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As Selina fixed a pitcher of lemonade, she wondered about her life. Her mind poked and prodded at her present circumstances like her tongue exploring a cut on the roof of her mouth.

She and Bruce had tried relationships before. As much as she cared for him, she cared for her independence… not more, exactly. But there was an alley cat part of her. The longer she stayed settled down, content and unmoving, the more convinced she became that the rug was about to be pulled out from under her.

She loved the feeling of relief from being on her own more even more than she loved how Bruce could make her feel. The discomfort of that paranoia was too much for her.

Would it mount again? Keep stinging her until she gave in and purged this relationship like she had so many others? Selina didn’t know. It felt different this time. Maybe she was different; her insistence on a marriage was new, even if she’d been driven to it by the other women in Bruce’s life. Staking their own claims on her territory.

Did it make sense to be so possessive and so unattached, all at once? No—but the Bat always had brought into sharp relief all her contradictions.

She couldn’t even characterize it as her mind and her heart; she was too tangled up to delineate anything like that. A part of her urged her to stay with Bruce. Men didn’t get more stalwart than him. If anyone could be relied on, it was him.

Another part of her urged Selina to take back this fling while it was still a fling, rather than damage Bruce (and herself) by letting the two of them get ever more invested in this fraying tryst.

Which was the intellectual side of her? Which was the soul? Was it just her fear talking… or, deep down, did she not want this half as much as she should?

For now, the harem routine provided cover for her misgivings. An excuse. Bruce didn’t have to wholly rely on her. She didn’t have the responsibility of being everything to him. And, clinging to that knowledge, Selina beat back the worry: a cat with a collar on it could have that collar taken away as easily as it had been given.

She took the ice-cold pitcher and a number of glasses into the den, where Ivy was watching one of the newer romances on TV. Selina had Ivy a glass and filled it for her, then poured for herself.

“Are you really watching this? I didn’t take you for the romantic sort.”

“It’s amusing enough,” Ivy said, helping herself to the lemonade Selina had shared with her. “But it’s more that I’m trying to figure it out than anything else. Movies these days are so crass and so prudish, all at once. They always talk about sex, but they never show it. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to want to see?”

“I suppose it does feel a bit childish after living here. Half the time, half of us go around without wearing anything. But maybe if one of these actresses were getting compensated by all the creature comforts of Wayne Manor, she wouldn’t be so shy.”

“Or if she enjoyed it,” Ivy said. “Regular people film themselves fucking all the time, purely because they like it. But these actresses never do, the poor dears. Makes you feel bad for them.”

“Not too bad. They’d probably take Bruce in a heartbeat if they could get him.”

Ivy frowned. Then she shook her head dismissively. “They’d never be able to take him. They have stuntwomen to do all the heavy lifting. You and I, we carry our own water.”

Selina snorted. “If Bruce didn’t already have a harem, you’d probably pheromone some slut to send his way whenever you weren’t in the mood.”

Ivy pressed her tongue against the inside of her cheek. “You mean like you?” She smiled blithely. “We could chalk it up to relationship counseling.”

“I don’t need pollen to get a man.”

“Neither did I, remember? But what’s a little recreational drug use among friends? Or do you only go in for catnip?”

Selina laughed suddenly. “We each have our own little ways of refusing to admit it, don’t we?”

“Admit what?” Ivy demanded.

Before Selina could answer, the door flew open. Bruce marched in, barking an order to the TV with such authority that even Selina sat up a little straighter.

“Computer, pause playback. Display current mission briefing, authorization alpha-charlie-delta-fiver.”

The massive TV screen went black for a moment, then displayed files on the Penguin and his three lieutenants: Raven, Jay, and Lark. Or, as the files indicated, Candy, Tracey, and… Selina winced. Poor girl. She’d go by Lark too if she’d been named that.

“We were watching that!” Ivy protested, though her nipples were getting stiff. They strained against the tight fabric of her top.

Selina grinned. Maybe she was a housecat—for now at least—but she could admit it. Ivy… well, at least she seemed to get off on being brought to heel.

“I’ve been considering the efficiency of this little project of ours.” Bruce sat down on the couch between the two women. Casually, he reached out and stroked Selina’s bare thigh under her shorts. “So far, it seems to have been highly effective. Effective enough that I want to see about producing more results for it.”

“Breeding more women. How mammalian,” Ivy sniffed, fixing her attention on the screen as though to avoid meeting Bruce’s gaze.

“You really need to make a big announcement of that?” Selina added. “You’re Gotham’s Most Eligible Bachelor. You can have any woman you want.”

Bruce leaned forward, picking up the pitcher and spare glass Selina had brought and pouring himself a helping. “Normal women can find normal husbands. I’m most interested in this project’s capacity for rehabilitation.”

“Hence the Penguin’s women.” Selina shot Bruce a look. “They are cute, aren’t they?”

“They’re the Penguin’s women,” Bruce reiterated solemnly. “Would you go out with them?”

“I’d get off on taking one out,” Selina admitted. “But Ivy doesn’t get a rush out of danger. She wouldn’t.”

“It’s true,” Ivy said. “Oswald is a textbook megalomaniac. He doesn’t trust anyone with his operation; the girls are just go-fers he uses to relay orders. More secretaries than any kind of second-in-command. But Oswald’s unwilling to delegate and they look hot, so why not have some gangster molls in the 21st century? It’s not like Gotham has ever been the most progressive city…”

“It also means they’re not in too deep to Oswald’s criminal enterprises, but they do have knowledge that can be turned on him,” Bruce said. “Names, dates… Cobblepot may underestimate their capacity to harm him, but I don’t.”

“No, you just think that you can dick them into giving up being the Penguin’s right-hand chicks,” Selina snarked.

Ivy giggled. “They put up with that bloated bag of lard because he keeps them in jewels and furs. Brucie can do that just as well. And much, much more…”

“But then, they’re not, well, Harley,” Selina reasoned, getting into it now, her own nipples hardening. It wasn’t just feeding other women to Bruce’s bitch-breaking cock. It was like planning a heist; getting payback on Cobblepot just for what a son of a bitch he was. “It’ll take more than flashing a wad of cash and a big cock to get them to flip. Good-looking as they are, Ozzie wouldn’t keep them around without a certain amount of loyalty.”

“Or just fear he’ll feed them to the nearest aviary,” Ivy added.

“That’s why I need seductresses,” Bruce said. “Women who know how to tempt.”

“Oooh!” Selina cooed. “Is this a group project, Bat? You really want our help to make those naughty bitches into good girls?”

Bruce looked at Ivy. She was keeping mum, but a tremor went through her. She was as excited about the idea as Selina.

“This isn’t a crime,” he warned them both. “No threats, no use of force, and no pheromones. We’re going in there as citizens. We have to act like it.”

Ivy pressed herself to Bruce’s side, her breasts pillowing against his sizable arm. “Brucie, I’m hurt! You really think I need any amount of spores to seduce three empty-headed little girls away from a certified Nice Guy like Penguin?”

“And I can play things sweet,” Selina promised him, tickling her forefinger under his chin. “You’d be surprised the places I’ve gotten into, just by offering a little hug and tickle.” She looked at the screen again: those three women lovely enough that Cobblepot had made them the faces of his business. “And that’s when I don’t follow through. With those three… who knows? I might house-train them before you even lay a finger on them.”

A new voice rang out high above the seductively low mewls that Ivy and Selina had adopted. “So Mr. Wayne handles one, Selina handles another, and Ivy takes on the third. No relief pitchers? It seems to me you could use a back-up.”

***

“MMMMMMMPH!” Mary’s outcry was muffled as Kara’s sex covered her open mouth. She struggled briefly, half-heartedly against having Kara’s snatch suddenly dominate her senses, but Kara held her between her slender thighs and pressed her cunt into her helpless face.

And while Mary was feeling and smelling and tasting Kara’s pussy, Kara enjoyed hers. Licking away at Mary’s juicy little slit until she felt the brunette relax under her. More than relax—Mary started to undulate her hips, letting her cunt do everything it could to meet every satisfying lash of Kara’s tongue.

Kara knew Mary couldn’t stand what was being done to her for long without reciprocating. She felt it soon enough. The first nervous, experimental lick of her friend’s tongue. It parted Kara’s sensitive labia lips and eased inside, coming back out almost immediately.

Kara waited for Mary to process what she’d done. She knew Mary would like the taste of cunt—but would the knowledge of what she’d done be too repugnant for Mary’s inexperienced mouth to be able to enjoy it?

Mary moved her tongue slowly back into Kara’s pussy, going deep inside her. Kara relaxed. Mary was licking her instinctually now, indulging all her appetites for pussy. In less than a minute of the taboo act, Kara felt Mary’s slender fingers dimple her asscheeks, feeling their contours and opening them wider so more of Kara’s wet pussy was offered to Mary’s hungrily sucking mouth. The blonde’s nectar poured from her, greedily accepted by Mary’s gulping throat. Kara moaned heatedly, hearing Mary swallow her cream.

Kara ate Mary’s succulent pussy like she’d been starving herself for it all day. The more Mary got into licking Kara’s convulsing pussy, the more Kara needed to lap and suck between Mary’s legs. The two women became one undulating, intertwined snake, each brought to new heights by the other’s passion. Their cunts each found a perfect home, firing against willing mouths, their heads settled lovingly into the valley of jerkily tightening thighs.

“Shit,” Kara heard Dick breathe, the word spilling out of him with a tone of awe and even envy.

She pulled her head up from Mary’s sweet sex and looked at the man. He’d gotten every bit as carried away, given into her every bit as much as Mary. He was naked, his swim trunks off, and his hard cock was in a stout fist. He jerked it like it was the only thing he could do, watching the lascivious tableau of Mary and Kara’s passion for each other.

“There’s no way a guy like you knows the best way to stroke that cock,” Kara told him, her voice tight with lust. “Give it to us. Stick it into Mary’s tight little pussy and do some good with it!”

Dick’s eyes lit up like spotlights. He looked down at Mary’s wondrously wet, shockingly pink slit, wet and gleaming both with its own lubricants and the evidence of Kara’s tongue having been all over it.

“Yes, baby, do it!” Kara urged him, moving her head back to give him space. “Let her have it right in front of me! I want to see her virginity as that big prick takes it away forever!”