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Long after the lights of Las Vegas had gone dark and been replaced by the harsh sun of the desert it was a mirage in, a Porsche 918 Spyder sped away from the city. Bruce sat in the driver’s seat, the hood down, the wind in his hair, the lapels of his unbuttoned summer suit fluttering with the breeze, exposing the chest hair and scars that lay above his undershirt.

Selina Kyle sat in the passenger seat, wearing a tight black bandage dress of individual straps, nearly overwhelmed by the voluptuous body they contained, and so parting a little to reveal tantalizing glimpses of flesh, like Venetian blinds that had been slightly opened. Matching garters and stockings picked up where the dress left off, just below its high-cut hem in fact, and they were on display in abundance as she laid sideways in her chair, her legs over the door and rolled-down window, her head in Bruce’s lap, all short chic haircut and ironical cat’s-eye sunglasses. Heedless of the speed at which Bruce drove, she let her black pumps dangle from her purple-painted toes and sway in the wind resistance.

In her slender thief’s fingers, she toyed with a Silver Strike medallion from the hotel they’d stayed at, twisting it on her fingertips and biting at the precious minerals of it to test their authenticity. She liked the taste of authenticity.

If she wore underwear in the few inches of coverage the dress provided, slipping down her upturned hips as it was, the World’s Greatest Detective couldn’t make a case for it.

She pressed the coin to her lips, as if in a kiss. “That was magnificent,” she said at last, still sounding a little dazed. It had been a long night, and though she was used to her fair share of nocturnal activities, there was usually some amount of pacing. Casing a joint, sneaking inside, evading the guards, disabling the security—then she got the goodies.

She wasn’t used to what Bruce had done. Almost continuous self-gratification for her favorite cat burglar, as he simply fucked her again and again, barely letting her out of the room long enough to find the memento that was now chilling her lips. All the energy that he usually expended on catching her—or at least chasing her—it had still been directed at her, but far more… directly.

If she didn’t have my pride, a girl might let herself get caught… but why let the Bat stop working for it?

Belatedly, Selina realized how overcome she’d sounded—how many seconds she’d spent lost in memory even now, as he drove her away from their first marriage bed, where the chase had finally stopped. Selina was big enough to admit it; she would be good and caught for quite some time. So she laughed.

“You should’ve done that a long time ago,” Selina said. “It would’ve saved you a fortune on gifts for all your floozies…”

“I never pet stray cats,” Bruce retorted. “Don’t know where they’ve been.”

Selina turned over, settling the side of her head restfully on Bruce’s thigh. The leaden weight of his groin was still within sight, and she eyed it possessively as she rolled her coin back and forth on Bruce’s other leg. “And now you’ve adopted me?” she said sentimentally. 

“I wouldn’t say you’re belled. More of an outdoor cat.”

“Outdoor cats don’t like to be pampered. I love it.” Putting her heeled sole on the inside of the car door, Selina pushed herself a few inches further into Bruce’s lap, her face rubbing along his loins until she was nosing at the track of his zipper. “I like having toys to play with too. Keeps me from getting bored.”

“What do you call Ivy and Harley?”

“Floozies,” Selina answered readily. “Oh, I’m sure they gave you a little more trouble than most, but let’s face it—they’re sluts. Ivy fucks plant life and Harley’s screwing the Joker. You didn’t exactly seduce anyone with high standards.”

Bruce grinned, bemused. “We got married by an Elvis impersonator.”

“You don’t think it takes one high-class cunt to make the billionaire boy who hangs with the Justice League get married in an all-night chapel?” 

“I have no comment,” Bruce said. He saw a road sign passing by, announcing the miles left between them and Gotham. “Except to ask what it takes to make the Queen of Crime settle down.”

“Who says I’m settling down? I’m just getting married,” Selina said. Her green eyes sparkled up at him. “If you want to tame me, you’ll have to try a lot harder than what you did last night. We didn’t even use the whip.”

“Who says I want to tame you?”

Selina smiled. “Who cares what you want, Brucie? I want you to try.” Slipping the Silver Strike into Bruce’s pocket, Selina busied her suddenly empty hands with tugging down his zipper. “Try hard.”

Bruce grunted as she hauled his manhood out into the open. “You could’ve told me this was on the table before I took the top down.”

Selina moaned deliciously to herself as she ran her tongue over the length of his shaft. He started throbbing under her tongue and she reminded herself that as big as he was, he wasn’t even hard yet—that husband of hers… “Since when have you ever been able to guess where the Cat will strike next?”

“Quite often,” Bruce replied, leaning back in his seat to make room for Selina’s head.

“When I wanted you there,” Selina corrected. “And even then, you only made it half the time. For a man who funds twenty libraries, you can be really thick.” She peppered kisses along his length, prompting a hissing sigh from Bruce as his lust increased far out of proportion to his pleasure. “Really, really thick… God, Bat, I thought you had rules against carrying guns…”

Selina was on all fours now, her ass in the air, twitching and waving, as she shoved her face into Bruce’s crotch, letting his cock run over her beautifully exquisite features.

“If you don’t open your mouth soon,” Bruce said warningly. “I might have to pull over. And you wouldn’t like where that ends up, considering how much sitting you have yet to do on this trip.”

“Promises, promises,” Selina cooed, finally mouthing the glans of Bruce’s massive cockhead. “Tell me… I know this thing is big, but do you really expect to satisfy eight different women with it?”

“I didn’t know you were keeping count,” Bruce said, breathing slightly heavily now that Selina’s lips were dipping down his helmet.

“I read the odd tabloid. So how about it, Bruce? Am I going to have to fight the others for this? Because you know I don’t like waiting my turn.”

Bruce only grinned. “I’ve come up with a system.”

Selina paused with her lips around his tip, gently contouring with each word. “Do tell. I’ve always wondered how you satisfy all those sluts you go out with.”

Bruce put a hand on the back of Selina’s head. “Find out for yourself.”

The next thing she knew, his prick was going into her throat.

***

Selina was in Bruce’s lap as the Spyder finally pulled into the long drive that led to Wayne Manor. His cock got hard again. She dove on it, sucking it once more into her mouth.

He’d kept his prick out for her since that first blowjob in Nevada, and they’d crossed multiple state lines with her blowing it. It seemed to take her hours to break down his resolve and claim the spouting cum that ran from his defeated erection—then, a few minutes later, he’d regain his hardness and she’d have to repeat her performance. He came like a champagne bottle popping, and his seed never tasted any less sweet than the first time. 

Now, knowing it was the last time for now, Selina sucked and slurped. She didn’t know how Bruce did it, kept getting hard, kept giving her more cum, but she was glad he did. He’d proven his point. In their feuding little contest, he owned her mouth and could do whatever he wanted with her throat. She had most definitely gotten her cream.

Bruce circled the car around the manor to the garage, its doors sweeping open automatically, letting them down the ramp that led to the underground space which nearly rivaled the Batcave in size. Shallow as it was, Selina felt her pussy ripple in lust as she came up off Bruce’s member, pumping with her hand instead as she looked at his collection of classic automobiles and modern supercars. He might’ve said they were to sell his cover story, but Selina knew he wasn’t so above their allure. Boys and their toys. She shared a greedy smile with Bruce, now having just as much a claim on those pink slips as he did, and he pushed her face back down to his groin. Just as smoothly, he slid the Spyder into its parking space.

Bruce put the car in park, killed the engine, and reclined his seat back, dragging Selina down with him. Her lips clamped down hard around his girthy shaft to keep it in her mouth, and as if to punish him for trying to flee her, she dug her teeth into the base of his cock.

Bruce let out a heated grunt, his eyes flying open but unseeing with pain. But he had to admit the nearly ecstatic joy of contrast as Selina kept sucking, the same technique he had used to such seductive extent with his other wives. Deep in her gullet, his cockhead felt the soft tension of her tightening throat muscles, their wavering clench as warm and smooth as the waters of some tropical paradise. But at the other end of his length, her teeth grinded excitedly on his root, and that invested all the sweet pleasure he felt with a painful spice.

Bruce pillowed his hands behind his head. He was going to cum, the cream burning up from his balls, past the strangling sharpness of her teeth, and into the burgeoning knob that was wedged so deeply in the velvet binding of her throat. His cock jerked powerfully in Selina’s mouth, and as if she’d been challenged, she shoved her face down deep on his hardness, impaling her own throat on its engorgement. She needed no encouragement from him. 

Bruce felt his thick jizz shooting into Selina’s mouth, filling her, making her cheeks well up with his seed. The pleasure of the release flooded through Bruce’s body, seemingly enough for both of them as Selina purred contentedly with the swallows she was making. She relaxed woozily, his softening prick still in her mouth, making one last gulp before she began licking the spare semen off his length.

Ivy approached the car. She’d grown more comfortable with Bruce since learning he was Batman. Despite the fact that he was her enemy, it gave her a newfound respect for him, moving Bruce from victim to worthy opponent, like Selina. And so, in her comfort, she wore nothing at all, only a hodgepodge of plants growing over her voluptuous body. A laurel wreath around her red hair, weeping willow leaves hanging from her shoulders and sizable breasts, swaying with the bountiful jiggle of her cleavage. Little feelers of morning glory girdled her waist, spotted with flowers around her otherwise bare cunt.

At the sight of Ivy, Bruce’s manhood gave a slow jolt, like a python waking from its slumber. Selina pouted in dismayed disbelief. It was impossible for Bruce to get hard again now—he had just finished. She was starting to take this as a personal slight, and she sat up into her own seat, to be greeted by her stomach roiling like it hadn’t since she’d stuffed herself at Thanksgiving dinner. Selina lifted a hand to her mouth and got out of the car. It was time for the other great feline pastime—finding a warm patch of sunlight to lie down in.

Bending at the waist, Ivy leaned against Bruce’s car door, her hanging breasts well-framed by the arms she rested on the rolled-down window. “What’s her problem?”

“Disagreed with something she ate,” Bruce suggested, tucking himself away and doing up his fly. “Did you finish your work at the Clocktower?”

“If I didn’t, do I get punished?” Ivy asked in a simpering voice, leaning into the car to take a deep whiff of the air which still smelled so heavily of sex.

“No.” Bruce pushed open the door, forcing Ivy to back up as he stepped out. “But if you did, you might get a reward.”

Ivy glanced down at his groin. Despite how coolly he was playing it, with his reflexive stoicism, she could tell he was half-hard. After all, that would be a full erection on most men. “I tore out the roof of the Clocktower—that big gothic steeple every building in this stupid town has—and put in a greenhouse with the same shape. We’ll leave scaffolding up for a few weeks so people don’t get suspicious. Inside, everything was built to your specifications. It was actually a little fun—sort of like growing a bonsai tree.”

“Home renovation is a lot easier when you know speedsters.”

“I might have a future in interior decorating.”

“Isn’t that a little stereotypical?” Bruce quipped.

“Only if you’re a guy. And I think you’ve proven I’m not as gay as the internet likes to think. Although I have been fucking more women than ever since I married you…”

“You’re welcome.”

“Maybe that’s why I’m in the mood for a change of pace.” 

Ivy licked her soft lips, looking down at Bruce’s groin again. He wasn’t half-hard anymore, but he wasn’t anywhere near fully erect. It was all Selina’s fault. As if Bruce being a sex machine wasn’t temptation enough, now Selina had staked a claim on him, acting as if she were the last word when it came to pussy.

Naturally, Ivy couldn’t let that hubris go unpunished, even if it meant taking Bruce’s big, beautiful prick in her mouth, sucking it and licking it, and swallowing all the cum that bitch Selina couldn’t get at.

“You mentioned something about a reward?” she teased softly, reaching out to draw the fingernails of one hand tantalizing down Bruce’s shirt, into his pants, through the sparse belly hair until her hand was around his growing shaft. Her nails scratched lightly across the engorged length, feeling the steady pulse of arousal in him. Bruce groaned and his manhood jerked heavily in her fingers. 

Ivy smiled to herself. Who needed a whip and a leather catsuit? Besides Selina, that is.

“Think you’re ready to take it?” Bruce asked warningly.

“Not here I’m not!” Ivy said, suddenly stringent, “surrounded by all these gas-guzzling machines, totems to man’s steady destruction of our planetary matron…”

Bruce opened the Spyder’s backdoor and an overpowering scent of sheer fucking wafted out, blowing right in Ivy’s face. It smelled like Bruce had fucked Selina on every single part of the car.

“Fine,” she said, climbing into the backseat. “But I want you to plant some new seeds around the manor.”

“I’ll plant catnip,” Bruce said. “Something for all the stray cats Selina will no doubt adopt.”

Ivy gritted her teeth. Bruce really didn’t know what he was in for—she was going to fuck his patriarchal primate brain out.

***

The Clocktower had been refurbished just as Ivy had said. Where once there had been additional server room—which Barbara collected like other people gathered plastic bags inside of other plastic bags—there was now a glass pyramid of sorts. Inside, a promenade ringed with trellises, flowerbeds, hanging pots, and other artistic touches of plant life. In the center was a pool of glossy green, its tranquil surface detailed by lily pads and moss growing up the sides of the stone enclosure.

Dick was happy to show the girls around; they had all cleared their calendar to see its grand opening. Barbara was there, and Dinah, Helena, Zinda. Donna Troy walked arm in arm with Kory, both of them keeping an eye on Komand’r. Even Renee Montoya was there, on Helena’s invitation. The only one who hadn’t been able to make it was Raven, despite both Kory and Donna inviting her. They were eager to have her be as close to their newfound family as it was possible for her to be comfortable with… and Dick could be very comforting.

But for now, they would have to do without her.

“Alright,” Dick says, “everybody’s here. Strip.”

Kory was the first to comply, Komand’r quickly following suit, but the others were a little more hesitant, most especially. “Whoa, whoa, what the fuck is this?” she demanded, her strident Hispanic accent particularly harsh. 

Helena reached out and took her hand. “Relax, Renee. It’ll be fine. Just go with the flow. Trust me, Dick wouldn’t steer us wrong.”

“How am I supposed to be sure of that?” Renee demanded, though she noticed that Kory was now completely naked, while the others were following along, albeit slowly out of respect for her reluctance. “I know you married him and all, but…”

“Renee,” Dick said, “I promise you, I won’t touch you. But if you want to leave, leave.”

“No!” Helena said quickly, still holding Renee’s hand. She stroked it with her thumb. “C’mon. Stay. You’ve dragged me to enough wild parties—don’t you want to be at one of mine?”

“Okay, fine,” Renee said, shooting Dick a suspicious look. “But if he fucks with me, I’m ending him.”

Komand’r let out a laugh, earning a look and a brisk flick from Kory.

Renee undressed, joining the others in piling her clothes behind her.

Dick didn’t consider himself a playboy, but he wasn’t unaware of his luck with the opposite sex. No one married to Koriand’r could be. Still he found himself hard-pressed, even with all his experience, to withstand the appearance of so many naked, beautiful women in such close quarters. It was as overwhelming as Paradise Island had been back when he was Robin, and back then he hadn’t really known what he was missing. 

Now there was Renee’s shaded skin on her athletic physique, Helena’s olive skin and Italian voluptuousness—Kory’s caramel curvaceousness, twinned by Komand’r—Barbara’s pale skin that still had all the vibrancy of youth, but ripened with their long history and her own ample, commanding experience—Dinah’s bronze tan that was perfectly tawny on her lean frame, but still showed up a little by Zinda, who had the golden skin of a natural blonde.

Dick had to fight down his own burgeoning arousal as he observed the many shades of beauty and sexuality offered up to his eyes, and also to his cock, which was half-hard now as he strained his self-control. If he was even halfway soft, maybe he could keep from jumping on any one of these impossibly attractive women and simply fucking away until he was finished. It wouldn’t solve anything, but it would be so much fun that Dick nearly screamed at having to deny himself.

Renee kept her shoulder holster and pistol on her naked body, which somehow only made her that much more attractive. Something about the forbidden fruit, though Dick knew better than to offer his services where they weren’t wanted. Nevertheless, the thought of having such an orgiastic experience with her, even secondhand, was nearly enough to not only make him hard, but to have him coming in his pants. Dick squeezed his hands into fists to keep from rubbing at his growing erection…

Kory gave a little shimmy in her nakedness, showing off the entirely natural jiggle in her ripe curves to Dick’s admiring eye. He felt a squirt of precum leave his cockhead. Jesus Christ, he should’ve jerked off before doing this…

“What now, Dick? What do you want us to do?” Kory asked, her voice husky as she eyed him. Dick got the distinct impression she thought he should’ve jacked off to—preferably where she could watch… and be within range… and help clean up after…

Another dollop of precum left his tip. He was going to have to throw out this pair of underwear.

“See the pool?” Dick asked in a loud voice. “There are twelve stations around it. Each of you pick one.”

They quickly discovered what station meant. Of the large tiles that made up the floor in the greenhouse, several were not black, but white, and these were surrounded by D-rings brackets stamped into the floor, with chains locked to them. Each chain ended in a manacle. 

“Kneel down,” Dick concluded.

Kory let out a coo of happiness and grabbed Donna’s hand, leading her to two stations side by side. While the rest of the women were curiously following instructions, Dick assisted them first. 

After they had knelt down, he chained their feet into place, then their hands at their sides. Finally, he affixed collars around their necks. Kory beamed joyfully as hers clicked into place, and Donna found her glee infectious, her own Amazon upbringing well-preparing her for bondage.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Renee breathed, even as she had to admit that the sight of the two friends and lovers bound up next to each other was more than a little arousing. Even Dick didn’t spoil the sight, an obvious gentleness cutting into how the bondage otherwise struck her as somewhat offensive. He was so careful about chaining them up, and they looked so happy to surrender themselves to him…

And yet, she couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

“No way,” she said, gathering up her clothes. “I’m outta here.”

“Renee, wait!” Helena called, but Dick was suddenly behind her, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s alright. Let her go,” he said. “I don’t think this is her scene anyway.”

“And you think it’s mine?” she retorted. “All this getting tied up and being spanked shit? I know I’m Catholic, but—“

“There’s only one way to find out,” Dick said, easing her down onto one of the stations. “It’ll be worth it. I promise.”

“I hope so, Dick,” Helena said. “Because you’ve only got one cock and if I’d gone with Renee, I could’ve gotten some one-on-one attention.”

“C’mon, Hel,” Dinah called. “If Dick says he can handle us, he can handle all of us. He certainly did the other day.”

Helena flushed, still a little embarrassed by just how wantonly Dick had fucked her, and she had enjoyed it. She bit her lip, shutting up, wondering if Dick could truly equal that feat now. He was just one man, after all, and that had taken him all night. She didn’t relish the thought of being chained up for hours while Dick fucked them all one at a time. Unless she could go first.

After a couple of minutes, Dick had all of the women on their knees and locked up tightly, albeit comfortably. Some of them stayed kneeling, while others found that to their delight, they could lean forward enough to rest on all fours. Facing the pool with Dick walking behind them as he made his rounds, it was an enthralling prospect. 

Then Dick went to Kory, toed a catch between the tiles around her station, and used his foot to swivel her station around so that she was facing him. A ripple of lust went through the assembled women, some even moaning as they saw Kory at eyelevel with Dick’s burgeoning crotch. As much as they envied her, none would pass up getting to watch her do what she did best.

Reaching behind himself, Dick produced a small WayneTech tablet. As he thumbed it to life, he took a seemingly unthinking step forward, pressing his groin into Kory’s face. A gasp went through the room, a shudder, some of the women stifling it, some of them just giving it voice. Helena reconsidered her thoughts on Dick fucking them one by one. As loath as she was to admit it, having to wait her turn would no doubt make her eventual orgasm spectacular. But God… six other women…

Though none of them could see it, there was an empty outline of a bar on the screen Dick held. With Kory nuzzling against his manhood, now thoroughly outlined in his jeans, he touched the left end of the bar and moved his fingertip an inch to the right, a block of color following his touch.

With a hum of electricity in the air, the water in the pool began to bubble and froth. Some of the women glanced at it before hurriedly looking back to how Kory was nestling herself into Dick’s erection. Others were able to tear themselves away from the spectacle and noticed how the pool was roiling, the waters turning with sleek black cylinders, as if a school of eels had come to the surface and were now in a slowly building frenzy.

Dick grinned to himself. All good so far. He touched the display again and moved his finger another inch.

***

Outside, Renee was still naked, her clothes bundled in her arms. She’d been about to dress herself when the cynical suspicion of a Gotham City cop had compelled her to go back. Dick was a good kid, she knew—his wives were much too badass to put up with any shit from him if he were going supervillain. But she still needed to be sure he wasn’t hurting them. So she crept through the scaffolding around the Clocktower’s rooftop, relying on the hanging tarps to disguise herself—otherwise she would never have traipsed around in open air in just her skin. 

Finding a high vantage point overlooking the glass structure, she set her clothes aside and drew her gun, then crept closer and closer until she could see inside the greenhouse.

What she saw took her breath away.