Those Long Gotham Nights update

The GCPD were quick to take over from there. In the rich part of town, at least, they were fast responders. Audrey was taken into protective custody and the gunmen either arrested or hospitalized. Diana gave a brief statement to show her willingness to cooperate, but otherwise put off the police. 

Any child could tell them what they needed to know for their investigation—she had seen a crime in progress and stopped it—and while Diana had nothing against the police, she knew how any obligation could be dragged out to satisfy a hunger for fame and attention. Just because Man’s World had made her a celebrity did not mean she felt obligated to sign autographs.

She demurred further interviewing, referring the police to her publicist—who might as well earn his keep, as a beautiful six-foot Amazon who saved the world rather sold herself, in Diana’s book. Then, while not being exactly dishonest, she gave the impression that the Justice League might need her and tardiness could result in the planet being blown up. 

Which she could not firmly say was untrue: she did intend to go to work on Justice League business, insofar as she was a member of the Justice League and she was making it her business to see who was after Audrey. Besides, if she knew Bruce, he would be right there beside her.

Unsurprisingly, when she made her way to the rooftops, Bruce had switched into his work clothes. As impressive as his physique was already, the armor that enclosed him, his scalloped cape flowing with the air currents, made him truly awe-inspiring. Diana gave him a admiring grin as she approached him, knowing it was somewhat wasted on him.

“I suppose here’s where you tell me I should’ve left one of them conscious so we wouldn’t have to wait for them to wake up to be interrogated.”

“That’s a good point,” Bruce said, almost wryly considering his gruff monotone. “But there’s no need to interrogate them. Hired guns won’t have the full story. I recognized them—a smash and grab crew out of the East End. They’re good; good enough to work exclusively for the Penguin.”

“And him you want to interrogate?”

“Her. Oswald’s retired. His daughter wears the top hat now.”

Diana shook her head as well. “Always so knowledgeable.”

“You would’ve gotten it eventually,” Bruce said, so straight-faced that Diana could’ve laughed. “Oswin Cobblepot’s tougher than her old man. The moment she even suspects I’m in the Iceberg Lounge, she’ll call up a private army. She practically has a garrison on-site.”

“Good thing you have an army of your own,” Diana retorted, eyebrow cocked.

Bruce waved her off. “If I went that loud, Clark would be in town every other week. No, we’ll need a more subtle approach. But your lasso will come in handy. Oswin doesn’t talk as easily as Oswald either.”

“That could be a problem,” Diana said, feeling suddenly sheepish—a rare emotion for her. “The Gods of Olympus are having a dispute amongst themselves at the moment. They’re capricious at the best of times and—“

“The lasso isn’t working,” Bruce summarized.

“It’s still unbreakable,” Diana stressed.

“Fine. We’ll just have to think of something else.”

“I may have already,” Diana said, a wicked grin now restoring her pride. 

***

Sitting in the middle of the posh, modern Kubrick District, where all the buildings were plain and functional if not outright gruesome, the Iceberg Lounge was out of place. It had been passed down, barely changing with the times, since before Prohibition, a sentimental tchotchke of the Cobblepot family. Walking into it was like traveling through time, returning to an age with the veneer of sophistication that Oswald Cobblepot preferred. 

Diana walked inside in neither a sophisticated gown nor in her flattering but battle-ready costume. She instead wore a black leather outfit that was mostly brass-studded straps. Two of them crossed her chest, covering her otherwise naked breasts. They swayed as she moved, speaking to their reality, but otherwise the straps kept them restrained. 

Another leather band ran down her crotch and up over her ass—broad enough to cover her mound, but not much of her buttocks besides where they sloped inward at the middle. At the point where her sex would be, there was a zipper in the leather band. Black leather gloves stopped above her elbows. Black leather boots topped her knees. And dangling from her belt was a leather whip, among other provocative toys.

It always amazed Diana how people’s perceptions were so clouded by social expectations that they couldn’t tell Clark Kent was Superman, but this example was even more pronounced. With a change in make-up, a different hairstyle, and far less modest attire than she’d ever worn in public, she seemed to become an entirely different person—one who no one would suspect had anything to do with Wonder Woman.

Of course, given everything she gave them to look at other than her face, Clark might think she was cheating…

“I’m here to see Oswin Cobblepot,” she told the stunned maître d', completely ignoring the shocked stares and open gawking that her outfit—and the body it showcased—garnered. 

“Who… who may I say is calling?”

“Just tell her I’m here to deliver a gift from Matches Malone,” Diana said with a lascivious smile. “And that he hopes it will square his gambling debt—with interest.”

Looking at Diana, her every inch outlined in leather that flowed and stretched with every tightening breath, the maître d' could not think that Diana was anything else. She was simply too beautiful and if he didn’t get her off the floor, there was liable to be a riot.

“Right this way,” he said, voice hoarse, and led Diana through the club—around the dance floor of frozen ice above a massive aquarium and over the bracketing restaurant area that circled around that aquarium to look in on its Arctic sea life. 

They climbed the stairs set against the painted backdrop of a polar landscape, arriving at a small antechamber that bordered the enclosed balcony where Oswald had held court as well. The maître d' buzzed at the heavily reinforced door, then looked up at a camera in the corner.

“A, umm, gift here for the boss.”

The camera lens whirred, zooming in. Diana did not preen. Her breathing—the leather creaking and singing around her abundant curves—did all the work for her.

The door buzzed open. The maître d’ held it open for Diana and she stepped inside.

One thing Oswin Cobblepot had not inherited from her father was the ostentatious zeal for sophistry. She lounged behind her desk in a penguin onesie, the hood up over her dark hair rather than a top hat. The onesie was not large enough to be shapeless; it pulled taut at Oswin’s thick thighs, her broad chest. She’d taken after Oswald’s weight, but she wore it better than him. Her soft, round belly dipped inward a little at the waist, giving her an hourglass silhouette, everything in an aesthetic balance with her ample hips and abundant breasts—HH cup, Diana judged, each the size of her head. Her visage was baby-faced, with soft cheeks and a rounded chin giving her a surprisingly cuddly appearance, like the best friend in a rom-com, if only her zaftig body shape wasn’t so audaciously sexual.

“Well, look who it is. Don’t you look tasty?” An overseas education had somehow managed to give Oswin a chavvy, Cockney accent. “Normally I’d worry about Greeks bearing gifts, so to speak, but a filly as good-looking as you… ooh, that’s worth the risk. What’s the point of living if you can’t live a little?”

“My thoughts exactly,” Diana said, pulling off one of her long leather gloves. “Is this a private party or do you like being watched?”

“Oh, I get you all to myself, I should think.” Oswin waved a shooing hand at the maître d’. “Off, off with ya. Close the door.”

The maître d’ quickly backed out of the room, closing the door behind him. It trilled as it locked up again.

“Now then,” Oswin rumbled, peeling her hood back to take a better look at Diana. “How’s about you start servicin’ us by getting me a drink from the cabinet there? Bend over nice and far—I want on’a the ones at the bottom…”

Instead of doing that, Diana walked right up to Oswin. Again, the outfit did all the work. All she had to do was strut her stuff and the leather did the rest, leaving just enough up to the imagination to pull at Oswin’s lust even more than nudity would’ve. A naked woman was just naked. A woman wearing what she was—she wanted to be fucked.

“You know what I heard?” Diana asked, putting a lengthy heel up on Oswin’s desk, bending down and propping her elbows up on her knee.

“What’d you hear, precious?” Oswin grunted back.

“I hear that you installed a voice command system in this office. You just have to say one word and security comes running. But you do have to say one word.”

Diana’s hand lashed out, striking Oswin in the throat, paralyzing her voice box. Oswin fell back, gagging, but when Diana reached for her again, Oswin slipped past her like a greased pig. She had surprising speed despite her heft. 

Oswin scrambled for the door, but Diana took the whip from her belt and cracked out with it, wrapping its tip around one of Oswin’s ankles, tripping her heavily to the floor. Again, Oswin pulled hard, managing to wrench the rope from Diana’s hand with her shocking strength, but when she flew for the door again, she found her way blocked by the muscular bulk of the Batman. 

He shoved her back, into Diana’s arms, and Diana clapped one hand over Oswin’s mouth, the other arm around her neck. It was not a winning wrestling hold, but with someone like Oswin, it didn’t have to be. The Penguin was neutralized. 

“Where’s the microphone?” Diana asked.

“Built into the surveillance system, I’d expect,” Bruce said, looking around with the white lenses of his cowl flashing, sensors reading the walls. “If she’s recording everything, it has to be stored in computer memory. Follow the magnetic currents, you find where the recordings are being made.”

Oswin screamed for help against Diana’s palm, but the Amazon’s tight grip didn’t let her get out anything above a whisper. 

“Don’t worry about him,” Diana told her. “He’ll keep himself entertained. You and I are going to talk about who attempted to kidnap Princess Audrey tonight.”

Oswin said something against Diana’s palm that, muffled as it was, was unmistakably rude.

“I thought you’d say that,” Diana said. “So while Batman gives us some privacy, you’re going to get that hot date I promised you. In fact, you’re going to lick my cunt. Now, girlie, now!”

She shoved Oswin down onto the couch where the same thing had happened to many employees and debtors, just never with Oswin on the receiving end. Diana was on top of her in an instant. Oswin tried to fight her off, but it was obvious she was outclassed. Diana straddled Oswin’s face, thighs closing on her head like a pair of scissors, and she unzipped the opening in the crotch of her outfit. 

“You can eat my pussy or I can find some other way to interrogate you,” Diana said. “But believe me, the alternatives do not get more pleasant as we go down the list.”

Even unzipped, the leather band was in Oswin’s way. She had to strain her tongue through the open fly to get to the Amazon’s pussy, but as soon as she did, the sweet taste of Diana’s cunt drew her in. She licked and lapped at the bare folds of Diana’s sex, running her tongue all over the succulent lips of the labia before driving her tongue as far into Diana as she could. 

The honeyed juices of Diana’s arousal ran out of her, oiling the leather around her cunt. Oswin quickly discovered she could get almost as good a taste of Diana from licking the strap as from stretching her tongue through the fly. The sudden influx of that creamy taste excited Oswin enough to forget her plight. She may have been Diana’s captive, but getting to taste her cunt was more than enough to make up for the predicament.

“Yesss!” Diana crooned. “That’s good, Oswin, very goooood!”

Her hips surged back and forth, rolling with the pleasure she felt. Oswin had to crane her neck at unnatural angles to stay in contact with Diana’s sweet taste. The leather strap rubbed roughly against her lips. Then Diana pounded her sex down into Oswin’s face, leaving the criminal slapping at Diana’s toned thighs and creamy buttocks. It only served to amuse Diana, who grabbed Oswin by the hair and pulled on it painfully. Oswin was quick to return to lapping at Diana’s slit.

“I see you’ve gotten what you wanted,” Bruce commented brusquely, digging through a plaster wall to get to the recorder buried in the drywall.

Diana craned her neck to look at him. “Yes. The last time, I didn’t, but thankfully that didn’t set a pattern.”

Bruce didn’t even look at her, extracting and dismantling the recorder in a cloud of plaster dust. “I don’t mean her. Working with me. Spending time with me. It’s clearly why you came to Gotham.”

Diana scoffed. “You really are crazy.”

“Maybe, but not delusional.”

Diana twisted, reaching behind herself to the zipper on Oswin’s onesie and jerking it down her body. Then she ripped the open onesie to either side, Oswin’s plump breasts easily holding the onesie in place so that her bare body was revealed in a wide vee down to where Diana could no longer touch the zipper. 

Diana took a riding crop from her belt and began bringing it down on Oswin’s breasts. Oswin writhed and cried out piteously, but Diana’s squeezing thighs both held her in place and muffled her voice.

“Quiet!” Diana barked at her. “You’re mine now. I do with you as I please. It pleases me to see you hurt! And for the record—“ She whipped her head around to regard Bruce. “—what makes you think I didn’t come to Gotham to spend time with Audrey?”

“Because I fucked you last, not her.”

Oswin tried to withstand the rain of stinging blows on her voluptuous breasts, marring their pale grandeur with glowing red stripes. With Diana’s skilled yet wrathful series of lashes, Oswin’s breasts swelled with pain, feeling like balloons that were being inflated past the point of tightness. Still, Diana kept whipping her snowy cleavage, turning them ruddy with a pained flush of blood.

“I fucked her before I fucked you,” Diana said. “Ever consider that makes you an afterthought?”

“No,” Bruce retorted calmly. “However hard Audrey made you come, she didn’t make you her bitch.”

“How would you know?”

Bruce’s granite features moved, his lips twisting upward slightly. It was a small smile, but one that nevertheless revealed enough smugness to infuriate Diana. “Please.”

Diana snapped the riding crop over Oswin’s engorged nipples. Oswin came, all the harder because she was being treated like some toy for Diana’s amusement, not even worthy of her full attention. She had felt the need growing in her body and tried to suppress it, but when Diana’s beautiful anger peaked and she gave Oswin that ultimate pain, it was like Oswin had no choice but to orgasm.

It staggered her with shock. Oswin had gotten off on being dominated, powerless, in pain—all things she had spent her life avoiding. The pleasure she’d been seeking all her existence and the pain she’d avoided in equal measure, now blended together in her mind. She felt both at once and didn’t know if they could ever be separated.

Diana came off of Oswin to shove the butt of the riding crop into her pussy, tearing the groin of the onesie clean off of Oswin to get at her sex. Oswin came again, Diana twisting and turning the leather handle inside her until it was soaked with her juices. But otherwise, all her attention was on Bruce.

“Fine. I’ll be truthful. I was your bitch. But what makes you think I enjoyed that more than being with Audrey?”

“Because you let me do it,” Bruce said. He tossed the recorder aside, wires trailing behind it like a comet’s tail. “I deactivated the listening device, by the way.”

Oswin was in no position to call in the guards anyway. “Ooohhh! It’s… it’s so gooood! Fuck me! FUCK ME!”

Diana snarled and rolled her eyes. She was in no mood for Oswin’s submission; it reminded her too much of what had passed between her and Bruce when all this started. She groped Oswin’s plump breasts with one hand while the other kept penetrating her with the riding crop. 

Oswin’s mind was left in shambles. She couldn’t tell the difference between pain and pleasure. She enjoyed herself mainly out of deference to Diana.

“Just tell me one thing,” Diana hissed. “Were you going to give Audrey a heir or not?”

“No,” Bruce told her solidly. “We never discussed it. I didn’t even meet her before tonight.”

Diana pulled the riding crop from Oswin’s clenched pussy. It sucked lewdly all the way out. “If only I had my lasso working right…”

“You don’t,” Bruce said firmly. “So you can either trust me or not.”

There was a pause in which the only sound was Oswin panting for breath.

“I suppose if she did want you to give her a heir, she wouldn’t have let you fuck her where you fucked her,” Diana reasoned.

“Let’s go with that.” Bruce tilted his head to the side. “Although you certainly did.”

“I got exactly what I wanted from you, Batman. We are on a date.”

“We’re on a mission,” Bruce said, stalking over to Oswin and putting his boot on top of her head. Her face was still flushed from the multiple orgasms that had wreaked havoc with her mind. “Tell us about the crew you sent after Princess Audrey tonight. Or I take my turn with you.”