Ladies of the Knight 5

In the blue hour just before dark, Batman was the first shadow of many. This time, however, he wasn’t after criminals. Ellen Yindel threatened the security of his crusade and his allies. She’d have to be dealt with before her interference inadvertently aided Gotham’s criminals. Bruce knew he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he allowed this internecine feuding of hers to get an innocent civilian killed. 

It was easy to make his way to Yindel’s apartment. Despite her shortsighted policies, Yindel was a good cop. She didn’t waste department resources on protecting herself, clearly expecting either that she could take care of herself or that Batman wouldn’t go so far as to attack her. 

She was right, at least on the second count. He wouldn’t assault her. He wouldn’t even threaten her. Dealing with enemies was complicated, but reticent allies required even more nuance. They had to be… courted.

Fortunately, Yindel had left her window cracked open, the heat of the day seeping out. Batman took from his utility belt a vial of Poison Ivy’s pheromones. Holding his breath—even though he was already vaccinated against it--Batman uncapped the vial, then deposited it gently inside the windowsill. 

He crawled back up the brickwork of the apartment building, seeming to defy gravity with the impossibly tiny handholds he found to pull himself up. Batman would give the pheromones time to work. Then he and Yindel would discuss how useful the Batman could be.

***

“How about a drink?” 

Barbara nearly dropped her bags. She had just come through the door to her apartment and there Batman was. Her boss, her commander, and the man who’d already made her come like a dirty slut once that day.

Batman nodded to an end table, where he’d placed a dirty martini. It would be just like him to know how to mix a good drink too. Barbara dropped her bags by the door, closed it, locked it, and went to take a sip of the drink he’d made her.

“Good?” he asked.

“Excellent,” Barbara answered, her eyes riveted to his awe-inspiring body. His armor, though skintight and elastic as spider silk, was thick enough—it was only his brimming muscles that showed even through the bulletproof material. “What’s in it?”

“A secret. Like the one you’ve been keeping from me.”

“What have I been keeping from you?” Barbara asked.

“How tight that ginger cunt is.” He pulled her into his arms. “And how much it’s been waiting to come for me.”

Barbara was totally confused. How could the man turn his passions on and off like tap water? After years of him being cold to her, only caring about her work as Oracle, now he was so heated, so intense. His lips touched the hollow of her throat and she felt ecstasy shuddering its way through her body. 

And later? When it was over, would he leave her with just as few words, just as little concern, as he showed now?

Barbara pulled away from him. “There’s something I have to say. I can’t… be in a relationship with you or be your mistress or be your—your submissive. I know I take orders from you, as your secretary and as Oracle, but sexual favors can’t be part of that.”

Bruce’s eyes gleamed like a cat watching a mouse, seeing the distance between it and a mouse hole and knowing the length was insurmountable. “And if you weren’t my secretary, or Oracle, would you be giving me sexual favors then?”

Barbara suddenly felt like easy prey. “Yes,” she admitted. She couldn’t lie, not with him looking so good, her quivering with lust just being in his presence. It was all she could do to keep from falling to her knees and giving him the submissive blowjob all his women did—trying to be the best at that oral worship, to get even more of his attention for herself. “But that’s not the point.”

“What is the point?”

“That you’re so… cold. You’ve always been cold and now, suddenly, you’re different.”

“Don’t you mean you’re different?”

“I’m different?” Barbara repeated, completely lost. Looking into his dark eyes was melting her, making her pussy churn, itch with a need that she now knew only his cock could fill. Having had a taste of his lovemaking, she felt addicted to it—barely able to think when the prospect of more was so close.

“Yes. Now you’re my cock holster. Why wouldn’t I use my nice, new cock holster?”

Barbara didn’t know whether to slap him in the face or not; she didn’t have time to decide. Suddenly she was enveloped in Batman’s arms, her head pushed back as he covered her mouth with his kiss. The surge of pleasure she felt being held by him, caressed by him, raced up and down her spine. Her arms moved of their own accord, wrapping around his neck and pulling her tighter to his chest. She could feel his prick throbbing against her stomach: big and hard and hot.

“I want you like this,” Bruce whispered harshly. “You’re a bitch in heat, a cum dumpster, a hole that needs to be filled. I don’t care how, I don’t care why, but I know you’re hot to be used. And I have urges, urges I need to get rid of with a woman like you. I’ve had the romance and it’s nothing. I want a warm cunt under me, taking my cock and thinking of nothing else but fucking. And that’s what you’re going to be and that’s what I’m going to do with you.”

Barbara’s mouth gaped open, her mind screaming in revolt, her head mildly shaking in denial, but her body had already given into his wishes, her subconscious agreeing with everything he’d said. 

She struck his mouth like a snake, thrusting her tongue into his lips as quickly as her breath was panting out of her. Her cunt pushed against him, Barbara knowing exactly how many layers of clothing were between them and how thin they were. It seemed terribly ironic that she knew all about how his suit worked, just how to get to his zipper, only not what was behind it—not until now.

She fumbled her way through opening it, releasing the swollen prick that she was compelled to please. Barbara was about to kneel before it, to satisfy her need to have it at the back of her throat, but Batman held her up by the hair. Barbara felt like a dog on a leash.

“No,” he said, grabbing her neckline in his gloved hands.

He pulled, easily splitting the fabric in two. Her torn dress hit the floor. He pulled her bra away just as easily, ripped her panties right off her hips. Then he shoved her down onto her back, the plush carpet keeping the pain of the fall from being more than a dull ache. It didn’t throb nearly as hard as her wet pussy was. 

Batman climbed between her splayed legs, mounting her. “I want you like this,” he said, and Barbara knew with absolute certainty that that was how he’d have her—the way he wanted—from now on.

He was an animal now, with no concern for anything but his own lust. Barbara felt an instinctive urge to fight him, to push him away, to slash her fingernails through his leering face—that was what you were supposed to do with a barbarian—but she found herself spreading her legs and angling her hips up to him, brushing the underside of his stiff erection with her slick labia. The contact was electric, like touching a thunderstorm. She felt like she’d come within inches of being struck by lightning.

“Fuck me!” Barbara heard in her own voice. “Give me that big cock until I’m ripped in half!”

“I absolutely will, you cheap little whore,” Bruce grunted, moving his kiss from her mouth to her breasts, sleek and perky. He bit down on one coral areola, pulling the hard nipple into his mouth. At the same time, to completely overwhelm her, he drove his cock into Barbara with a single pistoning lunge. 

Barbara had thought his prick was big before, but now, without Carrie to distract her, it seemed enormous. Her cunt lips felt stretched as wide as her legs were spread with his shaft impaling her. She cried out, pleasure and pain mixing into one overwhelming sensation. She didn’t know if she wanted it or not, only that it didn’t matter—Bruce would give it to her regardless.

“Hhhrrrk!” he groaned around her nipple, sinking into the tightness of her pussy, lulled by how much pressure it gave his cock to luxuriate in, making him pause briefly in fully breaking Barbara in. He spat her nipple out. “You were a dumb bitch to think you could handle me. I went easy on you before so I wouldn’t scare Carrie off. Now I’m going to make you mine. And I expect you to please my cock just as ardently as you serve Gotham. After all, you had to train to be Oracle. But you’re a natural born slut.”

Barbara had been fucked before—with the care she took in selecting her partners, she’d taken to bed a number of men who knew how to please her, and in many different ways. But in comparison to what Bruce was doing, she’d only ever gotten a firm handshake. 

Batman pulled her legs open like he was breaking a wishbone, then pulled them upward, forcing her knees into her armpits. With her ass up in the air, he held both her legs and shoulders down with his big hands. Then he was pistoning into her cunt, almost in a rage. 

Each thrust came harder and faster than the last, until his hips were a blur of motion, like fists working a speed bag. His teeth sank into her right breast, sending pangs of torment out into her chest. His balls slapped against her upthrust ass every time he pummeled her sex with the full length and girth of his erection.

“YES!” Barbara cried, grabbing fistfuls of his horned cowl, holding his unshaven jaw against her pale, freckled cleavage. “Yes! I’m yours! Fuck me just like this! Nh! Nh! Nh! Fuck me, Bruce! FUCK ME!”

Her orgasm hit her with such incredible strength that she thought her bones would break under the strain. The pleasure peaked and stayed at that summit until her ecstasy was unbearable, electrifying every nerve in her body. She buckled, writhed, clawing at Bruce’s cape and cowl, while still throwing her cunt up to take his thrusts, wanting more even if it killed her, in fact wanting to be killed so this rapture would never end.

“That’s good, you fucking whore,” he barked, bringing his face up to hers. Batman kissed her brutally, forcing his tongue into her mouth, scouring it along her cheeks and the roof of her mouth. Then he bit down on her lips, further demonstrating that her body was his, to do with as he liked, pleasing it or damaging it—whatever he wanted to do. “Take—it—all! UNH! You goddamn slut! UNH! Take my cum!”

Barbara’s orgasm had been slowly diminishing to gentle ripples through her body, but now Bruce rocketed it back to an explosion of sheer, delicious agony. His seed pumped into her convulsing sex, totally filling her. When the boiling cum couldn’t find any more room inside her, it sloshed back, spurting from her cuntlips around his pistoning length. It ran down between her buttocks to burn at her sensitive asshole, as if laying a claim that that opening too was his. She knew no matter how much she begged, if Batman wanted it, he’d use it.

“Mmmppph!” Barbara cried out, muffled by the strong kiss that Bruce was giving her, but having to express the passion she felt. “Fuck me! Come in me! Fill me up all the way, you bastard! I don’t care if you knock me up, just fuck me!”

Bruce drove himself into her pussy with a rage that surprised even himself. The more he ravaged her, the more she wanted to be hurt, be destroyed. She met his brutality with her own violent need, until their bodies were molded together, cocooned in their raging lust for each other. Her pussy sucked at his cock, pulling him into her, and he smashed the rest of his load into her with his full strength, crushing her passion with his own. Then he relaxed, releasing her from his grip and falling at her side.

Barbara’s eyes were closed, her senses deaf and dumb, the million thoughts in her head taking precedent. She felt as though she’d been ravished, but she’d asked for every moment of it—would’ve begged for it if Bruce had withheld one bit. 

She looked at Batman, wondering what he was thinking and finding him even more opaque than usual. Not only had he torn into her body like an animal, but she had done the same. Barbara didn’t know whether to feel angry or guilty, only that she didn’t. Didn’t feel either of those two things.

“How was it, Mr. Wayne?” she asked finally, hoping her sarcastic tone would make her sound more in control of herself than she really was. “Did my performance meet your expectations?”

“Don’t be a bitch,” Bruce said, his voice flat. “Not now that I’ve come in you. Which you know damn well you enjoyed as much as I did.” He rolled over and kissed her lips lightly. The gesture was so gentle, so loving, it seemed to come from a different man than the one in the brutalist armor. “Or did you like it more?”

Barbara looked away rather than admit to anything. “I can’t figure you out,” she said, but kissed back when he kissed her again.

“You’ll have plenty of time to try,” he said, picking himself up. On his feet, he seemed once more the glowering figure of dread she was used to him as, except for the limp cock he had out, dripping his cum and her juices onto Barbara’s naked body. “I expect you to be back to work tomorrow, bright and early as usual.” He shook his prick, throwing off a few more drops of cum onto her before he tucked it away and zipped himself up. “And don’t try to take a personal day, because I know you’re trained to handle more than a little fooling around.”

“A little fooling around?” Barbara asked. “You almost fucked me through the floorboards.”

Bruce grinned—a lecherous expression she didn’t expect the Batman to display. It turned her on, having him both as a tower of dark, controlled strength and the wild lover beneath. “When I fuck you,” he said. “You’ll know it. And you won’t be going into work the next day without a limp—or a wheelchair.”

***

Ellen Yindel was fingering herself when there was a knock at the door. She felt ashamed of herself for masturbating when she was perfectly capable of picking up a man—she definitely had the body for it—but she was too aroused to help herself. For some reason, ever since she’d gotten home she’d just been getting hotter and hotter.

For the past two hours she’d laid in bed, naked, her bare breasts jiggling as she undulated her ass, humping her fingers into her sopping wet pussy. When the knock came, she’d been on the verge of another delicious climax.

“Shit!” Ellen whispered under her breath.

Cursing a little more as her arousal faded away—but not nearly enough to be considered relief—Ellen rolled out of bed and pulled on a V-neck blouse and a pair of denim shorts. She could feel the weight of her tits bounding around under her top as she walked to the door, but she couldn’t bring herself to put on a bra.

It must just be a salesman, she told herself. I’ll get rid of him and get back to bed. And as long as I’ll up, maybe I’ll see if I have any cucumbers in the fridge.

That was what Ellen was thinking about as she went to the door, not any of her detective training or anything to do with the fact that she was in her apartment in a high-rise building. So it came as a total shock to her when she approached the door to find the Batman standing there, rapping his knuckles on it to let her know he had long since entered her home.

“Hello, Commissioner,” he said with politeness but not deference. “I thought I’d let myself in. You seemed occupied.”