felt sick to the stomach about leaving Supergirl behind, but this might be her only chance to flee that dreaded castle, and get back-up. Her heart pounded in her chest, as she sprinted swiftly over the castle grounds with the speed and grace of an Olympic runner, her path lit only by the bright full moonlight. The muscles of her shapely legs and buttocks flexed and bounced as she ran along, her prominent breasts bounced and jounced enticingly on her chest.
Though her legs carried her quickly forward, toward a looming tree line, Batgirl was unfamiliar with the castle grounds, and somewhat disoriented in the dark gloomy night time setting. As she scrambled along, she hurriedly tried to recall the satellite view of the castle that she had seen before, to fix her current location in her mind’s eye, and to extrapolate the most likely path back to the BATMOBILE, or at least to the road. Still, the Batmobile might have been moved during her captivity, and the road is where her captors might most likely be looking for her, she reasoned. Perhaps a brief jaunt into the woods would be the best way to put some distance between her and her pursuers. Then, she could circle back to try to determine if the Batmobile had been--
As Batgirl sprinted desperately along, she suddenly found herself in a strange setting. It was a clearing in the woods. It was an old cemetery, . . . perhaps a family plot associated with the Carthax family that had once lived here. For a moment, Batgirl stopped to catch her breath. She had put a good distance between herself and the castle already, and turning to listen now, over her own gasping breath and the pounding of her racing heart, she could neither hear nor see any signs that she was being followed. As she continued to listen, she granted herself a few moments to catch her breath.
Somehow, the sounds of her gasping breath seemed to add a sense of fear and desperation to the already haunting cemetery scene around her. Everywhere aging tombstones and barren craggy tree branches surrounded her. The cool blue moonlight cast deep black ambiguous shadows, that seemed to lurk suspiciously around her. In the creepy funereal setting, Batgirl knew that her mind was playing tricks on her, so she tried to focus, and ignore the shadows as they seemed to move and shift stealthily about her. She needed to get her bearings and get moving again if--
“CRACK!”
The tiniest of tree branches broke nearby, just ahead of her.
It was probably just a raccoon, Batgirl told herself.
“SNAP!!”
Another branch broke somewhere in the darkness just behind her. It was close. Very close! Batgirl whirled to face her would-be attackers, . . . but saw no one . . . nothing.
Now her throat was in her chest, adrenaline flowed in her veins, her pulse was pounding, her “fight-or-flight” reflex was kicking in, . . . and working overtime.
As she turned this way and that, trying to spot and face any would-be attackers, Batgirl started to feel dizzy and disoriented. What was happening?
A mound of dirt, just to the left of her, moved an inch, or did it?
Another one on the right moved two inches. She wasn’t imagining this.
Panic overwhelmed her. Was this the effects of the Scarecrow’s gas kicking in? As the waves of fear and arousal began to overwhelm her, they felt impossible to resist.
Now a pale gray arm burst suddenly out of the ground, . . . first one, then another! In moments, “people” were erupting out of the ground all around her! Dead people. It wasn’t possible, but there it was. Gray and dirty, old and rotting, their large muscular bodies pulled themselves up out of the dirty earth, on all sides of her!
Desperately trying to keep her cool, Batgirl fought to keep her nerves in check. If this was just the effects of Professor Crane’s latest fear gas formula, then she should be able to confront her fears and stare them down -- They had to be figments of her imagination. The fear was intense, palpable. It gnawed at the pit of her stomach. Her heart was racing. She tried accessing the many years of her combat training, but an overwhelming sense of helplessness consumed her. She also felt a strange, inappropriate, but unmistakable twinge of arousal between her legs.
Now the creatures of the night were on their feet, all around her, and the chilling sound of a howling wolf assaulted her ears.
Marching slowly toward her on all sides, in stilting ungainly uneven steps, they came. Their dead eyes staring blankly forward, . . . black and empty, . . . like shark eyes, their arms stretched out in front of them. It HAD to be a dream! She HAD to face down her fears.
She was immobilized, . . . transfixed.
As they drew closer, the pang of arousal between her legs intensified. Reluctantly, she resisted the urge to touch herself, but her round thighs, hips, and buttocks, shifted nervously. She needed to touch herself.
Just a few more seconds, and this sick twisted vision would disappear, she told herself. “Hang in there, girl!”
They were almost on her. . .
They were all around her! . . . groaning low and incoherently, lumbering toward her with a slow ungainly gate. They were large, massive, and all of them were men.
Then as the closest one reached out to grab her, -- she felt something move under her feet. Glancing down at her shapely booted leg, she saw a dead pale clammy hand explode from the dirt directly beneath her, gripping her booted ankle with a powerful steely tight grip.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!” Batgirl’s desperate cry split the night.
Another hand grabbed her other slender ankle, immobilizing her.
Now the undead moved in on her from all sides, their cold pale clammy hands and arms groping, grabbing, overwhelming her. Now she was knocked off her feet, falling into a sea of arms all groping, grabbing, fondling her. She could feel their hands and fingers on her plump round bottom. No one was supposed to touch her there! More fingers eagerly felt up her full round thighs, clad in only the thinnest form-fitting tights, groping, clutching the insides of her thighs, fondling her forbidden breasts, . . . They were everywhere!
Now the creatures groaned in approval as they lifted her lithe curvaceous form high overhead, like a prize, and slowly began to carry her away. Squirming in their grip, Batgirl was helpless to resist their eager hands. But they were not carrying her back toward the castle; they were carrying her . . . deeper into the darkness.
In time, they would bring her to their master, but first her wriggling supple body would satisfy there needs, . . . would be theirs . . . for the taking . . .
Reaching between her soft supple thighs, Batgirl finally quenched her own needy desires. It was all too much. Now she was touching herself as she was born aloft on the hands of the damned. Their gripping groping probing hands were too much for her. Release was hers to be had. As her slender fingers probed eagerly between her legs, her throbbing clitoris basked in the much-needed attention.
Her eager fingers grind and probe. It feels so good as they lower her to the earth, surrounding her, laying her on the ground, gathering around, looking down at her.
Writhing on the ground, her fingers probe her most tender places, answering the cries of her libido. It feels so good, the need . . . so intense, release . . . so close. She closes her eyes as they leer down at her. For long seconds, she grinds her needy bud. It’s so wrong, but so good. Her round hips give one last wriggle against her fingertips, and suddenly a blinding cavalcade of pleasures explodes between her legs. Hot liquid gushes against her fingers, blessed warm relief emanates from her sweet center point. “Ooohh-hh!” It’s too much! Her body jerks, spasms, and squirms under the devastating effects of the sweet forbidden rapture. Wave after wave. Her fingers still probe at her needy squishing wet mound. It’s sooooo good. . .
All around her, the hulking creatures cheer in approval, as their captive heroine obliges them with a much needed erotic display. They all look down approvingly on her writhing curvy vanquished satiated form. As she stretches and writhes and coos in the dizzy hazy afterglow, they gaze admiringly and lustfully down at her. Her bottom is so round. Her proportions so refined . . . so delicate. Her costume so revealing, so tantalizing. Her body so available. Her need . . . so raw and open.
Now for a moment, all shame is gone, as she writhes in guilty lust, her hands unapologetically still clutching between her legs, groping at her needy core. Still her wet hands probe, and her wide hips writhe. But as her guilty hands finally come away, and her sensuous curvaceous legs finally part, a large wet spot can now clearly be seen, even in the moonlight, just between her legs, undeniable proof to them all of her guilty shameful passion.
She has done what none other has before, what they all seek. She has completed them as none other. She shall be their Queen. Now, it is time to bring her dozing groggy sated form back, . . . to the Master. He will be waiting.
As they lift her up, Batgirl lay awash in her afterglow, uncaring, unresisting, submitting to their hands as they support her. She lies guilty and care-free, stained and marked by her own guilty pleasure, carried aloft by “their” hands. Unknown hands grope her legs, inappropriately handling her tempting ripe long-forbidden bottom, her slender back, and her outstretched arms, carried aloft by their arms and by their desires, enjoying with guilty reverie, their adoration, and the wet pleasures that has vanquished her, and that still lingers between her legs. It is a wet badge of pleasure that she wears with both pride and shame.
“Dungeons of Dracula” 2:00 am - Castle Carthax
As Batgirl came to, a warm luxurious feeling played between her thighs. Opening her eyes, she found herself, chained to a dank stone wall, her wrists bound over her heads, in heavy, crudely fashioned but effective metal cuffs. Her ankles were similarly cuffed. Her snug uniform, . . . thankfully remained in tact. Next to her, similarly bound, was Supergirl.
Together, the two defenseless heroines were chained in some sort of dark, dank, stone dungeon. Elaborate manacles, adjustable tables, and armatures designed for the purpose of restraint filled the room. Hear and there, heavy chains hung from the ceiling.
“Supergirl!” Batgirl whispered excitedly, “Are you OK?”
“I’m still a little groggy, but otherwise. . . fine,” answered Supergirl. “That Kryptonite is so strong. Just a little bit of it, really gets to me. Its not like any other kind I’ve ever encountered before. It really . . . leaves me. . .” Supergirl struggled to describe the intimately personal effects, but found herself at a loss for words.
“Your OK. That’s what matters,” Batgirl interrupted, wanting to change the subject.
“How far did you get?” asked Supergirl, eager to learn the details of Batgirl’s brief escape attempt.
“Not far,” replied Batgirl, with no further elaboration. She was not at all comfortable with her memories of the brief encounter in the woods, and was not yet prepared to share any of the details with her close friend.
Supergirl continued, whispering, “I guess you were wrong about the Scarecrow being behind all of this. . . Who is this cree--”
“On the contrary, my dear Supergirl! ‘The Scarecrow’ is very much involved in this little caper,” came an insipid little voice from the darkness. And then, after an appropriately dramatic pause, Professor Jonathan Crane, ‘The Scarecrow,’ stepped out of the shadows. Though his villainous identity was that of the Scarecrow, this particular evening, he was dressed in his professor’s laboratory smock, looking every bit the part of a ‘mad scientist.’
“Scarecrow!” cried Supergirl, in surprise. “You weasely little snipe! Let me out of this before I rip your--”
“Not so fast, my dear little Supergirl. You can’t intimidate me with threats of violence, so long as our Kryptonite continues to rob you of your ‘awe-inspiring’ powers.”
“What are you up to, Crane?” prodded Batgirl impatiently.
“Indeed, Batgirl . . . What am I up to? I shall tell you. What I am up to is without a doubt, the greatest experiment of my professional scientific career! Nothing less than the greatest investigation of FEAR in the history of mankind!”
“I know that you ‘hero-types’ regard me as a ‘lightweight,’ a ‘wannabe,” not in the same league with the likes of the Joker, Bane, or Ra’s al Ghul, . . . but today your opinion of me will, quite necessarily, have to change. You see, all my life I have studied fear. Then, during my last stay in Arkham, I had a most illuminating conversation with the Penguin. It seems that several years ago, he and THE BATMAN, had a rather fascinating encounter with history’s most notorious villain. . . Vlad Tepes, Vlad the Impaler, Vlad the Third of Wallachia, . . . Vlad . . . Dracul!”
“Oh, I know, it sounds quite preposterous. Believe me, I know! I am a man of science myself. For weeks I thought the Penguin was just suffering from the effects of too many sedatives or some sort of bird-brain lunacy, but over time, I had to admit, . . . he had facts and figures to back it up. His story was always consistent, . . . air tight. He had names, places, dates, even corroborating newspaper reports. The reports were cryptic, of course, referring to, “The Lost Ones,” mysterious disappearances, victims suffering from a loss of blood, the involvement of the Batman and the Penguin. But all the elements to corroborate his story were there. In time, . . . I came to believe him. And then . . . it came to me. If the Penguin’s story were true. . . If HE really existed . . . HE would be the discovery of a lifetime . . . the very embodiment of fear . . . FEAR INCARNATE! HIS very name is synonymous with fear. I HAD TO WORK WITH HIM!”
“The Penguin knew enough to tell me where to look. Police files were easy enough to hack. In no time, I learned where they were detaining and confining his. . . ‘remains.’ Stealing the remains was child’s play, and restoring him to health, was just a matter of supplying a few hapless victims, to . . . slake his thirst. Soon his strength and vitality returned. The only real challenge remaining was getting him to cooperate with me, getting him to work with me, without having him turn me into some kind of mindless slave. I wanted to be his partner, not his servant. But even that resolved itself rather quickly. I simply asked him what he wanted. It was so simple. He told me he wanted two things:
The idea of luring in you two came to me instantly. Supergirl, you would supply him with the most nourishing blood on the planet, pulsing with untapped power, and Batgirl . . . well, you were virtually MADE for Dracula, a self-styled creature of the night, young, innocent, sexy. . . vulnerable. You even share His interest in bats!”
The young captive detectives were engrossed in Crane’s story. Both young heroines’ minds were abuzz, analyzing the criminal’s comments with surgical precision, looking for lies, clues, contradictions, anything that could help them get a better grip on what was happening. Batgirl and Supergirl had both seen the files of Batman’s encounter with the Penguin and someone calling himself “Dracula.” It was hard to believe, but there was no doubt that THE BATMAN was unequivocally convinced as to the truth of the claim. The villain’s feats of strength and speed defied any other explanation, and his plague of “lost ones” had swept over the city with chilling speed. The Dark Knight regarded the vampire as one of the most challenging opponents he’d ever faced. As the Batcomputer files described the encounter, the crime fighter had managed to achieve victory by only the thinnest of margins. The effects of his bite had spread a blood disease amongst his victims, causing them to take on ‘zombie-like’ qualities. Could this explain Batgirl’s encounter in the grave yard?
Crane continued, “I quietly acquired this castle, then waited until the newspapers reported Batman and Superman were working on a case out of the country. I knew you two would try to fill in for them, so all that was left was to supply the proper bait. Miss Beauchamp was an easy enough target, and Voila! There you have it. Now I can watch the master in action, and record every bit of it . . . “for science.” As a fellow practitioner of fear, he’s been only too happy to treat me as an equal! Already, I’ve learned so much! I’ve been stunned at the powerful connection between fear and arousal in the mind. As he seduces each of you, I’ll learn so much more! I can’t wait to see which one of you he ultimately chooses to be his bride!”
“BRIDE????” cried Batgirl and Supergirl in unison, shocked in disbelief.
Then, after a pause, “I have yet to decide, . . .” came the Master’s haunting voice, from somewhere in the darkness.
They all turned and stared, as the dark vampire lord glided from the shadows.
Stepping silently nearer to the bound heroines, he spoke, “Ladies, I want you to always remember what I do to you now.” Stepping forward, he gripped the front of Supergirl’s tight clingy shirt, and ripped it sharply so that the world-famous “S” emblem was torn in half. While the shirt remained more or less in tact, the better portion of Supergirl’s super-breasts were now plainly exposed to the cool dungeon air. To add insult to injury, he ripped the heroine’s micro skirt away, to reveal her daring plunging thong.
A moment later, he gripped Batgirl’s taut top, and now ripped a similarly revealing “window” in it, so that Batgirl’s alluring breasts were now also nicely on display. To make matters worse, he ripped away the lower half of her uniform, to reveal her long shapely legs and her daring blue thong. Taking a bottle from a nearby table, he poured a fine clear oil out onto his hands. Now standing between the women, his back against the wall, he reached behind them, and clapped one hand over each heroine’s naked thonged ass, smearing the oil onto them, and gripping them possessively.
Bound as they were, there was nothing the two girls could do to avoid the lewd gesture, and their involuntary wriggling only made the act, inadvertently even sexier.
Next he smoothed more of the oil onto their smooth unresisting thighs. . . and then, smeared more still onto the exposed portions of their heaving sweaty breasts. The overall effect was to make their bodies shine enticingly in the surrounding torchlight.
Finally, he examined their bound bodies with the eyes of a connoisseur. His eyes drank in the contours of their sharply-jutting freshly-oiled breasts. Crouching down, his keen eyes devoured the contours of their defenseless groins. Then his hands glided over the supple curves of their magnificent thighs. Methodically, he traced the fronts, backs, insides, and outsides of their thighs. Next, he stood between the heroines, his cold pale hands casually cupped and plupped their perfect flanks, apparently assessing the heft and fit of them in his hands. In response, the chained women offered no resistance, as he examined them, lulled as they were by the Violet-K, his vampiric pheromones, and the Scarecrow’s fear/arousal gas. The girls submitted without agitation or emotion to his cool “hands-on” inspection.
“W-well, . . . Master, w-who will it be? . . “ stammered the Scarecrow.
“As you have already observed, Supergirl’s blood offers me untold power, while Batgirl appeals to me as a ‘creature of the night . . . so naturally, . . . I shall wed . . . BOTH of them,” replied the vampire. And with this, he spanked both of the heroines’ asses sharply.
“SWAT-CRACK!! . . .”
“But first, I must assure their . . . total compliance. I shall begin with Batgirl, but don’t worry Supergirl, your turn will follow.”
Then stepping around in front of Batgirl, he gazed down at what little was left of the Bat-emblem, stretched tightly across her prominently jutting breasts, then gazed deeply into her large innocent blue eyes, and said, “Batgirl, I am the Lord of Bats. Yet you defy me again and again. In your pheromone-induced stupor you are most vulnerable to hypnotic suggestion, and so, I shall now enter your mind as no creature ever has before. . . Your mind and your body are mine, . . . Your mind and your body are mine . . .Your mind and your body . . . are MINE. You will not regain your willpower again, until you have fully consummated your marriage . . . to the Lord of the Bats.
“King of the Vampires, Lord of the Bats” 3:45 am - Castle Carthax
Deep in the dank dungeons of Castle Carthax, Batgirl and Supergirl awoke to find themselves tightly and expertly bound in matching studded black-leather harnesses. The harness was basically a corset, with cut-outs which outlined and literally underscored the shape of their now fully-naked breasts. The corset, was fitted with numerous straps that led dramatically across their bodies to a leather collar, and various other tight black leather bindings. The smell of new leather was in the air, and the leather creaked gratifyingly as their lithe supple half-naked bodies moved. But with such expert bindings, escape was out of the question.
Both young women were bound with padded steel manacles, their hands pulled tightly behind their backs, where the manacles attached securely to the corset harness. Yet another strap connected the women’s wrists to their necks, holding the women in a strictly upright position. Each harness was also fitted with a crotch strap, which fit snugly over their daring thongs. The strict pose was a revealing one, with each heroine’s back sharply arched, her firm young pointed breasts thrust gratifyingly upward and outward. Under the revealing strain of the pose, their firm young breasts seemed to defy gravity completely.
Batgirl retained her cowl, while both girls were kept their high-gloss high-heeled boots. The boots only emphasized the wonderfully feminine shape of their long legs, and adding even greater strain to their already tight restrictive posture. Each girl’s boots were tightly bound at the ankles.
Both women were fitted with gags. Batgirl’s teeth were tightly clenched around a shiny black cleave gag, while Supergirl was muffled by a white tape gag. The heroines’ wide eyes peered with nervous anticipation over their gags, at the events unfolding around them.
To make matters worse, both women were confined in close-fitting cages which allowed them to stand, but which permitted almost no other movement.
“Welcome, my fiancés ,” a voice came from out of the darkness behind them. “I was just enjoying the view. . .” he said as he stepped from the shadows. “I must say that I could drink in the sight of your lovely commanding posteriors for many years without ever tiring of them . . . and I have every intention of doing just that.”
“Nn-nnghhh!!” Batgirl responded, unintelligibly.
As he stepped into the light, the bound girl’s turned to face him, but with their ankles bound moving was difficult. “Still, such beautiful bodies are not just to be seen, but to be felt,” he said, reaching through the cage and clapping one hand over one of Batgirl’s full pouting naked thonged buttocks. “THWACK!!” The muscle mass rippled as he cupped it, and a feint yelp escaped Batgirl’s lips, “MmMMPH!!!”
His hand molded to the soft inviting form, reveling in its softness, consistency, and perfect shape. Her helplessness to resist his advances only added to the thrill.
“I think that it is fair to say that I have, without a doubt, ‘The World’s Finest’ females standing here in chains before me. How wonderful. Now the question is, how best to enjoy you? In my earlier days, I might well have turned you into my kind, to enjoy your beauty for centuries to come. But with time, I have learned that to do so is to pervert the lively beauty that I seek into a lifeless approximation of beauty, . . . pretty enough, but hollow and devoid of the vitality that I need. No, . . . I will enjoy you as you are. Full, . . . succulent, . . . and full of life.” With the first use of the word ‘full,’ he squeezed Batgirl’s bottom lasciviously in his large hand, then extended his other hand toward Supergirl’s backside. With the word, “succulent,” he cupped Supergirl’s cool plump naked thonged buttock, and squeezed it in unison with Batgirl’s.
Given his lusty gesture, it was impossible for the girls to not feel like sex objects, but strangely, as he groped them, they also felt desired, as an unwanted but unmistakable twinge of pleasure flared between their full smooth shapely thighs.
With that, Vlad removed his hands, and made a gesture to the shadows. Instantly the tall cages that enclosed the two hapless heroines were raised slowly upward into the darkness with the slow deliberate, “tink . . . tink . . . tink” of a heavy dungeon chain moving through a ratcheted pulley.
“Still, I am not certain that you have yet been fully and properly prepared.” With that, the Professor Crane emerged from the shadows, with a small device in his hands. The Scarecrow activated the device, and suddenly electrical sparks arced and flashed from its twin electrodes, accompanied by the gratifying buzz and crackling sounds of live electricity echoing through the stone corridors of the dungeon.
Batgirl’s large bright eyes opened wide in anticipation of the coming torment. “MMmmmmMMMM-MMMMMMnnngMMMMPHH!!” she groaned desperately. Flashing sparks from the insidious device reflected off of her wide eyes.
As he approached, the Scarecrow allowed the tiny dazzling lightning bolts to dance savagely across Batgirl’s sharply pointed breasts and across her nipples. Batgirl gasped in surprise and astonishment at the thrilling sensation, but was amazed to discover that it created . . . a sparking tingling sensation, rather than torturous pain! In moments her breasts were as pert and erect and alert as they had ever been.
“This is a modified stun-gun,” began the Scarecrow. “Its voltage and amperage have been significantly adjusted and modified so that it will no longer cause pain or immobilization. Instead, its sparks merely excite any tissue that they contact, enhancing arousal. Still, it is most fascinating to observe the expressions of terror and obvious arousal that play across your face. Voltage or not, your fear and excitement were very real, were they not, Batgirl?”
Moments later, Supergirl gasped as the Scarecrow turned the device on her, and she too submitted to the treatment. If anything, her breasts were even more responsive to the sparking scintillating sizzling treatment. As the device sparked and crackled and sizzled away, her hardened nipples were now even more clearly pronounced.
Now the thrilling electrical treatments continued, with the jagged sparks of sizzling energy playing off of the young girls’ naked breasts, causing their nipples to harden and stiffen demonstrably.
“Excellent,” replied the King of Vampires, as he looked on approvingly.
When both girls’ breasts were sufficiently standing at attention, the Scarecrow turned off the device, and stepped back into the shadows leaving the girls to wonder what torments awaited them next.
Their questions were promptly answered as Crane stepped up behind Supergirl and promptly clamped a rag over her face.
“Don’t struggle, my dear, this cloth is heavily dosed with the latest variant of my famous Fear Gas formula,” Crane began. “It doesn’t induce fear, so much as it enhances the connection in the mind between fear and arousal. So the more frightened you are, the more groggy and aroused you will become. Fascinating, isn’t it? Of course it induces unconsciousness at first, but the other effects will follow soon enough.”
The struggling wriggling heroine unwittingly put on quite a sensuous show as her bound form wiggled uselessly in the grip of the Scarecrow. Mmmphing and Pmmmmphing sexily as her pretty blonde hair swished this way and that, she struggled strenuously in his grip as her consciousness slowly . . . inexorably . . . was drained from her.
Finally she submitted, her lustrous eyes rolling dramatically up into her head before totally succumbing to unconsciousness, and collapsing in the Scarecrow’s arms. He laid the girl down on the floor of the dungeon, as Vlad watched impassively.
“Its your turn next, Batgirl,” cooed Crane, as he approached. Batgirl had already tried every trick she knew to escape the leather harness, but to no avail. As Crane stepped behind her, she felt his clammy hand fit a damped rag over the delicate features of her perfect face, and soon the sickly sweet scent of the drug assaulted her senses. She fought off the effects as long as she could, but bound as she was, there was no resisting the grip of the mad professor. She didn’t want to wiggle against the Professor and give him the satisfaction of her fear, but as her lungs cried out for air, there was no choice but to inhale. As the fragrant drug entered her body, her mind clouded, her vision blurred, and a overall sense of both fear and arousal filled her, as her shapely naked legs scissored enticingly. A second breath intensified the feelings, and then at last, her eyes rolled up into her head, her dark eyelashes fluttered seductively, and then at last she succumbed . . . completely.
“Shall we continue with the consummation ritual now, Master?” asked Crane, sounding less and less like a partner-in-crime, and more and more like a subservient mind-controlled slave.
“Yes. Prepare my bedchambers . . .”
“The Consummation Ceremony” 4:45am - Carthax Castle
Batgirl awoke to find herself stretched out on the sensuous fur blankets of what was presumably the Master Bedroom. She wore only her cowl, boots, and her tiny blue-black thong. As usual, her limbs were chained, via large metal manacles to the wall. While she could not be certain, she suspected from certain architectural cues, that this room adjoined the other bedroom that she and Supergirl had been locked in earlier. This room, was even more sumptuously and finely appointed with rich tapestries, paintings, heavy draperies, and elaborate carvings.
But as she came to her senses, she dreaded what was to come. Above all else, she feared for her partner, Supergirl. The normally invulnerable young blonde would be helpless in the arms of the Master. Supergirl had no defense against the supernatural, and under the influence of Violet-K, she would be even more vulnerable. Would she succumb to the Master’s vampiric charms?
Glancing around the room now, she saw Supergirl was also in the room, not far from her. The young Kryptonian was on her back, bound and chained to a crude but elaborate wooden-and-metal medieval-looking armature, which effectively elevated the young heroine’s body off the floor, and sharply arched her back.
The bindings pinned Supergirl’s arms tightly behind her back, in a most restrictive position. Meanwhile her slender tapered legs, were spread wide, but folded tightly back on themselves, so that her booted heels dug into her plump thonged buttocks. She was positioned on her back, so that her knees and head were pointed downward, while her remarkable chest and taut abs were thrust skyward. Everywhere, she seemed to be fitted with wide supple studded black-leather straps, which pinned her slender limbs at numerous points to the elaborate wooden contraption upon which she lay. Her arms, neck, and legs were all tightly pinned to the structure beneath her, while another strap, around her midsection was attached to a heavy chain that reached high up toward the rafters of the room. This mad torture device was fitted with a large metal crank at its midsection. Batgirl’s keen eyes perceived that the entire structure of the mad device was designed to fold, like some sick variation of “the rack” designed to stretch its victim into an ever tighter arc, as the device folded in on itself.
Supergirl’s perfect body was already stretched taut by the strange medieval contraption. The oiled sheen of her skin glistened temptingly in the dim candle-light. So far as Batgirl could see, the defenseless young Kryptonian wore only her boots, white gloves, a tiny red thong, and the few remaining scraps of her once-gleaming tight white belly shirt. Supergirl’s mouth was tightly fitted with a shiny red cleave gag. Batgirl moved to help her bound friend, but quickly discovered that her own heavy chains held her in bed. She would be helpless to assist her friend. Fear and a strange pang of desire swelled in her heart.
It was then that a heavy wooden door swung open, and the master entered. He gave Batgirl’s nearly naked body only a quick dismissive look, then turned all of his attentions toward the sensuously bound and splayed form of the slickly oiled . . . SUPERGIRL.
Supergirl mewed weakly through her gag, “Mm-mMm-mm”
His eyes flared with satisfaction as he took in her tempting form. His gaze seemed to devour the glistening flesh of her oiled thighs, tightly stretched, and nicely spread for . . . “easy access.” Next, his vision was drawn to her daring red thong, so nicely on display before him. His animal lust seemed to be enflamed by the tempting morsel so helplessly on spread out before him. As he approached, his large hands smoothed along the length of her keenly taut thighs, reveling in their smoothness and their tightness. As he rubbed the insides of her thighs, Supergirl unintentionally let out a sensuous moan of submission, “Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm-Nnnnnnnnngh. . .”
Now as he stood between her tempting thighs, he kissed her lower abs. Moving around to the side, he rotated the crank two clicks, stretching the girl . . . a little tighter.
“Click, . . . Click. . .”
With each click, the girl’s knees and head were lowered slightly, and pulled slightly closer together, as her mid-section was pulled upward slightly by a chain that rose to the ceiling. Supergirl groaned through her gag in complaint at the increased tension, but speaking was out of the question. Now his hands rubbed her abs and groped unapologetically at the plump buds of her exposed breasts, firing her senses as never before.
Stepping over to a nearby candle-labara, he removed one red candle, and tipping it over, dripped a few drops of wax on the Maid of Might’s left breast and nipple, causing her to gasp in pain, astonishment, . . . and desire. “Hhhhssssssssssssssssssss! . . .”
Under normal circumstances, the young heroine-heartthrob was invulnerable to much more intense sources of heat, but in her weakened condition, even the heat of this simple candle-wax electrified her senses, and caused her nipples to grow ever more erect, hard, and alive. She turned her head and glared at Batgirl with a strange expression of shame mixed with lust etched on her face.
Another click on the crank, and Supergirl thought she was at the breaking point. But the Master knew that the Kryptonian’s unique physiology would allow her to withstand more stress than tempered steel. This tiny waif of a girl would endure more arching than any other woman on the planet.
“Click, . . . click! . . .”
“Nhhhhh!” cried Supergirl, well past the breaking point. It was now hard to breath.
“. . . Click!”
“MmMMphh!!” How much longer could this go on??
Now the Master stepped again between her legs. Reaching under her defenseless form, her cupped her naked thonged buttocks in his hands, and placed his lips on the front panel of her tiny red thong, just at the apex of her mound.
“Unn-MmNNGHhhhhhh!!” groaned Supergirl in fear, and mind-breaking desperation, mixed with a healthy dose of erotic anticipation.
Now the Master kissed her mound with all the skill of a master violinist playing a centuries old Stratevareous. His lips and tongue and teeth fanned the flames of her desire to levels neither she nor Batgirl would ever have dreamed possible, as his greedy hands cupped and clutched the fleshy cheeks of her perfect defenseless ass.
Though movement was nearly impossible, somehow Supergirl managed to thrust her pelvis just a little harder against his skillful mouth, to grind just a little more much- needed pleasure from the moment.
It seemed impossible to be aroused at such a moment of physical tension and horror, but it was more impossible to resist the needs screaming out in her body.
Reaching up, he ripped the cleave-gag from the defenseless heroine’s mouth, to let her cries of passion ring clear and true. Then he returned to business.
“OOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!” she cried out, now obviously enslaved to the pleasure flaming between her legs.
“UNNNNGGHhhhh . . . OOOhhhhhhhh . . . Yeahhhhhhhh. . . . UNNNNGHhhhhh…” she groaned and moaned in unapologetic lust. . .
Now his hands reached around and roughly groped her sharply pointed breasts. “UNNNNGHhhhhh…” It was so right.
Now he backed away a step, and began rubbing and fingering the front of her mound and her thong with quick knowledgeable strokes. It simply wasn’t possible for his fingers to be more effective than his mouth had been, but somehow they were.
“OhhhUNGHHh!!!!” she cried out, in urgent utter desperation. It wasn’t possible! He couldn’t-- It was too--
Suddenly every nerve in Supergirl’s perfect vibrant physique welled up in anticipation, as the tiny area between her legs became utterly, totally, and inexplicably overwhelmed.
“Here it comes,” she thought, in the brief moment before it unleashed its wrath.
There was no holding back, as the climactic orgasm of a lifetime detonated between her legs. It was incomparable to anything which the young heroine had ever experienced in her young life, as the merciless incomprehensible tsunami of mind-ripping rapture washed over her, destroying her composure, devastating her senses, and sending her into oblivion!
Supergirl’s young body shook with a terrible force. Her delicate facial features contorted into a fierce ferocious grimace as the savage rapture had its uncultured way with her. Her head snapped left and right. Her teeth bared. Her eyes winced sharply closed. Her glossy lips pulled tight. Her naked breasts bounced and jiggled enticingly. Her knees flexed desperately, and her pelvis desperately thrust. But most of all, a deluge of divine liquid ecstasy exploded between her legs. Words could not explain the wonder of that feeling. All thoughts, all fears, all shame left her mind as she surrendered herself wholly and completely to that sheer unmitigated moment of ecstasy.
“UUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!” Supergirl’s desperate cry of ecstasy was shockingly loud, as her entire body trembled and shook with the terrible force of it all.
For long seconds, Batgirl watched in fascination as Supergirl’s body tensed and seized with the coming of what was evidently a resoundingly powerful and humbling orgasm. The blonde writhed as the climax took her. Gratifying expressions of exquisite delight, intensity, and delicious rapture played over her face as pleasures that defied all description wreaked utter havoc between her legs. Despite herself, it was impossible for Batgirl not to be inspired by the erotic scene before her. It was perhaps the most erotic scene she had ever personally witnessed, and it was undeniably intensely arousing.
After a long heady ride, when the worst of it was over, . . . or at least passing, Supergirl licked her lips, lustfully basking and wallowing in its heady afterglow. Maybe it was the fear gas, or the pheromones, or the Kryptonite. Supergirl wasn’t even sure if she cared anymore. But whatever it was, it was all too good to feign outrage. Even with Batgirl watching only a few meters away, she couldn’t hide it. She LOVED it.
“MMMMMmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm . . .”
Her afterglow was like the deep enduring rumbling of thunder after a brilliant bolt of lightning.
Now the Master released the crank, “click, click, click, click, click,” easing her position. And as she flexed her pelvis, he rubbed her mound again, driving new cries, and new shockwaves of sweet unexpected ecstasy from her limp, tortured body.
“Vlad the Impaler” Carthax Castle
. . . And as she flexed her pelvis, he rubbed her mound again, driving a last few cries of sweet ecstasy from her tortured body.
“She will be no more trouble to me. . .” he intoned. And he was right. Supergirl was ruined by her orgasm, . . . smitten. Any thoughts of escape or justice were, at least temporarily, driven from her mind, and from her ultimately satisfied body. She hung utterly limp and unresisting in her bindings.
Stepping up between her spread thighs, the Master paused for a moment to enjoy his total mastery of this so-called “super” girl. Chained, stripped, and pleasured, now stained with her own juices, dramatically bound and arched before him, awash in her own guilty pleasure, her body oiled, her perfect superhuman physique was completely dominated and vulnerable, stretched out before him. Here, the tight buds of her naked breasts, were thrust high. Here, her oiled glistening thighs were stretched out, spread invitingly wide before him. Here, only her tiny red thong stood between, him and total mastery of her womanhood.
For a moment he gloated, and lorded his absolute power over her. He reveled in his total domination of this ultimate symbol of all-American femininity, and purity, and light. He marveled at her supreme innocence, and savored the taking of it. They both knew what was coming, and they both wanted it.
“Take me,” she whispered in the softest of tones.
Relishing the last moments of her sacred purity, as he stood between her bound glistening thighs, at last he opened his garments, positioned his manhood, . . . and pushed forward.
“Unghh, hhh--hhh,” she whispered as the tip of him began to enter her. . .
She was so warm. . . so tight.
His hands traced the contours of her full slick glistening thighs, . . .
Deeper still, . . . slick, wet, . . .
Even from her position chained on the bed, Batgirl could hear the wet sounds of him, slowly entering her.
He savored the tight restrictive confines of her. . . so good. . . so tight, as she savored the press of him, . . . so hard, . . . so straight, . . . so determined.
So forbidden. . .
Deeper . . .
So tight. So slick. As he pushed forward into her, something occurred to him. Her flesh was more resilient than any other woman’s. Would her resilient fast-healing flesh mean that each time he took her, would be like the first? He relished the thought of taking this “eternal” virgin again, and again, and again, for years to come. As a Kryptonian, she would never grow old through the centuries, but unlike his other brides, she alone would maintain the liveliness of the true living. She was perfect. He pressed further still.
Deeper now, he relished her tight slick grip on him. Reaching forward he sampled her budding breasts, thrust temptingly upward by her bindings. Yes . . . just as he had hoped.
“Ohhhhhhh-hh!” she whined and whimpered pathetically, as his ‘nail’ penetrated still deeper.
Yes . . . just as he had hoped. So innocent and submissive.
Deeper still. . .
Now his hips crushed against her inner thighs, his sack against her plump crushed ass. His penetration, his invasion, was complete, . . . perfect.
Now he reached beneath her, to grope her perfect ass, as her hips wriggled, his stalk deeply impaling her. He savored being in the depths of her. So hot. She was his, . . . fully. She gasped in excitement, thrilling at the forbidden wonderful feel of him, buried so deep inside her. So BIG!
She was stuck on the spear of him, . . . lanced. . . nailed, . . . impaled.
She had never felt so alive, so much a woman.
Now he slowly withdrew from her slick depths, and then just as slowly . . . he refilled her.
Together they relished the wet sounds, the slick wet tightness, and the curvature of her passage. Each new stroke was slightly quicker than the last, more confident, more eager, more vulnerable, more pleasurable.
In time, as the pleasure swelled, the Count’s thrusts grew more insistent, more impatient. Before long he was humping her bound perfect form with animalistic fervor. He took her offering with lusty abandon, her mound coming alive with her own flaming desire.
“UNNNGHH!! Unghh! UNNGHH! Ungh-hhhhhh UNGHHH!!!” she whimpered, the cries of her passionate lust exciting both of them.
“UNNNGHH!! UNNGHH!! UNGHHH!!!” she cried out weakly and desperately, in high-pitched, breathy, exciting tones.
“UNNGHH!!! UNGHHH!!!!!!” It was all too much! Her tiny mound!!
His hips hammered the insides of her virgin inner thighs! It was all too--
“UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNNGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHGRRRRRRRRR!” “UNGHH-hh!!!!! AAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!. . .”
They came together. His cries a mighty roar. Hers a innocent high-pitched cry of submission, both consumed with the terrible ferocious rapture that thundered through them like a tsunami of ecstasy . . .
For long moments he pulsed deep within her, still humping her with wild desperate thrusts, as she cried out in high-pitched cried of surrender . . . abandoning herself to the all consuming pleasures of the moment. . .
Even in her restrictive bindings, her young body convulsed, her womb, squeezing and restricting on the length of him again and again, urging his seed from the mighty Vampire King, her body surrendering her own torrent of hot fluid, bathing his shaft in a warm deluge of her own welcoming love.
For long moments he reveled in his probing of the very depths of this “Supergirl.” But now at last, for the moment, he was spent, . . . as was she. But they were both ‘immortal’ after a fashion, . . . and the Dark Lord had not yet had his fill of this ripe young thing.
“Going Down for the Count.” The Master Bedroom of Carthax Castle
Slowly, but deliberately, the Master undid Supergirl’s many leather bindings. Slowly she stretched out her weary legs.
At last the Master released Supergirl from her strenuous bindings, and helped the spent girl down from the elaborate restraint device. While her oiled body was still damp with her passions, she was now free to move around.
Without wasting any time, the Count, removed her thong, turned Supergirl over the edge of a nearby table, and unceremoniously impaled her again, this time from behind. In short quick strokes he stabbed at her from behind, his hips sending gentle ripples through her tender quivering flanks and thighs. It was the Count’s belief that he had not really taken a woman, until he had taken her from behind. He needed to have her ass to impale the full depths of her. He needed to crush his hips against her womanly buttocks to have fully experienced her. This would do for now.
Now the Master withdrew from her welcoming depths, took a few steps away, and took a seat in an old-looking ornately-carved wooden chair, that looked like nothing so much as a throne.
Stepping up to him, the naked Supergirl voluntarily knelt before him. Guiding her head to him, he pulled her face down toward his groin. Moments later, Supergirl slurped and suckled like there was no tomorrow. Batgirl looked on in horror and disgust, as Supergirl “serviced” him, but the more Batgirl’s horror and disgust intensified, . . . the more her arousal heightened.
The slurping and sucking, and the bobbing of Supergirl’s head were all undeniably obscene to Batgirl, but soon she found that she simply could not take her eyes off of the forbidden coupling. Now Supergirl’s slender fingers got in on the act, stroking him, and fondling his sack, as she noisily but tenderly and enthusiastically adored, and kissed, and licked his shaft.
Now the Master stared over at Batgirl, gloating with an expression of supreme victory, reveling in his total domination of the internationally known super heroine known as Supergirl.
In time, he looked away, his eyes taking on a far away look. Then suddenly, he tensed, and pulled Supergirl’s head away. Jet after jet of clear hot liquid spurted out and spattered crazily over the perfect features of Supergirl’s perfect pristine face.
Rope after rope splattered on her, defiling and despoiling this world-famous icon of justice and innocence. Several pulses later, everything stopped. Slowly, Supergirl rose and turned toward Batgirl, revealing her once-innocent face now drenched, smeared, and spattered with long ropes of his hot clear seed, as some of the sticky goo dripped onto her bare chest. A look of guilty pleasure and satisfaction covered Supergirl’s face. She had been bested, defeated, her virtue forever besmirched, her beauty covered in cum, . . . but shamefully, she had to admit, . . . she would do it all over again.
Turning to Batgirl the Master spoke, “Dawn approaches. . . and I shall take YOU, . . . at sundown. . .”
“The Consummation of Batgirl” Carthax Castle
Batgirl awoke again within the stone walls of the Master Bedroom. The heavy draperies were still tightly drawn. Supergirl and the Master were now nowhere to be seen. For the first time, Batgirl noticed that no cuffs any longer bound her, but she knew deep down, that there was no chance for escape. She wore only her cowl, a gossamer top that barely did anything to hide her bounteous chest, and a tiny blue thong with a wispy flare of transparent fabric adorning each hip. Her long slender legs loved the sensations of the cool black silk sheets against her tender skin. And her body relished the warmth and softness of the plush furs that covered her.
Perhaps too warm now, she pulled her luxurious legs out from under the covers, revealing her intoxicating physique to anyone who might have been there to see. The daring lines of her thong emphasized all of the right curves, as Batgirl cowered on the bed, awaiting the inevitable arrival of her captor, her “Master,” her . . . “fiancé.”
Suddenly the room seemed to darken and grow cold. A faint wind whispered through the room.
Glancing up, she now narrowly observed his dark outline in the nearly dark room. She had been sure that she was alone. When had he entered? His arms now extended, out-stretching his cloak, flaring it dramatically like bat wings, accompanied by the faint rustling of fabric. As he came to her, Batgirl’s scantily clad form cooed and preened before him, making no effort to resist his approach. She would submit to him.
She awaited his arrival, her legs scissoring nervously but enticingly, marvelously sensuous, vulnerable, feminine, and helpless before him. His massive form loomed ominously over her, his eyes drinking in the welcome site of her pretty cowled face. He enjoyed the way her black cowl added drama, intrigue, and mystery to her enchanting features, the way that the mask’s eye-openings emphasized her enchanting eyes.
He gaped at her naked breasts, beneath the gossamer fabric which only half-heartedly played at concealing them. In truth the garment was transparent, and only called greater attention to her magnificently female attributes. His glaring eyes reveled in the tempting taut curves of her breasts, and the sharply pointed prominent nipples, begging to be touched.
He spoke not a word, but reached out to grasp her breast, possessively. She gasped in surprise at the forwardness and bluntness of his decidedly direct gesture, but offered no resistance to it. Instead, she looked away nervously, not knowing how to react as he casually possessively groped her most intimate form.
His hand seemed to relish the roundness, softness, weight, and buoyancy of the form, and only after long moments did his greedy hand reluctantly release it.
Now she looked down, embarrassed and shame-faced as his piercing eyes took in the rest of her, with unabashed unbridled lust. She tried to look away, but his rough hands took her by the chin and raised her face to look at him. In the darkness she could see only his eyes, but their fierce bright intensity told her all that she needed to know. His intentions were clear.
Discarding his cloak, he pushed her back onto the Master Bed. Rolling her over onto her side, in the middle of the bed. Producing several short soft cords, he deftly bound her ankles together, and then tied her wrists together behind her back. Now, with her back to him, she heard a rustling, as he removed his clothes, and joined her again on the bed. Sidling up behind her, he embraced the softness of her perfect naked body. She marveled at the closeness of him, and the massive powerful limbs that embraced her with utter confidence.
Strangely, the bindings acted to free her from any guilt at submitting to him. For so long as she was bound, she could not hold herself responsible for submitting to his advances. But this was only a convenient conceit, for she knew, in her heart, that she had no will to resist him. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.
Now his hands came around to grope her heavy shapely-soft breasts, as his stalk hardened and pressed and probed against her ass. His hips felt good against her cool thonged bottom, so pale and tender, and the silken sheets somehow made every moment seem larger than life.
In seconds he was raging hard, his massive member already wet at its tip, probing her plump cheeky inviting ass. At first he stabbed hard at her softness, creating deep dimples in her fleshy bottom, as he traced wet stripes of pre-cum across the contours of her ass. Later, she felt the length of him sliding along the groove between her buttocks.
Now his powerful hips thrust and lunged eagerly and with growing urgency against her ripe softness, as he reveled in his total possession of her. Here was BATGIRL, in his arms, her naked breasts in his hands, her ass pushing back at him, crushing against his throbbing member. She was the ultimate “creature of the night,” truly the world’s finest, totally his for the taking, in whatever manner he desired . . .
His hands groped her round cheeky ass lustily, enjoying the weight and feel of them. Then his large hand alternately spanked and groped her several times.
Now the pace and force of the thrusts grew more urgent, and Batgirl knew that he needed more. A moment later, she felt the cord around her wrists pulled away, and her arms were freed. Rolling over to face him, she stared at the length of the mighty stalk before her, angry, insistent, . . . pulsing with power. Awkwardly at first, she took its heat in her slender hand, and gripped it gently. She cautiously squeezed and stroked it, coaxing a drop of ooze to seep slowly out from its tip.
A moment later, she tipped her cowled head down towards it, reluctantly parted her glossy red lips, and engulfed the entire thing in her virgin mouth. It was massive, salty, a foreign intruder in her mouth, but the tender wet walls of her mouth and her juicy wet tongue did much to provide him with the comfort that was needed.
A sigh from the Master indicated that she was doing well.
Now her cowled head began to bob obscenely, her tongue and lips began working in a coordinated effort, and her delicate hands began stroking him with a skill she never knew that she possessed. It was obscene to see her perfect masked face and dainty mouth violated by such a raw vile object, but the odd juxtaposition of his dark veiny stalk penetrating her delicate lips, probing the inside of her mouth, violating her world-famous face only inspired him further.
The rude wet sounds of it all, fanned the flames for both of them. In time he pulled her off of him. The resulting disappointed look on her “innocent” face, sincerely charmed his cold heart. There would be time for more of this later. Gazing down between her soft inviting thighs, he glared at the front panel of her thong, a man possessed. He needed her, . . .now.
His head surged forward, his mouth unexpectedly engulfing the tip of her breast, causing Batgirl to fling her head back, and gasp at the bracing sensation, “AHH-hh!!!”
As his tongue aroused her rapidly stiffening nipple, she wondered if this would be the moment. Would razor-sharp fangs plunge deep into her breast, releasing a flow of her hot passionate blood? Would he take her now, . . . forever? The anticipation mixed with fear and arousal to create a form of excitement that Batgirl could not recall ever having experienced. The desire between her legs was real. She wanted him.
Arching her back further, she thrust her pointed breast deeper into his hungry mouth, wanting him to devour her. A moment later, he responded, by throwing himself on top of her. He was massive, his rippling body hulking over her. Her ankle bindings fell away as he parted her legs and poised himself threateningly between her thighs. Batgirl gasped for breath in excitement. Her flimsy top had long since been shoved up and out of the way of her sharply pointed breasts, and now she stared down between the rapidly rising and falling forms at his looming manhood. This was it.
Taking his member he rubbed it along the front of her mound, exciting her sopping wet clitoris directly. Again, she threw her head back, gasping in reaction to the suddenly intense sensations.
“Fill me!” she thought, narrowly resisting the urge to say it. But there was no need. In a moment, her thong was deftly pulled to one side and his manhood entered her. Her eyes winced shut as the massive slick thing invaded her. Pushing, probing, plunging, plowing into her, with wet thick juicy strokes, as her legs spread, and her groin split. Soon he filled her . . . completely, so fully as she had never before thought possible. The feeling was awesome for both of them, as he filled her fully, and as her hot, wet, slick confines, gripped and embraced him oh-so-tightly. They were inside eachother.
As the thrusting began, the flames of her lust were fanned to ever-greater heights. His thrusts were strong, insistent, urgent, pounding, and varied. Under that pounding, her clitoris yearned for release, and she knew that soon she would have it, as he slid and hammered into her, humping her with savage animalistic lust.
“Unnghh!! UNNGHH!! UNGHH!! Oh, God, yess! UNGhh!! Oh yeah!! Unghh!! . . .” she cried desperately.
She knew she couldn’t last much longer. She was so close. Could her legs spread any wider apart?
“Unnghh!! . . .“Unnghh!! . . .“Unnghh!!” The force of him! The depth with which he was impaling her.
Then her tiny clitoris was simply pushed too far, as her depths stretched to their limit, . . . she slipped over the edge, . . . and finally, . . . she came.
“UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!”
Her head snapped wildly as her groin detonated in a wet deluge of long overdue release. Every pore of her body seemed to cry out as sweet holy rays from heaven seemed to explode between her legs. Her hands clutched desperately at his back. The sensation was devastating, as her wide womanly hips thrust up powerfully against him, lifting him. Her teeth clenched, as her groin did, her legs wrapping around him, wringing every last drop of guilt-ridden rapture out of that terrible electrifying moment. It was pure sweet explosive bliss, and she held on to it, and to him, for as long as she could. Then after several long moments of terrifying bliss, and several gratifying afterthrusts in which she gripped him oh-so-tightly, she reluctantly collapsed, utterly ashamed of the wild abandon which had so thoroughly possessed her just a moment ago, but unable to deny the wonder of the afterglow still spasming through her.
But it was not over. Reaching down, he gripped her pert breast possessively, then reaching beneath her, cupped and groped her cheeky thonged ass. It was all too perfect as he slowly continued to rifle in and out of her slick wet confines, basking in the wet feeling of her.
Now slowly withdrawing, he turned her over onto her stomach, so that her perfect thonged ass faced him. Pulling her up onto her hands and knees, he moved to mount her from behind. Batgirl waited for the inevitable, turning glance over her shoulder, wondering how he would take her.
Separating her plump ass cheeks he entered the tiny opening of her womanhood, reveling in the tightness of her opening, slowly pushing into her womb again, relishing the distinct downward curve of her slick tight inner passage. Gripping her hips in his broad hands, he dominated and mastered her completely, pulling her hips toward him possessively, as he worked her, thrusting deeply, . . . oh-so-deeply, . . . into her, pounding against her softness. He impaled her deeply and completely.
For long moments, He savored the feeling of filling and probing the supreme depths of her, her pale tender ass crushing and quivering submissively with each impact of his hips.
She gave herself to him in the most submissive way that she knew, as he relentlessly pounded against her flanks from behind.
Batgirl’s head drooped in resignation as he began to thrust steadily against her backside, each impact of his hips causing her buttock to quiver rewardingly. Reaching around, his hands gripped and savored her heavy swinging down-hanging breasts, groping their impossibly soft contours lustfully as his passion rapidly rose.
But it was not enough. Moving her arm, he pushed her to lie flat against the sheets, his member still lodged deep inside of her, as he pounded down mercilessly on her plump cool inviting ass. He reveled in the plumpness and curvature of her upturned feminine buttocks, burying himself again and again in the tight slick depths of her. His hammering hips were merciless, and the plump, soft, roundness of her prominent unequalled ass cheeks was only further emphasized by her outstretched pose.
THWAP!! THWAP!! THWAP!! THWAP!! He pounded away, causing her toned buttocks to quiver like Jello. Crushed between her buttocks and thighs and the tight depths of her inner core, he finally exploded, jetting his vile seed deep into her most sacred core again, and again, . . . and again.
Finally he withdrew, and jetted more of the unholy seed onto her perfect ass, all across her buttocks and the small of her back, where it began to pool.
Now, lowering his hips against her again, he ground his hips and his sticky member all over the slick wet curvature of her come-splattered ass, crushing himself against the softness of her.
Rising up onto his knees, and rolling her over onto her back he towered over her, admiring her. Then he descended on top of her again, so that his wet slick sticky hyper-sensitive member was sandwiched between their naked bodies. They groped eachother shamelessly, reveling in each other’s bodies, until at last Batgirl, overwhelmed by the sensations of it all, drifted off into delirium.
“Answers” 4:45pm The Master’s Bedchambers - Carthax Castle
In time, Batgirl awoke, her body still intertwined with his. Heavy curtains kept out the day’s sunlight. A profound calm possessed her as he spoke,
“Now, my love, the bonds of our marriage are fully consummated. Your willpower and your mind are your own again, . . . forever.”
Suddenly a new awareness came over her, and her mind recalled the Count’s hypnotic command in the dungeons: You will not regain your willpower again, until you have fully consummated your marriage to the Lord of the Bats.
As her willpower returned she blinked in astonishment to see that she now lay in bed with her husband, . . . Millionaire Bruce Wayne, . . . The BATMAN!!
“Bruce!” she called out, forgetting herself for a moment, embracing him desperately, giddy with excitement. “What? -- How?” she stammered, suddenly disoriented and confused.
In calming tones, he did his best to explain, “You were captured by the Professor Crane, and . . . the Count. But the moment your utility belt was forcibly removed, it sent out an automated distress message, along with your belt’s GPS coordinates. I responded immediately, and got here as quickly as I could in the Batwing. At Mach 2.2, I got here just after sunrise, and found Professor Crane wondering the halls of Carthax Castle. Facing the BATMAN, alone, Crane was surprisingly . . . ‘cooperative.’ He told me about Dracula’s return, the Count’s vendetta against me, and his plans to consummate an unholy wedding with you and Supergirl. Lastly, he told me how the Count’s pheromones and the Professor’s own revised fear gas has been used to hypnotize you into submitting ‘willingly’ to the Count’s advances. I couldn’t allow that to happen. I realized that the only way to truly break the spell forever was to allow you to go ahead and consummate your marriage . . . with the REAL lord of the Bats, . . . ‘The Batman,’ technically fulfilling the terms of the deal specified in your hypnosis.”
“Oh, its too good to be true!” cried Batgirl as she embraced her husband again. “But where is the Count now? And Supergirl!? Oh, you’re too late to save her . . . the things that he did to her--”
“Supergirl is in the next room, and she’s absolutely fine. I suspect that some of the things that happened last night might not have happened quite the way you remember them. Some of the memories that you may have, vivid as they are, may seem worse than they really were, due to the effects of the Scarecrow’s Erotic/Fear Gas. He told me that the gas makes you hallucinate your worst dreams coming true, in a way that both frightens and excites you. That’s not to say that a lot hasn’t happened during your captivity. From what I understand, you’ve been through a lot. We may never know exactly what did and didn’t happen last night, but I spoke to Supergirl just a few moments ago while you were sleeping, and I can assure you that . . . she IS fine. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Yes. I was terrified that he’d have his way with her! The fear gas must have taken that fear and run wild with it,” Batgirl cried, then swallowed hard, relieved to learn that her close friend had not succumbed to the Master’s charms, “What now?”
“The sun has been up for some time now.” Bruce explained. “The Count is at rest.” Reaching into his utility belt, Bruce produced a yellow pill. This is an antidote that should counter the effects of the Scarecrow’s fear gas and the Count’s pheromones. I’ve already administered a dose to Supergirl and myself. Now its your turn.”
Batgirl took the pill eagerly, free to regain some sense of control again, and happy to have some protection from the powers that her captors had been wielding over her.
“I discovered the hiding places of his three brides and dispatched them. I also found a young woman named Melanie Beauchamp, who said she was captured and held here against her will. With the exception of a small flesh would, she was unharmed in one of the dungeon cells. I freed her, and placed her in the Batwing. I cuffed Crane, and placed him in the Batmobile, right where you parked it. As for the Count, I wasn’t able to find his hiding place. Once we get dressed, we can keep looking, but its almost sunset again. We have to DESTROY him, and time is running out,” said Bruce, a look of concern wrinkling his brow.
“I have a better idea,” replied Batgirl, a devious expression coming over her pretty features.
“If Looks Could Kill” 9:45pm - Carthax Castle
Batgirl and Supergirl were bound, hand and foot. Each was stretched out and strapped down to a large wooden inclined table, now in a nearly vertical position. The women were next to eachother. Each woman’s legs were strapped together, their ankles bound tightly by heavy leather straps, their arms at their sides, their full ripe breasts presented invitingly, thrust dramatically forward, barely contained in only the flimsiest remains of their once proud, and now shredded uniforms.
Batgirl’s infamous Bat-symbol, and Supergirl’s world-famous “S” symbol were now ripped wide open to reveal the sumptuous views of the nubile heroines’ heaving bosoms, blossoming breasts, and dramatic tempting cleavage.
The lower halves of their uniforms were completely ripped away. Only Supergirl’s tiny red thong, and Batgirl’s daring blue thong made any play at protecting their virtue. Long sleek shiny boots emphasized the length and femininity of the heroines’ shapely, seductive, glistening oiled legs.
Both girls were conscious, their breasts dramatically rising and falling with each nervous desperate gasping breath. They knew what was to come.
As the King of Vampires glided from the shadows, he admired the forms of his helpless bound captives with unbridled lust.
“This night,” he spoke in commanding tones, “you will know passion and surrender as never before. . . I shall join our minds, drink of your blood, and then our bodies at last, will finally be joined.”
Batgirl turned her head away, unable to look, as the Vampire Lord approached her hopelessly vulnerable pinned form. Lustfully, his eyes drank in the sight of her sharply pointed heaving breasts, and the taut contours of her womanly mound, tightly clad in a tempting little thong, neatly framed by her tempting curvaceous thighs.
She whimpered gratifyingly in submission, “Master!! . . .” she gasped, in a pleading desperate tone.
“Professor Crane has prepared you nicely,” he gloated, lording his power over them.
Removing a panel from the inclined table, he reached behind Batgirl and cupped her full yielding ass in his large hands, causing the young girl to gasp. Groping the lovely plump form, he enjoyed the gratifying heft of the fleshy form possessively, “You will do . . . nicely, my tiny little bat!”
Then turning to Supergirl, he stared down the once defiant blonde, who now lowered her beautiful eyes and long dark eyelashes submissively. “And you!” he began, sliding his hands disgustingly up the length of her long lovely oiled thighs and hips, “You, my pretty little Supergirl, have no more fight left in you, under the effects of my Kryptonite. Now, you will share my carnal bed with me. . . for all eternity.”
Moving his hands, he now groped and pawed her outward-thrust breasts lasciviously, enjoying the feel of her forbidden fruit, and the close-up view of her gratuitous cleavage as he manipulated the soft supple yielding forms. Supergirl writhed, defenseless and disgusted at his advances, as he groped and mauled her famous chest. As her body was mauled, her gloved hands twisted helplessly in her bindings, and her long oiled legs writhed and scissored seductively. “Unghh-hh. . .” was all she could think to utter, as she whimpered helplessly in his powerful dominating grip.
Then, knowing that she had been beaten, she looked up, her large innocent watery blue eyes looked deeply into his, a look of total vulnerability and submission plainly written on her face.
His fierce intense eyes met hers, and in that moment he sought to take her mind completely.
Finally she whispered, . . . in barely audible tones, “ . . . Take me!”
Now a fierce fiery red glow came over his eyes. A moment later, the same red glow appeared in Supergirl’s large innocent eyes. A blank slack-jawed stare overcame the delicate features of the innocent heroine’s beautiful face.
As Supergirl’s surrendering eye’s locked with those of the Vampire Lord, Batgirl screamed out in terror for her friend, “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”
Now Supergirl’s eye sockets warmed, as a terrible power swelled within her. A moment later, her eyes unleashed the power of a ten thousand laser beams, as her heat vision vaporized the Vampire Overlord’s retinas, and an instant later, the eyes in his skull burst into white-hot flames. The horrid demonic monster recoiled in agony, clutching his hands to his eyes. Drawing on the power stored within her body, drawn from Earth’s YELLOW SUN, Supergirl intensified the scorching beams of light that came from her eyes, like hyper-intensified rays of sunlight, seared the flesh of the Vampire King. A moment later, he erupted into flames. His pain was brief, for a moment later there was a bright flash, and his entire form turned to bone and ash. . .
Emerging from the shadows, the imposing form of the mighty BATMAN, towered over the ashen remains of the evil vampire lord, grimly inspecting his remains. Leaning over, he carefully located the 3 violet Kryptonite baubles, and stowed them in a lead-lined compartment of his utility belt for safe-keeping.
“Wow!” said Batgirl in disbelief, gazing at the incendiary carnage.
“That was gross!” commented Supergirl, disgusted by the grisly scene, that she herself had inflicted.
“I’m sorry,” replied Batgirl, “but it had to be done. With Crane safely in custody, cuffed in the Batmobile, we had to lure Dracula out into the open, and using ourselves as bait was the only logical choice. He would only emerge after dark, and your heat-vision was the only way I could think of to take him down while he was at the height of his power. It was fortunate for us that your body essentially acts as a solar battery, storing the power of sunlight.”
“Batgirl’s right,” added Batman, unfastening the bindings which held the girls, “Despite his human appearance, Dracula is. . . was . . . a monster. He had to be destroyed, and Batgirl’s plan worked perfectly. It was a relatively simple matter to get Professor Crane to tell us where Dracula’s Kryptonite baubles were kept. Batgirl’s idea to coat the Kryptonite with a thin layer of lead while Dracula slept was a good one. He must have put them on when he arose, without ever noticing the lead covering. Then, when he approached Supergirl, she was shielded from the effects of the Violet Kryptonite. So for the first time, she was facing him at her full strength. Now let’s just make sure that Dracula’s remains are disposed of properly this time. Are you girls sure that you are all right?”
“Yes, I’m just really relieved to hear that you have a change of clothes available for us, from the Batmobile,” replied Supergirl.
“‘Always carry a spare,’ I like to say,” added Batgirl. “You know, so much happened last night. With the effects of the Fear Gas, its hard to figure out what really did and did not happen.”
“I know what you mean,” replied Supergirl. “Some of the encounters were so intense.”
“And yet some of it certainly did happen,” Batgirl added. Our captivity, the Count, the bondage, the shredding of our uniforms, my escape attempt. . .”
“You may never be able to precisely determine the facts of this case,” added the Batman.
“Regardless of what happened or what didn’t, those experiences, those memories, those feelings, (even if some of them were induced by the Fear Gas) . . . Those feelings were all very real to us,” said Supergirl thoughtfully. “We shouldn’t discount that.”
“You’re right,” replied Batgirl. You know, the funny thing is, there must be a lingering effect to the Scarecrow’s arousal gas, because. . . I don’t know,” Batgirl stammered, “I’m still . . . still having some of those feelings.”
“Feelings of fear?” asked Batman.
“No, . . . feelings of arousal,” answered Batgirl. “Perhaps, ‘the Lord of Bats,’ can help me with that little problem, . . . back at the Batcave,” volunteered Batgirl smiling mischeivously, as she affectionately stroked the Bat symbol on the Batman’s massive chest.
“Happy Endings” Midnight - The Batcave
“UNNNGHH!! UNNGHH!! UNGHHH!!!” Batgirl cried out weakly and desperately, in high-pitched, breathy, excited tones.
His fingers worked feverishly on the front panel of Batgirl’s tiny blue-black thong. The beautiful young detective gasped for breath, as she came ever nearer to a well-deserved climax. Her pert young breasts thrust skyward, pressing hard at the inside of her fresh new Lycra top.
“UNGH!! UNGHH!! UNGHH-hh!!!!”
Suddenly, her entire body began to tremble. Then the tremble grew into a quake. At long last, she exploded in well-deserved reverie, as a cavalcade of delights finally detonated resoundingly between her legs.
“UUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!”
Echoes of her rapture reverberated through the cave.
For long moments, Batgirl was lost in a world of sensual release. Finally she spoke.
“Fill me!” she begged in whispered tones.
Repositioning, he mounted her, sliding into the silent squishing depths of her, sliding in to the hilt.
“Yessss!!!!” she whispered, as he pushed against her ass.
“Yesssssssssssss. . .” she whispered again.
He hammered her with steady urgent strokes. With time, they both grew nearer to an intense release, then, suddenly it was upon them.
“YESSSSS-HUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!” she groaned as she succumbed completely to the passions and pleasures that ripped through her delicate curvy frame. The sound of her cries echoing eerily throughout the cave.
“UUGGHH!!” he grunted deeply, jetting his hot seed deep into her core, in hot steamy pulses, his hips crushed against her softness.
Then, as they collapsed, they lay there together, basking in the wonder of their bodies, they were overwhelmed by a profound sense of peace and calm.
THE END