Gone To Gotham: White Queen Takes Dark Knight

The Batmobile pulled to a stop with its adaptive camouflage already engaging, the cockpit sliding open to eject Batman in a pneumatic burst that sent him flying up five stories. He latched on to the brickwork of one of the buildings the car had parked between, and as its cockpit sealed itself like a tomb to render the vehicle nearly invisible, he scaled the wall, coming to the rooftop. He had parked several blocks from his target and now, from his superior vantage point, he scanned it. His goggles showed seven heat signatures in the building he’d been given the tip about. Four in the lower levels, big and bulky, thugs, and three almost on the roof, femininely slim. He could recognize two of them even at his distance—the capering of Harley Quinn and the vamping of Poison Ivy. Obvious even from body movements alone. The third was stationary. The hostage, he presumed. He couldn’t take the chance that it wasn’t.

Stalking from rooftop to rooftop, he checked for traps, signs of ambush, and anything that could give him away to the hostage-takers. Harley he could trust not to think like that, but there was no telling why Ivy might be up to. The two of them were dangerously deluded to begin with, but together, they’d added radical feminism to the justification for their crimes. It was as nonsensical as Ivy’s environmentalism or Harley’s ‘love affair’ with the Joker, but at least he could trust they wouldn’t execute a female hostage. The biggest danger would be a stray bullet from one of the henchmen. Those he would deal with first. With Harley and Ivy on the upper levels, they’d have nowhere to run.

This had to be one of the easiest cases he’d ever solved. The problem here wasn’t getting the victim to talk, but getting her to shut up.

***

“Brucie, that hurts.”

Emma Frost stood in the middle of the ballroom, wearing an evening gown that was completely sheer, only the occasional pearlescent shimmer running through its opaque material doing anything to obscure the nude body beneath. It wasn’t even a modest dress to begin with, backless, its fabric covering her lower back and buttocks, but leaving her long legs bare, sweeping up her torso into a halter top, a length of pearls holding the dress up to her neck, though that covering did little more than to tint her already pale skin to a whiter register. 

Of course, as Emma’s ‘dress’ so obviously display, there was little any clothing could do to improve on the perfection of Emma’s body. Her breasts were high and firm despite their size, ballooning out the front of her dress with such skillful artificiality that one could believe she was simply one of the most genetically blessed women in existence. She could give Power Girl a run for her money. Below her famous cleavage, her muscular waist pinched into an hourglass figure in an echo of her equally famous corset, making it clear she had no need of the fetishistic wear to maintain her body shape, despite her proclivity for it. And between her legs, her womanhood was finely waxed, showing off labia that only differed from the succulently plump lips on her face in color. She wore blue lipstick. Her cunt was a shade of pink not found elsewhere on her wintry body—though a labia piercing held a diamond, sparkling atop her pussy in a tidy bit of branding. Otherwise, she wore no jewelry, clearly considering her body enough to stun all on its own.

It was a display so risqué that it would garner attention in even the most depraved corners of Gotham, even from the most oblivious of the city’s elite, but here it went unnoticed. Except by Bruce, who felt the stirrings of his lust to a degree he wouldn’t have thought possible. Emma’s flirtation was hardly subtle, and he would’ve thought himself inured to such overt eroticism. But perhaps when there was as much woman as Emma so clearly was, even he was vulnerable to brute force.

“Emma,” he said to her, unapologetically. “You’re being distracting.”

“That is the idea. We could’ve had this talk while you were driving, but that would’ve been irresponsible—even with all your control.”

“I’ll never figure out if you like control or the absence of it,” Bruce replied. He wore a tuxedo, even more flattering and fashionable than the ones Alfred bought for him. Whatever her faults, Emma had a good eye, and a taste for staging things exactly to her satisfaction. 

“Both are fun. I’m a woman; we’re changeable. Or…” She drew closer to him. “Do you think I wear this for just anyone?”

Bruce watched a sparkle run through the form-fitting gauze of her dress, moving down her body like drops of sweat, though he could barely imagine such a goddess doing anything as human as that. She ran her hands along her body, smoothing her dress now that she stood in front of him, though it had hardly wrinkled. It pulled as tightly to her body as the skin of a grape.

“Not exactly the kind of thing you like the teacher of your children to wear,” he responded laconically.

She smiled. “This is for my adult students. As you can imagine, it helps them pay attention in class.”

“And am I one of those?”

“Certainly. You could learn a lot from someone like me.”

“Such as?”

“You tell me,” Emma retorted. “You’ve been studying me for the last five minutes.”

“I learned all I need to know in the first one.”

“Oh?”

“You like to be fucked and you enjoy playing games.”

Emma shook her head. “What is it with me and brutally simple men? I barely understand the appeal of you crusader types. Oh well. Even the most self-aware have their limits. I think you have to be quite violent now. That’s something we can both agree on.”

***

The building was a simple office space, closed for the night, with the upper floors being renovated. Batman imagined Harley and Ivy could stay there indefinitely, deploying their henchmen to the lower levels to guard the place while it wasn’t in use. It was canny thinking for the pair of them. 

The men were Ivy’s. Career criminals, scarred and violent ex-cons with long rapsheets that sprang into Batman’s visor the moment facial recognition scanned them. But Ivy hadn’t hired them. From the glazed look in their eyes, she’d recruited them with her pheromones. Under her control, they wouldn’t have the wherewithal to operate firearms, only be roused to violent ire at Ivy’s direction. The fact that they hadn’t willingly decided to work for Ivy bought them some gentleness, but still, Batman doubted they would’ve been reluctance if Ivy had been willing to spend the cash on hiring them.

He threw out a pair of poison darts, pegging two of them with an antidote to Ivy’s pheromones. The side effect would be to put them into a comatose state for the night, which was just fine by him. Batman reached into his utility belt for more darts, but by then the other two henchmen were launching themselves at Batman. He deflected one like a matador dodging a bull, but the other’s punch connected with Bruce’s shoulder and spun him around.

Batman snapped back, his right hand flowing out in a backhand that crumpled the thug like an empty beer can. He wheeled on the first criminal, who swung a clenched fist and landed a glancing blow on Bruce’s cheek. Batman’s head snapped back, teeth rattled. He danced back, away from a follow-up hit, and launched a savage side kick that thudded into the criminal’s meaty thigh. It knocked him off-balance; Bruce’s fist rocketed out into the man’s midsection. As burly as he was, his weight was largely fat. Batman’s hand disappeared up to the wrist.

It was all coming together, the small rage that had animated his reflexes after he’d been hit now disappearing into the slow motion everything was moving at. Batman was a detached observer once more as he watched the criminal double over. He brought his knee up as if ordering it done by satellite, and saw it launch into the thug’s face, his nose crunching back into his skull, an arc of blood detaching from his shattered face as he flew back to actually somersault through the air and land prostrate on the floor.

The second criminal, who he’d backhanded, was back up, jaw broken. He was as potbellied fat as his friend, probably seduced out of the same dive bar, but there was a toughness to him. He swung at Batman’s face. Batman shifted a fraction of an inch and watched the fist sweep by his face. When the thug was overbalanced, Batman swept in with an elbow aimed at the dome of his bald head. It hit with a dull crunch, fracturing the skull as the man dropped. Either unconscious or with enough sense knocked into him to stay down.

Then Harley Quinn’s henchmen streamed in. Bruce saw the plan immediately. Use Ivy’s thugs as zombies to lure him in with a decisive victory, then spring the trap—Harley’s men, competent enough to use automatic weapons, and cutting him off to be hunted down and killed. He threw a smoke bomb almost without conscious thought, then sent out an EMP blast to dim the lights. In the sudden darkness, he disappeared around a corner and waited for an opening. 

There were six of them. He drew three Batarangs.

***

Emma danced with Bruce, a fast-paced tango, every motion bringing a stirring ripple to her nubile flesh, when she wasn’t pressed up tightly against him to show that her body was as warmly inviting as it looked from afar. “This is a certain brute efficiency to you,” Emma purred. “But not without artistic merit.” She let Bruce bend and sway her, controlling her body every bit as easily as he corralled his enemies in the real world—playing on their fears, unnerving them with the merciless punishment they could expect for challenging him.

“So how are the children doing at Xavier’s?” Bruce asked.

“Very well. It’s been a good three years. I can only imagine their streak will continue when they go onto the Academy.” Emma allowed Bruce to lead the dance, evidently enjoying the irony in a world she made and controlled. “Of course, I’ll be able to see that firsthand. I’m leaving the institute to Pryde. I’ll be teaching at the Academy.”

“I know,” Bruce replied. The college was under his purview as a member of the Justice League. “We’d be hard-pressed to find a better psychic teacher.”

“Did you try?” Emma admonished him gently. “Naughty, naughty.”

“And outside of their studies?”

Emma grew serious. “You know Laura Kinney? Julian Keller?”

“Students in the current class. Involved in a romantic relationship.”

Emma huffed a laugh. “Why am I not surprised—Elissa has been seeing them.”

“Seeing them?”

“Please, Bruce. The least I can do after all the campaigns you and Diana have done to support mutants is be a little delicate.” Emma watched his face. “Are you surprised?”

“Not exactly. I certainly didn’t provide an example of monogamy for the children growing up. But this is a—unexpected theory to have validated.”

Emma buried her face in his chest and chuckled. “Such cool, collected logic. I wonder if it’s hiding an absence of passion, or an overabundance of it?”

“Neither. I save my passion for special occasions.”

“And am I special?”

“Most definitely. It’s not many women who could keep up with Dinah and Diana.”

“Oh, they were keeping up with me,” Emma assured him. “And now that I’ve had the appetizers, I’m ready for the main course. How about you? Are you done whetting your appetite?”

***

“I’m not done, but they are.”

Delivering a final blow to the last of Harley’s henchmen, Batman let go of his lapels and the man flowed down to the ground, liquidly limp. The others were in a similar state of disrepair, dispatched while Bruce mentally responded to Emma’s questions and provocations. Now, his work finished, he quickly zip tied the unconscious men to hold them for the police’s arrival. That might be some time yet. He sensed that he wouldn’t be summoning Commissioner Gordon to wrap this case up for a while.

He disabled the elevators. Then, in the stairwell, he took out a grapple-gun, fired it to the ceiling, and let the winch pull him up to the same floor as Ivy and Harley. But when he went through the door, he was faced with the same unsurprised consternation as when Emma had informed him with his daughter’s sex life. 

Emma was there, but she was hardly a hostage. Wearing white thigh-high boots and a correspondingly short minidress, also in white, Emma literally sat on Ivy and Harley, who were lying on all fours beneath her like human furniture. It was obvious that Harley’s insanity and Ivy’s own mind control had proven no match for Emma’s psionics. In fact, Bruce halfway suspected Emma had let herself be taken, just to amuse herself.

“Took you long enough,” Emma said. “Villains dress well, but they’re frightfully bad conversationalists. It’s no wonder I took up with the good guys. You’re all so… quippy.”

“You could’ve disabled the gang too,” Bruce pointed out. “Or ordered Harley and Ivy to have them stand down.”

“Yes, I could’ve…” Emma tapped her chin. “But why deprive you of your exercise?”

“That wasn’t exercise,” Bruce retorted.

“Then how about this?” Reaching down to her hemline, Emma easily skinned the dress up over her head, leaving herself bare. No underwear. Nothing but the thigh-highs she still wore.

Her body more than lived up to the literal fantasy figure she had conjured up to communicate with him.

“A hero’s reward?” Bruce asked, walking towards her.

“Every dark knight deserves something for rescuing a fair maiden…”

“You’re no maiden.”

“I’m not very fair, either.” Emma smiled darkly. “Maybe you ought to run me through with your lance—just like you’d slay a dragon.”

“And the other bad girls?”

Emma reached down to tug one of Harley’s pigtails. “I’m keeping them entertained. They might just find themselves rehabilitated. I can be very persuasive…”

***

Ivy watched, horrifyingly fascinated, as Batman’s head occupied the space between Harley’s thighs, his horns obscenely poking up above her sex as if to represent the tongue going deep into her womanhood. Yes, Ivy knew that was what he was doing. She could hear the lewd sucking, the pornographic noises as he licked and tongued and pleasured the territory that should’ve been Ivy’s alone. She could see his viselike grip on Harley’s tender breasts, hers. Batman shouldn’t know how they felt and Harley shouldn’t have red streaks on her creamily pale flesh marking where he was so brutally enjoying her nubile body. Ivy shivered in response to the tortured bliss Batman was inflicting on Harley.

Her own situation increased her suffering. Coarse brown twine tied down her wrists and ankles, keeping her kneeling in place to watch Batman tongue-fuck her girlfriend. Her belly was starting to cramp from the position she’d been forced into. She wasn’t even able to look away from how Harley shuddered as Batman devoured her pussy with a lustful hunger that put Ivy’s own appreciation of Harley’s body to shame. And as if that wasn’t enough, she could feel herself becoming aroused, as if Batman’s tongue was inside her and not Harley.

She could close her eyes, but she couldn’t shut out the soft moans as Harley enjoyed herself, unable to mistake the sounds of pleasure rising above even the loudly sucking, slurping noise of Batman enjoying himself just as much. And she heard herself, whimpering like a hurt puppy, wishing it were her either giving Harley such ecstasy or receiving it from her worst, most masculine enemy…

***

Bruce knew just how to keep Emma at a peak of enjoyment, bringing her up there, allowing her to cool before her passion overwhelmed her, and then taking her back up. He would mouth her throbbing clitoris, tightening the pressure of his lips on it until the succor of having it released was almost more pleasurable than allowing the sucking to continue. His tongue would lap in and out of her, his teeth would grind down on the folds of her labia. This could’ve continued for hours, but between Emma’s growing need and the urgent lustfulness in his own groin, Bruce knew it would soon be time to bring this fantasy to a close. He pulled away from Emma, hurriedly slipping his fly down to release some but not all of the needful pressure on his rock-hard erection.

“Now it’s your turn,” he said, spinning Emma around so that while she remained on Ivy and Harley’s backs, she was now bellydown, facing his crotch as he stood beside her. He slapped his manhood against her cheek. “Come on, take it in your mouth and see how much cum you can get.”

“Oh, I can get it all. You’d just better hope you have enough for me,” Emma drawled, opening her mouth and allowing him to drop the head of his prick down onto her tongue. 

The embers of her last orgasm still flared up with throbbing heat in her sex, and she panted and moaned each time she remembered how good his tongue had felt on her cunt. But when the wiry hairs of his cum-laden balls brushed against her chin, she remembered she had more pressing concerns. The heady aroma of his manliness pressed in on her nostrils. She slid her tongue around his girthy length as it took over her mouth.

“MMMMM,” she gulped, still able to see his thickly pulsing member stretching out from between her lips. It had to be the biggest prick she’d ever seen. And the taste was deliciously masculine, carrying the same caveman brutality that she’d observed as he’d torn through the henchman. She gave a low, throaty moan as she tasted all of it that she could.

“Damn,” Bruce grunted, watching the full length of his manhood disappear into her throat as if it were nothing. It was almost emasculating, how eagerly she rose to the challenge of sucking him. “I don’t know how you’re keeping it down, but keep doing it. You’re the best cocksucker I’ve had yet!”

Envy flashed along with competitiveness in Emma’s mind as she suddenly questioned how many women had blown him. With a body like his, his wealth and charm, and his enormous, delicious cock, he could’ve had as many as he wanted. And she knew he was no monk. Probably hundreds of lips had been wrapped around this weapon before hers.

Yes, you’ve had quantity, Mr. Wayne, she thought. Now here’s quality!

***

Harley watched, barely blinking. Ivy sure was teaching her a few things, and showing that others just couldn’t be taught. How was Ivy taking all of Batman’s cock into her mouth, sucking harder and faster than Harley had ever been able to, and all while making a lewd gurgling that clearly aroused Bats even more? Just knowing they were possibly made Harley kinda twitterpated, and she resolved to try to match Ivy next chance she got.

And gee, wouldn’t it be great if I could do it on Batsy too? He seems like the type to be real grateful, even ahead of time, like when he was tossing Ivy’s salad…

Harley stared enviously, longingly, as Ivy audibly slurped on the gleaming shaft of Batman’s prick. Her bestie could take it all, needing no help from Harley. She didn’t even need to use her hands. Those were free to touch herself. Harley couldn’t even do that for her. 

Maybe she’d need help swallowing all of Batman’s cum…

***

Emma bobbed her head, her lips clinging tightly to his member, making the gulping noise of her mouth plunging up and down sound louder, hungrier. She felt his cockhead throb with the jagged excitement of a racing heartbeat, while his knob swelled until it felt as big and as firm as an eightball. The base of his cock jerked whenever her lips slid down to it, loading a churning shot of hot, boiling cum to sate her hunger.

“Yes,” Bruce hissed, holding her head in his coolly gloved hands, keeping her mouth perfectly in place to receive his thrusts. “That’s right… suck… suck like you want a whole gallon of my cum… oh Jesus… you’re going to fucking get it! Get it in your tight little throat!”

Emma licked and sucked furiously, working her head from side to side to further stimulate his massive shaft. The closer his orgasm got, the more she hungered for it. She could feel it within his mind, pulling away his self-control like a black hole sucking up light. Sweat was running out from under his cowl. She knew he had only moments to maintain his self-discipline. Emma clutched his quaking balls and pulled them to her throat, rolling them gently against her skin, milking his coming orgasm for more force, more pleasure.

“Almost!” Bruce gasped, his eyes glazed over with the agonized need he was still trying so hard to fight against. “Almost—almost—you’re—I… unhhhhh!

Emma felt a splattering spurt in the back of her throat, then a liquid explosion that easily dwarfed it. His frothing cum shot behind her nose and ran from both her nostrils, more of it gushing downward to fill and heat her belly like a furnace. She gulped as hard as possible, wanting every single warming drop, but even her whorish mouth couldn’t take it all. The fiery seed ran like lava backward along his thrusting prick and sloshed out of her mouth. It dripped off her chin, swaying back and forth as her head was shook by the force of his ejaculation, his pitching cock.

While he fed more scalding jizz down her throat, Emma felt a heated spasm tighten her pussy into an agonized needlepoint of climax, as if in answer to how his cock was burning in her mouse. The pleasure was itchy, weirdly vacant, but oh so real.

If only I could have his cock inside me while it gave me all this cum, it would feel just like—

She choked suddenly, her climax too all-consuming to let her keep gulping down his cum without consequences. The next orgasmic wave pitched backward and then forward through the folds of her pussy, seeming to slam into her opening, desperate to be wrapped around a cock like the one occupying her throat.

Bruce gave a final jab forward, his grip tight on the back of Emma’s skull, making sure she could not avoid the last of his gargantuan load. He held her there for several seconds as she swallowed, enjoying the way her tongue slopped around his member, how tightly stretched her lips were around the base of his cock. Finally he let her go, his hands falling to her smooth shoulders.

“Where’d you learn to suck cock like that?” Bruce gasped finally, even his stoicism broken by the strength of his orgasm.

Emma licked him dry before speaking. Stray strands of cum slid between her lips and were rolled against her cheeks, over her tongue, finally down her throat. She made sure he was thoroughly clean before dropping her head down to rest on her bed of quivering villainess flesh.

“I’m a mindreader at a high school. You pick up a few things.”

Helped to her feet by Bruce, Emma waved a hand. Ivy and Harley collapsed down to the ground like they’d been relieved of a great burden. In their sleep, they moaned Batman’s name, Harley happily, Ivy less so.

“They already had very vivid fantasy lives,” Emma said defensively. “I just brought a few things to the forefront. In fact, I don’t think I’ll press charges. They could benefit greatly from being under my care.”

“I’m sure,” Bruce said evenly. Harley had started to touch herself.

Emma was shameless in her smile. “What can I say? Some people really do simply need to get laid.”

“As long as they’re not committing any crimes,” he said. “And the henchmen?”

“I’m sure Gotham has something on the books involving ex-cons and weapons charges. That should put them in time-out for the duration, yes?”

“Yes,” Bruce agreed. Emma looked up his hulking body, his horned cowl towering over her more severely than the statuesque stunner could do in even her most tottering high heels. Then she rolled her eyes back down and saw his member still protruding from his crotch, hanging there like a summer sausage. It amused her how he could be so gothic and intimidating, even with his dick hanging out. She laughed airily. 

“You really are the most, dear. You simply must come to my next soiree.”

“When I’m in attendance at a party, the evening has a nasty habit of coming to involve kidnappings or bomb threats.”

“What fun,” Emma said dryly. She stared longingly at his manhood as he finally tucked it away and zipped up. “Perhaps a private party. Maybe by then I’ll have taught these two to balance grapes on their noses.”

She looked down at the villains again. Ivy had started to touch herself as well.