A demon worshipping sect plan to take over the World by creating a gateway for the Elder Gods.
Can anybody stop them in time?
"Shouldn't we warn her?"
"Of what she is facing?"
The dark cowled figure scowled and glanced at the other male participant in the darkened room.
"She knows the risks involved in what she does. We're not changing anything. At the moment I don't think they know who she is." The second, dressed in blue, the light just defining the red and yellow letter across his chest, said. "We have to hope they don't until too late."
"Perhaps one of us could take her place?" A younger female voice suggested, this belonging to a flaxen blonde, who's visage had never placed her as being any older than her early twenties.
"You would be spotted immediately Kara. Diana does not look 21."
It was rare for the Earth's four paramount superheroes to meet like this. Rarer still for them to meet and plan to deliberately allow the downfall of another, even a minor one. It was a meeting brought through desperation and the fear of not knowing, who, or what, the enemy they faced was, or what destruction he would bring, or when. All they knew was that those behind the events were so powerful, they were already subverting the world of men to their own aims.
"I do not know who the Elder Gods are trying to send," Superman admitted after a couple of minutes silence. "But our only chance of preventing it will be when the portal is opened. For the time being, we must let the Hellfire Club do as they are instructed. Stark says they've been told they need Barbara Gordon."
A frustrated Batgirl slammed the door of her apartment, ripped off gloves, throwing them with force at the sideboard. Mask, belt and boots swiftly followed, each with greater force than the last, until she flung herself on the couch.
What was the point of being a fearless vigilante crime fighter, roaming mean Gotham streets, when there was no crime!
Joker, Penguin and Kyle were all free. An exhibition of ancient Egyptian jade cats, almost tailor made for Catwoman had come and gone unhindered and the Bat Computer had confirmed her own observations, the three had, criminally speaking, dropped off the map.
Only it was worse than that. The petty criminals had decided to take the soggy months of February and March off too!
She could have spent the evening as Barbara Gordon, curled up, nice and warm, on the couch, in front of the TV.
In fact Barbara Gordon would have had better things to do. She could have been vivacious, gone to Raffety's Night Club, got drunk, danced to the small hours, found a guy who was not pissed, gone to his apartment, fucked the life out of him and gone home to bed. All before the sun came up.
Instead she had been sat on a roof top, in the freezing fog, outside that same Raffety's Night Club, until the starlings had started to announce the morning, waiting for something to happen.
She yawned and made to get up, but then remembered the pile of mail laying on the coffee table where she had left it between coming home from the library and going out as her alter-self. The usual pile of bills, circulars and junk mail held no interest, but a large bright green envelope did.
Her invitation to spend 18 days pampering at St Marmadukes resort in Antigua. A gift from her friend, superhero, philanthropist and once almost a lover, Stark. He had sent her an email about it a few weeks ago. While she had thanked him, her mood had not queried the generosity, or that he had not replied since.
Nor, suddenly awake again, did she waste time now. Hot footing it in to the city to blow her card on $3,000 of new outfits to take with her, then counted the ten long days until the flight. If the criminal classes of Gotham could take a holiday. So could she!
Ifan Mollac was an artisan with no peer in his profession. He was not a dollmaker. He was adamant in this distinction and his uniqueness. Matel and Palitoy made dolls; Cheap nasty things, made cheaply and nastily in the Far East by cheap nasty peasants from cheap nasty polystyrene, out of scale, out of context. Bought by cheap nasty parents to corrupt cheap nasty girls and boys.
What he made in his little workshop in down town San Francisco, were miniature figures, works of art and fantasy to inspire the imagination.
His Dolls were so perfect in shape, form and feel, they made Barbi and Cindy represent the cold misshapen plastic bimbo trolls they were.
Needless to say he did not make as many as he would have liked. Each he did make could have sold for multiples of their $9,000 price tag and he had a very large order book.
It was therefore his reputation that brought the new stranger to his workshop, just moments before Ifan closed up for the night.
Ifan tutted in mild annoyance. It was late even for him. Making and setting the two small eyes of ivory, inlaid with fire opal and onyx and capped with crystal in to their gimbals and the fine balancing of the eyelids so they moved smoothly in unison, had taken all day, but marked the last and most precise stage of any doll.
Finally he set the doll upright on his bench and looked up.
"I can be of some service?" He asked, trying to focus tired eyes on the dark clad form, with only partial success.
"It is late already and I am about to close for the night," he tried again. "Perhaps you come back tomorrow, yes?"
Finally the stranger spoke and Ifan gained the impression of a man of middle age and European, perhaps Austrian, heritage like his own.
"You are Herr Ifan Mollac. Crafter of superior figurines for children?"
"Yes. Yes," Ifan agreed, a little impatiently. "I am well known, but you, I do not know?"
Without asking, the stranger picked up the newly completed doll to examine, watching the newly fitted eyes blink at him, the mouth falling open slightly as he tilted it back as if to sleep, toes and fingers that flexed under their latex skin. The doll was perfect. Even the rounded mounds of her breasts gently squeezed and flexed under finger tip pressure.
He handed the item carefully back to Ifan, who replaced it on his bench.
"I am Otto Bergman," he introduced himself. "I also create toys, of a sort, though perhaps not with such craft."
He handed Ifan a photograph. "I wish you to make some dolls for me. They must be quarter scale replicas of this girl and manufactured to my specification. I will not offend by asking if you can produce them, clearly you can. I wish the first in five days, the remainder in twelve!"
"It is impossible!" Ifan protested. "I have many orders and I must keep up with the requirements of my shop!"
"I am sure your clients will wait," Bergman soothed, idly he considered his hands, rotating the bulky silver ring on his right middle finger inwards and clasping both hands.
"It is impossible!" Ifan pronounced again, waving at the object on his bench. "Even if I started now, a doll like this takes a month!"
"You will make them!"
The tone of Bergmans voice changed in to something deeper and more ominous that rattled deep in to Ifan's skull and he wavered.
"Perhaps in two weeks?"
"YOU WILL MAKE THEM NOW!"
The pressure in Ifan's head became unbearable and his eyes glazed. "I will start immediately."
"Excellent!" Bergman declared, slapping the old man on the shoulder. "I am not a harsh employer. Rest now and start tomorrow. Say about 4AM. Nor will it be so difficult. I have some components you will use."
He left the store in relatively good mood. It would have been better if he could have avoided mindlock on the old man. But it had not been as bad as predicted. The old man had a very narrow mind, fixed upon the creation of his toys, it had needed very little to push him on the path. The small bite from the ring he wore when he had patted his shoulder would be enough to keep him on track for the duration.
Besides he was not a cruel man he decided, twisting the ring on his middle finger so the Elders face was facing outwards again, watching the slavering jaws fade and sooth back to show a blank haematite face again. He appreciated the genuine skills of a master. Once he had achieved his objective, then he might let the old man go.
Barbara was having a ball.
Okay, the six guests were richer than Creosote, they were probably older than the ancient Greek too and about as mobile, migrating twice daily from opulent bedrooms, to splendid dining room, to fantastic patio and back again. But that was okay. They were leaving within a day or two anyhow. It gave her four days, until the next batch of guests arrived, during which she could imagine she owned her own private Caribbean desert island, with 30 staff all dedicated to her personal enjoyment.
Many of those staff were young, attractive and while the resort was so quiet, free. Particularly Mark. A couple of years older than she, 6 feet 2, broad in the chest, narrow in the hip, bright blue eyes and dazzling smile under a mop of dark hair he often forced back in to a pony tail, he was, to Barbarra's jaded eye, Adonis in person, except he came from Boston. He was also appointed her personal health coach by the resort's manager, Elisa Chaney.
In her first three days, she had toured the island with him. Seen the sea washed cave where volcanic crystal agates flickered and flashed in torch light in all hues and colours, learnt to balance on a surf board, swam in the deep lagoon and the best and most secluded places to sunbath on silk soft white sand.
The downside. He had refused to take the hint when she had tugged at the strings of her bikini in one of those secluded spots and had scuttled off like a frightened rabbit. She had to make do with the fantasy of what the bulge in his baggy white denims really contained and plans as to how she could find out.
It looked as if she might not need her elaborate plans, Barbara decided, when, after dinner and she had relaxed for a while on a comfortable sofa, Mark appeared.
"We have all the results in from the blood and fluids tests. So we can start putting you in real shape!" He declared. "Not that there is anything wrong, especially compared to the last party. But we always start with a special massage, to free up all the stressed muscles."
Barbara smiled. One of the other girls on staff had commented on Mark's massages, the word 'incredible' having played a major part. "You are doing it?"
He gave her the million watt smile and cracked his knuckles suggestively.
Ten minutes later, Bab's had stripped and was laying face down on a table, towels over her back and buttocks waiting.
"I've had massages before," she explained enthusiastically as Mark appeared, towel around his shoulders, shorts and sandals, but nothing else. "There used to be a Japanese place in Gotham..."
He smiled. "I suppose they used exotic oils?" He suggested, dribbling a little warm oil on the nape of her neck."
"Oh yes," Barbara sighed. "I really liked the sandalwood."
"It's good for the skin," Mark agreed beginning to massage her neck with his thumbs. "It's in this oil I'm using now."
"I know I can smell it," Barbara agreed with a sigh. "Lavender too!"
"Of course I have over 40 blends of my own," Mark continued, pressing on a spot just at the base of her neck.
Another dribble of oil, but one with a different, more minty scent and a feeling of numbing warmth that penetrated deep in to the shoulder muscles as he worked.
"This one I call mix number 5," he explained, pressing firmly. "Just perfect for the little knot here."
There was a gentle clicking sensation and a pain Barbara never knew she had, disappeared.
"Wow!" she muttered. "They never managed that at Woo's!"
"Well if I just sloshed a bit of oil about it wouldn't be special, would it?" He laughed. "May I move your towel?"
In response, Barbara pushed it off for him.
He worked quickly and smoothly down her back to the base of the spine, arms, hands, legs and feet, periodically selecting one of over thirty bottles arranged on the trolley he kept beside him. Barbara variously cooing and sighing as aches and tensions, even a small bruise she had collected from a table leg in her rush for her massage, simply melted away.
"I can do your thighs and buttocks?"
"Ooh! Yes!" Barbara sighed, spreading her legs a little to give better access. "Everything you can reach."
"Not that there is anything here needing toning. It's all perfectly formed. You must have an active life as a librarian?"
He was working high on her thighs now, oily fingers sliding between them and Barbara spread her legs a little further in hope as a finger just caught the edge of her sex.
"Sorry!" He apologised. "I'm not trying it on. I need the job."
Barbara giggled a little drunkenly. He might not be trying, but he was the only one in the room who was not. She spread her legs a little further, until he had her roll over and draped towels over breasts and crotch.
Once again he started from the shoulder, moving to lower chest.
"You've missed a big bit," Barbara moaned, feeling the warmth in the pit of her stomach. She squirmed slightly and flicked the towel off to leave her breasts and nipples pointing proudly skyward.
"I don't need them," he smiled.
"I do!" Barbara, insisted, making the point by stretching her arms above her head, pushing them upwards.
Playfully, Mark slid his finger tips around her upturned breasts with a gentle swirling motion and Barbara moaned deeply, adding 'oohs' and 'arghs' of pleasure, he circled them in a long path from base to peak of stiffened nipples.
"Perfect working order!" He declared.
"I want a second opinion!" Barbara half sobbed in protest.
Mark considered his patient and the bottles of oil on his tray. Selecting one small bottle with an eye dropper, he held it high, to drip two drops of a very thin oil, on to the peak of each mound and watched as it soaked in to the raspberry red tips as their recipient heaved and twisted to present the orbs better. Satisfied he followed those with another three for each, then a more generous amount of a second.
Barbara needed no invitation to surrender her voluntary bondage position. Grabbing both breasts in both hands, she kneaded, squeezed and twisted at them desperately. The impact of the thin oil had been like an explosion on the tips of her sensitive nipples that sent a flame of almost painful cold deep in to her chest, almost immediately replaced by a growing feeling of warmth that grew from deep inside her breasts. The oil and her hands the chance to make the outside as warm as the inside.
Mark had turned his attentions to her lower stomach. Two fingers from each hand working in small circles following the trail of oil in the valley between thigh and pelvis, to the edge of her mons and up around the edge of the coarse tangle of dark russet pubic hair, back to hip and down again.
She did not need lubrication between her legs, her excitement was glistening at him. All the same he used an oil, dribbling it carefully so it caught the bottom of the grove of pouting pussy lips, allowing it to trickle and seep, coating her sex thoroughly.
This time those lips almost peeled back at his touch, exposing the full pink flower of her sex, the stigma of her clitoris standing at full attention, the open maw of her cunt weeping its nectar below.
Barbara was already gasping for breath, a few words of encouragement escaping, fingers still digging and twisting at breasts that threatened to burst in to flame the moment she stopped. But her pussy was just as desperate and she thrust it at him, her head tilted back, eyes closed.
She was nearly ready. He flicked at the bulb of her clitoris and Barbara exploded.
"Oh. Fuck. Do that again!" She wheezed coming down.
"This or this?" Mark teased, gently reaching to roll her nipple with one hand and trace the fronds of her labia with the other.
"Both!" Barbara screamed.
"Or this?" He slid three fingers in to a vagina that instantly swallowed, clamped and sucked on them greedily.
"Oh! Yes" Barbara screamed deliriously grabbing the hand to try to force it deeper.
Mark smiled, the fingers that had squeezed her nipples were covered in more than sweat. "To the Master, tributes of essence from the pure, freely given," he muttered a benefaction, moving between her legs, opening his shorts and preparing himself.
A few months ago he would have enjoyed impregnating the beautiful red headed girl before him, nor would he have waited for so long. There had been any number of points where he could have taken her, even before she had become blatant in offering.
His Master had painfully taken that option from him. What his shorts now disguised was a very different solution. One that meant she could pay her subscription to enlightenment.
To Barbara's bleary and desperate eyes, blind to the scaring, it looked like a cock, a nice big one and she didn't care, she just knew where she wanted it. "Please. Take me now!" she begged.
Mark plunged his device inside and she screamed and thrust, wrapping her legs around him, lifting herself off the table in desperation.
"Oh God. Oh God. I'm going to die!" She screamed incoherently as it stretched her and began to pound. "Fuck me harder!"
Mark leaned forward and she felt a nipple being taken, swirled and sucked, then the other and both pulse. She didn't even bother to open her eyes, just adding another deeper note in to her desperate wailing as she came.
He watched. There was little to do, other than replace the vacuum capsules he had attached to her breasts as they filled. The device inside what had been his penis and testicles did the rest. Designed to drive and keep her in a frenzy as it sucked her juices from cunt and clit.
Not that he could not enjoy her delirious thrashing and wailing as her climaxes came one after the other, barely a break between.
The fourth set of ampoules was slow in filling and he could feel the pressure in his scrotum from Barbara's gathered cum. Not a bad result for her first time, nearly half pound of milk, probably a little less than that of cream, Even Marajoo, the big breasted dark skinned receptionist had only managed pound of the first during testing. She would produce more next time.
Time to finish her so he knocked the stimulators from her teats and adjusted the crotch device.
With a last pounding thrust it 'Came', spurting a little of what had been collected back into Barbara's cunt, driving her into a last paroxysm of muscle and joint tearing proportions, until she collapsed, unconscious, utterly spent.
Calmly he withdrew the dildo device, cleaned it off, replaced his shorts and turned to the needs of the donator. A fresh warm towel to dry the sweat, a little more thin oil, greedily absorbed by her breasts, to continue milk production. Another oil, this one dribbled over and along her sex and gaping vagina, to sooth the rawness. The effects of the other oils, heavily laced with Deltean and Gonomes Musk, to stir and excite her in to a frenzy, would linger for days and he would use them again next time, increasing the effect on mind and body. But a twat red raw and bleeding would be counter-productive. They needed her to be supple, willing and productive.
He was wondering if he might have time to reduce the discomfort of his inflated scrotum when she came around with a long and drawn out groan, her hands reaching to nurse her pummelled crotch.
Gently Mark helped her sit, holding a bottle of water to her lips, which she sucked on greedily.
"Tell me you're going to do that again?" Barbara demanded in breathless enthusiasm.
Mark grinned. "Perhaps after I've recovered?" He suggested, helping her slide off the table, then catching her as strained leg muscles refused to hold her up.
"Guess I need to recover a bit too!" Barbara acknowledged, slumping in a chair. "But wow. You do that to all the girls?"
Mark shrugged. "You've seen the average age of our clients?"
She offered a bright smile. "So I get you all to my self?"
"I do have other clients,"
She reached out and tapped the hard bulge of his crotch, marvelling that it should have reached such a state so quickly. "Just don't waste that on them!" She insisted.
Slowly she rose to her feet and staggered out, accepting Mark's support.
"I'll have some food brought to your room," he offered. "Perhaps oysters?"
Otto Bergman sat at his desk and smiled. He had arrived that morning with the third load of Hellfire members to find the first of the doll shipment had arrived. If the other 37 dolls matched the one he had selected at random, then the old toymaker had exceeded even his own reputation and neither customers or the ancient ones would have cause for complaint.
Experimentally he lifted the doll from the carton and tilted it back to watch the eyes flicker and close, the mouth pout a little as in sleep. A gentle finger on the purple clad swelling of its breast yielded softness and a slightly more exaggerated pout. It was indeed perfect.
A view he sought confirmed by the other occupants of the office, holding the doll out to them.
"I think Barbara Gordon's breasts are a little bigger, Master?" Mark offered the small criticism respectfully, accepting the toy to pass to the third occupant, Elisa Chaney, technically the resort's manager and Bergman's deputy.
"Ah yes. Gonomes Musk would do that," Bergman accepted. "Miss Gordon is supplying to target?"
"Very close, Master," Mark submitted. "I will collect more tribute tonight during her massage. We have over half the blood necessary. She was a very willing donor to the Antiguan Hospitals blood appeal."
"I will collect the blood tomorrow before the ceremony and any shortfall," Chaney declared.
"She will supply willingly?" Bergman asked. They needed four items to represent the spirits of heart, soul, mind and body. They could have been cream cheese, fish paste, ball point pens and nails, as long as the victim produced them naturally, in sufficient quantity and without resisting. They had chosen hair for body, sexual cum for mind, lactose for soul and blood for heart.
"She will not object, Master. I will seduce her. She is sexually unresisting and has fantasies of being dominated by Catwoman. We have told her there is a fancy dress party."
At 29 years, six feet tall, beautiful, slender, with pronounced breasts, raven black hair and in a suitable costume, Chaney would be well placed to play a surrogate Catwoman, Bergman accepted. In fact she would be very like the real thing.
Meanwhile, less concerned by the external accuracy of a sixteen inch tall Batgirl, Chaney had peeled its costume down to its knees and had prised a small plug from its navel using the point of a pen to find three coloured tubes ready for the liquid tributes. Pushing the plug back she extended her examination to other orifices: Mouth, sex, arse and nose.
"The spirits will be very comfortable," She decided. "Our enemies, Batman, Superman and the other Superheroes?"
"Are being predictably dumb and American," Bergman roared with laughter. "The Lord Shalik has claimed they have chosen the underground caverns of Gotham during the fool moon, as the most logical. Of the 164 places on the Earth where the wall between our realities is thin, Gotham City's nuclear bunker is not one of them. Still. We must not disappoint them. I have arranged for some Congressmen and Senators to gather and perform a ceremony there. Gotham's own Senator Bluberg will officiate and some of our dolls can entertain?"
"They have also despatched Supergirl to watch the Temple of Zal-aka-Kam in Tibet. Keeps her out the way, I suspect. It is the festival of Kor-Kam, where I am sure the Llama is delightedly showing her his jade statue of the Goddess. I understand her eyes sometimes glow green."
"And the Amazon, Darling?" Chenay prompted.
"That I am unsure," Bergman admitted. "She disagreed with Batman's computer. Still, we will take precautions. We will prime and activate as many dolls as possible tonight."
Barbara considered her costume with some trepidation.
St Marmadukes 90 or so new guests were universally younger and more active than the previous ones, though no less rich. Apart from the two senators and a congressman she had recognised, there were six princes, a princess, eleven sheikhs, eight maharajahs, a llama, two heavy looking Russians dressed like movie Mafia bosses, four latin goucho types wearing diamond studded watches, a couple of Lords and Ladies and heaven knew what else. Many had brought young female partners, one or two wives. Life had become a smooth contrast of sunbathing, late night parties, interspersed with wild, glorious and abandoned sex with Mark. Just thinking of the last made her squirm in anticipation.
The latest party was to be fancy dress. Superheroes of fact, legend and culture.
The idea, that the guests should appear in dress that reflected a Superhero of their culture from reality or legend. The Maharajah Ghingo, for example was going to dress as the great Indian hero Chabutu, Lady Forbes-Hamilton-Brown from England as Boudica, one of the Senators had set his heart on being Superman and so on, though as the last was short and squat it took a certain degree of imagination. However she had readily accepted Marks suggestion that she would make a fantastic Batgirl. As long as she did not have to dance with Superman, then all was fine and dandy.
Obviously it was not her real costume. That was hanging up at home and could neither have been brought nor used.
Nor was it a grotesque parody of her costume. It was different, yet familiar and appealing.
In fact she had almost bought one like it the day she had visited the Superheroine Boutique, swayed by the arguments she had overheard a blonde girl, named Angel, was making to her partner, Bluebird, for the Shafor material it was made from. The demonstration that Angel put on had been impressive too; Barbara had accepted the baseball bat challenge to hit her and had taken two gigantic swings, first at the blonde's perfect flat stomach, then at her perfect fat tit, and she had simply bounced straight back up again. Easily superior to her lycra and kevlar costume.
It could even be heated!
She had not done so, mostly because she could not afford the $4,000 price tag and she was not sure she was entirely prepared to display that much detail of her own body. The material on Angel had been so thin and form fitting it had even shown the tiny bump of an inoculation scar on her left arm.
It did not stop her dreaming of owning one, or possibly both. Angel was particularly cute and sexy enough to give Selina the chance of being second.
The suit itself was the right colour, dark purple, and had what appeared to be a good representation of her yellow bat symbol picked out with a black lining, on what she assumed would be the chest. It was difficult to tell because the suit at rest was a strange shape, wider than it was tall, its innards well dusted with talcum powder. There was also a narrow black triangular section that ran from somewhere near the middle, down the front, between the legs and up widening again to touch the corners of the front. She not impressed by the black cape; It felt very light and flimsy, was an inch or two longer, resting just over the crest of her buttocks, not waist length as she preferred. The yellow utility belt was unfortunate yellow plastic and obviously held no utilities in its pouches. But the boots were nice. The leather colour matched with her suit, and ending just below the knee. However the heel was a narrow 4" stiletto, making it impractical for daily use, even though the slightly thicker sole was grippy, supportive and comfortable. The cowl too, was far more comfortable than hers, gently shrinking to her head as soon as she fastened the small tab under her hair and still featured the hard round 'bat ears'. Her cowls tended to become either so lose they wobbled and slipped, or so tight her head felt as if it was in a vice, depending on the weather, so she had four, each of slightly different size.
It left only one problem. She had no idea how to put the suit on. There were no visible fastenings.
Her consternations were interrupted by a tap on the door. Opening it revealed Elisa Chaney, but not as Barbara knew her: Tidy bun of black hair, prim black skirt, bright white blouse and sensible flat black court shoes. This was a Chaney dressed in a slick black body suit, shining black hair swinging to her shoulders, substantial breasts forming separate entities within the material, a wide black belt tightened to draw her waist in and 6" stiletto thigh length leather boots to add to an impressive 6 feet of height.
"Hi," Chaney purred. "I thought I'd drop by and see how you liked your new costume, Darling. If you've never worn a real Superhero costume they can be quite daunting. But they are so sexy?"
Barbara glared for a moment at the slur, "I'm sure it can't be that different?" She declared quickly, remembering she was only Barbara Gordon. "I mean we are all girls?"
"Of course, Darling," Chaney agreed slinking in, a bag over her shoulder, carefully swishing the tail of her suit. "But I thought you might like to see mine, so you would not need to feel so embarrassed wearing so little in front of 50 guys?"
She could see Barbara watching that tail, so she flicked it again with a practised twist of her rump and was rewarded by the girl blushing as she caught her watching.
"Isn't that a Catwoman costume?" Barbara asked, trying to hide the flush. "I'm not sure she can be called a heroine?"
Chaney grinned, Barbara had licked her lips, she was nibbling the bait. "Darling. Just because she's not goody two shoes, does not mean she's not good sometimes!"
"Besides. I'm staff and can make my own rules," she added, reaching behind her to draw up her own cowl. "Miaoww. I so like the sexiness, mi-urrrr!"
This time the lick of lips was more evident.
Chaney made a really good Catwoman, Barbara decided and she laughed. "Well I could do with some help!" She agreed.
"Mi-orrr!" Chaney purred. "How about stripping off. No room for panties and bras in these outfits." She indicated the truth of this by running a black gloved hand over her own breasts and down to her crotch.
Giggling, Barbara complied. Not needing a bra sounded like good news, none of hers seemed to fit any more, they were at least one size too small, possibly two, it went with her breasts increased itchiness and heaviness.
Once stripped, she stood, hands in front of her crotch, giggling in embarrassment while Chaney considered her.
Finally she crouched before Barbara and arranged the new suit in front, gently guiding her feet in to the leggings and with one firm pull, stretched it upwards to her hips. She left it there for a moment as she picked out a tube from the box the suit had arrived in. Snapping the cap off, she squirted the contents in two generous dollops on Barbara's already tingling breasts.
Barbara moaned in protest, closing her eyes as Catwoman began to massage the cream in, feeling her rolling breasts and nipples, the warmth and firmness it generated.
"Mi-oorr. It makes it easier to fit them in the suit the first time," Chaney rolled softly in her ear, turning to the next step. Pulling the costume further up so Bab's arms could slide in to the sleeves, then up over her shoulders, to couple the one single popper fastening at the base of her neck.
For a moment Barbara panicked as the suit suddenly started to constrict. Squeezing between the cheeks of her bottom, her crotch, pushing her fiery breasts up and out.
"Takes a minute or two, just hold still, Darling," Chaney declared, holding Barbara arms up and out. "Then we can finish the setting."
She continued quickly, sliding the squirming girl's feet in to her boots, then cowl and cape, finally the yellow belt.
"Miaoww-rr!" She declared, turning Barbara around so she could see herself in the long wardrobe mirror, stooping a little so she could peer over the young girl's shoulder at the reflection. "Doesn't that look good?"
"Yeah. I guess," Barbara agreed uncertainly, but fascinated. She had always thought her traditional costume form fitting, but not like this, a deep groove between her thighs, or the breasts pushed out. But it and she were definitely Batgirl, the yellow bat symbol dominating her chest, its wings curling protectively around her breasts, head in their valley, even the thong like black triangle between her legs added to the effect and with Catwoman grinning over her shoulder...
"But it itches!" She complained more practically.
Chaney's grin grew a little more. The suit was brand new, yet to 'learn' its wearer and the girl had obviously never worn Shafor, so was unaware of its effects while it did so. Adding a dusting of starch to the inside to make it itch was probably overkill, given the constant diet of stimulation she had been treated to. Not that it mattered.
She picked up the second item in the carton, a thumb-less felt glove with a heavily bristled brush along the back of the index finger. "Mi-urr. It's just trying to finish forming," She purred. "We fix that now. Just stand with your arms out and legs apart. Or would you like me to tie you up?"
Chaney started innocently enough stroking the soft felt of the glove to chase minute purple wrinkles from Bab's arms and back, gently pushing the material up in to the arm pits, then across her stomach, exactly as explained in the instruction leaflet and the girl loyally tried not to squirm.
Practically it allowed Barbara's sensitive zones to recover just enough to become sensitive again.
What came next, also as per the instructions, were Barbara's breasts. Gently squeezing the material down and around each, first with smooth felt, then the coarser brush edged finger, changing skin tight to tight as skin.
Barbara continued to struggle to hold herself out as instructed, feeling her pussy respond to the attention lavished on her breasts, then swooned as coarse bristle brushes met sensitive nipple in a series of strokes that went over, under and around, sending incomprehensible signals.
Chaney tutted in mock irritation and from her bag retrieved several ropes and a telescopic bar.
"Miaow, I told you if you did not hold still I would have to tie you up!" She declared.
"Sor-ry. Catwo-woman," Barbara panted. "T-Tie me up!"
Quickly Chaney extended the bar, strapping the ends firmly to Batgirl's ankles, holding them about three feet apart. From the room's two chandelier light fittings she ran the ropes to Batgirl's wrists. Helping the girl to stand and tensioning the ropes so her arms were again out straight from her sides.
"Now where was I, Darling?" Chaney muttered. "Ah yes!"
From behind Batgirl she resumed her assault on her breasts, grinding the brushes in to breast and nipple mercilessly as her victim moaned, squealed and squirmed, but never taking her eyes off the mirror in front of her as the gloved hand finally started to sink lower.
The result was inevitable, both knew it. The moment the bristles touched the hardening bulb of her clit, Batgirl came, dropping to her knees.
"I never said you could come. Miaow!" Chaney declared huskily, only just remembering her Catwoman persona, though that probably did not matter now.
"I couldn't help it, Catwoman!" Batgirl whinned. "It felt so..."
"For being such a horny little bat slut, you will have to be punished!"
Chaney kicked her between the legs, not hard, just enough to force her victim to double forward, face to the carpet, backside in the air, arms wrenched painfully up and behind, making a far clearer target of her sex.
Chaney decided that no additional fitting of the wafer thin suit was required. The little red-headed bitch was already so horny that the suit, spurred by her hot little cunt, had already wrapped itself around her pussy lips, spreading them to reveal a hard bullet top of her clit just as trapped and exposed.
Instead she moved on to the next step. Pushing Batgirl's belt up she felt for two small catches just above the hip. Activating them had the narrow black thong section shrink, allowing itself to be peeled back, Batgirl moaning uselessly as it tugged at labia and clit, to reveal her intimate folds and pussy, pouting and ready.
Another forage in her bag provided a device not unlike the one Barbara Gordon had so wantonly been ravaging herself upon for the last eight days. Chaney wasted no time ramming the 8 inch device in to the girl's pocket and only slightly more in locating its clip so it caught around the base of her clit, as Batgirl surged.
Next came the milking attachments. A touch to each nipple with a pulse knife, about the only thing that could cut stretched and bonded shafor without seriously damaging what was underneath, and they all but burst out of the fabric, the suit trapping them at their base, ready for the cups.
So far so good and they did not need a great deal of either, the Bat Bitch had been an ideal milking cow in so many ways and the little suction pump in the bag was already dragging that down the tubes to the container, with Batgirl so high on her own sexual fantasy she was incapable of noticing.
The last item, blood, was a little more complex. They still needed over a pint. Her arms, suspended behind and above were not ideally placed to provide. But there was another slightly more intimate place.
Chaney worked quickly now, even if Batgirl was in full cry she was going to notice the sting. Another small suction device. Timed and positioned carefully, Chaney snapped it over the hard knub of Batgirl's clit, the soft stretching film at its base enveloping it.
To Batgirl it felt as if her clit had been patted, soft or hard it barely mattered, she was at the point of cumming again anyhow. What did matter was the sudden acute stabbing pain of a needle entering the tortured bud and she reared, almost dislocating both arms at the shoulders and threatening the security of the tubes attached to her vitals.
Chaney slammed her forward again. "Never said you could move or cum!" She snarled.
Activating the release of her own convenience panel, she sat, legs splayed, in front of Batgirl's face.
Lifting Batgirl's head by the bat ears of her cowl, Chaney shook it gently until the brown eyes fluttered open. "Now you got to make me catch up Bat Cunt, or I got a lot worse things to do to you!"
She lay back and pushed her crotch in to Batgirl's face and felt the girl's tongue, frantic to please, terrified to disappoint, start lashing in to her own soaking clit and cunt. She was sure the Elder would not mind if she should take a small payment. He was unlikely to be interested in Batgirl's tongue.
Chaney was a little disappointed in the end. Batgirl did bring her off once, but by that time she was tiring: Multiple orgasms, physical exhaustion and blood loss had taken their toll.
After several minutes of not feeling the girl's sharp little tongue lapping at her clit, she gave up, calmly refitting her panel before disconnecting the apparatus. A quick check that the receptacles were full, secured and stoppered, she scooped up the unconscious Batgirl and layed her on the bed, chaining arms and ankles to the corner posts.
As a final detail, Chaney picked up the last item from her bag, a long whip, the symbol of Catwoman. This she looped around each of Batgirl's breasts with just enough tension to hold the loops. The exhausted young mounds of flesh, fed on their diet of Gonomes musk and already firming up and filling out, would tighten the loops themselves. The bulbous end of the handle, she pushed in to the girl's vagina and activated the switch.
It would be hours before Batgirl recovered consciousness, more before she had the strength to move, but there was no point in allowing her a chance to recover her wits with either and the elder could be hungry.
Completed Chaney picked up her bag with its precious contents and sauntered out.
Wonder Woman was almost washed ashore, but managed to drag herself in to the safety of the trees before she could be spotted in the draining light, to lay, semi-reposed, against a palm tree to recover. She had been in the water for nearly 22 hours: 17 getting to the island, then five more trying to find somewhere to come ashore without being seen, while dodging the titan that was patrolling the waters.
Wonder Woman knew a little about the Elder Gods, her people had met and fought them before, so she had been no more impressed by Batman's computer's assertions and conclusions than Bergman. Or, for that matter, with Superman's assurance that the smarmy playboy Stark was a reliable source of information, whether he had infiltrated the Hellfire Club without detection, or not. He was simply too self-serving and self motivated to be dependable.
About the only thing she did agree with either of her hero colleagues on, was, the only way to stop the Hellfire Club succeeding in bringing through an Elder God, was to do so at the moment the portal opened and they started to cross. To simply stop the event beforehand meant they would try somewhere else, possibly without detection. After and they could be facing a threat for too powerful for anybody to face.
However, explaining to Batman, that bottles of water, drawn from a tap in the Vatican, were neither Holy, or a weapon and demonstrating, by breaking one of the afore-said bottles on his head, was probably a mistake. Doing little for inter-superhero relationships or cooperation. Consequently, they had dismissed her and sent Super Girl to some unholy pile of rock in the middle of Tibet, so they could do the manly hero thing.
It had taken ten days of investigation to realise that attempting to predict where the break through may come, thereby preventing it, with some reasonable semblance or chance of success, was impossible. That the best way was, therefore, to rely upon Batgirl being some central part of it and following her. So she had come to Antigua.
Though there was no history of the islands having been used by the Elders, rumours of fishing boats disappearing off the coast, with no survivors and in fine sunny conditions, had led her to suspect a Titan. Pets of the Elder Gods, they would sense any presence and would provide a powerful protection force of their own. Convincing her that St Marmadukes Island was where she needed to be.
Getting there was another matter.
There was no where to land an aeroplane, invisible or otherwise. A boat big enough not to be concerned with a Titan's protective attention meant the US 7th Fleet, hardly surreptitious. There was the yacht that took guests to the island though. She failed to get aboard directly, crew and passengers were carefully counted and it was too sleek to offer places to hide, but there was an anchor hanging from its bow and her lariat, a means to cling to it.
Wonder Woman did not tarry long in her rest, sufficient to raise the energy to perform the transformation from diving suit to the traditional red bustier and blue spangled briefs, plus the energy renewal she needed to lose the leaden feeling from limbs.
The hotel would wait, there was still a couple of hours of daylight. The sounds of a party emanating there were not, judging by the music, the type that engendered the return of an Elder. There had to be some where else, a cave or cavern, probably on the northern edge of the island, where it rose in to a protective arc of cliffs, the edge of the extinct volcano.
After two hours of searching and peering over cliffs she gave up. Shadow, cave and precipitous drop had merged in to the same blackness, leaving only the hotel and the steady beat of heavy dance music.
Warily Wonder Woman approached. Perhaps she could locate Barbara and get the information needed from her.
It seemed strange that nobody appeared to be on the veranda, seeking fresh air, respite from the noise and a chance to talk. In fact the french windows on to the veranda were closed.
Silently she vaulted the rail and tried to peer through the nets.
Finding no obvious movement inside, she tried the window, silently opening it and slipping inside.
The room was empty of life.
So too was the hall, the dining room, the kitchens, reception and the staff room.
There was the registration book on the reception desk though. That at least yielded Barbara's room number and Wonder Woman sped for it in the confident assumption she was the only person left in the building.
She did not try knocking on Barbara's door, she could hear muffled thumping and moaning. With a simple kick Wonder Woman kicked it aside to find Batgirl weakly squirming and moaning in her bonds. The vibrating handle of the whip continuing to wreak havoc on a sex and mind still too inflamed with desire.
Wonder Woman wasted no time in uncoiling and ripping the device from Batgirl's cunt and releasing the girl.
"Barbara! Batgirl!" she called, slapping the pale and sweaty face gently.
"No. Please. Catwoman I want more!" Batgirl pleaded.
"There's no Catwoman. It's me Wonder Woman!" Wonder Woman soothed, trying to sit Batgirl up.
The moment she did so Batgirl started to nuzzle and bite at the tops of her breasts, her hand creeping down to try and rub Wonder Woman's crotch. Wonder Woman slapped her a lot harder and Batgirl collapsed back, too weak to rise again.
Lifting Batgirl up, Wonder Woman carried her in to the bathroom, laying her in the bath and turned the shower on her at full cold. She sat and waited to see if Batgirl's deranged mind found its way home while she thought.
There had been something else odd, she knew, but in her haste to reach Barbara it had not registered. The hotel was built against a rising ridge. Reception was the lowest floor of six. There had been a plan of the resort on the wall of the staff room. It had clearly shown all six floors. So why had there been stairs leading down from Reception in the stair well?
Batgirl was starting to recover, complaining weakly as the cold water cascaded over her.
"Wonder Woman! What are you doing here?"
Wonder Woman smiled, holding her hand out to help Batgirl get up. "Rescuing you," she said sweetly. "But now I've got to rescue the world."
Only Batgirl was still too weak to stand and Wonder Woman had to lift her out of the bath and carry her back to the bed.
The courtesy bar included hot chocolate, which she made up with extra sugar and while Batgirl sipped, Wonder Woman explained what little she knew.
The subterranean cavern, a full 50 yards across and 10 high, was lit by hundreds of candles. Each flickering flame reflected a thousand fold by the natural agates embedded in the cavern walls and scented by exotic musks and oils. It all served to build an atmosphere, a sense of occasion, that would be important to the survivors, but irrelevant to the forthcoming arrival of the Elder.
Waiting to greet and if necessary feed him, were 118 people, 49 men, 59 women, including the 40 largely female staff of the resort, all dressed in some form of generally minimalist costume on the theme of Superhero.
Apart from the orgies, which they enjoyed at least as much as their male counterparts. Bergman had never worked out why the Hellfire Club should attract so many females. When things went right, the risks became somewhat tilted. Still, in its 350 year history, the Hellfire Club had never been sexist in its membership requirements and it saved finding volunteers by other means. Of course not all demons and Elders preferred female essence.
Now it was Bergman's turn to increase the anticipation with an opening act.
He raised his arms displaying the golds and greens of the taffeta cloak and gown in full glory and a hidden organ sounded a single long and deathly tone.
"My fellow members of the Hellfire Club. Welcome to the night of Hellfire!"
A burst of smoke and sparks as two new candles fired in to life either side of a stone altar and the congregation descended in to silence.
"My fellow members of Hellfire!" Bergman declared again. "Tonight is the night. The night we have been striving for. Tonight we bring forth he who be our Master. Our Master who will reward those worthy with what we deserve. Power!"
"Power!" Came the echo.
Bergman raised his arms again, this time holding a Batgirl doll.
"Already our Master shows his power. This figurine is of one of our greatest enemies, a heroine of Gotham, Batgirl!"
"She was selected by our Master for her purity in thought and deed. Corrupted by his earthly servants and now she provides her tributes freely."
He handed it to Chaney, who rapidly stripped it of its uniform to reveal the tubes in her navel as Bergman continued.
"Now we will use those tributes to empower the Master's spirit servants. His wish that they will serve the most dedicated of his servants!"
He stepped back to allow Chaney to take up the litany, holding up doll and large syringe.
"This is Batgirl's tribute of soul. Milk from her own breast. Given freely to the Elder Master!"
She pushed the tip of the syringe in to the doll's green coded tube and emptied it in one action.
A second syringe, the same size as the first followed, but in to the blue tube. "Batgirl's tribute of mind. Her sexual essence. Given freely for the Master."
Bergman watched as he prepared for the next stage. It was a pity they could not have used Batgirl for the final stage in bringing the Master forth. Chaney was extremely good in the priestess role, bullying members in to line. Sadly, given the state Chaney had had to leave her in getting the last of the tributes, Batgirl would not have lasted long enough. Though he wondered if Chaney had worked out the repercussions.
As Chaney finished with the last tribute, Bergman stepped forward again, holding up a rack of prepared geodes, "The spirit servants of our Master!" he declared placing them on the altar.
He held up the hand bearing the ring for all to see as its blank face morphed in to its fanged form, before touching the first geode with it, then the dolls small nose, announcing as he did so. "A spirit for soul!"
A puff of blue smoke appeared from the rock, swirled above it for a few seconds, then floated gently to the doll and apparently up the indicated nostrils.
"A spirit for mind!" Bergman continued quickly, touching the second node and the doll's mouth, the same thing happening, the mouth the receiver, as it did with the third and fourth to the doll's so accurately provided sex and rectum.
As Chaney set about dressing the doll again, Bergman turned his attentions back to the gathered audience.
"Behold!" He declared, clapping his hands together once. "The spirit servants of the Master!"
With one grand sweep of an arm he turned and from behind the altar marched 29 Batgirl dolls, rapidly made 30 by Chaney placing the last in position as they arrayed themselves in front of the altar.
"Who wishes to prove their devotion to the Master and be worthy of protection by his own servants?" Bergman demanded. "You have until the Priestess Chaney and I have rested and prepared for the final step to make your bids known."
He allowed himself a knowing smile as he led Chaney down a passage to a smaller cave comfortably appointed with couches. He knew his guests well. The key to power was money, not territory. Consequently there were very few politicians in the assembly even though the Hellfire Club could guarantee a vote in either US house, or those of over a dozen countries. They were too small minded and corrupt. His guests were the Mega-rich; People for whom a $50 Million luxury jumbo jet represented a loose change expense. They were uniquely powerful and ambitious. Above all they were greedy for more. They would attempt to outbid each other just to avoid being one of the few not to receive the Master's favour.
His mood brightened considerably when Mark arrived with refreshments and the report that the minimum bid stood at $10 Million.
Then he sighed. He had missed a trick in not providing an interruption to show the power available to the dolls.
It was over an hour before Wonder Woman was convinced Batgirl had regained enough colour to be strong enough to be left alone.
During that hour they had worked out how to put the convenience panel of Batgirl's suit in to its proper place. But Batgirl resisted the suggestion to explore how to take the suit off, arguing it was the only Batgirl costume available and, rather optimistically to Wonder Woman's mind, that she might be needed.
It left the detail of the two scarlet eyes in the middle of the bat symbol's yellow wings, Batgirl's nipples still trapped, protruding and hard. Wonder Woman suggested gaffer tape, Batgirl suggested they try it on Wonder Woman's tits first, especially the removal part.
Together they got as far as the second floor before Batgirl began to suffer again. So Wonder Woman left her in the dining room to make what she could of the remains of the sweet trolley and breakfast non-perishables, while she went on on her own, extracting the promise from the younger woman she would try and get a message out to Batman. Who knew, Wonder Woman thought as followed the stairs down from the Reception floor, Batman might even believe her.
The eight flights opened in to a tunnel and while neither were brightly lit, there was sufficient to show the way and the tunnel walls, floor and ceiling deeply scared, but generally smooth and straight, indicative of a history of flowing magma. From somewhere ahead Wonder Woman could hear, but not see, sounds of voices and heavy organ tones. It was that direction she headed, ignoring the darkened passage behind.
A sudden twist in the otherwise straight tunnel and it emerged into the main cavern some five feet up above its floor. Caught by the sudden brightness Wonder Woman missed the narrow steps leading down along the wall and sprawled headlong. Not that anybody saw her undignified entrance or hunker down behind a low ridge of rock to nurse her injured pride and gain her bearings. They appeared to be far more interested by something in front of them.
This cave too was natural, Wonder Woman decided, perhaps a pool. While it was brighter than the tunnel the candles and their flickering reflections made everything indistinct and left a heavy musky scent that was simultaneously vaguely familiar, yet irritatingly unmemorable. What she could see, some 80 feet away, was a statue, undoubtedly the effigy of the Elder they intended to bring in to the World of Men. It looked a little like a crocodile, but with the horns of a bull, on the body of a man. She could not see the legs, but she guessed they would be cloven, along with a semi-prehensile barbed tail.
"Great Hera!" she muttered to herself. "An Offla!"
Offlas featured in her peoples' history. Indeed they were why she was a Princess of the Amazons and her mother Queen. Her Grandmother had defeated an Offla, by the name of Shalik, foiling an attempt to use Paradise Island as a gateway. But in the battle, her three sisters, the Queen of the Amazons and fifty warriors had perished, or disappeared, claimed to have been taken captives, dragged back to the Elder dimensions.
Wonder Woman was distinctly short of Amazon warriors. Of course the Elders were stronger then...
"Barbara, I hope you make that call soon!"
Then she realised the crowd were no longer watching where she thought the altar might be, but were turning, watching something as it moved amongst them. It took a few moments, then Wonder Woman saw what was fascinating them. Three columns of short figures marched out, each dressed in a thin body fitting purple suit, cape and cowl and wore a bright yellow belt around their waists and an equally bright bat emblem on their chests. Thirty mini-Batgirls.
Wonder Woman's initial amusement at the spectacle was rapidly replaced by a feeling of unease as they fanned out to form a single rank, then to alarm as it became clear they were heading directly towards her. Carefully she started to back up towards the tunnel, only to find half dozen dolls waiting for her on the landing, waiting.
She flicked the first away, sending it skittering to land a few feet away on the floor. She ignored it as it climbed to its feet, lunging for another in an attempt to clear a passage.
This one seemed more prepared, grabbing her arm even as she grabbed its booted leg. Refusing to let go when she tried to toss it away.
In desperation Wonder Woman tried to smash it against the parapet. Knocking its head off on the seventh blow, reduced its resolve and tenacity enough for her to lever its arms free and hurl it as far as she could.
By now the first doll had caught up with her and it grabbed her boot, the rest of the main party just a few feet behind. She jumped up on to the landing and succeeded in kicking another doll off, only for one to join its friend in grabbing her left foot, the others her right. They began to climb her leg as she fought to maintain her balance. Running was impossible with the dolls clinging on and the rest were already starting to climb the steps. She needed time to release herself, then she could try and keep ahead of them and smash the statue to prevent the transfer of the Elder.
At least the cavern boasted a little height.
She took a leap. Landing a scarce 15 feet from the Batgirl horde in a cry of pain as her right knee gave way. As she had leapt, one of her captors had painfully grabbed the tendon behind her knee with a small hand, limiting the jump. It had lost the grip again almost immediately, but it still clung on with its other limbs and lost no time in resuming the hold, even as Wonder Woman struggled to her feet again.
She wrestled with the creatures as she tried to hobble away from the pack. Wrenching two clear Wonder Woman hurled them with force at the oncoming. It made no difference, the hurled and those they knocked down merely righted themselves and resumed their steady march, surrounding her.
Again Wonder Woman jumped over the advancing throng, hoping to gain a few more valuable seconds to lose the last two wrapped around her knees. Her right knee was still painful and stiff, limiting how far she could leap, but what was really unfair was the dolls could jump too!
As she leapt, the four closest leapt too: Two struck her in stomach and chest and bounced off with little effect. One managed to grab her high on the thigh. The fourth, Wonder Woman thought for a moment would hit her in the face, but actually it caught the front of her bustier, swinging there to bring its small boots against her chest and levering it out.
She grabbed it, twisting and tugging, until with a savage and desperate yank she tore both legs from the doll and tossed the remains away. The damage it and she had inflicted to the almost indestructible the armour crest her chest in the struggle was not an immediate concern.
As she had fought for possession of her high grounds, the dolls on her legs had taken advantage of her gyrations and lack of attention to climb her legs. They had consolidated their position, wrapping legs around her upper thigh and insinuating small hands in to the front hem of her briefs. Now with their free hand they were scratching, gouging and stabbing their narrow fingers in to the tendons at the very top of the inside of her thighs. Though no individual blow caused more than small pricks, the effects of so many blows were starting to sting. Above all she hammered and yanked at them in fear they might get better ideas as to target.
Another Batgirl doll sprang at her, the buckled armour from the earlier attack now offering an excellent and easily captured handhold, both for it and the two that followed and all three immediately set about pulling at it, bending it down, forcing Wonder Woman in to protecting her breasts again.
Under the onslaught, Wonder Woman staggered and toppled backwards.
The dolls on her chest gained their equilibrium faster than Wonder Woman. In the second or so of non-interference afforded them by Wonder Woman's fall they victoriously peeled the top of the bustier down revealing blood red and swelling nipples. Automatically she slapped both hands protectively over them and they were grabbed and tugged at by her small molesters.
At the same time she was trying to lash out with her legs, but they were not performing properly. She could kick out, but they were slow and with a dozen or more Batgirl's now between them, returning difficult. In fact the dolls were spreading her legs, pinning them down.
Now small hands were grabbing the crotch of her briefs and pulling. Not down so much, but out, spreading and stretching the allegedly indestructible material to an impossible extent. She immediately tried to protect her crotch, but the moment she released her breasts, two mouths latched on to her breasts and bit.
Wonder Woman screamed in shock. They had teeth!
Forgetting the defence of her crotch, her arms came up again. But removing the dolls from her nipples by hitting and shaking them was not going to be an answer, even tearing them apart was proving difficult. Her every action now resisted by half dozen or more dolls.
She squealed again as the material of her briefs gave out and was allowed to snap back in two distinct snaps. But no amount of jerking and twisting was going to stop what came next.
First small hands began to explore her clit, one forcing its way under its hood, before gripping and twisting. Others gripped and pulled at her pussy lips, stretching them painfully.
The combined effect had the result of temporarily stilling the Amazon.
The dolls rearranging themselves a little to make space. Wonder woman lifted her head to try and get a glimpse, but was prevented. Not that she wanted to know exactly. It was going to be bad.
Something lightly stroked the inner folds of her sex.
"Oh No!" She cried, stiffening in expectation and trying to slide her hands down for protection.
It was only then she realised why the candle scent was familiar, the sex crazed Barbara had fairly reeked of it and that she was wet as well. She stiffened further as something slid in to her pussy, then relaxed slightly as she realised it was a Batgirl doll's arm. They were less than an inch in diameter. Perhaps after a couple of orgasms from her they would relent, give her the chance to recover?
A silly idea undoubtedly, but the only one she had and she tried to encourage it by attempting to ride it. The dolls increasing the pressure on her stretched pussy discouraged that. Then a second arm followed the first, both sliding gently too and fro, making room for a third. Each twisting and sliding at slightly different rates.
Okay, three arms was a lot, but not uncomfortable, at least in comparison, Wonder Woman decided, feeling her climax rising and trying to encourage it. Perhaps she could drown a couple?
"Go on then!" She jeered in encouragement, "Try and fuck me in to submission!"
Then she felt her pussy being stretched again.
"Oh No!" She wavered.
They were forcing a fourth arm between the others.
There was a pause.
Then Wonder Woman was screaming in agony as she came. It felt as if the dolls inside were ripping her whole cunt apart. Those stretching her labia applied more pressure, tearing her apart. Her clit was twisted and pulled by their hands and those chomping on her breasts, bit harder and started to pull and tear. There bwas nothing she could do other than scream her terror and pain and when she finished, grasp a breath in gulping sobs and scream again, tears flowing.
The dolls did not relent. Indeed they increased the pressure. All of them turning to driving any spare limb they had in to her flesh, the more sensitive the better, keeping it up until Wonder Woman, on the cusp of unconsciousness, could make no further protest.
Then they withdrew, standing around her as with the last of her strength she curled protectively around her tortured pussy and breasts and fell in to blissful unconsciousness.
Bergman was ecstatic. To suggest his day was going well, was akin to suggesting the sea was slightly damp.
He had give his guests nearly an hour to consider the doll's effectiveness during Wonder Woman's capture and had been rewarded by the bids for dolls sky-rocketing to over $250 Million. Indeed there was a bid worth $900 Million for a pair. All the bank drafts would be executed by the time New York opened, a total of $10 Billion transferred to his Swiss bank. Enough to buy considerable control over many members, and that control would increase further as the dolls carried out their duties.
The second point and the reason for the bidding frenzy, was that of the four most powerful Superheroes, Wonder Woman was the most dangerous and was now neatly bound and spread-eagled to the altar. Superman and Supergirl were technically more powerful, but the Amazons had form. They knew and understood the powers involved and had successfully countered them in the past. Besides each doll had several grains of kryptonite embedded in their bodies as a precaution against the Kryptonians.
Shalik would probably want Supergirl for his own desires, but it was tempting to send Superman an email, inviting him along so he could be ripped apart.
The final point, despite the agony they had wrought on Wonder Woman's body, the dolls had not actually caused physical harm. The Elder would no longer have to accept Chaney as the centrepiece of a running buffet of panicking guests. He could eat A-La-Carte: A juicy, succulent and ripe Batgirl for Entrees. Satisfyingly voluptuous Amazon for the main-course and Hellfire priestess for dessert. Potentially good news for Chaney. She might survive.
That too was good news. Makeberg wanted to really savour her torment.
That reminded him, there was one final thing he needed to do before Mark returned with Batgirl and the ceremony could continue. Explain to Chaney he knew who she really was and her future role.
Wonder Woman was disturbed from her disturbing dream by Batgirl being thrown unceremoniously on the altar beside her, her loose arm swinging out to slap her on the bare breast.
Her position, laying across the slab, arms drawn backwards over the edge and manacled together, legs spread and dangling from the knee over the other, was not ideal for attempting a miraculous escape by breaking her bindings. Feeling something pinch and roll her nipples prompted her to lift her head to reveal another good reason why she should not try. There was one of those terrible dolls sat on her chest, its hands on both of her breasts. There was something between her legs doing much the same thing to her clitoris. Worse her body was responding to the attention, sex and breasts burning for something more substantial.
She shuddered, the too recent nightmare of what they had done to her leaving no doubt as to what they could do next time and she could see enough of the others, standing to attention and leering, to know that they surrounded the altar.
The inverted position also gave a good view of the Offla's statue. She hoped its creator had exaggerated and it would shrink a little if brought alive, or better, by a lot.
The statue itself was about 12 feet tall, the two tusks on the top of its skull added another two. The crocodile like snout was about three feet long and the mouth was slightly open to reveal 6" dagger like fangs and a tongue, forked like a snake. The head sat on a short thick neck and in turn to muscular shoulders and chest probably 4 feet across. Arms were mostly human, excepting for the unusual bone like protuberance from just behind the knuckle of the hand, and proportionate with girth and height. She had been right about the feet, they were cloven, the legs shaggy with hair, belonged to a goat, albeit one the size of a bison. She was less so with the tail, which lacked barbs and was both longer and thinner than expected. Nearly 8 feet long it was less than a foot thick at its base. The thoughtful sculptor had also seen fit to give it a set of genitals that had strangely escaped the notice of the Amazon's historians. The testicles were at least the size of baseballs and sat in a scrotum that left them dangling a good 8" from the base of a slack phallus a hand's width in diameter and almost reached the creature's knees.
Her mind began to play with notions of how big it got and what it would be like to ride. A little flicker of reality dragged her eyes and mind away from it. If it got that far, it would be the last thing she rode. She needed something else to concentrate on. She looked at Batgirl to find the girl's eyes also fixed on that same member.
"Snap out of it. It'll tear your little twat in two and be fucking your tonsils by the time its in!" Wonder Woman hissed. "Look at me!"
Unwillingly Batgirl tore her eyes away and was caught by Wonder Woman's steely glare.
"Did you send a message?"
Batgirl shook her head. "Never got a chance. Everything was dead. Only just coming on line again when I was caught." She admitted guiltily.
It was close enough to the truth to avoid too many questions.
The phone and network systems had been down. Batgirl had worked out how to turn them on again and had sat to wait for the boot process to complete. Unfortunately, with her returning strength came that now familiar itch in breasts and between her legs. So she had begun to rub. That was how Mark had found her, desperately trying to bring herself off. He had taken over the rubbing, shattering any resistance she had regained.
Having to admit to any of this was avoided by a third body hitting the altar beside Wonder Woman.
"Catwoman!" Wonder Woman exclaimed, spotting the dark hair and black cowl with its feline like ears.
"Elisa Chaney!" Batgirl corrected. "She's the manager."
"My aunt, Darling," Chaney corrected both, squirming heavily. "Oh fuck, he's filled me with that musk. I'll explode if somebody touches me!"
"And you didn't expect it?" Wonder Woman enquired with a frown.
Chaney tried to shrug, but arched backwards over the Altar made it impossible. "Darling. I was expecting some Superheroes to arrive and stop it. I sent Aunt Selina the information to pass on to her boyfriend, Batman, a week ago."
"Um. She's not his boyfriend," Batgirl pointed out. "Like, he keeps putting her in jail?"
"Only because she's playing hard to get, Darling," Chaney declared.
"Why?" Wonder Woman demanded. "What was in it for you?"
"Money, Darling!" Chaney declared. "Makeberg is sitting on $10 billion from selling your little sex crazed friend's dolls. And $65 Million sort of got lost in fees going in to his account."
"So what happens now?" Batgirl asked, wanting to change the subject as quickly as possible.
"Makeberg does his little ritual and we get served up to that as an opening meal, Darling," Chaney declared, nodding at the statue.
All three women gazed at the threatening Phallis and squirmed as itching crotches connected to tongues to lick lips.
"Are you ready my dear?" Makeberg asked in a tone that suggested concern. "I would not want you damaged on the first offering?"
"Bastard!" Chaney hissed, then squealed and squirmed in a desperate attempt to avoid the rushing orgasm, as Makeberg's finger nails drew lightly from breast to crotch, squeezing the later gently to feel the flood of juices locked inside by her thin costume.
"I see that you are," he concurred with his own question as Chaney shuddered in failure.
He smiled. "My fellow members of the Hellfire Club!" he called, raising his arms for silence.
There were fewer faces turned his way this time. At least a dozen of the guests had succumbed to the musk given off by the burning candles and were now openly pleasuring themselves and each other on the cavern floor. This was good. It added to the atmosphere and the piquance of cum to the scent. A ready feeding ground for the Lord Shalik.
"My fellow members of the Hellfire Club!" he called again. "Are we ready to meet our Lord and Master?"
Various cries of 'Yes', a scream of completion from one of the females rolling on the floor and two groans of satisfaction from two of the males answered him.
"I hear a few of you are!" Makeberg smirked. "You must all follow their example and fill this cavern with your spirit so our Master may make the difficult crossing!"
The number of faces watching dwindled rapidly, though he noticed that of the Lady Forbes-Hamiliton-Brown continue to watch. Dressed in a loose over the shoulder cotton toga under a tall leather girdle, the attractive 33 year old brunette heiress, was making a path towards the altar.
"My Lord, will you not help me release my spirit?" She asked demurely.
Makeberg smiled benignly. "I must wake our Lord Shalik, child," he observed gently, mentally rearranging the menu to include cheese and biscuits. "But you may assist by passing me the jug."
He mounted a set of kitchen steps placed beside the statue and held out his hand, Lady Forbes-Hamilton-Brown handing him the aforementioned plastic jug. The last of Batgirl's tributes of blood, cum, milk and hair, topped up to the pint mark with water, musk and a few additional contributions from Chaney, as he had explained her error in trying to steal from the Elder.
"The essence of spirit freely given in tribute!" he intoned, pouring the mixture in to the statue's mouth.
For a few seconds nothing happened, then the liquid started to soak in to the stone, leaving no trace on the surface.
Seemingly satisfied, Makeberg twisted and slid his Master's ring from his finger, holding it up high. "The prison of our Master, the Lord Shalik's, spirit!"
Then he dropped it on to a short peg between the statue's fangs, descending the steps quickly to kick them out the way and waited expectantly.
It took a few minutes of watching, by which time Makeberg had started to frown in uncertainty. But then the pale grey stone of the statue started to change, becoming smoother and darker, the rate of change increasing as pinkish flesh became apparent, thick brown fur to legs, horns and teeth to ivory and the mouth a rich bed of scarlets.
Then it staggered a little, flexing limbs experimentally.
"Free!" It declared. "Free to stretch and reek havoc on the world!"
Makeberg dropped on his knees in front of it. "Master! Master Lord Shalik!"
Shalik peered down at the grovelling figure. "You are the one who released me, Makeberg?"
"Master!" Makeberg agreed eagerly. "I have prepared everything as you wished, including offerings, willing and not so, ready for you to feed upon, and a hand-maiden to help you?"
We waved his hand generally at the Hellfire Club members, now largely stopped enjoying themselves in favour of watching, then pointed at the three captives arched over the altar followed by the Lady Forbes-Hamilton-Brown.
"Ah. Yes. I taste their readiness and their fear. They will make an excellent first..." He stopped, the lizard like tongue flicking the air. "There is something else. An Amazon!"
He leant forward and grabbed Wonder Woman's hair, lifting her head to peer at it shortsightedly, the tongue flickering across her face and chest. "One with a familiar taste!"
"And you have captured and broken her, Makeberg?"
"Your bondmaids captured her, Lord," Makeberg gibbered. "But she is undamaged. I have done nothing but prepare her for you!"
Shalik hissed. "Fitting an Amazon should fall to the spirits of her Amazonian kindred, especially one who is related by blood."
He lifted Wonder Womans head and shook it. "Are you going to surrender like your three blood kin: Athwyn, Ceresa and Delyth and the others I took, Amazon. I broke every one. I broke them until they begged to serve me. Or are you going to be like the fourth, so I can send your living broken body to entertain the Dimensions for eternity?"
Wonder Woman coughed, then said in a brittle voice. "Her name was Elanna. A great warrior and Queen of the Amazons. My maternal Grandmother."
Shalik picked up the doll that had been sitting on Wonder Woman's chest and tasted it. "This one has the soul of Athwyn, the mind of Ceresa and the heart of Delyth. And they conquered you. How convenient. How fortuitous. My revenge is complete!"
With one action he tore the doll in two, a thin squeal breaking the air.
Wonder Woman swallowed, but any objection she could make was interrupted by Chaney.
"Oh yeah, Darling. I want to see you split her cunt in two. She's all tied down with her twat all wet and ready. We really filled her cunt with musk, so she's so desperate, she'll cum on anything!"
Wonder Woman looked at her in horror, but Chaney was not finished.
"But you can't actually call it a victory, can you Darling. I mean where is the struggle of conquest and all that sort of thing. They'll just laugh in that Dimension of yours. In fact I don't think you could really beat any one of us, let alone three?"
Batgirl was quicker on the uptake. "Yeah. Just like a guy. Bet you had to have twenty of your demon buddies hold them down for you. And even then you shot your wad before she got close and you couldn't get it up again!"
"What are you doing?" Wonder Woman hissed.
"Pee Wee! Lord Pee Wee!" Batgirl taunted. "That's what they must call you. Can't defeat a girl unless somebody's done it for you!"
"Trust me, Darling!" Chaney hissed back. "Just don't resist, or he'll fuck your brains out now instead of in ten minutes time!"
"Don't think he can even get it up, Darling!" She took up the chant from Batgirl. "Just like a man!"
The stereo taunting had an effect on the beast, Shalik. The flesh of his chest flushed to a darker shade of pink and he charged around the altar to come to a stop at Wonder Woman's legs. Taking his member in hand, he slapped it down on her stomach, measuring its length, drawing it back slowly until its tip slipped between her pouting petals.
Wonder Woman struggled to stifle a groan, then remembered Chaney's advice and moaned softly as he slid it forward again until testicles slapped pussy a second time. Even flaccid it would be pummelling her lungs, if he got inside. From between her breasts she watched it retreat, it's head glistening slightly with her juices, until it slid between her lips.
It did not appear a third time.
Instead he tested himself against her gaping vagina, gently pressing until the tip penetrated, stretching it to its limit. Wonder Woman dropped her head, screwing up eyes, hands and toes as she groaned against a presence that was at once unwanted, wanted, pleasurable and excruciatingly painful. Even if she tried she could not stop the orgasm, as Shalik tested her. Gently pumping the tip of his penis inside her opening. He withdrew, obviously disappointed by the lack of protest as Wonder Woman shuddered gently.
"Pee Wee!" Batgirl and Chaney chanted together as he stumped around the altar again, snapping his fingers as he did so and the three captives felt their bindings drop away.
It was not the only change they discovered, as they stiffly crawled and slid from their resting place. The second, less welcome to two of the women; Batgirl and Chaney's, although they still kept their cowls and boots, the skin like body suits had been replaced. In their place was a toga like creation, as thin as butter muslin, that spilled from left shoulder to flap loosely about mid thigh as they stood. Held in place by a stiff leather corset that dipped to the top of the pelvis and stretched high enough to cup the base of breasts in to immobility in a horse shoe like stirrup at the front. As clothing, it hid only by implication, drawing attention to where it flapped or strained.
The change had not done anything for the desperate fiery itch between their legs and in their stomachs, or the continuous feel of dampness, caused by the musk, except perhaps improve the ventilation. The pale toga tails quickly darkened with damp, as unconscious hands stole their way between thighs to sooth them.
Batgirl and Chaney glared at Wonder Woman. Shalik's whim had served her far better; bustier and briefs had been restored, though not her lariat and the crotch of her briefs showed she was as wet as they.
"Amazon battle armour," Wonder Woman observed, rubbing her own crotch delicately.
She forced the thought away, turning to face Shalik. "We won't fight you!"
"Ah. But you will!" Shalik boomed in assurance, grabbing Forbes-Hamilton-Brown, forcing her to her knees and mouth towards his Phallis. "You have freedom, two warriors to serve you, humanity to protect and your pride. Prepare yourselves."
"Little bitch!" Chaney hissed. "Look at the upper-classed whore go. Ooh!"
Batgirl and Wonder Woman both glanced at what was fascinating Chaney. Forbes-Hamilton-Brown had managed to swallow the tip of Shalik's stiffening member, while one hand was gently stroking its base, the other tickling his testicles.
"We mustn't think about it!" Wonder Woman declared with more than a hint of desperation in the tone. "We must concentrate on getting through this!"
"At least it hasn't grown a lot," Batgirl sighed, folding her arms firmly against temptation. "What are we going to do?"
Wonder Woman and Batgirl looked questioningly at Chaney.
"You were the priestess. What was supposed to happen?" Wonder Woman demanded.
Chaney shrugged. "The body is temporary, Darlings. He has to feed, then he can transfer in to a host. Makeberg thinks it will be him."
"He feeds by making women cum?"
"And that musk you've been pumping us with just makes us want to cum?"
"And we've got to stop him?"
"Even though we can barely stop spreading our legs for him?"
"And he gets stronger if he fucks one of us?"
"But he's already stronger than us?"
"And if we try to escape those Batgirl dolls will stop us?"
"And he'll fuck us anyway?"
"Can't you stop agreeing?" Batgirl demanded plaintively.
"Yes," Chaney agreed.
"Anything else we need to know?"
"Something encouraging?" Batgirl suggested.
"Yes. If nobody fucks for a few of hours, he'll become weak?" Chaney offered.
"Nobody, meaning the hundred people who are busy shagging each other?" Wonder Woman suggested heavily.
"Don't start that again!" Batgirl begged. "What about the ring. Perhaps if we can get that?"
"Yes." Shaney agreed. "Only, he will bite your arm off, Darling. You don't need it for what he wants."
"Hera!" Wonder Woman cursed. "So all we have to do is keep him distracted, until everybody has fucked themselves in to oblivion, while staying out of his reach, or cumming ourselves and hope one of us can grab the ring while he's busy. Can anybody see a problem with this plan?"
"Darlings, I do not do the fighting thing. I do the run off with the money while Superheroes fight the villains thing?" Chaney volunteered.
Imagining her sword in her hand, Wonder Woman clanged her bracelets together. "Consider yourself promoted to Superhero," she sighed, as nothing happened.
A thin squeal of pain and ecstasy from the direction of the altar suggested the end of any preparation. A glance showing Lady Forbes-Hamilton-Brown laying face down over the altar's slab and Shalik stepping away.
"Inbred floss-headed bitch," Chaney panted, her hand between her legs once again. "That's gonna hurt when she wakes up!"
Instinctively, all three started to back further away from altar and each other, as Shalik bounded towards them. He stopped perhaps 15 feet away, watching them watching him. It took a lot of concentration for any of them not to be drawn to a wet penis that now proudly slapped it's 16 inch length against his stomach.
Without warning he lunged to the left. Chaney just avoiding the massive arm by jumping backwards, but came down awkwardly on her heels, toppling backwards. She rolled desperately as Shalik leapt forward again, narrowly missing a cloven hoof as it stamped down. The others rushed to her aid, Batgirl launching a left foot kick at his side, Wonder Woman a punch to the other. Shalik grunting under the double impact, launched a swing from his tail that had Batgirl hoping back.
The attack gave Chaney enough time to get to her feet again and they now surrounded Shalik.
It was Wonder Woman who next sought an opening to the impasse, jumping forward to aim a punch that Shalik easily deflected, whipping his tail at her to force her back.
Batgirl, seeing the opening darted in with a punch to where the kidneys ought to be.
He ignored the blow, driving his arms up and forward to counter Chaney's attempt to target the tempting target of his dangling testicles with her foot. As her leg came up, his fist meeting the equally tantalising target of unprotected and bountiful breast.
She bounced off the fist with a squeal of pain, foot missing the target by inches as she fell.
This time he gave no opportunity for rolling, grabbing the flailing leg as he charged, bringing a foot down in the middle of her stomach. Chaney jack-knifing around it with a breathless gasp, hands to her pulverised left breast, rolling sideways and curling in to a protective ball as he dropped the leg.
Shalik had not finished with her, even though he turned to face his remaining two protagonists. Rolled up on her side, the tendrils of her toga draping from the waist, left the swollen lips of Chaney's sex peeping from between folded legs. Now he used his tail to gently explore the narrow groove. First with a couple of slaps, that made her gasp, then the tip sliding inside, gently prodding and probing until it found a target that prompted a deeper moan of protest.
"Does that work?" Batgirl demanded, joining Wonder Woman and hitching the toga back on narrow shoulders.
"Can't wait to find out," Wonder Woman growled.
"And how will you stop me, Amazon?" Shalik taunted. "Protector of the weak. She is so wet and ready it will just take a little push like this!"
The tail twitched and Chaney was straightening, twisting and wailing, as her sex over came her resistance.
Wonder Woman charged in fury, launching in to a flying kick aimed at Shalik's chest.
The attack was clumsy and obvious, Shalik had no problems deflecting the leg, turning Wonder Woman in mid-air. Her chest hitting his, body cross wise.
Shalik staggered under the impact, arms instinctively and awkwardly coming round to catch her. Ripping itself out of Chaney's crotch, soliciting another moaning cry of orgasm and pain, his tail slashed down as he fought for balance, catching her several blows around the thighs as she desperately tried to scrabble away from the massive tettering figure.
Finding herself caught, Wonder Woman made frantic windmilling blows at Shalik's face, but lacked angle or space to make any of them telling. Instead, with a grunt of effort, he part pushed and part tossed her away.
Even so she flew nearly 20 feet, landing heavily and rolling in to a group of Hellfire Club members, who had ventured closer to watch the spectacle. Stunned by the landing, Wonder Woman could do nothing other than gasp as they crawled over her, hands squeezing and rubbing her still soaked pussy, infiltrating the top of her costume to massage burgeoning breasts, taking advantage of the morsel thrown them. The sensations overwhelming, at least temporarily, any desire to get straight up.
Taken by surprise by Wonder Woman's impulsive charge, Batgirl had been slower in her attack. The few seconds delay however offered an open target. As Shalik rid himself of Wonder Woman, Batgirl's foot came up with a full swing. Shalik roared, this time in pain, doubling over his hands cupping his massive testicles, giving Batgirl a second shot. Her boot meeting his heavy jaw, before she leapt back for safety.
She was considering risking a third shot when Shalik straightened and roared his fury at her, taking a step forward before looking behind.
Chaney had grabbed the end of his tail and was now standing, legs splayed, trying to pull it towards her.
With an irritated flick he snatched it from her grasp, bringing it back like a lash, taking Chaney's legs from under her as she struggled for balance. She sprawled face first.
"So you liked my tail?" Shalik asked mockingly, holding her face down with one hoof on her back. "Perhaps later you can try it properly?"
He stepped away and the tail lashed down. Four times it struck, landing across Chaney's bare buttocks.
In a bid to distract him again, Batgirl charged forward, managing to launch two short punches in to his midriff, before Shalik grabbed her by the throat with one hand and lifted her off her feet.
"Wonder Woman, Darling. When you've finished. We kinda need some help here!" Chaney gasped.
She tried to get up, but her legs were leaden, barely responding, leaving her trying to crawl using just hands.
Wonder Woman, fighting the desires of her own crotch, more than any physical impediment applied by her captors, finally managed to roll to her knees, then her feet, but not in time to do anymore than watch.
Shalik had no need for an unconscious Batgirl. Instead, with the girl still scrabbling at the hand that held her, he dropped her to her feet. Freed, she bent forward coughing and gasping for breath, but given no respite as she was grabbed again, this time by the back of the toga. The hand preventing escape, collapse or straightening as Shalik brought the other hand down as a blade of knuckles on to the base of Batgirl's spine.
Batgirl squealed, legs giving way, only for Shalik to lift her high, an arm around her stomach, before dropping her again.
She did not fall far. Far enough for her crotch to meet Shalik's hard and inflexible member, her sex so rampant in its flowing desperation she slid on its tip.
Batgirl, legs flapping helplessly, screamed in pain as her own weight forced the giant member's tip in to her vagina. Desperately she scrabbled behind her for some form of support. Shalik replacing the arm with two finger tips pressed against her breasts, to prevent toppling, leaving her entire weight resting on slick cunt and the tip of his penis.
With each wriggle, Batgirl sank a little further on the shaft, adding more sensations, from rolling breast, trapped under his finger tips and agitated clit, just catching the massive phallis to the already desperate itch inside her. Not even the pain of being stretched so far could prevent the desire to cum overwhelming any will to fight.
She came long and hard, the shaft penetrating nearly half its length as she squirmed and squealed in desperate release.
Finally Batgirl subsided, too exhausted to do more than whimper weakly against the still desperate sensations in her crotch. Shalik caught her head and shook it gently before turning to look in to the glazed eyes.
"Shall I let her rest on my shaft while I finish the other, Amazon?" Shalik taunted. "Their spirits can wait for you in the Dimension?"
Wonder Woman slapped away the hands that were once again exploring her aching crotch and breasts, anger temporarily replacing the carrion cry of her sex. "Put her down. You have to defeat me first!"
Slowly Shalik lifted Batgirl from her perch and hissed in amusement as he caught sight of Chaney.
She had managed to sit up, but the sight of Batgirl comprehensively surrendering her cunt to Shalik's cock had broken any attempt to mentally resist her own desperate pussy. Now she sat both hands working freely between her splayed legs.
"It is right for servants to prepare themselves to follow their Mistress!" Shalik declared, dropping Batgirl's head carefully between Chaney's thighs, then pushing both over, so Batgirl's crotch sat invitingly in front of Chaney's mouth.
Such was Chaney's state she did neither blinked nor hesitated, her head lifting to lap at the oozing pussy and getting a response from the no less deranged Batgirl, both moaning in passion.
Satisfied by the arrangement, Shalik turned back towards Wonder Woman and there was a solid crack as a fist met his jaw.
He rubbed it ruefully. "I am impressed, Amazon. Many have surrendered to the sight of a champion pleasuring herself on my organ," he declared, indicating not just Chaney, but the others in the cavern. "Now it is my turn!"
His straight punch caught Wonder Woman above and between the breasts, sending her flying backwards to collapse in a heap thirty feet away. Immediately she rolled to her knees and rose slowly to her feet, coughing and gasping for breath as she faced him again.
"Still not surrendered," she coughed.
Shalik charged, Wonder Woman diving away at the last moment, attempting to get in a kick at his leg as she did so.
She rolled to her feet again and faced him. Of course, she told herself, although there was no were to run too and he was stronger than her, she did have an advantage. He had to capture her more or less intact, senseless, or dead, she was useless to him. So he had to pull his punches. She could hurt him as much as she liked, just as long as she avoided being caught.
"Too slow, Shalik!" Wonder Woman taunted. "Perhaps you need a good night's rest in some hole or other?"
This time Wonder Woman charged at him, taking a flying jump so she could grab the horns on his head, using them as handlebars to bring her boots down on his snout. Swinging herself round and still holding the bars, she jumped again, this time crashing her heels in to his back before pulling back as hard as she could.
Shalik roared in pain and rage as his back was slowly forced to arch backwards. His tail came up and looped around Wonder Woman's legs, pulling them away and for a moment she was stretched out. Unable to hold on, Wonder Woman let go of the horns, and allowed herself to slide down, putting in another punch to his back as she passed.
She was rewarded by a backwards kick from Shalik, catching her in the shoulder and she gasped in pain, catching the numbed joint with her other hand, as she toppled.
The tail did not let go. Instead it lifted her legs as a hoof slammed in to her back, forcing Wonder Woman in to a hissing squeal of pain as her own back arched dangerously.
The hold was not held long, the tail replaced by first one then both arms and Wonder Woman was lifted high and upside down. Finding herself face to cock, Wonder Woman could not help giving it an experimental lick, even as she tried to put her arms out to cushion her head from the expected pile driver, only for the feeling of large teeth gently probing her pussy to distract her in to trying to protect that instead.
Then he dropped her, pushing her over backwards to land on head and back. Immediately he caught her up again, one hand inside the top of her bustier, the other scrabbling a gap inside the thigh of her briefs, lifting her, Wonder Woman too dazed to resist.
Holding her aloft like some sporting prize, he carried her back to the altar.
The feeling of back crashing on to altar awoke Wonder Woman from her stupor. Immediately she grabbed the hand gripping her bodice with both of hers, as it began to peel it back.
Realising her intervention was doing more harm than good, she let go in favour of a sharp punch to Shalik's jaw, forcing him to step back. But the damage was done, the torn and buckled eagle shaped armour was beyond protecting anything.
Shalik came back immediately with a punch in to her vulnerable crotch, grinding the boney projections behind the knuckles in to her sensitive sex, making her gasp in pain. With effort she managed to force him away again with a kick, but the hand bringing relief to her bruised sex found the tear in briefs and hose. Undoubtedly through their earlier encounter with Shalik's teeth.
She was going to lose. Wonder Woman was certain of that now.
Still, she decided, lashing out with her legs again, there was no reason why she should make it easy for him.
Finding a couple of bottles by her head, she threw those as well. One the stopper fell from its neck, splashing its contents over her as it flew, the other broke on his chest.
Shalik, tested the slick oil as it dribbled down his chest and hissed with laughter. It would not harm either of them, but the Amazon might regret coating herself in another splash of musk.
"I like it when my prey struggles!"
He caught Wonder Woman's legs as she launched another vicious double kick, forcing them apart as he stepped closer.
Wonder Woman willing herself to ignore all other distractions, slid her hands protectively between her legs. Dropping her legs, Shalik grabbed her wrists, trying to force them away from their last ditch death grip. Wonder Woman fighting back, held on. Only she had forgotten that long lizard like tongue. It lashed out, slithering around and squeezing her exposed breasts. The forked tip also held a surprise, tiny barbs that sent a sensation not unlike a mild electric shock as they jabbed in to swollen and cruelly sensitive nipples.
For a moment Wonder Woman lost concentration, allowing Shalik to pull her hands away, lifting them as far as her stomach. He still did not have full control of the women, she was still struggling to free herself from his clutches, so he could not release a hand to finish the job. Instead his tongue once again came out, this time concentrating on the rip in her briefs, sliding through to probe and torment the woman's sex. She twisted, writhed and moaned in response, never sure if the tongue would tickle or sting, the increasingly desperate urge to climax building, until the inevitable.
Shalik was quick to take advantage of Wonder Woman's helpless shuddering squeal of defeat. Ripping her briefs wide open to bring his phallus in line with her gaping opening.
"Hera. No. It's too big!" Wonder Woman pleaded weakly, pushing her hands down protectively. Shalik simply slapped them away.
"Your servant enjoyed it, Amazon," he observed. "And you are much larger!"
Catching up Wonder Woman's thighs, he began to press his member forward against the gaping opening of her vagina.
"Hera. Help!" Wonder Woman screamed as her pussy lips were stretched to their ultimate, banging her arms in to the hard altar surface to try to avoid the pain. No part of her cunt was safe from the massive tool as it began to reciprocate, rasping at sensitive tissues, stretched and squeezed to what felt like breaking point, only for them to stretch a little further each time.
Her mind collapsed to the needs of her hormone ridden, musk soaked, cunt for more sensation. She began to grind herself against him, encouraging him deeper, wrapping her legs around his back.
Head back, back arched, limbs stretched out and shuddering, gasping for every breath, every muscle in her body strained against the massive tsunami of a climax that swamped her consciousness.
Shalik was far from satisfied with the performance of his comatose Amazon princess whore. His tail came up, briefly explored the length of Wonder Woman's crotch, until it located the puckered hole of her anus and thrust.
"Nooo. Gaargh!" Wonder Woman screamed again, as her body succumbed to the new sensation, yet still demanded more.
Shalik was going faster too. Each long thrust forcing him further in to the Amazon's dark pocket, meeting more resistance, closer to his ultimate prize.
When he came it would be the first step in consigning the Amazon to the Elder Dimensions. Of course the presence of so much musk, driving her in to desperate need for sex, meant it would take longer to break her spirit and have her beg for the end. At least Shalik hoped so. Each time he could torture her with a bigger weapon than the last. It would be the ultimate revenge in humiliation and destruction.
He felt something give inside his victim and suddenly there was almost no resistance as his 18" penis buried itself until his testicles slapped against her. A new tone of whimpering pain adding itself to the Amazon's desperate rasping gasps for air.
Then he felt it. The Feasting. Not the Twinky of Batgirl's decimation. But where his climax met that of the uncontrolled one of the Amazon. Where his spirit could run riot, gorging itself on the shattered remains of his victim's.
Leaning forward, he grabbed Wonder Woman's breasts, squeezing, kneading, twisting and pulling on them, heaping yet another erotic agony on a mind stretched beyond breaking point. Launching her from a new, even higher precipice, in to a bottomless pit of climax, as his member slammed harder in to her body and his juices spurted in a burning torrent.
Tilting his head back, he roared in ultimate victory, drowning Wonder Woman's wail of dispair, the power flowing.
Elisa Chaney pushed Batgirl off her in frustration.
Perhaps, if the younger woman had been more energetic, she would have been satisfied in waiting for Shaliks favour. But Batgirl, still exhausted from her previous efforts, let alone the ravishing she had given herself on the Master's shaft, barely whimpered under her expert tongue, let alone provided anything in return. He was still at it as well. Steam-hammering his precious tool in to the fat titted one, Wonder Woman, whose wails of ecstasy at the Masters beneficence had been going on so long.
In short Chaney was jealous. What she needed most was a big cock in her cunt. But the Master was too interested in favouring failed heroes. All he had spared for her was the wiggling tip of his tail.
It was the desperate demands of her deranged sax that had her both stagger towards and on to the altar. Even ignoring the blood seeping from her pussy, Wonder Woman was spent. Her head was back, open eyes sightless and the howls emanating from her mouth were more through the effect of her huge tits being squashed flat than physical breathing. It could only be a matter of seconds before she imploded. Then the Master's massive tool would need something to finish off on. If Channey's hungry pussy was laying, waiting, or even poised, ready to descend upon it...
So she poised herself precariously on the an altar slick with juices, oil and sweat, ready to execute her pussy's master plan...
Shalik's final lunge was violent enough to make the altar jerk. It was also violent enough to solicit a wild jerk from the Amazon, her arms flying out, catching Chaney's legs, knocking them out from under her. In an autonomous act of self-preservation Chaney's hands floundered for something to support her, grabbing Shalik's jaw as it opened in his roar of victory.
For a couple of seconds she hung there, then the effect of sharp jagged teeth, slippery with saliva, cut in and she fell and slipped from both Shalik and the altar. Finishing with her head bouncing on cavern floor. The last sound Chaney heard as consciousness departed, that of Wonder Woman still in the throes of her orgasm.
Batgirl awoke, laying on her back, cold, stiff, sore and thirsty. She groaned, then groaned somewhat louder as her hand slid down to rub the sorest parts, to find them wet and itching in eagerness for more punishment.
This second groan was answered by an echo, which she carefully ignored as she glanced around.
Perhaps half the candles had either burnt out, or been extinguished, leaving the cavern relatively gloomy and very empty of life. All she could see was Shalik's statue in front of the altar. Thankfully there were no sign of any dolls.
Guessing at the burn rate of church candles, she decided many of them had been alight for over 24 hours. Not that it helped a lot. She had no idea when they were lit, or what state they had been in when she had passed out. That, however, must have been some hours ago.
She wondered if she was still alive, or had been sent to the Elder Dimensions. It seemed unlikely. The way Diana had explained it, it had sounded like a busy place. While her pussy had definitely been ravaged, there was a distinct lack of an infinite queue of demons ready to ravage it again for her. That had been high on Shalik's list of promises.
That led her to wonder what had happened to Shalik and what he had done with Wonder Woman. Obviously they had lost. But things seemed quiet, but normal.
"Just like a man!" Batgirl muttered, still rubbing herself gently. "Never finish the job. Lord Pee Wee."
The echo had definitely not been hers, Batgirl decided. Her pussy was in no way ready to solicit that sort of desperate tortured climax.
"Hello?" She called, slowly getting to her feet and rearranging the toga to be a demure as possible. "Anybody here?"
Again there was a moan. Slightly more distinctive, coming from the statue.
Very carefully and gingerly Batgirl investigated, skirting the altar as wide as she could. If it was Shalik, she was stuffed, probably physically, she knew.
"Diana!" Batgirl exclaimed as she got close enough to see. "Are you all right?"
"Just get him off me!" Wonder Woman begged. "Before I cum again?"
"Can't you push yourself off?"
"Hera. I've been trying!" Wonder Woman spat, wriggling. "Gaargh. Get a little way, cum and it slides back!"
Batgirl investigated further, crawling around and below the statue. Shalik had obviously returned to stone again, his phallus buried to its hilt inside Wonder Woman, she could not get her slim fingers between them. But it was underneath she found the real trouble. Shalik's tail was still stuck up Wonder Woman's anus. Effectively stapling them together.
Quickly she appraised Diana of the problem, adding, "I'll have to find a hammer and chisel or something. Just don't go anywhere!"
She was back inside 30 minutes, having found tools, but no life.
"Uh. Think this is going to tickle," Batgirl explained apologetically, holding up a crop saw.
"Quite a lot actually!" She added as she touched the spinning blade to Shalik's tail and the vibrations slammed Wonder Woman in to yet another orgasm.
Three hours later they managed to crawl back to Bab's room.
Finding an envelope on the floor, Batgirl picked it up and opened it as both collapsing on the bed in exhaustion.
'Darlings,' the letter inside read.
'Just had to let you know, as you were enjoying yourselves so much at the time.
Shalik suffered coitus-interrupt-us when I knocked his ring off (enclosed). So did Makeberg and Mark. The Batgirl dolls sort of dropped dead. So I guess they are safe too, so I let them go.
I sorted everything. The Hellfire Club has been dissolved and those filthy rich people have got their money back, less my discounted commission, of course, to keep it quiet.
Been kinda fun. But I guess I'm not Superhero material. So I'll stick to what I do in future.
Till next time. Love Elisa Chaney'
"So that's that!" Batgirl sighed. "Pity about Mark. I could just do with one of his special massages about now. Should we tell Batman?"
"Let him panic when nobody turns up!" Wonder Woman hissed. "We'll go home to Paradise. At least until this musk crap wears off."
Ifan Mollac started as if he had just woken from a day dream. He was sat, as always, at the work bench in his shop, an almost completed doll in his hands. Only it was not one of his and his bench strewn with engineering drawings he had never seen before.
Curiously he removed the doll's purple costume, testing it carefully, massaging and squeezing its latex body, examining the fine details, comparing it to the drawings.
It was very good, he decided. Possibly even better than his own.
Perhaps a few more modifications and he could counter this new unknown competition with a new model of his own. Perhaps one that moved under its own volition?
He knew somebody who had been asking about such a creation, just the other day. Indeed he had left a card. Somebody called Otto S Makeberg.
Of course the purple costume would go. Perhaps one in blue and red. Blonde hair to set it apart from inferior makes and a little more statuesque in build.
From his draw, Ifan pulled a ring file and browsed the mixture of pictures and statistics he found there until he discovered the one he wanted and began modifying the drawings.