Batgirl’s Nightmare in the Den of the Drug Lord

By Scarlet

WARNING: This story contains sexual situations and sexual violence (nc, MF). It is to be read by adults only. If this sort of material is not to your liking, then read no further.
Credits: This story is based on a fairly detailed story plot submitted by The Sexecutor. Batgirl, Wonder Woman, and Supergirl are DC characters used in this not-for-profit fan-fiction; no Trademark infringement is intended. The rest of the characters are my own. The designs for the devious devices used in the story were provided by The Sexecutor.

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Batgirl—Barbara Gordon, a simple librarian, when she wasn’t in costume—was tired, and was even hazy as to how she had made it to where she was. Her mission, however, was clear in her mind. She was going to break up a smuggling operation in coastal Panama that was being run by Manuel Rodriguez, a drug lord renowned for his cruelness and lack of respect for womankind. More importantly, she was going to make the drug czar pay for the torture he had recently inflicted upon her fellow heroine, Wonder Woman.

The cowled crusader had worked her way through the thick jungle to the perimeter of Rodriguez’s base. She was surprised that she had not yet encountered any of the jungle guard posts that Wonder Woman had told her about.

Soon, in the distance, Batgirl spotted a small, but fancy, mansion in a cove along the coast.

It was then that a half-dozen armed men jumped her; it was obvious they were intent on subduing the caped crime fighter. Batgirl took out three of the men with gracefully executed martial arts attacks. The heroine was in the process of launching a double spin kick that would bring down two more of the drug lord’s henchmen, when she was struck in the back of the head.

As she slumped slowly to the ground and rolled over onto her back, she recognized the instrument of her undoing—a simple black jack. She wondered, ‘why do I have to be the one heroine that regularly succumbs to a stupid black jack to the back of the head?’ The scene around her faded and grew dark!

When Batgirl was again able to sense the world around her, she found herself tightly bound to a sturdy chair; the chair was obviously designed for its current function. She realized immediately that her yellow-colored utility belt, and long cape, black with a yellow inner lining, had been confiscated.  Thankfully, however, she was still fully clothed in the rest of her costume that consisted of a grey bodysuit with a yellow bat-symbol on its chest. She wore yellow fin-decorated gloves, yellow calf-high high-heeled boots, and a black cowl. Suddenly she realized she wasn’t alone, and twisted her head around to her left to look at a dark-gray-haired man dressed in a white Armani suit sitting in a brown-leather recliner watching her carefully. His feet were propped up on a rosewood coffee table that also held a martini glass. He smiled at her—a smile that exuded self-satisfaction.

‘Rodriguez!’ Batgirl gasped with a hint of fear in her voice. She recognized the man from Wonder Woman’s description. “Why am I tied to this chair?” she asked with a cracking voice. “What have I done to deserve this?” She looked at the man with widened blue eyes, and then looked quickly away. She was afraid that her eyes might reveal the fear that, at the moment, she was drowning in. She tried to exude confidence and explained, “I’m Batgirl, and I’m on a mission of…” The man cut her off before she could issue the lie, ‘peace.’

“Yes, Senorita, I know who you are,” Manuel Rodriguez said with only a hint of Spanish accent in his pronunciation, “and there can be little doubt as to why I am honored here at my hacienda by the presence of such a beautiful superheroine…another lovely superheroine. I am well aware of your friendship with Wonder Woman. So you see, this is an honor I would rather not have. Now, what are we to do about this sad thing…this honor I would rather not have?”

The drug lord clapped twice, and an old man dressed in the fashion of Indians from the Amazon Jungle walked in. Manuel asked softly, “Have you done your research, Magua? What is it that we must do with this one…this heroine trespasser?” Batgirl knew from Wonder Woman’s story that Magua would not answer, for he had lost his tongue as punishment for a past transgression against the man he so loyally served—Manuel Rodriguez.

Magua, grinning like a madman, simply nodded as he stood holding a silver tray above his right shoulder like a waiter would carry food. He opened his lips and exuded sound, but there were no words that Batgirl could identify, and then he set the tray on the coffee table before the drug lord, standing in a position that blocked Barbara’s view of its contents. She assumed it was a piercing needle and nipple rings based on Wonder Woman’s past encounter with the man.

“Do with me? There isn’t any need to do anything with me. I have caused no harm to anyone here. Surely you can just let me go!” the heroine said softly, trying not to sound anxious.

“Let you go? What fun would there be in that?” Manuel retorted quickly. “Besides, you, or others like you, would return, and just maybe my guards are not so alert next time. No, I think we have a little fun and make another example of what will happen to pretty heroines that bless Senior Rodriguez with the unwanted honor of their presence.” The drug lord quickly read a dossier that had been one of the contents of the tray, set the dossier aside, pushed the coffee table away, and then stood and purposely made his way over to stand at the side of the lovely woman with red hair hanging from the back of her cowl.

“If you don’t want to be bothered by the forces of good, then you take should choose another source of income, and take care not to brutalize world-renowned heroines,” Barbara replied as she locked her blue eyes with the gleaming hazel-colored eyes of Rodriguez, and decided to try to bluff her way out of the mess she was in, “and if you’re trying to threaten me with needles and nipple rings, you should know that I am not afraid of that…pain is not something that I will let intimidate me!”

“I am not a man who threatens anything,” the drug lord replied with a twisted grin on his face and a twinkle in his eyes. “Nor am I a man who would allow the wealth and power that result from this little empire that I have so carefully built slip away.” Without warning, he reached out and deftly unzipped the zipper at the front of batgirl’s bodysuit, opening it from neck to navel.

“HEY! What do you think you are you doing? Get your hands away from me, asshole! If you try to rape me, I will kill you. That is a promise, not a threat! And if it’s my nipples you’re after, I told you before, I’m not afraid of breast jewelry! ” Barbara raged shrilly.

“I see that we both understand this thing about threats, young heroine,” Manuel Rodriguez answered calmly and quietly. “A threat must always be the same as a promise, or it is nothing at all. There will be no rape, so do not get your hopes up for that. This dossier says that rape is the very reason that you, a girl with no powers and few fighting skills, brave the night as the superheroine you pretend to be. There is speculation that you have a libido that may not be satisfied by a single man. Just speculation, but I am quite certain that you would find pleasure in rape, and thus it would be of no use at all as a warning to others of your kind, or as a lesson to you.” Manuel grinned as the heroine blushed beet red, telling him that the dossier’s information was dead on the money.

Barbara tried hard not to look disappointed, even though she was. “Okay, then I'll assume you understand that my threats are also promises, and that you really can’t stop me from killing you if you start sticking needles in my breasts like you did to Wonder Woman. I’m not about to be one of your human fishing rods! Now, untie me, let me zip up, and I’ll be out of your hair! I know it was a mistake to come here,” Batgirl replied in a hopeful tone.

“I did not go to the trouble of pulling on that zipper just so I could free you, let you pull it back up, and watch you walk away, Batgirl,” Rodriguez replied, a hint of laughter in his voice. “Also, I tell you again that I am not interested in your breasts. Wonder Woman’s womanly orbs are her symbol of pride as a warrior and heroine. It is because she has such pride in her heroic breasts that I chose them to be my target for her punishment! The rings I placed through them were merely the tools that I used in her lesson of respect for the ways of others. I think you need to learn this same lesson of respect for the ways of others—the ways of my people—but, in your case, rings through your nipples would not be the proper tools to teach you this lesson. Your breasts are not the reason that you have chosen this life as a heroine.” Then the man renowned for his cruelness suddenly hissed, “Magua, bring the tray!” The drug lord’s grin widened abruptly.

Barbara pulled hard on her bonds, trying to get enough slack to reach the pen-knife in her boot, while outwardly appearing to calm. She knew she did not want to learn of the contents on that silver tray. It was useless—there wasn’t enough slack in the ropes. Magua turned, carefully picked up the tray, and walked quickly to the drug lord’s side. The old, wrinkled Indian grinned broadly and issued a gurgle that was most likely laughter as he lowered the tray so that Batgirl could see its contents: a bottle labeled rubbing alcohol, a piece of cotton, a thin one-half inch-diameter steel ring, a long overly thick needle, a hemostat, several thin rubber erasers designed to be used as mechanical pencil refills or in some sort of eraser pen, a very small plate containing white powder, and a metal tube that was about four inches long and perhaps three-quarters of an inch in diameter. Batgirl’s mouth went dry and she broke into a cold sweat, thinking she understood what was about to happen. “Get those things away from me!” she screamed, fear evident in her voice. “You said you weren’t going to pierce me!”

“I said I would not pierce your lovely breasts, Senorita. I did not say that I would not pierce you at all,” Manuel Rodriguez stated matter-of-factly, as he fumbled with the metal tube from the tray. Barbara could now see that the tube had a circular opening in one end. “If you must know, I do not intend for you to wear the ring, but it is present as a contingency, in case my men convince me otherwise. In any event, you don’t worry your pretty head about it. The needle is sharp, and will not hurt…much. Also the ring is clean, and with the alcohol swab, there will be no infection from a little hole.” Suddenly, Magua began nodding and jabbering excitedly.

Barbara’s face grew pale and confusion filled her eyes, as she could not figure out what was to become of her based on Rodriguez’s words and the contents on the tray. She nodded to Magua, “Why is he so excited about all this?”

“Oh, Magua? Do not worry about Magua. He merely wants to go fishing, which my words have now left open as a possibility that he had not hoped for until just now. I see that you still do not understand. We will make a little demonstration, then you will strip off your clothes. If you are good, I will let you have a hot shower while I gather my men to observe the lesson that I have for you this day. I am sure that in the future you will remember this day and its lesson very fondly!”

“Don’t touch me! Just let me go!” Batgirl stammered, then regained her composure, and asked softly, “And why on earth would I remember such a day of defeat and bondage, and perhaps more, fondly?” Barbara asked, getting even more confused and desperate to escape.

The drug lord smiled as he played with the tube, and then answered in a soft pleasant tone, “After this day, one of your principal reasons for being a heroine, for not living a normal life, for not giving your love to only one man, for not settling down to raise children of your own, will be gone. After this day you can concentrate on family and on building your civilian career, as I have done so here in Panama with my business.”

“How could your so-called lesson possibly cause me to change my ways so much, when I have lived as a heroine for several years with many ups and downs?” Batgirl asked, still obviously confused.

“Though I am sure that the answer you seek is found in the words I have already spoken, I believe that a small demonstration is the shortest way to your understanding of this lesson you will learn this day,” Manuel said in a soft calm voice. “Magua, bring the vice and its work bench from the corner over there and set it before our lovely heroine.”

With the vice-grip attached to the workbench now set before her, Batgirl was now worried that the plan was to cause crushing injuries to her fingers or toes, or hands or feet, or perhaps her even nipples, but she held her questions and watched as Rodriguez put one end of one of the short thin erasers into the vice, leaving the eraser standing vertically into the air. Then he put the end of the metal tube with the opening just over the tip of the top of the eraser. Magua began jabbering and the drug lord lowered the tube slightly, complaining to his underling, “I understand, Magua, the rubber is not as pliant as the material the device was meant to be used on, so it has to have more of the rubber within the barrel.”

Rodriguez glanced up to look at the heroine’s face, to make sure she was still paying attention, and then twisted a dial near the top of the tube. There was a mechanical whirring sound now coming from the tube, and the eraser/tube assembly could be seen to be shaking slightly. Confusion filled Batgirl’s face as she tried to fathom what was happening. Things became clearer as Manuel made some adjustments and removed two of the four sections of the shell forming the outer tube of the device; within a framework of posts and rings, a series of gears and other finely made mechanical pieces could be seen to lower and retract a series of ten, soft, rubber donuts that were less than a centimeter apart.

“Look carefully,” Manuel suggested, pointing to the lowest donut with the needle from the tray. “See that it lowers, contracts around the eraser as the wire frame segments within the individual donut rotate and overlap with other wire segments within the donut in a sort of diaphragm effect, and then the donut assembly rises, pulling the eraser upward. Then watch as the next donut assembly up performs the same motion as the first donut holds the slightly stretched eraser in place, and only releases its hold after the donut above has clamped onto the eraser and it starts to pull upward.”

Batgirl watched in fascination as each of the rubber donut assemblies performed the same series of motions, and then the first one dropped, squeezed, and pulled upward on the eraser starting the cycle again. After a few moments of watching the tubular machine going through several cycles, Barbara exclaimed with a start, “The eraser is getting longer, it’s being stretched rather than being fed into the cavity because the eraser is locked in the vice!”

“Yes, young heroine, your observations are correct, though you should know the device does not work so well on the relatively hard rubber of the eraser. You see, the amount of contraction that the donuts are allowed are based on pressure settings to avert crushing injuries, as is the distance the donuts can rise once they have clamped down around the elongate material trapped within the donut. Also, the donut’s rubber covering does not stick so well to the hard rubber as it does to flesh. There are some other options that I should show you.”

Manuel paused in making the calm explanations of the device, to adjust his crotch. Obviously he was becoming sexually excited. Then he removed two of the four vertical ‘beams’ forming the device’s structure, and proceeded to explain the purpose of what he had just done. “Now, if my men convince me to use the ring that is on the tray, I can pierce the trapped flesh just so,” Rodriguez made a piercing motion towards the elongate material, “and then insert the ring. Then perhaps we spend some time at the end of the pier, no, with one end of a length of fishing line tied to the ring and the other end tied to a baited hook in the ocean.”

Magua again became quite excited, and could be seen to be making adjustments under his ‘skirt’. The drug lord quickly signaled for his man to calm down so that he could finalize his instructions on how the device worked. “Now, when, based on the pressure settings, all of the flesh that can safely be extracted is within the tube, another ring at the top of the device is twisted, and the diaphragm at the very bottom of the tube conracts, with the holding pressure set several times higher.”

Batgirl watched as the ring was twisted, and the nine upper extraction donuts released their tension and the eraser snapped back into shape. Barbara gasped as she came to a sudden realization, “Oh my God! If the eraser wasn’t in the vice, or if the tube was positioned on something it could pull against, material below would be pulled into the barrel of the tube and still be trapped there.”

As Magua cackled wildly the drug lord answered softly, “Yes, that is so…it is part of the device’s designed purpose. Now for one last feature.” Manuel quickly reassembled the device so that it was in its original state, and then pushed one of two buttons at the top of the device halfway down, releasing everything except the bottom diaphragm and an assembly of micro-turrets above it. The bottom diaphragm remained locked onto the eraser; then, as Rodriguez pushed the button all the way down, the turret assembly began rotating rapidly around the trapped eraser.

The drug lord looked deeply into Batgirl’s eyes as she intensely studied the device before her, and continued explaining, “Now, when I push the second button on the tube, a radio command is sent to the bottom diaphragm and rotating turrets, which, as you may have noticed, are pointed slightly downward at the edges of the underlying diaphragm.”

Barbara sensed, rather than saw, the drug lord push the button, and gasped as red lasers erupted from the rapidly spinning turrets, and the upper part of the eraser and the bottom of the tube assembly toppled separately onto the worktable. In a way, it was as if the eraser was decapitated, but Batgirl still didn’t understand what the device was for. Her nipples might fit in the tube, but the drug lord had already claimed several times that he wasn’t interested in hurting her breasts. The heroine stammered, “Okay, I give up…what is this thing for and what is it called?”

Manuel Rodriguez, known to many as one of the cruelest men in the world, whispered softly, “It was invented by an Arabian doctor with the intention of reducing casualties from poor medical practices associated with Sunni coming of age ceremonies for females. Those few in the English speaking world that are aware of the device’s existence call it a declitting tube.”

Blood rushed out of Batgirl’s head and her skin became very pale as she choked out in utter terror, “You’re going to clip off the tip of my clitoris to reduce my sexual sensitivity, and thus the libido you think drives me to be a heroine?”

“No, girl, reducing that libido to a manageable level by just clipping the tip of your sexual center would likely make you a more secure heroine, and thus a bigger threat to me and my operations. I, or if my men convince me, the sea, will be taking all of your girl penis, or, that is, as much of it that is possible without major surgery. I expect to retrieve the entire clitoral glans and most of the clitoral shaft…most everything before the organ turns downward and splits to form the crura.”

As the scene around her faded and blurred, Barbara was sure she experienced an orgasm.

When awareness returned to the cowled crusader, she found herself in a large, circular, metallic room. She was in a sunken area of a chamber that was completely surrounded by a 5- to 10-foot-deep platform that was at the same level as the chamber’s entryway; Batgirl assumed the room normally functioned as a raw cocaine processing facility. Barbara wasn’t happy—she was naked, except for her cowl, and tightly secured to a chair that held her legs open and her sex unprotected. Between and below her legs rested the tray and instruments, minus the erasers, that Rodriguez had shown her in his den. Now a transparent, glass cube was also on the tray. The heroine couldn’t read the writing that was on one side of the box.

Batgirl blushed and her eyes filled with dread as the door on the far side of the room in front of her abruptly opened. Manuel Rodriguez walked purposefully into the room and down the steps to the lower part of the chamber. With a stern look on his face he took a position to the right side of Barbara. The heroine locked eyes with the drug lord; she glared defiantly at the man. She hardly noticed Magua as he followed his boss into the chamber and took a position to the left and behind the tightly trussed woman.

“So, foolish heroine who has honored me with her presence…an honor I would rather not have…are you ready to learn the lesson I have for you this day? A lesson that will surely discourage others of your kind from blessing me with other such honors!” Manuel’s hazel-colored eyes gleamed as he addressed the helpless heroine below him.

“I told you that I realize coming here was a mistake,” Batgirl replied with a cracking voice, “so I’ve already learned this lesson you’re talking about. Just let me go and I won’t come back! If you harm me, however, that will be a promise that I will not be able to keep. Please…release me…”

“Senorita, you are so very foolish. I am a business man, and I rely on my people’s loyalty to me for my business to be successful…which it most certainly is.” Rodriguez said softly with a crooked smile on his face. “One cannot buy loyalty with money alone, so this little entertainment that I have for my men will be of much help to me in my business affairs. Also, if you must know, a little respect is also a good thing for a leader to have from his people. My people, like you, must learn that my threats are indeed promises, and that, like you, they or their loved ones could be made to learn the lesson of respect for my ways…the ways of my people. Magua, have them come in!”

The old Indian immediately put his fingers to his lips and issued a loud whistle. Batgirl blushed deeply and her eyes filled with tears as the drug lord’s guards began filing into the room to stand against the circular wall, weapons drawn and held high. Then the employees of Manuel Rodriguez filed in to ring the room to stand in front of the guards. They were followed by the village workers and farmers, and then by the women and children of the village who ringed the platform at the edge of the sunken area.

Barbara now had had enough and hissed, “Rodriguez, cover my nakedness…to expose innocents to this is indecent!”

“Silence, trespasser!” Manuel spat back. “Your words carry no weight here!” The drug lord then looked up at the people on the platform ringing the room, with the visage of a man about to carry out an unpleasant duty. He gestured around the room and then to the woman in the chair beside him. “You see the intruder beside me. You know that she has shown disrespect for my ways…the ways of you, my people. I have brought you here to see that she is, against her will, going to be taught the lesson of respect for our ways. I do not require that you remain here to witness this lesson. I am sure that the story of this one’s lesson will told around the village for many a night, and serve as a warning to both outsiders and villagers not to disrespect our ways. Those of you that wish to not witness this unfortunate intruder’s fate should now leave, taking the children with you.”

Rodriguez nodded to the village elder who then led the children, most of the women, and many of the men from the chamber. Those remaining consisted mainly of the drug lord’s guards, most of his employees, a few of the younger unmarried men from the village, and a handful of women—obviously the village whores. These people now moved forward and jostled for position at the edge of the platform. Many of the men leered downward at the naked heroine below them, and some of the men could be observed adjusting themselves or sticking their hands beneath the waists of their pants.

“The time for this lesson…a lesson that you will remember for the rest of your life…is upon you, Batgirl.” Manuel said softly as he moved closer to the bound heroine and rested his left hand on her right breast and his right hand on her right inner thigh.

“NO! No! Don’t touch me…” Barbara issued in a fading shrill.

“Calm down women…where is your dignity as a heroine? Do you want my men to remember you as a frightened little girl? Magua, come here and help me with this woman and her lesson.”

Magua moved quickly to the tray between Batgirl’s legs, picked up the silver tube and handed it to his boss, and then scooped some of the white powder from the plate into his right hand. He then quickly moved to the girl’s left side and leaned over her body as he waited for Rodriguez to make the next move.

Batgirl trembled in silence as she watched the two men bustle around her. Her nipples stiffened with excitement as Manuel took his hands from her body, leaned over her, twisted the dial near the top of the tube that then issued a mechanical whirring sound, and began to move the open end of the tube towards her vulva. Barbara blushed beet red as she realized her clitoris was engorged with blood, protruding out from under her prepuce (hood) like a brave soldier, defiant despite being outnumbered by the enemy troops. She watched in awe as Magua blew some of the white powder from his hand to drift in faint puffy clouds toward her sex. The minute it touched her, she new it was cocaine—that it would numb her organ, but cause it to become even more swollen and erect, and that her body would absorb some of the drug resulting in a sensation of euphoria. Then she gasped, wide-eyed with astonishment and fear, as she felt the first attempt of the lowest rubber diaphragm in the tube to grasp the glans of her clitoris.

As Manuel pushed the open end of tube over her tiny organ, Barbara felt the black ring compress around her tender flesh, succeeding this time in its mission of entrapment. It didn’t hurt—it just felt strange! Then Batgirl felt a pulling sensation. That didn’t hurt either, but because of the drug lord’s earlier explanation of the device’s function, the heroine found herself in total panic. “NO! STOP! Don’t use that thing on me! If you have to punish me this way, just clip the most tiny amount of flesh from the tip of the organ, and the nerves will be damaged sufficiently to reduce my libido…the libido that you claim drives me to be a heroine!” the cowled crusader whispered pleadingly.

“This thing you tell us about is well known to my village, foolish heroine,” Rodriguez lectured with a hint of irritation in his voice. “Many of the villagers have a custom of carving the sacred cross into the tip of their daughter’s love buttons just before the onset of puberty as a guard against any wild cravings she may have in the years before she is betrothed, and as a sign of loyalty to God so that the child’s future children will be blessed by Jesus. I have already told you this ‘clipping the tip’ of your clitoris is not enough for my satisfaction. It will not serve as this lesson you must learn.”

Barbara closed her eyes and moaned softly. She had already felt several compressions around her organ, and the pulling sensation had grown slightly stronger. She was surprised that the sensation was still not particularly unpleasant, and her nipples had become even harder, indicating the sexual arousal she was experiencing. There were quite sounds coming from the platform above her—whispered words, the rustling of clothes, and soft gasps of pleasure. Batgirl opened her eyes for a moment to glance around the room. Some men had their pants around their ankles, while others had their male members protruding from holes in the front of their pants. Some men were working on their erections with their own fists, while others were getting aid from the whores who were using their hands and mouths to work on several men at the same time. That so many people were staring down at her, using her nakedness as a source of sexual stimulation, caused the young heroine to become even more sexually aroused in spite of her shame and the threat she was facing.

“Magua, more cocaine,” Manuel ordered as he deftly probed his fingers into Batgirl’s moist and open sex. The old Indian quickly complied, leaning even closer to the heroine so that she could feel the warm wind from his lungs on her vulva along with the sensations from the new dose of the powdery drug. The drug lord grinned at the old Indian, and called up to the bawdy crowd on the platform. “I am glad that you are all having such a merry time watching this young woman learn her lesson of life. I think we will have a fine party tonight, no, with much tequila and cerveza to be had by all!” In truth, Rodriguez knew that, like himself, Magua would be happier with one of the whores on her knees before him, for he was sure that the old Indian’s penis was as hard and in need of relief as his own. They would each have to find womanly pleasure later. From the way Batgirl was moaning and squirming, he had to guess this little party was about to come to culmination.

For Barbara, the situation was becoming desperate in more ways than one. She knew her body well enough to know that she was on the brink of orgasm. But, on top of that, the tugging sensation in the heart of her sex was now becoming uncomfortable. Then she sensed the constant grab-tug-hold cycle abruptly stop as the machine reached its preset pressure tolerance. For a moment, time seemed to stand still, and then the heroine heard her voice screaming, “NO, NO, TAKE THAT THING OFF OF ME!”

“Calm down, woman,” Manual Rodriguez ordered, “let us see how much of you we have in the barrel of the machine. Then I will decide what to do next.” The drug lord deftly worked the controls on the silver tube, and removed the top and bottom sections of the shell forming the outer tube of the device. Within the framework of posts, rings, gears, and other finely made mechanical pieces, a good portion of Batgirl’s flesh could be seen trapped in the tube by the soft, rubber donuts. “Hmmm…it seems we have done quite well in this endeavor.”

Batgirl gasped as she felt air on flesh that had never felt air before, and shrilled, “NO! NO! Take it off! Let me go! This is too…too…too fucking weird to believe!” She shook her head from side to side and breathed in shallow gasps. The sensation was unbelievably strange, yet insanely erotic.

“What of it, Amigos,” Manuel asked, gesturing to the wild orgy on the platform above him, “should I end this lesson and let the Gringo heroine go home?” Those in the room capable of response, responded negatively to the drug lord’s suggestion.

Rodriguez picked up the needle and the ring from the tray, and pointed the needle to the flesh trapped at the bottom of the tube. “Okay…okay…I do not give the heroine her freedom with her skin still intact,” the drug lord acknowledged. “What you say…do I get my little trophy, or must we make the long journey to the end of the dock and wait for the fish in the sea to teach the remainder of this lesson?” The men in the room, a room that already smelled from sweat and semen, responded in a manner that made it clear that they either wanted to finish the sex acts they were already engaged in, or get drunk to celebrate the orgasms they had already finished. Manuel shrugged and smiled to Magua, “I am sorry, my friend, it seems we will not go fishing this day. It is time to finish this lesson that must be learned.”

With tears streaming down her face, Batgirl pleaded, “No…please…I didn’t do anything to deserve this. Please let me go…take the machine off of me and end this terrible stretching of my flesh.”

“You have heard the wishes of my men, young heroine,” Manuel answered softly. “I must not let you go with your lesson unlearned. However, I am not an evil man, I will end some of the stretching that you seem to dislike so much.” Rodriguez reassembled the machine, replacing the outer coverings, and then adjusted the controls.

Barbara squealed as she felt the lowest diaphragm choke tightly around the base of her trapped organ, and then gasped in short breaths as she felt her organ slowly contract and reform to its natural shape within the barrel of the machine like warm, soft rubber as the upper diaphragms released their holds. She was so close to climax that she hurt, and her need for release combined with the drug-induced euphoria seemed to numb the fear she felt in the depths of her soul.

The drug lord pushed a button on the device and pulled the machine away from the heroine, leaving only the bottom diaphragm, the assembly of micro-turrets above it, and the protruding girl penis. “Did you know, Batgirl, that the female clitoris is one of the strangest of all organs possessed by an animal, including, of course, humans? It serves no other purpose than to facilitate sexual pleasure. With the organ removed, the need for sexual pleasure is often reduced, but it is said that orgasm is still attainable. There are no other detrimental affects to animal functions,” Rodriguez whispered softly and then began to probe a finger into the heroine’s sex.

“NO! I don’t care. Leave me be…I want to remain as I am. No amount of sick logic can convince me otherwise. Please…you must show mercy!” Batgirl pleaded in a low whisper, ignoring the raucous crowd on the platform above her.

“I cannot comply with your request, young woman,” Manuel replied softly. “Your lesson must be learned to its end, but I will allow the organ to fulfill its sole function one last time if you wish. Do you wish to be brought to sexual climax?”

“Please…no,” Barbara stammered, “I mean…yes…I need…to orgasm, but…please don’t…use the…lasers…let me be! Let me leave…as I arrived!”

“As I have already told you, I cannot grant your request. Also, as I told you earlier, you will remember this day fondly as a new beginning—the beginning of a normal productive life for the young woman that you are. No more secrets. No more prowling the streets at night in search of adventure and other things. Magua, come and help me bring this woman to climax.” As Magua leaned over the bound heroine, Rodriguez inserted a second finger into Batgirl, and began to deftly work her sex while being careful not to brush the overly sensitive organ above his hand.

Batgirl moaned, not from the drug lord’s decision, but from the se xual urges deep within her that the man aroused with his clever fingers. Then Barbara felt Magua’s hot breath blowing on her sensitive clitoral glans, and she began to plunge into a powerful three-gasp climax.

As the heroine’s eyes glassed over, and her face contorted with pleasure, Rodriguez pressed the button on the device’s main structure into its lowest position, causing the turret assembly to begin rotating rapidly around Batgirl’s trapped clitoral shaft, and arming the second button.

The vibrations from the spinning machine on her sexual center caused Barbara’s normal three-gasp orgasm to explode to an intensity she had never experienced before. As wave after wave of sexual pleasure pulsed through her body, she could hear herself issuing one continuous scream of joy. Over the sound of the scream, she could hear Manual Rodriguez, a man renowned for his cruelness to womankind say something.

“I have allowed you your climax, Batgirl. Now is the moment your lesson ends. Now it is time for me to collect my prize.” The drug lord made his pronouncement softly and without emotion. He could not be sure the screaming, pleasure-ridden heroine could even here him. Still, he pushed the second button on the declitting tube, causing the rotating lasers to fire. The heroine showed no sign of pain as there was an audible snap due to the root of the clitoral shaft snapping back into its hole, now freed from its stretching, although she should have felt the sensation of a white hot poker being applied to the apex of her vulva. He watched as, seemingly in slow motion, the base assembly of the device and the woman’s beheaded clitoris tumbled onto the table between her legs. Those men that had not already climaxed were now sending showers of semen into the air.

Rodriguez quickly picked up the hemostat, and used the instrument to place his trophy in its box. “Batgirl, your lesson is learned! What do you think now?” the drug lord asked, as he finally got the heroine’s attention and showed her the box. There was a broad grin on his face, and many of his men were now applauding jovially.

Batgirl, eyes wide with astonishment and loss, looked up to see that which was once part of her in a labeled box. As the world around her began to blur and fade, she was sure that she was experiencing a second, scream-inducing, mind-wrenching climax.

Barbara awoke amidst her own screams, her body shaking from the powerful climax. As she suddenly realized that the fingers of her right hand were inside of the top of her black negligee’s bikini panties strumming her swollen clit, it dawned on her that she had just orgasmed in throws of a wonderful dream—no, she corrected herself—a terrible nightmare. Her panties and the bed beneath them were soaking wet, evidence that she had likely climaxed several times during her sleep.

Barbara propped herself up into a sitting position and shook the ebony locks that nobody would ever guess were Batgirl’s real hair. She shifted into a kneeling position and thought about the dream—no nightmare.

The dream—no nightmare—clearly paralleled the story that Wonder Woman had told her in many ways, but it also exhibited details that must have been fed from the depths of her own inner psyche. It was obvious that the cruel things that Manuel Rodriguez had done to her friend, Diana, in Panama really bothered her in ways she would never have guessed possible. It was equally obvious that there were other issues weighing on the librarian-by-day’s mind.

Barbara moved to sit at the edge of her bed, and worked her feet into the negligee’s matching black, high-heeled slippers. She thought, ‘Damn, it’s a real shame that I have never had an opportunity to show this sexy outfit off to a boyfriend. What a waste of a great set of clothes…well, the body isn’t bad either.’

The young woman stood up and walked over to stand before the mirror above her glass-topped nightstand. A beautiful young woman stared back at her, looking more than a little confused. Barbara knew she wasn’t going to be able to get back to sleep. She reached down and picked up the cell phone from the nightstand. Without giving it any thought she dialed the number.

“Hello, this is Linda Danvers,” Barbara heard Kara Zor-El’s/Supergirl’s voice say on the other end of the telephone line, “I can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message at the beep.”

“Linda, this is Barbara,” the young librarian said into the phone, “I’ve just had the strangest dream…I mean nightmare. I just wanted you to get a message to Supergirl. Batgirl is leaving this morning for Panama to confront that drug lord that Wonder Woman had a run in with. If she doesn’t return in a few weeks, Supergirl might like to check up on Batgirl.”

“Barbara, this is Linda, I’m awake now. What do you mean, Batgirl is going to Panama to confront that Rodriguez guy. She shouldn’t…it’s too dangerous…at least too dangerous to go alone.” There was real concern in Kara’s voice.

“No…Linda…she has to go alone!” Barbara stammered. “I…I mean she…just wanted someone to know where she was at.”

“Why does she have to go alone?” Kara asked with obvious confusion.

“There is a lesson to be learned,” Barbara was surprised to hear herself say.

“A lesson? What kind of lesson? A lesson for who?” Kara asked, concern still filling her voice.

Barbara broke the connection. She wasn’t sure she had answers to Kara’s questions.

The End?