Good Girls Gone Bat Chapter 1 (Patreon)

Emma was awoken by an abrupt fright. The feeling of sudden, total terror crashing against her usual assurance and calm. It quickly subsided, of course. Just some psychic flotsam washing up on her shore, probably propelled by some Grecian lay lines. There were so many more of them across the pond than in the New World.

For a moment, Emma thought to ignore the sensation and go back to sleep. This was meant to be a vacation, after all, and she had already seen it interrupted once by vulgarian adventures. But she wasn’t alone. She was with Betsy, and Rachel as well, and if she had felt this other person’s distress, at least one of them could’ve picked it up as well. And soon they would be hectoring her into action… best to see what it was herself. Always good to seem one step ahead of the menials.

Emma went through the tasteful white expanse of Rogue’s neo-classical inheritance—a Greek mansion, which mind-bogglingly was not the strangest thing Emma could associate with Rogue—to the X-Jet parked outside the modern-day Parthenon of the exterior.

Inside, the cargo hold contained the mundanities of spare uniforms and equipment, as well as various souvenirs from the Madripoorian leg of their escapade and numerous articles of clothing and swimwear, some of which Emma had retained simply to impress Scott with. If the adventure had been good one thing, it was to give the other ladies fashion sense above and beyond the usual black leather. Even Kitty had looked good.

Carefully hidden, even in the well-protected space of the X-Jet, was a mobile Cerebro unit. It didn’t have the range of Xavier’s big round room, but it would do fine for scanning the continent. She centered in on the frightened thoughts, getting scattered impressions of the labyrinth at Crete, more terror, black wings, a gun in her hand, shots fired, cordite smoke and echoing silence, sudden screaming fear--!

Ah. The Batman. In his frightened state, the smuggler didn’t realize it, but he was just a man. Bruce Wayne, if Emma recalled correctly. They’d dated.

She’d found his psychology quite interesting—abs as well—but in the end, he was bit too glum for her. His defenses were strong, but while she couldn’t pry into deeply held secrets or traumas… and those were numerous… she could get the lay of the land. There was a smuggling ring operating out of Greece, extending into Gotham, and Brucie was out to not just decapitate the serpent, but puree it. The screaming fool struck through with horror was the last link in his change. With him out of commission—and intact wrists—the flow of drugs into Gotham would slow to a trickle. Emma wondered if she should send a bouquet.

She took the headpiece of the system off to find Rogue facing her. The founder of the feast looked stunning in loose, flowing Mediterranean wear, white trousers and a silk suit jacket that she pulled closed over the oversized T-shirt she’d been sleeping in. It kept her warm in the chilly island night.

“There’s some big head-ruckus and ah can’t sleep,” Rogue said. “So Rachel dropped a line in my head and sent me to ask if everything’s copacetic.”

“She used her psychic powers rather than get out of bed? I should like her more than I do.”

“C’mon, Frost.” Rogue stamped her bare feet on the X-Jet’s iron floor. “S’cold!”

“You can fly.”

Looking abashed, Rogue sat herself down, bringing her feet up off the floor. “Ever since Madripoor, my powers ain’t been right. Ah know it ain’t permanent—it never is—but I’ve got a little time to be Anna again, ‘steada just Rogue.”

“I’m very happy for you.” Emma stowed the Cerebro system. “Tell the lazybones that it’s no emergency. Just another helpful individual with an eclectic fashion sense and a lack of patronage with the mental health profession.”

“Oh. So some other superhero is handlin’ it?”

Emma detested that term. “Some other superhero is it. Scary monsters make the best role models, you know.”

Emma thought Rogue only rarely knew what she was even saying. “Okay.” She tucked her twitching toes under her legs in an Indian sit. “Can ah talk to you? And you not just make fun a me? Ah know you’re a good teacher; could you treat me as a student for jus’ a sec?”

Emma folded her hands. It was cold, but never let it be said she wasn’t a team player. Especially the next time she had to shut Scott Summers up. “How can I help?”

“It’s my powers. Or mah lack of powers. Like ah said, they’re comin’ back, but before they do… it would be nice if I knew what it was… what it was like, ya know?”

“Sex?” Emma asked. “Or massage therapy?”

Rogue blushed deeply, winding her hands against her kneecaps. “Sex.”

“This may be hard to believe, Rogue, but you’re found to be quite attractive. It shouldn’t be hard to find someone—“

“Ah don’t want just anyone!” Rogue protested. “I don’t even… wanna lose my virginity. Ah’m saving that, just in case that scruffy ol’ Cajun o’ mine ever gets his act together.”

“I see. The backdoor, then?”

“No! Nothing perverted-like! Ah just—a woman. So it won’t count so much.”

“Oh, it counts. Trust me.”

Rogue ran her hands through her hair, the white streak catching the moonlight that streamed in from the cockpit. “Ah hear it’s gentler with a woman. Nicer. Some folks say it’s… more fun.”

Emma smiled indolently, leaning forward. “Depends on the woman.”

“Ah don’t mean you!”

“I wasn’t offering.”

“Not you! Absolutely not!”

“I wasn’t offering.”

“But just someone… nice. And cute. An’… and good at it. Ah don’t know where I’d find someone like that, ‘specially on short notice. But you’re the big sex therapist—“

“Ororo Monroe,” Emma said. “That woman’s seen more lesbian sex than a teenage boy with an internet connection.”

“No! It can’t be someone ah know! Ah’d never be able to face someone, knowing I’d jumped them like a horny toad just cuz ah could! It needs to be a stranger! You know, a handsome stranger, traveling salesman, just passing through. And this is Greece—prolly never gonna be here again. Gotta be someone you can find who’ll just treat me right.”

“So, in essence, you want me to use my skankiness to find another skank who’ll get you off nice and hard?”

“Ah didn’t say none of that.”

“I’ll do it.”

What Emma didn’t say was that she had someone in mind already—the person who’d been on Bruce’s mind as he attended to the smuggling ring. A certain someone who was in Greece on her own business.

Emma had always thought Rogue needed to get laid. Now that she had the chance, she would get the woman off so hard her mindscape would look like an evening on the Fourth of July.

***

It was a rough and tumble bar, even by Greek fishermen standards, still open in the middle of the night, still loud, still warm. Emma looked out of place, in her stylish ensemble, tight leather pants underneath a cushy sweater, fuzzy and white, matching the fur-lined boots keeping her frosty toes warm. But her target looked out of place as well.

Kate Kane sat in the middle of the tabled floor, going shot for shot with a dock worker whose bicep was as big as her waist. She was dressed down, but there was no hiding her exotic good looks in ragged jeans, a denim jacket, and an old Marine Corps tee. Her crisply pale skin, sin-red hair, and blood-painted lips just seemed to shine all the brighter for the rough setting, making her seem just a little more attainable… a shade less impossible. But she was still too curvaceous, too beautiful, too arrogant to be real, touchable. And as her competition ran for the bathroom, about to vomit, Kate stuck her finger into an empty shotglass and rolled it in a circle under her hand. Thinking cold thoughts in a hot body.

Emma sat down across from her, gingerly resting her weight on the edge of the chair, pulling off the calfskin gloves that protected her hands from the elements. She displayed them like a hand of cards, fingers folding together, long and perfect. Emma didn’t need to read Kate’s mind to know the look in her eyes. The thought of FUN.

“I wouldn’t use this swill to wash off a hog,” Emma said. “Why don’t you come back to my place and let me ply you with something that comes in a clean glass?”

Kate picked up the shotglass, looking at Emma through it. She didn’t quite believe her eyes, didn’t think she was drunk enough for beer goggles, knew a little better than to trust anyone that beautiful in either case. “What is this, a noir movie? Next you tell me you need your husband whacked?”

“No husband,” Emma said. “No wife.”

“You’ve got someone. You’d have to, looking the way you do.”

“No one inside the country.”

“And they want to watch?”

“Like I could ever get a Skype connection that would make that worthwhile.”

‘So what then? What’s the catch? Do I have to pay you something?”

“Only your soul, Marine. Only your soul.”

***

Emma drove them there in a cute little Coupe she’d rented for the holiday. She walked Kate to the car, got the passenger door for her, waited while she put on her seatbelt, then walked around to the driver’s side door. She opened that, then unzipped her pants, pulled them down, and stepped out of them, sliding into her seat with nothing but her panties between her and the leather.

Kate stared, wild-eyed, as Emma’s long, bare legs shifted around, working the car out of park, backing it up, accelerating it…

“I thought you’d want to start getting in the mood,” Emma said. “I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

Kate took off her jacket, thrusting her chest out as she shrugged it off, her breasts pressing aggressively into her tight shirt. Emma seemed blissfully ignorant of her as she drove them out of town, up along the winding road to Rogue’s mansion, not even seeming to notice that she was half-naked. Kate did. She stared unabashedly, refusing to be embarrassed by Emma’s lack of modesty.

Emma clenched her thigh muscles, stepping down on the gas, sending them roaring fast down the road. Kate undid her seatbelt. Emma drove faster. Kate leaned over, resting her hand on Emma’s thigh, putting her weight on it, making Emma speed up, smiling into Emma’s lips.

“I don’t like to be kept waiting either,” Kate said, drawing her lips over Emma’s, across her cheek, suddenly sucking on her ear—“God, I wish my cousin could see me now…”

“I’m not the vanilla sort, but that is a bit novel…”

“Not like that,” Kate assured her, massaging Emma’s thigh with delicate precision. “But he can be so… controlling. Judgmental. He has this reputation for being a party animal, but around me he’s always so boring. The responsible type.”

“That can be fun,” Emma said. “Assuming they’re not blood relatives…”

“He wants me to join the family business. Got out of that the first time around by joining the Marines. He’d probably laugh his ass off that I got discharged—“

“Can’t imagine why,” Emma opined as Kate plucked at her panties.

“So now I’m seeing the world. One bottom of a bottle at a time.”

“Oh, is that the bottom you’re looking at?”

“He’d just blow if he knew that I was having all this fun, without any of his billions, when I just know he’s miserable as hell in Gotham.”

“Mmmm.” Emma pulled to a stop. She put on the emergency break. “Eat my pussy.”

“What?”

“Right here, right now. Make me come or you’re walking back.”

“Crazy bitch,” Kate said. Then she leaned down, ducking her head between Emma’s thighs. She didn’t pull Emma’s panties, but ripped them, pressing her lips against the wet heat next, feeling Emma’s curling pubic hair on her cheeks. She kissed Emma’s cunt, her lips parted slightly, the tip of her tongue lapsing out to brush against Emma’s swollen clit at the end of every dragging kiss.

“Oh yes!” Emma murmured, grabbing the back of Kate’s red head, pulling her tightly to her blonde cunt. “You’ll do quite nicely..”

Kate thought she heard Emma putting the car into gear again, but she was far too absorbed in Emma’s taste to care.

***

Vaguely, Kate was aware they’d come to a stop, but Emma hadn’t closed her legs, so who gave a fuck? Emma was just letting her eat and eat and eat, and that was just fine by Kate. Emma tasted good, first girl on shore leave good, her cunt luscious and responsive, tingling to the slightest touch of her tongue, clenching around the tip of it, thighs soft and warm around Kate’s face, her moans, her sighs incredible, a symphony, turning Kate on like she was being foreplayed by a whole cheerleading squad.

It was like she could feel just how much Emma was enjoying it, having her own given pleasure washing back over her, in addition to what she gave herself with her hand between her legs, grinding on the heel of her hand, riding it hard and fast…

“I have someone I’d like you to meet,” Emma said, lightly gasping but in a poised, refined way. Kate desperately wanted to drive her into total animal overstimulation, hear her really scream. “A friend.”

“I like making friends,” Kate said, when she wasn’t all over that perfect pussy, that perfect cunt. “Do you have a sister? Pretty please?”

“Yes!” Emma gasped hotly, responding to the sudden return Kate made to her clit after eternal seconds of leaving it cold. “But… that’d be too much for you. Trust me. This is a… special friend.”

“It’s not Jesus, is it?”

Emma irritably tapped Kate on the head, prompting her to stop, and Kate squeezed her throbbing pussy and rose and kissed Emma just as obnoxiously as she could, letting her know just how sweet that damn pussy had been. She thought she came a little, and wondered if she really was feeling what Emma was feeling. Maybe they were soulmates.

Emma opened the door, stepped out, pulling her pants behind her. She stepped into them as Kate finally took in the surroundings. They were at the big mountainside mansion Kate had heard about, the beachfront place that the foreigners had moved into. She’d heard scuttlebutt. They were in a driveway with three other cars—how many friends did Emma have—and in the front doorway was a woman.

She was beautifully built, lithe, but with a powerful musculature befitting the lovely breasts that rested ponderously on her chest. The sleek hips, the tight ass, all befitting her compact body, lush but speaking of strength, of power, athleticism that barely constrained the voluptuousness of her tall, lean body. Long raven hair fell in brisk curls to her shoulders, bisected by a streak of white.

“Her name’s Rogue,” Emma said, her voice dipping deliciously low. “I hope you don’t mind, she was watching us, the little minx. Well, watching me. Your head was below the dashboard. I think all the moaning and groaning she saw me doing has made her curious. You see, she’s a virgin, Kate. Never been with a man. Never been with a woman. And I want you to fuck her. To show her how good it can feel. The pleasures that women share.” Her voice dripped into a whisper. “And after? When you’ve completely satisfied her, like I know you can? You can have me too.”

Kate smiled dangerously. She got out of the car. Rogue’s eyes were on her, nervous, curious, needing, afraid. Kate stepped lightly to her, swaying her body, putting her litheness on display in long striding steps.

Rogue’s pulse raced. She couldn’t take it anymore. She looked to Emma, trying to blot the redhead out of her awareness. “What’s her name? Who is she? Where’d you find her?”

“Rogue—Rogue,” Kate said gently. “Here’s the first thing you need to know.” She reached out to take Rogue’s hand. “It doesn’t matter.” She brought Rogue’s hand to her face. The chilly marble of her cheek. “All that matters is this.” And she kissed the heel of Rogue’s hand. Right next door to her soaring pulse.

Rogue could stand no more. Her hand tightened around Kate’s wrist. She was almost turning and running, only she was pulling Kate along with her, not letting go of her for love or money.

“You kids have fun,” Emma called after them.

***

Rogue’s room was dark and quiet and private. The spectacular view looked out over the ocean, the waves crashing into the shoals at the base of the nearby cliff—nothing but foaming white in the dark and the moonlight. It swept around, violently, noiselessly, and was sucked away in a din of echoing soundlessness.

Kate undressed first, slowly, smiling. “You’re feeling warm, aren’t you Rogue? Seeing me go down on your friend Emma made you real wet, I’m betting.”

Rogue was sitting down. She didn’t seem to be able to stand. She squirmed her ass around, waiting, daring and bold and scared out of her mind, eager, willing, but only for what Kate wanted.

Bottomless, Kate rested her round ass on the best, lifting her hanging shirt up and parting her legs to show her cunt. Red and vivid, like it was on fire in the black room. “Kiss me, Rogue. Anywhere you want.”

Rogue gazed at the red-haired pussy, licking her lips. She could almost taste it, almost know what they all tasted like, in one way or another, but she held back.

“Kiss me there, Rogue,” Kate continued firmly. “Just like you want to. I want it too. I want you to taste my cunt, tongue my cunt, fuck my cunt.”

“I’ve never done that before,” Rogue said in a shaking voice, saying it like that explained everything, like Kate should know what to do.

And Kate did. “Sure you have,” Kate said, her voice low, seductive. “In your mind. You’ve thought about it over and over again. Now it’s time to stop thinking. Just feel, Rogue. Just taste.”

She was rubbing herself, Rogue watching, gazing at the wet, pink lips of Kate’s labia, her swollen clit, her creamy thighs. Her sex glistened wetly and she mewled slightly when she touched it, her rubbing quickly growing faster, Kate fucking herself with unashamed abandonment, finishing what she’d started with Emma.

Rogue lowered her head. “Is that what it feels like? With someone else? Like it does with yourself?”

“A little. But different. More. This feel wonderful, but your sweet lips would feel so much better. Your tongue would be better than my finger could ever be. You want me, I can see it in your eyes—you want my breasts, my clit, my cunt. You want to fuck me, don’t you Rogue? And that’s what makes it so different. Having someone else want it just as bad as you…”

“I don’t… I’m not sure…” Rogue protested in a whisper, but her eyes were staring hotly, watching how Kate’s labia spread around her finger, how it let the digit go deep, then released it clingingly to let it rub at her engorged clit. Only to thrust back inside… “I… I…”

Rogue’s mouth was watering, her nerves stretching to tautness, her muscles twitching with the effort of holding herself in place. She wanted to do as Kate said, but she couldn’t move. It was so much safer just to watch Kate as she plunged two fingers into her cunt, shaking, her mouth open in a circle of sheer ecstasy. Her soft, bubbling squeal was enough for Rogue to know that she was coming.

She watched until Kate was done, then stood up unsteadily. I only have to get to the bed, she told herself. Then Kate would take care of everything. She would only have to do as Kate said. She went to her. Touched her knee lightly.

“Kate,” she said in a husky voice, a lost voice.

Kate took her in her arms. Fingers wet on Rogue’s shoulder. Clinging to Kate for support, Rogue was led to the bed, collapsing on it. It seemed softer than ever, giving sensuously under her body, welcoming her into a new world.

Rogue was panting, sweating, a fierce struggle still raging inside her. She was confused, anxious, even a little ashamed—the emotions blurring together hopelessly. But at the forefront, there was always the hunger. Old, yet new, shocking in its sudden overwhelming need. She was hot, she was tense, and no doubts or reservations or thoughts of obscenity could stem the knowledge that her appetite could finally be slaked. All she had to do was give herself to Kate.

Kate, whose hands were fondling her breasts, whose mouth was nipping at her throat—fingers roaming and caressing, finding the dampness of Rogue’s vulva, the softness of her hips and thighs. She was helpless under those knowing touches. She was defenseless against her own wish to be defenseless.

The bed, it was opening up under her, coming alive—everything was electric, breathing, warm while in the presence of Kate’s touch. Rogue reveled in the satiny flesh writhing with her own, the kisses that showered upon her skin. With a colossal effort of will, she forced her arms into motion. Wrapped them around Kate’s body, surprisingly cool, shockingly slender, Rogue could just wrap her up, Rogue could be all over her. She felt her belly, feverishly warm, avidly attentive against Kate’s own slick stomach. She was so alive. No gloves, no unstable molecules, just another person, someone who wanted her, could touch her--!

“Such lovely tits,” Kate whispered in her ear, and Rogue whimpered aloud. “Big, but so firm—wonderfully sculpted—I love them, Rogue, I just love them.”

Rogue gasped—Kate was kissing her nipples. The flowing lips of her labia were parted by a finger. Not her own; felt so different. Funny how perfect a finger could be when it wasn’t yours—Kate closed her soft lips around Rogue’s nipple—hot as an oven—Rogue arched in swift response. Gambit had kissed her breasts, but through the suit… never like this… so deftly, so lasciviously, making her need and not just want.

She wiggled slightly on the finger embedded inside her, waves of answering pleasure making her swoon. Her blood pounded in her temples. She had to close her eyes to try to block out the seething intensity of it all. Then she felt Kate probe her clitoral hood, teasing the center of all her feeling.

Rogue’s eyes flew open. She was watching, but she was out of control, her body taking over, responding on its own. All she could do was watch, and even that was almost too much for her. Seeing how the well-worn territory of her own self-conquest, taken over and over again, had now been gifted with a strange visitor. It almost looked wrong, her naked body together with another. But it felt righter than it could ever be wrong.

Petting the hood of her clit, fingering it delicately, Kate slipped down Rogue’s body. Their skin didn’t touch, save for the finger on her clit and Kate’s ice-hot mouth kissing down Rogue’s flesh, continuously assuring her that it wasn’t over, that she was still there. She burned her ice-cold trail down over Rogue’s rib cage, along her quaking belly. Rogue could do nothing but hold herself in place for Kate. She didn’t know what else to do. She didn’t know anything except how good Kate felt, the sense of tenderness and affection radiating from her, the pervasive craving they both shared.

“This is a pussy that needs to be touched, Rogue,” Kate said over it, as lovingly as she would spout a sermon on it. “This soft hair… all white and brown… so rich, so luxurious. Don’t shave it, Rogue. It’s just right. You’re just right.”

Rogue jerked uncontrollably, feeling Kate’s hot breath blowing through her pubic hair—then the flickering caress of her tongue—hands firmly gripping her thighs, moving them just a little wider, Rogue boneless, comatose, only able to acquiesce as Kate opened her up for a burrowing tongue…

It tickled in Rogue’s cunt hair…

Thrust deep inside her, rough against her labia, a shockwave through her straining body! Rogue felt the lips of her cunt, her vulva, felt them quiver and it was like she’d never felt them before. But before she could get used to the sudden feeling of their sensitivity, Kate’s tongue—delving through, into Rogue’s body, all pulsing and wet. She had never felt anything like it, never even imagined the blast of contact, the spiraling thrills that shot up her body. She was so turned on, so damn horny—

She could feel not just Kate’s mouth, but her nose, her chin, her eyelashes---mouth covering Rogue’s shuddering cunt lips and sucking, so hard, sucking! Colors flashed before Rogue’s eyes, keening sounds hissing through her clenched teeth. This couldn’t be happening to her, how could she be feeling this, how could she be so lucky?

She was, though. It was happening. Her body was glorying in the experience, wiggling and thrashing, all of her expressing her pleasure save for the thighs that Kate held in place, the pussy that needed to hold still for Kate to kiss it. Rogue’s legs moved together, caressing the chopped red hair between them…

Rogue felt pale hands return the favor, fondling her ass. She rolled her hips, surged her pelvis, giving her sex even more eagerly to the greedy mouth that attended it. Kate’s tongue darted and curled, exploring the satin folds of Rogue’s sex even though it already seemed to know where the pleasures of it were hidden, everything she had to do to flood Rogue’s consciousness with pure magic.

The redhead was a complete stranger, but she was beautiful, experienced, and the taboos just drove Rogue even crazier with rapture. She felt explosions through her belly, inside her pussy, her cunt, it was beautiful. The other woman, the feeling in her cunt, herself. Most of all, herself.

Kate moaned into Rogue’s churning sex, and the thought that she was as turned on as Rogue was felt like a climax all by itself. Rogue clamped her thighs together, surprised she could move, but needing to imprison that tongue, draw it completely into her burning pussy until the fire either went out or consumed her utterly.

And Kate, amazingly, went along with it. She licked vibrantly, finding the humming clit and tantalizing it with a lick that had Rogue bucking wildly. And Rogue thought that was all Kate could take, because the next thing she knew, the redhead pulled Rogue’s little clit into her teeth and bit. Rogue just came.

White-hot explosions deep inside her pussy, along the blood-gorged lips of its mouth, making her belly heave, her back arch, Rogue twisted on the marvelous hunger of Kate’s mouth, crying out in wordless gratification. Dug her long fingernails into that chicly clipped hair, grinding her body shamelessly into that damn mouth, against those teeth, into the devilish lapping of that perfect tongue—

It was divine. Her flesh convulsing, her pussy clenched tight, body in a frenzy of grinding and pumping and moans and pants that Rogue hadn’t known she was capable of. There’d never been anything like this in her life, nothing so sublimely beautiful, and she let herself go limp to better receive the sheer power of be fucked.

She was still coming, but even that wasn’t as important as Kate’s adoring mouth leaving her pussy, marking a slow and teasing trail back up her supine body. Lips, glossy with her own wetness, edging to her breast and lingering there, upon an aching nipple, a juicy target for a weary tongue. And further…

Rogue stirred, coming slowly away from the ecstasy she had felt as Kate kissed her throat. Her hands could move, but only to Kate, and she caressed the sleek body, the flesh anointed with her own sweat and warmth—memorizing the silken, flawless skin, the shaping of her pert ass, everything wonderful and perfect of Kate’s physique.

Then that enchanted mouth was softly pressed to her own, Kate giving her tongue to Rogue’s, Rogue accepting it happily with a taste of her own joy. She hadn’t know she was so delectable, and her pulse thundered anew at the thought that this was Kate’s tongue, the tongue that had taken her virginity, made her whole. She found herself sucking on it, heard a moan from deep in Kate’s throat, and realized just how much her body could crave.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bruce Wayne standing in the door of the room.

She didn’t feel shame, or embarrassment, or even surprise.

She was too busy thinking how handsome he was.