Repeat Offender update

“Ghhh! Oh fuck, oh Jesus Christ! Do it, you son of a bitch! Nnnh! Oh yeah, fuck yeah, I’m gonna come!”

A week after her punishment, if it could possibly be called that, Selina was still masturbating to the thought of it. She was sprawled naked on her double bed, hips writhing from how her eight-inch dildo was pistoning into her. Her firm breasts jiggled and her spread-eagle thighs quivered.

A magazine rested on the bed beside her arm, open to an article on Bruce Wayne with a big, glossy picture of him. Selina studied the spread while ramming herself with the big dildo. It was hard to see, but she could find the hints of the domineering Batman in the enterprising businessman he presented himself as. Moreover, in the tight pants he wore, Selina could easily recall just how big his cock was.

“C-c-coming!” she squealed out.

Her ass rocked off the bed, her pussy sucking convulsively at the dildo. Selina stuffed her fist against her mouth, biting into it to keep from screaming when the satiating spasms ran through her body. She had privacy in her apartment—that had been the first thing she’d paid for with her ill-gotten loot—but she couldn’t stand the thought of crying out Bruce’s name and hearing it echoing back to her in the afterglow.

Still, she couldn’t stop herself from thinking, a sugar rush of thoughts of Bruce while she hurtled towards climax.

Unnnhh! Fuck me, fuck meeee… shit, Bruce, please… nnnngggg!

Afterwards, she shoved both the dildo and the magazine to the floor. She lay staring at the ceiling, focusing on her feverishly overheated body cooling down. Her satisfaction passed for serenity. She thought of nothing in particular.

But then thoughts of Bruce—his hand on her ass in particular—crept in and less than a minute later, she was rubbing at her pussy, fingering herself, playing with her clit.

I need more, Selina thought hungrily.

***

An hour later, showered and shaved, Selina was lifting an emerald necklace she’d had her eye on from the safe of its collector.

It was like Bruce had been waiting for her.

“Like I said: you never learn,” he spoke from the shadows. “Maybe I should spank you harder this time.”

Incensed by how casually, how confidently—how rightly—he assumed he could dominate her again, Selina went for her whip.

Bruce lunged for her, hooking his gloved hand in the cleavage of her open zipper. She shoved him away. His hold on her costume connected them for a moment, then the zipper ripped and she slipped away with her catsuit hanging open.

The triumphant laugh she released as she snagged the necklace on her way out enraged Bruce. He charged after her, boots thundering on the tile floor like they were leaving cracks on it. His eyes fixed on her flexing ass as he followed her to the window, gaining on her immediately. The gap closed even more when she cast a quick glance over her shoulder at him. There was no fear on her face, only a kind of anticipation.

He tackled her to the ground, but she hit the floor ready to fight back. Her heel came up and somehow slammed into his gut, making Bruce let go of her with air whooshing from his lungs. She broke away from him again and lunged out the window, scrambling onto the balcony. Bruce was right behind her.

Selina hurled herself up onto the rooftop. Bruce followed her without hesitation, but as soon as he’d pulled himself over the rain gutter, Selina’s boot whipped out of the darkness and caught him in the ribs. He flipped over, heavily, painfully, before gravity caught him and hauled him off the roof. He caught onto the rain gutter—the metal keened in protest at his bulk—and ignored the pain in his side to launch himself back up onto the rooftop. He saw Selina’s silhouette as she slipped away.

Bruce took off, his cape unfurling behind him. He thought of what he was going to do to her when he caught her. Anticipation cut the distance between them like a pair of scissors.