The Kattening

There was no mistaking who they were, or what they were doing. Selina was instantly recognizable, of course. Her body was obvious from how formfitting her costume was, not that she was wearing any of it except the mask. Her nakedness easily outdid the tempting swath customarily left bare by her unzipped catsuit: café au lait skin, hair so dark it made even her dusky skin look pale, and jade-green eyes so bright they increased the chiaroscuro of her naked body. 

Then there was Batwoman. Not that she wore her mask—she didn’t wear anything—but it was clear that it was her. Who else had her lustrous pale skin, or the shock of bright red hair that provided a neon relief from the miles of long legs and spindly arms and slender flesh that were seated on top of Selina’s masked face, grinding cunt into tongue, two sets of hands wrestling together, guiding touches to breasts and hips and open, moaning mouths as the pictures went on and on, cataloguing their pleasure from the thrill of discovery to the final exhaustion, their bodies giving out with the satiation that had defeated them still coursing through their joined flesh.

Selina was unapologetic when Bruce confronted her over the leaked pictures. It seemed almost perverse to see her so blasé after how she’d grinned and gasped and moaned with Kate’s sex grinding against hers, her thief’s hands on Kate’s bare ass, trying to draw them tighter together, as tight as the dominatrix-black leather they both wore.

“I’m sure any man who gets around as much as you do is well aware of how good a woman feels. I know that just as well. And you are such a great detective—you must have noticed how good a time all those girls are having… one hopes… so even if you don’t partake in anything but the fairer sex, you should get the idea. Men can be fun, but women are their own kind of pleasure. And I don’t deny myself any pleasure.”

Bruce’s own emotions were mixed. A sickly sweet feeling of arousal that he was used to suppressing, but that was still evident—he was half-hard even now. A logical strain of thought that he had no right to be upset. Selina had called off the wedding and insisted on keeping things casual from here on out. He’d known she’d taken other lovers before. And still, an intense, almost bestial jealousy proclaiming her his. It irked him even more that he couldn’t sort all that out into a clear, concise plan of action.

“Selina, my cousin—“ he said tersely, hoping a simple statement of facts would rerail this conversation into something he understood.

“Why not? With the way your family keeps growing, it’s a wonder I haven’t fucked one of them before. Dick. Jason. But then, why go for the rest of the cow when you’re having steak already?” She laid a hand on his chest. “Relax, Bat. You do a very respectable job of satisfying me. I just need something extra from time to time.”

“Need?” Bruce insisted. This was starting to feel like an interrogation. Interrogations he knew.

“Like.” Selina shrugged. “Same difference. I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t spoil myself. And be honest: aren’t you glad I did?” Her fingers flashed into a new arrangement, nails digging into his shirt, letting him only just feel their sharpness on his skin. “It’s something you can punish me for, if you want. Or I could tell you about it. How she made me come, over and over again, and it was nothing like how you fuck me. Or maybe why I chose her. She’s such a whore, Brucie. A slut for any woman who’ll take her tongue and fingers. And I let her. I let her do anything she wanted to me because I’m a slut too, and I just wanted to come, come like the whore I am, for you and her—“

Bruce moved quickly, with a brutal efficiency born of inconsolable rage. Selina was spun around in violent motion just barely controlled by years of martial arts training. The hand she’d laid on Bruce’s chest was wrenched behind her, twisted almost between her shoulder blades in a hammer lock like Batman would never perform on Catwoman if she’d just stolen something.

Selina only laughed. “It happened after you fucked me, Bat. She smelled you on my panties when she ripped them off me. She tasted you when she ate me out. That’s why she fucked me with a bottle of pink champagne—poured it all over me because that’s what she wanted to taste—that and my cream when I came all over her face…”

Bruce ripped her chic dress open. Underneath it, she wore black: bra, panties, and stockings. Bruce could almost ignore them, but not the thought of Kate all over those tits, that ass, the legs. He was fully engorged now, his manhood nearly bursting from his fly, and the only thing holding him back was the thought that he couldn’t please Selina as Kate had, couldn’t give her the same satisfaction—he’d grown used to the idea that she would never be fully his, always a little her own like any cat, but now a part of her was Kate’s as well. It made his anger and his arousal burn even hotter.

His free hand was down in her panties, gripping her cunt, grinding it, as if he could take back possession of it by making her come. And, almost mocking him, Selina seemed determined to help make that happen, knowing she would never be tamed no matter how many times he brought her to orgasm.

“If I let her lick my ass,” she purred, thrusting her hips against his hand, getting off on this more than he ever could, “do you think that would lube me up enough for you to sodomize me? There’s only so much lezbo shit I can take before I need a big fat cock… and if you’re not giving me yours, there are all kinds of emotionally maladjusted doms in this city. Might get them off, knowing they’re fucking me right through Batwoman’s lipgloss…”

The next thing Selina knew, she was bent over the table. Hands ripped at her clothing like a starving predator rending flesh. Her panties were a lost cause, but it was worth it to have Bruce in a mood like this.

It was so much fun when he tried to claim her that she wouldn’t be able to stand it if he ever stopped.

Selina passed out before he was done fucking her. When she woke up, the feel of her cunt confirmed that it’d been well-used before he was finally finished, and put it to good use as a vat for all his cum. Seeing those pictures must’ve sent production into overdrive; she felt like she could put on a SeaWorld show in her pussy.

And on the table where she’d been facedown, there was a collar. The tag was two-sided. One said ‘Selina’, of course, and the other read ‘Property of Bruce Wayne.’

Selina spun the collar around her finger, wondering what kind of rise it would get out of him to actually put it on. And what kind of rise it would get out of Kate.

And to think, he’d thought she’d wanted a wedding ring…