Batgirl, Batman, Gotham City and all other characters were created by and are copyrighted by and are property of DC Comics. This story has been written solely to occupy my free time. No compensation has been or will be received for this story. This story is purely for entertainment purposes and cannot be redistributed for the purposes of making money or profit.

Batgirl’s Uptown Affairs

by T. Thatcher

Part 1

The limousine door open and a hand extended its assistance. Barbara Gordon demurely clutched it. Despite the elegance of the courtesy, the full length of her designer gown still required a bit of work to slide out of the deep seats of leathered upholstery and onto the sidewalk. Immediately, bursts of light illuminated the evening. She slowly pirouetted seemingly for the benefit of the rabid press corps but, in reality, she was absorbing the surrealness of her surroundings. As her date and lover, Bruce Wayne, followed her out of the modern chariot, unassisted, Barbara turned around to greet him. The brilliant flashes created an odd strobe effect making his emergence appear dreamlike. They exchanged smiles that told the world they were happy but said nothing to each other.
Tonight was a big night in Gotham City cultural coteries. The opera house was welcoming for the first time the world-renowned diva, Lorelei Circe, who had dazzled the elite of Europe for the past year with stirring interpretations of the most profound arias. Miss Circe, whom the tabloids had nicknamed the Siren, combined a voluptuous beauty with her commanding voice that further served to enhance her intrigue to her many admirers. One of those admirers was Bruce Wayne.
Barbara had agreed to go but was not one of the overwhelmed. She liked opera but was not passionate about it. She did not grow up with it, so she could only acquire so much appreciation. Yes, she could distinguish the best singers from the rest but overall she was not moved by the music. Rock and roll was still her mainstay and in her mind she was still a girl and had a right to blast her stereo now and then. Normally, she would pass on such a public gala as this but at her lover’s request she agreed to accompany him. Her reluctance was fueled by several justifications. The first was her desire was to keep nights-off as nights-in with a good book or catching up with old computer friends. More serious was the nebulous relationship that she shared with Bruce and Batman over the past year and a half. It was glamorous but unfulfilling.
The sex was fantastic. In either persona they seemed to click and respond to each other’s needs in the most erotic ways. They satisfied fantasies having interludes as Batman and Batgirl, Batman and Barbara, and Bruce and Batgirl. Their sex while donning their Superhero personas may have been the best as they tested new limits of danger and discovery with many unplanned trysts and daring locations. Once, they even made love right next to the bound Joker and Penguin as they waited for the Gotham police. The villains’ claims of Bat-perversion fell on deaf ears as they were convoyed to the Arkham Insane Asylum. Yet, despite the compatibility of their situations, Bruce always fought to keep both of their relationships secret. His rationale was that as crime fighters it could jeopardize their leverage with criminals if one were ever captured. As Bruce and Barbara, he kept insisting that if their relationship was public it would automatically compromise the other crime fighter if one of their identities were revealed. She found the second excuse a bit dubious and suspected that Bruce did not want to have a public relationship with her so he could continue to have dalliances with models and starlettes. Despite his insistences of fidelity she knew he was not to be trusted as Bruce Wayne when a short skirt was near.
At 25 years old, Barbara had enough self-awareness to know she wanted to end the relationship. Only she wasn’t quite sure how or as whom. Were they seeing each other as their true identities or their assumed personalities? Complicating matters was that with Bruce she was never sure which personality was his true self. He could keep the two sides of himself separate much more effectively than she could but each identity was so strong she could never be sure which one was dominant. She decided to let the night dictate her course of action.

Surprisingly, the opera was thoroughly enjoyable and Barbara found the Siren noticeably gifted. Not surprisingly, she could tell Bruce was positively smitten. His applause was just a bit too enthusiastic and his bravos too raucous for his normally restrained self. After the final encore the crowd finally began to retreat amidst the buzz of excitement and contentment. Bruce and Barbara remained seated in their box as the crowd dispersed. He turned to her and offered,
“Let’s go backstage to meet the artist,” as if he was suggesting it for her enjoyment as much as his.
“Do we have to, Bruce. I’d really rather go home and talk.”
“Barbara, how many chances do we have to meet one of the greatest opera singers in recorded history? It will be a great opportunity.”
“For whom, Bruce?”
“For both of us. Look, I know that you are not as fervent about opera as I am but maybe if you knew the artists it would help your understanding.”
“I understand the music fine and my appreciation is adequate for my tastes. Please just admit you want to meet the Siren because you fancy her. And I don’t know why, she a bit of a cow if you ask me.” The last comment was unfair and Barbara knew it. Certainly, the woman was not as lean and muscular as she or other aerobicized women but, in honesty, her curvaceous build was proportional.
“Barbara, I am surprised at you. Of course she is beautiful, in a Renaissance sort of way, but my eyes are for you.”
Barbara pouted but went along, perversely to see how far Bruce would flirt with the Siren in front of her. Maybe it would give her a simple and obvious excuse to call it quits. As they entered the dressing room the first thing that Barbara noticed was the size of the diva’s entourage. It included several heavyweights, obviously bodyguards. She had a collection of young girls - quite pretty and no older than eighteen - that saw to her needs and helped her remove the thick theatrical make-up. As her mask dissolved into the towels her face emerged. Normally, the removal of make-up revealed all one’s blemishes but in the Siren’s case it released her beauty. It almost knocked Bruce over.
“Ms. Circe, I am Bruce Wayne.” It was uncanny. Even though Barbara knew him well enough to expect shyness or awe he immediately switched to the billionaire confidence that swept most women off their feet. “It would be such an understatement to tell you how much I enjoyed your performance.” He took her hand in his and bowed to kiss it.
“Why thank you, Mr. Wayne. I have heard a lot about you and it is certainly a pleasure to meet one of America’s finest men.”
“Please, the pleasure is mine, Ms Circe.”
“Lorelei, Mr. Wayne, Lorelei. Tell me, is this your girlfriend standing next to you?”
“Oh her, this is the Police Commissioner’s daughter, Barbara Gordon.”
‘That bastard’, fumed Barbara. The woman asked him directly if I was his girlfriend and he introduced me as Daddy’s daughter. The diva did not even acknowledge her introduction.
“Tell me, Mr. Wayne - may I call you Bruce - what was the one flaw I made in this evenings performance?” She asked the question but was more of a come-on. He gave some sort of response about her perfect pitch but the timing of her vocal interlude between the 15th or 16th bars or something like that and the Siren applauded his astuteness. They continued chit-chatting and finally she got up to remove her costume. Barbara hoped this was their cue to leave. Instead, the diva went behind an exquisite Japanese curtain and returned wearing a toga complete with a gold leafed tiara. Barbara remembered that that was her signature outfit and shook her head amusingly to no one but herself.
Finally, the Siren acknowledged she had some other commitments and made the following proposal. “Bruce, would it be too much of an imposition to come to your Manor tomorrow and have me rehearse at your place?”
“Lorelei, it would be an honor to me and the Estate of my family.”
“Wonderful,” she cooed, “but don’t expect me too early. I never get out of bed before noon in any time zone.” Then almost as an afterthought she added, “Betty, I hope you can make it, too,” as she waved in Barbara’s general direction.

The ride home from the opera house was as silent as the trip there. The major difference was that instead of the apathy that separated them on their arrival, the stale air was now pungent with tension. People’s reaction to their own death had a well-chronicled series of stages ending with acceptance. Unfortunately, the stages of instant wealth had stages as well. Her Powerball lottery winnings had already introduced Barbara to the experiences of brief joy and an overwhelming responsibility. She dealt with those as Batgirl. The past few months with Bruce had brought on the shallowness and resentment. Finally, the silence was interrupted by Barbara’s request to the driver to drop her off at her apartment.
“What is it Barbara? Why are you so angry with me?” was Bruce’s reply as he rolled the window separating them from the driver back up.
“Bruce, do you think you could have fawned over her any more in my presence? My God, you made a date with her right in front of me. But, you know what? I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself for thinking you would change. Why don’t we just end this so we can still have a chance to be friends and colleagues?”
“Barbara, I don’t know what you are talking about,” but he did. He cared for her as much as he could for any woman but he just couldn’t allow himself to become too attached to her or anyone. It was the dark cloud that he woke up to each and every morning. Yet he did not want her out of his life - not now, not this way. “You are mistaken about my plans with Lorelei. Didn’t you hear her? She invited you, too. Please come tomorrow. You’ll see how innocent my aesthetic admiration really is.” The car drove up to her curb.
“Good night, Bruce,” and she was out the door before he could return the gesture.

Barbara ran up the stairs rather than wait for her erratic elevator. For some reason she avoided replacing the lift - she certainly could afford it - perhaps it was one of her ways to remind herself of humbler beginnings. The brief exercise made her feel better. Maybe a night of fighting crime would even exhilarate her more. Without bothering to decide yes or no, she was reaching behind her back to unzip her dress as she headed to the sliding panel that provided the stealth for her Bat sanctuary. Barbara preferred styles that accentuated grace rather than avant-garde so once unzipped, the spaghetti straps eased off her shoulders dropping the top of the dress in a neat fold around her hips. Before she sat down at her vanity she put her hands on her hips took a direct look at her image in the mirror. She liked what she saw: arms that blended femininity with sinewy definition, a ridged abdomen that tucked in flatly, and, as she cupped her breasts in her hands and appreciatively squeezed them, firm bosoms whose fullness rounded an attractive hourglass figure. “There are men better than Bruce Wayne who deserve these”, she said to Charlie, her recently acquired rare tropical bird. He was a reward for breaking up a Brazilian animal smuggling ring. Normally, she had a strict policy against accepting gifts but when it was brought to her attention that it could not be returned to the wild and would have ended up in an inferior zoo, she agreed to find a home for him.

Batgirl considered cruising around Brookline for a change of pace but soon found herself heading uptown to the alley behind the opera house and scaling the fire escape toward the Siren’s suite. She knew that the building had regal accommodations for visiting performers who requested them. She had overheard the Siren mentioning it to Bruce. Batgirl knew her jealousy was working overtime but as she approached the window of the Siren’s room her Bat instincts started alarming, too.
Batgirl peered inside and saw the entourage sprawled about the room in postures reminiscent of an impending orgy. Focusing on the center, she saw the Siren gleefully holding up an ornately framed painting. When the diva spun around to show it to her gathering Batgirl recognized it as on of the Metropolitan’s priceless van Gogh’s. “She may sing beautifully but I have no tolerance for a thief.” Batgirl burst through the window startling everyone. Before the bodyguards could react Batgirl had yanked the painting from the Siren’s hands and began her apprehension. The Siren’s arms were too thick to allow Batgirl’s hands to reach all the way around them.
“Who are you? What is the meaning of this?” the Siren demanded.
“I am Batgirl and you are under arrest for grand larceny. Don’t make me hurt you.”
“My dear, you are making a big mistake. You do not know who you are dealing with.”
“Please, Siren, a crime fighter like me hears that all the time. You are new to Gotham City, not me.”
“My dear,” this time the second word had more condescending emphasis, “what crime has been committed?”
“I supposed that van Gogh just happened to appear in your room? Please.”
“As a matter of fact, it did. Or should I state more correctly that thanks to Mr. Harrison over there, it did.”
Batgirl swung around to grab a quick look, careful not to be tricked. However, her vision locked on Roderick Harrison, the esteemed Executive Director of Gotham’s Metropolitan Museum. Batgirl was confused.
“Yes Batgirl, what Ms. Circe says is true. The painting is a gift from me.” As Barbara Gordon, Batgirl knew him well enough to recognize it was he but his voice seemed oddly distant, almost patterned.
“Rod-Mr. Harrison, are you sure? Do you have the authority?”
“Batgirl, as Director I have final say in all of the Museum’s acquisitions and bequeathals. This painting now belongs to her.”
As Batgirl loosened her grip, the Siren quickly pulled free. She started to walk away but abruptly turned around and was in Batgirl’s face. “I should have you arrested you little nobody. How dare you slander my name with such accusations? Get out of here before I change my mind you scamp. Now!” The power in the final exclamation almost knocked Batgirl over. It certainly made her lose her balance.
“Her voice is a weapon,” she thought. “I hope she chooses not to use it as such.” Batgirl sheepishly apologized and left through the hole where the window once guarded. Slowly, the Princess of Darkness descended the metal strips of stairs embarrassed that she made such a mistake but sure that something was indeed amiss.

Bruce Wayne woke up early the next morning. He excitedly logged into his network of databases to find out as much as he could about the Lorelei Circe. There was not much available. Her talent almost immediately had her performing in the top opera houses and before that her life was sketchy at best. He was able to find her preferences and immediately ordered his kitchen to ensure that only the freshest fruits and juices were laid out. He recognized that his excitement was akin to a boyhood crush but, now more than halfway past his 34th birthday, he knew that the companionship he felt with Barbara was better than the flings that had defined his billionaire bachelorhood. He had not been completely faithful to her during their relationship but more faithful than in previous relationships. That argument would not earn him points. The thought of losing her hurt him and riding home alone he felt a sense of loss. He needed to make things right with her.

True to her word, the Siren arrived around two in the afternoon. Bruce had his kitchen prepare food for her full staff but, surprisingly, she came unescorted. Bruce met her at the front door himself. She neatly placed her arm in his and allowed him to guide her to the conservatory. It was a perfect room inviting the warm sunlight and with the French doors opening up to the magnificent manor gardens. A handsome black grand piano was acoustically positioned and shone with a hard rubbed polish that reflected all the objects in the room.
Lorelei admired the instrument’s beauty and craftsmanship. Without wasting any time she seated herself on the bench and began to play, quite wonderfully in fact.
“Mr. Wayne, is everything you own as tuned to perfection as this piano?”
“Just all the important things,” he teased back. Among his early morning phone calls was to Gotham’s best piano tuner, the man who was the house tuner for the symphony orchestra. The Siren started with the basics and ran through the scales covering five octaves without effort. Impressed with just the fundamentals Bruce sat down to enjoy his private recital. She asked Bruce for his favorite aria and unable to name just one she told him she would choose a medley of her own beloved pieces. Bruce listened with enchantment.
Somewhere during the third or fourth selection Bruce realized that he was no longer in control of his thoughts. It did not distract him from the music rather it prevented him from wandering from it. It was if the music became a language in itself and he was forced to obey its commands. As the Siren continued to sing he stood up and looked directly at her. She just nodded indicating for him to continue. He removed his jacket and loosened his tie. Her singing continued uninterrupted as he proceeded to unbutton his shirt and reveal the muscular broadness of his chest. He briefly sat down to carefully untie his shoes, remove them, and place them together by the leg of the chair. Each sock was slid off and placed in the appropriate shoe. He stood up again and unbuckled his belt pulling it through the loops so quickly that the leather snapped. He rolled the belt and placed it on the seat. His pants soon fell to his ankles and he stepped out of them with none of the care he showed for his other articles of clothes. He stood in from of her wearing nothing but his silk boxer shorts.
The Siren seamlessly began another aria and gave Bruce a look as to say, “You’re not done yet.” He understood and slipped his thumbs into his waistband and glided his boxers over his taut buttocks and down his powerful legs. Again he stepped out of the leg holes and stood before her, completely naked.
Lorelei stopped playing and stood up to walk around the piano to inspect her goods. She eyed him up and down with enthusiasm. The length of his penis was much more than she had expected or had ever enjoyed for herself before. Now she was the one who was giddy. She circled him repeatedly, occasionally touching his back, arms, and chest. Finally she stopped in front of him and placed her hand under the tip of his manhood. His length exceeded bottom of his scrotum by some distance. She turned her palm up and lifted feeling the weight of his beautiful penis and balls. “I am impressed, Mr. Wayne, I am impressed.” She then gently lowered her hand again to allow his package to fall to its flaccid position.
Bruce continued to stand there somewhat aware of what was happening but powerless to do anything. He normally liked to keep control but the feeling of waiting for her next instruction had him relaxed. Now the Siren began to sing another song, one with which he was unfamiliar, but was nevertheless seductive to his ears. She sang without accompaniment and the complexity of sounds started to excite him.
Lorelei watched Bruce as she sang, anxious to see the results of her work. Her beautiful billionaire plaything stood there and as she sang, she drew his spirit to her, and she observed with merriment the birth of his erection. First, his penis jumped as if reacting to a sound. As the blood in his body rushed to his organ it began to dance as it swelled and darkened. Finally, as if gathering strength and willing itself on, it lumbered out and up till at last, after several minutes, it now positioned itself up to his navel. She found herself drawn to it and moved closer to inspect her prize. She grabbed it with her right hand and pushed him down to a perpendicular position and marveled at its bloated purple head and veins that were bursting out of the shaft. She let go and it sprung back up to its glorious position. This man was more powerful than she ever imagined. A chiseled body and a prick like a horse. He was a keeper.
Bruce was totally under her control. Her singing seemed to direct urges to specific parts of his body and the last song felt like lips curling their way over his dick. It felt so real that is, until he noticed Lorelei’s real lips beginning to pick up where the song left off. Grabbing his shaft in her hand the Siren alternated between sucking the head and rubbing it against her cheek in a closed-eyed ecstasy. She focused on his fire helmet keeping it generously moist. She occasionally caressed his balls with her other hand but kept the one firmly on his pole periodically jerking him. As he looked down at her head bobbing cautiously over his member she looked up and for the first time he noticed how chubby her fingers were as they grasped him. It did not matter. Despite his reputation of a starlet-hound, Bruce Wayne had taken many types of women to bed. Size or color rarely mattered. Right now, she was all he wanted.
The Siren stood up, still with one hand on his dick, and began to move forward forcing Bruce to retreat. She pushed him back to a sumptuous divan where he stumbled backwards landing safely. The Siren released her grip and, with him eyeing her every move, undid the clasp on the shoulder of her toga causing it to drop to her waist. She was a broad woman but with a tremendous set of breasts that held firmly despite their size. Bruce ogled them from his supine position. He watched as she continued to undress, loosening her gold rope belt and letting the toga slip to the floor. Her full figure revealed, Bruce’s lying posture forced him to look around his throbbing sundial to glimpse the love mound he would soon enter.

Barbara woke up later than intended and still frustrated by the last night’s events in the Siren’s suite. She trusted her instincts and knew that they rang stronger than any resentment toward the diva or Bruce. It still did not make sense why the museum would give away such a precious piece of art. Something did not make sense. She decided to log in and find out more about Miss Lorelei Circe. Like Bruce, she was unable to find out much about her past since she hit the international stage stories abounded. Cross-referencing material Barbara discovered that wherever she sang heirlooms or artifacts quietly disappeared. Another common thread in all the missing items was that no break-ins or thefts were ever reported. Finally, whether it was relevant or not, all the articles were owned or controlled by men. “What does this woman have that makes men need to give away their earthly possessions? I better talk to Bruce before she shows up.”
Barbara remembered the Siren’s boast that she was not a morning person and checking the time realized that she, too, had already let the morning slip by. She changed into an outfit suitable for an afternoon tea. She took a cab to the outskirts of the City where Wayne Manor stood as a fortress from another time. At the gate she noticed Alfred pruning some roses so she paid the driver and climbed out of the car rather than announce herself at the gate. Alfred let her in. He liked her and, although he never tipped his hand, did not think that she and Mr. Wayne made for a brilliant match. He told her that he heard singing in the conservatory and it would probably be best if she walked around the mansion and entered through the garden. She thanked him and proceeded to saunter to the back soaking in the warmth of the pleasant summer afternoon. A quick inventory of her outfit re-convinced her that she looked cute. The hat made the difference.
As she approached the conservatory she shielded her eyes from the brightness of the sun as it reflected off the French doors. She didn’t hear music and thought it must be a break. She turned the ornate handle and walked in. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust but what she saw was unmistakable. She first recognized the bare back and buttocks of the Siren. Then she saw Bruce’s dick sloshing between the thick legs as she moaned in a frenzied rapture. Bruce’s face and torso where concealed by the presence of her body but with his bare legs dangling out from her rear and over the day bed she knew what was going on.
“I guess this is what you meant by aesthetic admiration, Bruce,” she growled. He didn’t react but the Siren turned her head to look back as she continued to invite him deeper in her.
“Oops,” she giggled conveying no guilt or shame.

Bruce could not believe the total body sensation of having Lorelei ride him and take him so deeply. From experience he knew that bigger women did not necessarily have bigger vulvas, in fact, most of the sizeable women he had been with were quite small and penetration was a problem. But with the Siren this was not an issue. Her vagina looked small, although her barrel-chested frame may have contributed to the illusion, but when she climbed on top of him and slid his dick in her it went directly into the far reaches of her vagina. The impact of having her body lustily crush down on him added to his pleasure. He was trapped in her but had no designs on escape. As she leaned forward her breasts swung violently into his face and he needed two hands just to control one of the delights. He suckled feverishly on the generous nipple occasionally biting down and tugging. Each time he did it she squealed some more. He was lost in her body both figuratively and literally. All he could think about was ‘how can I keep her happy and satisfied?’ Finally, after twenty minutes of her choreographed gyrations on top of him, the pace of her breathing quickened and she began to scream ‘yes, mi amore, yes’. At its peak she hit a high note that signaled her orgasm and triggered a release in Bruce that caused his semen to burst into her womb.

Satisfied with his trimming of the bushes Alfred turned to head back to the Manor. He noticed Miss Gordon coming around the side of the estate and thought she must not have been able to gain access. However, as she continued toward him he noticed the fury or her gait and concluded that Mister Wayne must have screwed up another relationship again. He moved to meet her but Barbara paced past him without acknowledgement. “That bastard,” thought the servant and confidante, “he certainly ignited a wrath this time.” He felt sorry for her because he, too, had known Miss Gordon since she was young and albeit from a distance had observed her mature and blossom. She was different from the endless stream of nymphs who regularly paraded through Mr. Wayne’s house. Even though some of the other ladies in their lives (for managing Mr. Wayne meant assuming his boss’ life into his own) had been smart, innocent, or rich, Miss Gordon managed to combine all three and add in elements of decency, elegance, and sincerity that he always found refreshing. He knew he would quietly mourn her absence. When Barbara reached the gate she pressed the button for the security to open it but impatient with the response time she effortlessly scaled the wall setting off a fury of alarms. Alfred hustled back to the house to shut off the alarm and call a car service to transport her back to the City.
After he confirmed with the livery that Miss Gordon was successfully escorted back to Gotham Alfred sat down and pondered the future. He was tired. Until recently, he had never thought about retiring. For one thing, he had stopped considering his duties as a job and more of a function in his life. The generosity and success of Mr. Wayne and Waynetech had made him a wealthy man in his own right. In fact, since the murder of Mr. Wayne’s parents he was not sure if he even ever received a paycheck. He had few expenses and on occasions when he needed money it was always available. Every month he received statements from banks and brokers indicating further gains in his own prosperity. The other reason he never considered retiring was that he never developed thoughts about what else he would rather do. He was a mentor and an intimate. It was not a calling with which one could gracefully decide to quit although lately the idea began surfacing. He decided to inform Mr. Wayne that he would take a few days for himself and he would think about it further.

Barbara Gordon ambled along the sparsely populated beach soaking in the warmth of the late-June day. She, too, had chosen to take a respite from the bustle of Gotham and piece back together her personal affairs. Attired in a rousing one piece she attracted more than casual glances from the intermittent men she passed by. The suit’s single cloth was intended to provide a modest exhibit of her toned body but the highly cut hips and ampleness of her bosom provoked a more daring display. Gotham had been beset by a cool spring so the burst of the sunshine felt invigorating on her skin which was prone to freckling but she was careful to wear plenty of sun block, especially on her face, and wore a broad brimmed hat for extra protection. The sun posed unusual problems for a superhero. A bad burn could compromise a night of crime fighting and despite the coverage of her costume a suntanned face could betray her secret identity.
Intense introspection made her oblivious to the lusty stares that she seemed to magnetize as she strolled. On one hand she wasn’t sure why she was so upset. She knew the relationship wasn’t working and his faithfulness was always in question. He had a brooding defense that she could never penetrate. It made him attractive but it also made him impossible. A few nights earlier she rehearsed ending it but now that it was over (at least in her mind) she felt a sense of loss. Maybe it wasn’t the person but the myth and the fantasy. She had long thought she outgrew the schoolgirl crush but he represented something more. He was the hope that after her mother’s murder and father’s parenting by proxy that there was someone for her. Now it was another dream shattered.
She had recently acquired a beach house that was a simple compared to the mansions dotting the coast but nestled in a nice patch of land. In the beach house that night Barbara’s restlessness beat out her melancholy. She decided to head to a local bar for a drink. Sitting alone she was deluged with men claiming to be her savior but she declined all of them. The attention was flattering but not what she needed. Eventually, the empty stool next to her beckoned another. However, this one stayed.
He introduced himself but it was hardly necessary. Even though he lived on the other coast and was known as a recluse, being one of the richest men in the world kind of carried its own business card. He told Barbara he had been looking all over Gotham for her and announced with pleasure that he was glad he finally succeeded. His companionship touched all the right buttons as he made her laugh and forget. He also won her over when he told her his quest to find her was based on his desire to endow the Gotham library with books and computers.
Lawrence Pierce (no junior or the third attached) was a self-made multi-billionaire who just happened to be more successful than Waynetech in arming the country with technology. Bruce hated him and that made him a tad more attractive in Barbara’s eyes. Physically, he could not compare. In fact, he was quite slight but his eye contact had an intensity that could stare down the toughest of foes. His interest in libraries was based on his love of books. He could converse fluently on a seemingly endless range of topics. It was an intimidating intellect.
Barbara felt at ease with him and after several Chardonnays invited him back to her place for a nightcap. Once there they continued their literary dissertations and she showed him the armful of books she brought to read while on retreat. He admired her selection and, having read several of the books already, invited himself to discuss them with her once completed. ‘It wasn’t turning out to be such a bad night after all,’ thought Barbara.
As the night wore on the physical distance between them dissolved. At first Barbara decided to let him make the first move but when he didn’t she took charge she took his glass from his hand and gently placed it on the center table in front of the sofa. Still completing his thought she put her finger to his mouth to indicate silence. She then kissed him softly on his lips and began to climb on top of him as she kissed his neck. Carefully, she unbuttoned his shirt only to find an undershirt beneath it. She motioned for him to remove his top as she reached behind her neck to untie the halter straps of the skirt she was wearing. He gazed at her breasts in wonder as if it was the first time he had graduated from National Geographic to the real thing. She place her hand under her left breast and offered it to him. He proved he was not totally clueless as he knowingly took it and began licking around the aureole with zeal. Moistening with the hardness in her nipple she slid down and began to unbuckle his pants. She felt the stiffness in his crotch but when unfolded his trousers and pulled down his briefs she was surprised to find out that the knob of hardness she felt wasn’t the beginning of his excitement but the end product. She tried not to be too disappointed. After all, size isn’t everything, she thought but his parcel definitely only required one stamp. It actually comforted her as she began to suck his small erection easily - taking him all the way in - that she would not have to endure gagging as she sometimes did with Bruce. She smiled as she thought that this was easier than taking on a lollipop. He lifted her head and began to speak. She was expecting that he was going to play the usual male card of apologizing for his size but he continued to surprise her.
“Barbara, this is rushing things. Couldn’t we slow down?” he asked.
“I’m sorry was I doing it wrong? Did I hurt you?” All of the sudden she was panicking about her limitations.
“No, you were wonderful,” he assured her. “We will be seeing each other again because of the library so I don’t see a need not to let things nurture.”
She was shocked by his purity. “Sure we can. But Lawrence, you’re so big right now (sometimes girls give false compliments without even thinking) won’t it hurt if I stop?”
“Maybe you could use your hand,” he counter-offered and with that she tenderly began to stroke him. Because the width of her hand was the same size as his erection she had to use her thumb and forefinger to provide any form of movement up and down. He came rather quickly on his own stomach and Barbara ran to the bathroom to get a towel to wipe him off.
They spent the next day at her as well although he had to leave for a few hours to attend to some business affairs. She continued to find his company therapeutic to the funk that drove her out of Gotham. So healing was his company that when he suggested dinner in his upper Eastside townhouse in the City for the following night she accepted without hesitation.

Alfred returned from his break to find the Wayne affairs in a confusing state of disarray. Bruce’s behavior was beyond unusual - it was bizarre. Always a generous man, he had taken to gifting many of his possessions to Miss Cerce and her cohorts. In fact, he was preparing to sign over a substantial portion of his estate to her. When he asked Bruce about his actions he replied drolly, “Why not, I like her and I want her to have it.” Fortunately, the legal structure of his massive wealth was so complex (so as to hide the expenditures to be Batman) that he could not unwind it too quickly.

Alfred warned him, “Master Bruce, do you realize that if you continue this trend of unwarranted philanthropy that you risk exposing your other life to Miss Cerce?” Bruce just shrugged his shoulders and left the room without further comment.
Alfred determined he had to enlist others to stem the bleeding of the Wayne fortune. He first called Barbara. He outlined the peculiar behavior and added that he walked around as if in a daze and hadn’t been out on the streets as that ‘other fellow’ since the Siren arrived in town. He knew there was a connection but he could not pinpoint it.
Barbara sympathized with his concern but responded, “I am sorry, Alfred, but I cannot help you. Whatever, Bruce does is his business. I have to get on with my life. I’m sure that he will come around when his lust clashes with his financial sense. He’s a cad but I know he will not give up what he has worked so hard for. Besides, he made it clear to me that he does not value or respect our relationship.”
“But he does value your relationship, Miss Gordon, very much. That is why this behavior is so curious. The last thing he wanted was to end your courtship.”
The words stirred Barbara. She knew Alfred understood Bruce better than anyone - even himself. It also confused her. She was embarking on a new relationship with Lawrence and although early she firmly believed it could lead somewhere. “I’m going to have to think about this Alfred. He hurt me bad.”
“I am afraid we do not have a lot of time. The estate is unraveling.”
“Alfred, I’m sorry. I understand your concern but I need some time, a few days at most.” She hung up. She was exhausted. It was morning but she had just come in from a night out as Batgirl. She had taken on two muggers and a rapist and more importantly defeated a serial criminal that she had been tracking. His behavior threatened to elevate to arch criminal status but she was able to nab him before his power base became too pronounced in the crime syndicate. It would be logged as a good night.
Barbara continued to sit in the chair in her Bat-room. She had already removed her mask, gloves, and boots but still had on her wig and body-contouring outfit. “Why is my life so complicated?” Charlie squawked but she had no idea what he meant.

Dick Grayson was just about to start another day tackling theorems and postulates. For the second summer in a row he was not returning to Gotham during summer break. It was a very transitional period in his life. He was doing exceptionally well at school. So well that he would spend July touring with one of his professors to actually lecture other professors on his analytical methods. Some were calling him one of the brightest mathematical minds in the country. By his standards he was enjoying unprecedented popularity at school and, after living in Bruce’s and Batman’s shadow, he was finally developing his own sense of self.
It is not to say that he hadn’t experienced trauma in his collegiate life. On his first day of school orientation he met a pretty brunette named Laurie Johnson. He couldn’t believe that she was interested in him but she was and they immediately began a relationship that defined their freshman year. He adored her and clung to her. She, in turn, encouraged him to find himself and exorcise my of the demons of guilt he harbored over his family’s death. She also recognized a growing resentment Dick was harboring toward Bruce. While he did not share all the reasons for this bitterness (he was unsure how and when to introduce the Robin aspect of his life) she put him on the path to confront Bruce and heal the wounds.
Tragically, during that first summer between school years, Laurie drowned rescuing a niece that had fallen out of a boat on a family outing. Dick had been touring Europe alone since Laurie was unable to join him. He abbreviated his trip and rushed to be near her again but the effort was hollow. Another of the most coveted people in his life abandoned him. His complete devastation was only avoided by a promise he made to her at the end of their freshman year. She thought athletics would a good channel for his energy as well as a way for him to work in a team atmosphere rather than as a loner. He disagreed but after negotiations they settled on gymnastics where he could perform both as an individual and on a team.
Dick was a natural in the sport and what he lacked in style points he more than compensated for with daring and degrees of difficulty. He dominated his league and was creating a national buzz before the collegiate championships when the night before he was declared ineligible because his days as a circus acrobat qualified him as a professional. Rather than being crushed again he took the action in stride knowing he fulfilled his promise and like she thought the team surroundings help foster a more social spirit. He knew he had friendships and he knew he had a still family, albeit non-traditional, at home in Gotham City. So that morning when the phone rang and Alfred appraised him of the recent strange behaviors in Wayne Manor he put aside his feelings of exploitation and dysfunctional communication by Bruce and knew he had an obligation to help.

It took him a day to rearrange his schedule and once back at Wayne Manor Alfred provided Dick with a further update. Bruce had not spent the past several nights at home nor was he attending any of his business functions. As far as Alfred knew he was with the Siren. Dick tried to gather as much information as he could before heading down to the Batcave, a destination he had not visited since he left for school.
Knowing he could not avoid it forever, he eventually made his way into the study and manipulated the controls under the bust. The bookcase slid open and the pole beckoned. Instead of his usual sprint to the descent he paced cautiously, looked down, and looped his leg around for the slide down. He stopped at the first landing and slowly took in the chamber that for years he mindlessly used for his transformation. He looked at both sides of the landing, his and Bruce’s, and thought about donning the Bat costume for his work. He held it up to his body but did not even try it on. He knew that despite the fact that college and gymnastics had bulked him up he was still many inches short of the towering “Bat” presence. He withdrew to his compartment. His costumes were intact and preserved without wear. As he stripped down he took notice of his own nakedness. He liked what he saw but, then again, most guys are self-flattering about their bodies. Yet his goods were for real and as he slipped into his costume, now fitting him much more snuggly, he tried to look at himself as a woman may and thought, “I could get some serious action in the get-up. Boy, did I waste some prime teenage years.” Feeling empowered he plunged down enthusiastically to the next level.
After drawing the same blanks as Batgirl and Batman on the Siren’s past, Robin decided the best way to solve the riddle was to get as close to the action as possible. This meant staking out the Siren’s suite and searching for clues. Taking the Batmobile required minimal debate as he relished the opportunity to drive it in a real situation after years being a passenger. It handled better than he remembered and he took advantage of the opportunity to open it up as he raced through the outskirts to Gotham’s center.
Once at the Opera House Robin choose a rooftop approach to access the Siren’s apartment. Using ultrasonic sensors from his utility belt he was able to determine that the dwelling was unoccupied. Even easier to his effort was the fact that the front door was left unlocked. He entered and decided to prowl around for clues to Bruce’s atypical behavior. Robin soon discovered that whether it was intentional or not the Siren left a conspicuous trail of her actions. At a richly paneled desk Robin found a ledger with all of the Siren’s recent acquisitions. He was amazed at the quick amassing of riches. From the flowing and flowery font Robin assumed the entries were made by the Siren herself. The collection was impressive. He also found receipts for withdrawals and transfers made by Bruce to the Siren. As he gawked at the amounts his anger increased. Rummaging further he found the Siren’s diary which revealed more than clues. In it a detailed plan for robbing Gotham’s elite of their riches was laid out and, cross-referencing the ledger, carried out with precise timing. He had the smoking gun, now all he needed to do was nab her and bring her to justice. He considered turning on the lights to the room to see if there was anything else in the room he could use for evidence when he heard one of the windows gently rattle open.

Barbara agonized over what to do about Alfred’s plea for help. She liked him and still had a generous place in her heart for Bruce. Worse than hurt she felt disrespected by Bruce’s actions. She wanted him to know that he could not get away with reckless sexual behavior and still be with her. She had too much self-esteem to be treated badly. She brooded for a whole day after the call. The following evening she intended to patrol her own neighborhood but once in costume she found herself venturing uptown again toward the Opera House. Her sense of righteousness and suspicion that the Siren was nefarious overtook any ill feelings. As her bike sped up the avenue she thought about Lawrence and how most of her trips uptown recently had been to see him. ‘It’s funny how my perception of the City changes even after all these years,’ she mused.
Parking her motorcycle behind the theater she ascended the same fire escape that afforded her a glimpse into the Siren’s world. ‘I may be here all night,’ she thought. ‘This time I can not leave without some irrefutable evidence.’ Seeing the room dark and unoccupied she knew she had a chance to explore. Carefully, she stepped in through the opening coaxing her eyes to adjust to the darkness quickly.
Before her second foot hit the floor she felt herself absorb the force of another body as she flew across the floor. Blinded by the darkness she tried to establish bearings and block blows to her body and face. She determined wrestling gave her the best advantage as it provided a better sense of her attacker’s presence and reduced the impact of body blows. Her assailant was quite skilled and powerful and she soon realized that she would not be able to win. She could only keep struggling and hope they would tire. Feeling the tone of the aggressor’s body she identified a male. Finally, he forced himself into a position on top of her. As she squinted to bring the face into focus as she felt his groin swelling and pressing into hers. It was a pleasurable discomfort but she was here on business. The effect of the darkness began to wear off and the face on top of her came into view. “Robin? It’s me, Batgirl.”
“Batgirl? What are you doing here?” he asked, not used to anyone else attending to crime fighting duties. He read about her exploits while at school but never had the opportunity to see her in action. Taking a closer look he saw that he had indeed been missing out.
“Hopefully, I am here for the same reason as you. When did you return to action?”
“Tonight’s my first night back.” He then proceeded to tell her everything that he had discovered.
Batgirl absorbed Robin’s debriefing and filed the information. She began piecing together the puzzle and understanding the mystery. She noticed that Robin was still on top of her and still very excited. “Maybe you could let me up now?” she suggested.
“Of course,” and immediately he sprung to his feet and offered her a hand. She accepted and went toward the door to turn on the lights. Robin adjusted his cape so it hung down in front of his briefs and hid his hard-on. He stayed by the door and leaned back against the wall as Batgirl moved around the suite looking for further clues. “Hey Batgirl,” he began as he tried to strike a casual but confident pose, “I checked the Siren’s diary and she is not expected back for a couple hours. Why don’t you and I get a bit more comfortable and compare ‘profiles’ a bit more intimately?” He thought it sounded suave.
Batgirl looked up incredulously. Was he joking or was he coming on? “Are you serious? Don’t you know who I am?”
“Yes, you’re Batgirl. I’m Robin. We’re both two buff bodies committed to crime fighting. I say let’s make the commitment stronger. Come on, we’ll keep our masks on for secrecy”
Her first reaction was to laugh but she suppressed the urge. She looked him over and noticed appreciatively that he had indeed grown up. He looked more like a “buff” underwear model than a crime fighter. The costume stretched too tightly over his pecs and biceps and his legs which were still bare now sported hair covering copiously muscled thighs. He did have a delicious air and would probably make for a fun frolic but she caught herself and asked, “Don’t you and Batman talk?”
“Of course we do. We’re tight,” but there was no conviction in his assertion.
“Listen, Robin,” Batgirl began as she advanced to him, “I know you’re really Dick Grayson.” And, without breaking stride lifted his mask right off his face leaving him standing there dumbfounded. Keeping fluid motion she pivoted and walked away still searching for evidence but with his mask still in her hand.
Robin was flabbergasted and whatever confidence he had after wining his tussle with Batgirl was now lost. “Hey, since you know my identity, I should know yours, too.”
“Well, Robin, I don’t think that should be too difficult to figure out. After all, you and Batman are ‘tight’”. He thought for a moment but had no clue and began to stammer a response when the door burst open. It was the Siren.
“Batgirl, it seems you cannot resist breaking into my home. I guess I will have to call the police. And you,” looking at Robin, “must be the Boy Wonderful,” as she eyed him up and down. Robin eyes darted to Batgirl’s hand holding his mask and looked back at the Siren afraid to speak while exposed. Noticing, the Siren continued, “don’t worry my precious,” as she stroked his face, “I don’t know or care who you are. I couldn’t recognize you from the thousands of other pretty boys I see each day. Batgirl, I am ashamed of you taking away this poor boy’s mask Isn’t it enough that you rob the cradle with a teenage stud like him. Tsk, Tsk.”
“Listen, Siren, cut the crap. Robin and I are on to you. We know what you are doing and we are here to take you in.” Batgirl meant business.
“Oh, you think you are going to stop me? Hardly. Luckily, I brought support.” Her toga clad entourage, consisting of goons in turbans and luscious young ladies entered the suite. However, she did not instruct any of them to do anything but watch. Instead, the Siren looked into the hallway, let out some odd pitched note, and said to one of the people lingering out of sight there, “be a darling and dispose of these intruders in our suite.”
Robin hadn’t fought anyone since his break but was anxious for some action now. He took note of how attractive the Siren’s muses were and he puffed his chest and thought ‘when they see how I handle myself they will want me.’ He punched one gloved hand into the other and braced for the fight. Batgirl was insulted that she only called one person to fight them. ‘I alone could take on all of her henchmen at once. One and against both Robin and I. That bitch will soon find out we mean business.’
“Yes, my love,” came the response from her designated muscle in the corridor. The voice caught both of them off guard but before either could associate it, in stepped Bruce Wayne to take them on. Both Robin and Batgirl looked at each other as if asking what should we do. Neither wanted to hurt him but understood that he was a dangerous fighter. Plus they had never worked together and fighting in pairs required strategy and coordination.
Bruce took the role of aggressor and produced first swing. It was wild and Robin easily eluded it. Bruce followed with another outrageous swing that he ducked under effortlessly. Feeling confident and that maybe it was his time to teach the master, Robin unleashed a few jabs that connected but inflicted no damage. In fact, Bruce just moved in closer and lifted Robin at the ribcage and flung him into the sofa toppling it over. Batgirl swiftly moved in and tried to catch Bruce behind the legs to bring him down. Lightning quick he deflected the kick with his arm and in a flash of continued movement he grabbed her leg and spun her into a wall. The force knocked the wind out of Batgirl and she temporarily slumped to the floor.
Robin was back in Bruce’s face trying body shots to weaken him. Bruce blocked several of them but a few forced him to take a step back. Rising uneasily to her feet Batgirl tried to react to Robin’s advance by grabbing a chair and cracking it over Bruce’s back. He fell to a knee but no further. He stood back up and scowled as he tried to shorten the room and cut off their mobility. The Siren, wanting the battle to end sooner and with less damage, summoned another from the hallway. Batgirl was circling Bruce trying to keep at the opposite end from Robin to make his defense more difficult when she felt tap on her shoulder. She whipped around with the intention to maim when she noticed the person opposed to her was Commissioner Gordon, her father.
“What are you doing here, eh, sir?” she asked. His response was a crisp blow to her jaw that sent her sprawling backwards. She shook her head surprised that her father still had significant power in his punch. “Commissioner, what are you doing,” Batgirl asked as she approached him cautiously, “it’s me, Commissioner Gordon, Batgirl.” The words had no effect and he continued his assault. She tried in vain to block his shots but every now and then a few slipped through.
Robin’s prolonged break from fighting was beginning to show as his stamina waned and Bruce’s superior strength prevailed. He was rocked by two successive shots, one kick followed by a precise punch. He felt woozy and tried to plot an escape. It was no use. Bruce clocked him again and as he fell to the ground and out of consciousness he thought, ‘It’s up to Batgirl now.’
Batgirl sized up her father realizing that she was on her own and needed to get him out of the way so she could take on Bruce. The thought actually had some appeal and might be a good therapy for the heartache he caused her. She wanted to make the blow to her father clean to be effective and to not damage his face too much. She bobbed and weaved as she waited for her opening. Finally, she found her spot and unleashed her fist. Inexplicably, she missed and he countered with an equally formidable shot that made her legs grow wobbly and her mind start slipping into oblivion. Hitting the floor was the last thing she remembered.

When consciousness re-emerged Batgirl found herself hanging upright with her hands tied high above her head. Her legs were bound together at the ankles. Her toes barely touched the floor. Some sort of cloth blocked her vision and as gathered her wits she let out an involuntary groan. Following her stirring, the blindfold was suddenly removed. She assessed her situation. She was still in the same room and Robin was strung up from the ceiling as well only a few feet from her. He, too, was blindfolded. Bruce and her father were no where in sight.
“Well, it seems you awoke sooner than we expected, Batgirl,” the Siren stated as she sat in a richly patterned chair being attended to by her muses. “I was so hoping to dispose of you in some other location than the splendor of this wonderful opera house but I’m sure we can think of some theatrical way to rid ourselves of you.”
“The day you rid yourself of me is the day you enter jail, Siren.”
“Batgirl, you don’t understand how unimportant and how unimpressed I am with you. The power and excitement of Gotham City has always been in its men, not their mistresses. You are a nuisance, yes, but nothing more.”
Feeling mean spirited, Batgirl spat back, “You flabby, disgusting goddess wanna-be. The only way you can even get a man to even look your way is through trickery. Don’t you deceive yourself into thinking you are special either.”
Unflustered, the Siren responded, “Batgirl, was it really necessary to be that rude. Such outbursts are a waste of my time. Tiberius, gag her.” Immediately, one of the musclemen reached into his toga and pulled out a red ball gag with black straps. Batgirl tried twisting her head to fight it but another brute placed his hands on either side of her cowl and held her head in place. It was strapped in her mouth and around the back of her head. Batgirl would not desist easily and began a muffled scream and cursing. The Dark Angel figured noise would possibly rouse Robin and together they had a better chance to escape.
Annoyed, the Siren scream, “Enough!” and slapped Batgirl across the face. While certainly not a fighter the impact was nevertheless dramatic as the weight of the Siren’s hand and arm combined with Batgirl’s unprotected posture left her momentarily groggy. She recovered to notice the Siren’s face directly in front of hers. Oddly, as Batgirl narrowed her eyes and stared into the Siren’s, her first thought was, ‘She really has long and beautiful eyelashes. They complement her almond shaped eyes perfectly.’
Shaking her hand in the air to relieve the sting of the slap, the Siren moved over to Robin. Her demeanor immediately changed and she stroked his face with loving and nurturing caresses. She left his blindfold on him. Robin stirred. A pounding pain rang through his head. “Oooh,” he groaned feebly.
“Robin, darling you sound like you’re in agony. All that fighting-all that pent up teenage sexual lust and frustration-let me see if I can help you.”
Batgirl looked on trying to figure out what the Siren meant. What was her plan for him? She watched as the Siren stepped back and traipsed to the piano in the corner of the room. She began playing something that started softly but had a very driving beat like Ravel’s Bolero but without the same crescendo. She looked over at Robin and saw his grimace fade into a smirk and finally a smile. His smile took on a warped look that had a certain familiarity that Batgirl tried to understand. Then it struck her. That was the face she had seen on a hundred men when they thought they were about to get lucky. ‘Oh God, Robin, not now,’ she pleaded to herself.
Glancing down at his outstretched body she saw it was too late. His green briefs now sported a terrific hard-on. The bulge it created was fairly impressive. The tightness of the fabric kept his hard-on pointing straight down which had the effect of pulling his waistband down. It did not take long for Robin’s pubic hair to creep atop of his descending green trunks. As his cock sprung forward a bit, it tugged the fabric from away from his thighs. From her angle Batgirl could see that his erection had grown so much and so enthusiastically that the elastic leg hole no longer covered his manhood and she had a direct view to his balls and the base of his shaft. His face still had a content composure. Seeing the way his penis fought to break through the fabric Batgirl thought, ‘I’ll never understand the mechanics of those things but that has to hurt.’ She looked over to see a group of the Siren’s teenage entourage huddled and giggling.

Everything was happening so fast. How did he get here? Robin thought he was having a complex dream sequence that had taken him from the protected halls of higher learning to the mean streets of crime. Now, as his excitement mounted he began wondering if it was all an elaborate a wet dream. When the pounding in his head burst him into consciousness he opened his eyes to be met with darkness and the pressure of his blindfold. He mistook it for a dream where he was Robin but could not see out of his mask. His journey took another surreal twist when a strange touch caressed his face and began singing. It was a song with which he had no familiarity but somehow it melted away the pain in his head giving him a soothing relief. The effect of the song took an interesting twist as the pleasure consuming his thoughts soon traveled to his loins. He never knew a song could be so seductive, so provocative. He felt as each of her notes was directly touching his cock. The first few notes felt like a casual brush by as often happens in crowed rooms. Then the vocal caresses continued and began to touch and hold his meat. Eventually, the song took the form of lips, wet and inviting, and the longer, sustained noted took him all the way in. His inability to use his hands to strip off his shorts confused him and he stood there, helpless in his erotic plight.
Finally, his mind cleared enough to remember the events that led him to this situation. He remembered Batgirl, the Siren, and her delectable muses. He heard Batgirl’s muffled grunts but he heeded them no particular attention. He tried to position his body toward the silly laughter of the muses. He wanted the nymphs to see his excitement and what he had to offer. He waited for a reaction and at last, he felt the approach of one as velvet gloved hands came to rest on each of his thighs. He felt the smoothness of the touch glide up an down his thighs. He wondered if it was the blond, brunette, or redhead that had come to relieve him. The hands parted his thighs forcing him to bend his knees since his ankles were still bound. One hand continued up his thigh and settled on his balls gently holding them in the palm. A welcoming ‘yes’ emitted from his lips. Next he felt a probing mouth nibbling on the outline of his shaft as it pressed against his briefs. The snacking mouth tried to suck his head through the shorts and he felt a surge coursing through his balls and dick. He thought hard not to come and he succeeded but he did not know how long he could hold out.
The tease continued and Robin’s thrill matched it. Finally, he felt some relief as the hand carefully pulled his erection out through the leg hole closest to Batgirl. Liberated, it sprang up immediately although still prevented from completely standing straight up. He was rewarded for his composure as he felt a real tongue and mouth envelope his rod and take him immediately deep to his base. Robin was impressed because his girlfriend, Laurie, despite satisfying all his urges, could not take him all the way in without choking. This blowjob was more akin to the one he received from Catwoman years ago when he was 16. It was his first and he was beginning to think it would always be his best. Nevertheless, the tonguing he was receiving now was nothing to be turned away.
In a swift and somewhat powerful motion the gloves grabbed the waistband of both his briefs and jockstrap and pulled them down to his ankles fully exposing him and releasing him. He longed to grab the head by the neck and force the redhead’s, blonde’s, or whatever’s throat to hold him in their mouth so he could explode. It did not take long for when he felt his gratifier’s mouth moved up and down him twice, he detonated his load into the waiting mouth of the nymph. Each burst coursing though his dick into the mouth felt better than the last as he pushed his hips forward in jerky motions. Dutifully, he was sucked dry with the painfully wonderful sensation of having your organ serviced after coming. He asked, “please tell me, which muse are you?”
“Robin, there will be plenty of time for conversation later,” interrupted the Siren. “But first, I need some information. I have Wayne’s capital and the Commissioner in my pocket right now. What I need is for you to tell me where I can find Batman. He is the one wildcard I have not conquered yet.”
Before Robin could respond Batgirl started screaming through her gag again trying to shock Robin out of his sexual stupor. Seeing the look on his face and knowing how the Siren controlled men it was only time before he announced all their secrets. She did the only thing she could do to take charge of the situation. Swinging from the rope holding her wrists, she swerved in front of Robin and let loose with a two-leg kick to his jaw knocking him out again.
The entourage stood there aghast.
“Batgirl, you have tested my patience enough,” the Siren screamed. “It is time to shut you up permanently. Augustus, Tiberius, Caligula, Claudius, all you boys get rid of her. Make it painful and humiliating but, of course, make it creative as well. After all we are in a theatre.”
One of her men walked up to her. He was one she remembered as sizing up as big but probably not too tough. He said nothing but jerked his head right at her, butting her into unconsciousness.

The Siren watched as her men removed Batgirl from her suspension and carried the limp superheroine out of the room. Women like Batgirl were just the reason why a woman like Lorelei ended up the way she did, she thought. Who was the Diva that was the toast of Gotham City? She was. Who should be lavishes with all the attention? She should. That was the problem with pretty girls like Batgirl. They couldn’t stand being upstaged by a woman they did not consider as glamorous as themselves. It must drive Batgirl crazy to think of the true talent I possess. I swear things haven’t changed since I was a little girl.
Unfortunately, little Lorelei could never remember a time when she was little. Always a chubby child, she spent her days growing up in the Mediterranean being teased by the boys and bullied by the girls. She responded by withdrawing and went almost an entire year without speaking a word. Her anonymity became so great that teachers forgot she was even in their classroom. Lorelei found solace in food and the many records her parents owned of all the classical operas.
When her teenage years arrived the taunts of her schoolmates became crueler. She was amazed at the lengths other kids went to make her feel worthless. The self esteem that was never allowed to develop, withered amongst the flirtations of boys that were never directed toward her and the pert little breasts that seemed to develop in all the other girls. Being big and a late bloomer left Lorelei with no friends and no outlet except music. Her singing had been her own secret. Both her parents worked and were home only to prepare dinner and sleep. Without training she knew no limits to how she should sing. With just instincts and a desire to be known for something, Lorelei Circe ventured to the big city opera to make her mark.
In first year was a disaster. Her talent was acknowledged but she seemed incapable of sustaining any stage presence. A lack of confidence was unacceptable for any aspiring diva. Miraculously, in her second year her body began to blossom. Her breasts emerged with dominance and the features that had been pointed to in her youth (‘she has such a pretty face, too bad she’s fat’) enriched to a transcending beauty. Her voice, already strong, became conquering.
Immersed with instant popularity, Lorelei considered always remembering the way she was for about an hour. Instead, she chose to adopt a commanding personality, deserving of the attention she was now feasting on. Her determination included worldwide recognition with all the spoils and humiliating all the pretty but faceless girls who stood in her way. Along the path to her stardom she discovered the unique gifts and powers of her voice. When she combined it with her sexual affection it became a dictatorial tool that further enriched her. Greed, that elusive tenet of her youth, was now hers to exploit.

When Batgirl opened her eyes she found herself in an odd position. Instead of hung from a ceiling like before she was in the center of the opera house stage sitting with her legs in front of her like a little girl. As she looked over her body to check the integrity of her costume she noticed that while everything but her Batbelt was still on her, she had a series of knots looped around her thighs, ankles, arms, wrists, and even her fingers. Just as she noticed a knot was also looped around her neck she was hoisted abruptly upwards. The lift was coordinated so each of the knots pulled evenly giving her elevation a sense of weightlessness on the way up but as she leveled in suspended animation the weight of her body began to settle on the rope around her throat. She struggled to adjust her posture for a passage to breathe.
“Hello, Batgirl,” she heard from a voice booming at her feet, “allow me to introduce myself. I am Augustus and I have been designated to be the master of ceremonies for tonight’s performance. You are our featured performer.”
Batgirl reached for the rope holding secured around her neck to pull up on it and gain slack. Just as her hands reached it, her arms involuntarily thrust outward as if reaching for things on opposite shelves. The surprise of not being able to release her strangle-hold left her desperate for relief. “What happened?” is what she would have said if the rope had allowed her any vocal command.
“I see Batgirl has found out what act she has been booked to perform this evening. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I introduce to you Batgirl, the human marionette.” At Augustus’ nod Batgirl found herself temporarily lightened by the other ropes around her arms and legs as she felt her weight shift to the ropes there. She had no control over her body as the puppeteers made her do a ridiculous jig and then Charleston. It was humiliating but a relief from choking. Eventually, Augustus’ enthusiasm waned. “Enough!” and Batgirl was again suspended by her neck over the stage.
This time she was allowed to hold the rope above her head and pull up on it. “What do you want?” she asked in a command.
“What to we want? Well, Batgirl, we boys want to get to know you better. We need to clear the air of disguises and stage make-up. We want to see the real you. So, let’s start by seeing what you have to offer beneath that costume of yours. Privilege us with your earthly beauty, Batgirl. Let’s see you strip.”
“Are you insane?” Batgirl quipped, “never.” Her arms were feeling the stress of holding up her entire body.
“Maybe you don’t realize that you have no choice in this matter, Batgirl.” Augustus’ reply was followed with another involuntary movement of her arms from the rope leaving her furtively struggling for air. To her astonishment one of her legs lifted and bent at the knee bringing her ankle close to her chest. Her hands proceeded to reach her boot and pull it off. As it dropped harmlessly to the floor her arms were freed again to grab the noose-hold. “You see, Batgirl, the Siren is more than an opera diva, she is a patron of all the arts. She has assembled the finest collection of marionette specialists who now control your movements and, I may add, your life. Please don’t disappoint them.”
“I will not subject myself to your torture. Not now, not ever.” It was all Batgirl could say to show her defiance. Physically, she was weakening.
Again, her hands pulled from the rope and met her other leg pulled up to her waist. Her movements betrayed her again as the other boot was pulled off and dropped. She quickly reached for the rope to relieve the pressure.
“I’ll make a deal with you, Batgirl. The articles you remove yourself will result in a longer respite from your garrote predicament. Come on, meet me half way.”
Batgirl knew any longer respite only fatigued her arms more and was no bargain. Nevertheless, it might spell her more time to figure how to escape. “Okay, you win,” she offered. She let go of the rope feeling her weight immediately sinking into the knot, and reached behind herself to unclasp her cape. It slid down her back along the smooth fabric of her costume and she saw it land in a heap on the stage floor.
“Very nice, Batgirl. Please enjoy your break.” Augustus smiled pleasingly.
The lactic acid in Batgirl’s biceps was building to an intolerable level as she struggled to hold herself from a sure hanging death. The fibers in the rope worked their way beneath her cowl burning her neck and chin. She looked around. Fifty feet away lay her utility belt. Row after row of empty seats offered no solutions. Above her four or five men controlled her basic movements. It looked grim.
“I’m ready for the next article, Batgirl,” the criminal laughed. She had already decided to remove her gloves. Doing so would allow her to slip off the knots on her fingers. At least that would provide her with a way to grasp something or make a fist if the situation presented itself. She took a breath and let go of the rope around her neck. She tried to work quickly but the fatigue invading her body made it difficult. The first glove came easy and she added the second glove with difficulty but to the pleasure of her captors. She flexed her hands and reached again for the neck rope. It would not be long before the rope would be burning her hands making it impossible to support herself.
Batgirl decided to gamble and with the temporary slack swing up and wrap her legs around the neck rope to relieve her arms. Even though it left her hanging upside down the transfer of weight provided refreshment. She was now looking straight down at Augustus. He had a perplexed look on his face not sure if he was enjoying the athletic display or being set up. He decided on the latter. “Times up. Which is next the top or bottom?”
“I thought you said I could have a ‘respite’ if I did as you say.” Batgirl tried to coax him into an argument to buy time.
“Nice try, gorgeous, lower her to my level.” Her stamina and unwillingness to give up impressed him. He wanted to break her. Descending to his level their eyes were locked. His with admiration, hers trying to see his weaknesses. When her feet hit the ground it provided a welcomed easement from the ropes. “I think I will help you with the rest of your costume. Let’s see how we do this.”
After searching her up and down he finally found the hidden seam in the back of her costume. He guided the zipper down and pulled the tunic forward. When it got stuck on the ropes around her arms he carefully removed the knots from one arm, then the half of the costume. He repeated the procedure on the other side. Because of the heat that summer introduced Batgirl often did not wear a bra under her costume. Tonight was no exception and she stood there barefoot and topless her only privacy being her mask and pants. She thought about taking a shot at him but, with her fatigue, if she missed the effort may leave her with no power to avoid strangulation. She stood in front of him, slightly slumped and less the warrior. He wasted no time in pawing her inspiring breasts and tweaking her nipples.
“I can’t wait for the prize, Batgirl, how about you.” Augustus began loosening the knots around her thighs.
“Good,” thought Batgirl, “when he releases my ankles I’ll have him.” She waited patiently for him to work, knowing that each extra second of his effort made her recovery more powerful. Finally, he had both upper thigh ropes removed. “Wait for your move, Barbara, wait for your move,” was the mantra Batgirl repeated to herself. But the moment never arrived. Just when she thought he would kneel to loosen her ankles she felt the cord tighten around her neck. Instinctively, she raised her arms to grab the line. As her body escalated Augustus clutched her waistband. His grasp was tight enough so that the combination of her ascension with his holding ensured that the coordinated movement resulted in her pants and panties being left at her ankles as she swung slightly in the air.
Her humiliation was complete. She had a cadre of men staring at her exposed body and the only way to cover herself meant releasing her hold of the noose bringing a horrible death. As she hung there her thoughts ranged from embarrassment because she went out without shaving her armpits or her mostly bare pubis (she knew the stubs would be evident in both places) to a fierce anger at her tormentors. This gave her the resolve that she would survive, if for no other reason than revenge.
With her freed arms Batgirl held on to the rope with renewed vigor. Her next humiliation would soon reveal itself as the ropes around her ankles pulled up and in opposite directions leaving her in a suspended spread eagle. Almost immediately, she felt herself being lowered. Her descent resembled the way this started with her in a sitting position, legs wide apart. Only this time her bottom would not reach the floor but the awaiting tongue of Augustus.
Left with her vagina exposed Augustus began a lapping field day, tonguing his way all around her legs and labia. He was surprisingly agile at the task and despite Batgirl’s determination to resist the pleasure, he began to break her resolve. He began to probe his tongue inside her cunt and as her clitoris responded with a stiffening force. He pulled at it with his thumb and forefinger repeatedly. The grabbing and his slippery release started bringing Batgirl to a climax. Her moans increased from a whisper to yelps. As her tenacity melted into ecstasy her hands slipped from the rope and she was left dangling. Each sensation, the pain and the pleasure, was leaving her gasping for breath. She thought about those women who combine their orgasms with near death experiences. The sensation was indeed as intense as anything she had ever experienced. Sadly, she thought as her eyes rolled back into her head, I’ll never have a chance to beat this.

Bruce returned to Wayne Manor gone for perhaps a week but it might as well been a lifetime. The first thing he noticed was several priceless paintings missing off walls in the entrance and walls in the living room. When he called for help no one responded. At the top of his lungs he screamed for Alfred who eventually emerged with a distant attitude. “Yes, Mister Wayne, what is it?”
“Alfred, where is everyone? Where are my painting from the Golden Age?”
“The staff was let go and the paintings, I imagine, are with Miss Cerce, Mr. Wayne.”
“Lorelei Circe, the opera singer? That’s ridiculous. By whose instruction were those carried out?”
“Yours on both counts, Mister Wayne. Don’t you remember?”
“Of course not, Alfred, why would I instruct something so off the wall…” It started coming back to him. A prolonged dream sequence of music and sex and irrational generosity all for the Siren’s benefit materialized “Alfred, how bad is it? Can I still undo this mess?”
“I’m sure between your lawyers and Batman there is a solution, Mister Wayne. May I ask a question? How do I know on whose benefit you are acting right now?”
“Her songs, her magic doesn’t last - the hypnotic effect must be re-charged. When I catch that bitch-cunt I am going to give her a taste of justice that will teach her to come to our country and plunder.”
“Welcome back, sir. It’s good to see you are back to your ‘enlightened’ ways.”

Batgirl was re-acquainted with her senses with gentle pats on her cheeks. Augustus was holding her head with one hand and rousing her with the other. “I thought we were going to lose you for a moment, Batgirl. That would be a shame because I am not finished with you yet.”
Dazed, she was not sure how long she had been out or what had happened during her unconsciousness. She feared the worst. Her pants were now completely off. Her fears were further exacerbated by the reattachment of the ropes on her arms and thighs. “What have you done to me, you beast?”
“Batgirl, I’m hurt,” he said mockingly, “when I violate you I want you to see it, see it all. As a matter of fact let’s ensure that.” Augustus then reached under her chin and lifted off her mask and cowl.
With the final layer of her protection exposed, Barbara sat there glaringly - wishing she could stare deep enough into him to make him explode.
“Come on, red, let’s finish this thing. You know, you look familiar.” Despite the de-masking her red wig remained firmly on her head offering her, after all, some last level of disguise.
Her body again was lifted high enough for him to massage her bottom and still sensitive vagina. She quickly succumbed to his touch as the effects of the last orgasm where still fresh in the memory of her clitoris. He undid the belt on his toga and produced his penis that Batgirl had to look at twice to fathom. It only appeared about three inches long but its thickness was of monstrous proportions. Easily it had to six inches in circumference. There was no way she could handle his grotesque dimensions without severely injuring her sex. Now fully erect it seemed to grow in thickness rather than length. He was going to split her.
As Batgirl was lowered her legs were spread again and she began to fear bleeding to death over strangling. She debated letting go of the rope and dying to avoid the rape. Then she saw her light.
Augustus worked furiously at maintaining his erection. Apparently, performance anxiety was influencing his manhood. As he looked down at himself and coaxed himself on, Batgirl discreetly began to swing, front to back. Timing her motions perfectly she wrapped her legs tightly around his neck and, once locked, twisting using his shoulders as a pivot. She heard a snap and felt his body collapse. She continued to hold him and that extra weight combined with a Herculean pull down on the ropes with her arms caused all the puppeteers to come flying off the scaffolding falling a good 25 feet to their death or disfiguration.
She looked around for more henchmen to take on but none emerged. Exhausted but with more battles to wage, Batgirl gathered her outfit, piece by piece, and headed off stage to change.

After securing the mask and cowl over her head again Batgirl checked over her uniform and utility belt. Everything seemed in order. She quickly turned and spirited up the stairs to the Siren’s suite. After what she had been through she could only imagine what they did to Robin. She wondered if Robin knew about the first humiliation he endured. It happened during his blowjob. As the Siren’s song increased the throbbing commotion in Robin’s green shorts she saw him reach out and gesture towards the Siren’s nymphs. Seeing him so swollen she almost hoped the Siren would allow her to relieve Robin. Instead, Robin’s relief was not one of the nymphs as he probably thought but rather one of the boys the Siren had in her entourage. Judging by Robin’s reaction he didn’t much care but the psychological impact if he discovered the truth could be devastating. She hoped he was spared.
Batgirl reached the door and put her ear to it to listen if they were still in there. Hearing nothing she shouldered open the door only to find Robin still hanging from the ceiling, blindfolded, and with his shorts still at his ankles. He appeared to be unconscious. She first removed his blindfold and saw that his eyes were still closed. She gazed down at his penis, now completely at rest. It was impressive. It almost looked bigger than Bruce’s but that was because Robin’s body was smaller. However, proportionately he probably had one on his mentor. Out of courtesy and respect she bent down and pulled his briefs up. Although she tried to make this as easy a move as possible she only made the situation look more ridiculous. As she slid the shorts up, the waist band caught his limp member and lifted it with the material. Now the head of his manhood poked out over the briefs. She did her best to adjust him by pulling the waistband toward her with one hand and taking his shaft with the other to try and push it down into a position that looked comfortable. Still trying to place it right she heard Robin speak out, “I knew you could only resist me for so long.”
Embarrassed that he felt good in her hand, she immediately took her hand out of his pouch and fumbled for an explanation. She decided to ignore his suggestions.
“Come on, finish what you’ve started.” Sure enough she had started something. Despite her clinical touch Robin was once again sporting a sizable green pup tent.
“Sorry, darling, this one is yours alone to deal with,” Batgirl finally replied. “So, fill me in Robin,” as she lifted him with surprising ease from the hook that held him aloft. As he worked out the knots holding his wrists together, Batgirl took his mask out from her utility belt and said, “I believe this is yours.”
Robin hemmed and hawed about what happened next. She assumed it entailed more sexual escapades. Batgirl did not know how to approach the subject delicately but she finally came up with, “Did they take the blindfold off of you at all?”
“No, that was the weird thing and I wish they had because that second girl was freaky. She kept putting her fingers up my poop chute and all as she blew me.”
“Ah, Robin, that’s enough. I do not need those details.” Poor kid, Batgirl thought, if he only knew. “Anyway, anything else, Robin. Do you know where they went?”
“Well, during the heat of passion - er, I mean battle - I might have let the location of the Batcave slip.”
“You told them that the Batcave is below Wayne Manor? Robin, how could you?”
“I didn’t tell them that but I did give a fairly accurate route description along the back roads way. They should not be able to tell its on Wayne property but it should be detailed enough for them to find it.”
“How long ago was that, Robin?”
“I’m not sure, maybe a half hour ago.”
“We don’t have much time. We must get there immediately!”

Like a drunk being pulled over by a cop the effects of the Siren’s trance were quickly wearing off Bruce. He called his team of lawyers and laid the foundation to reverse his actions. They counseled that in previous cases involving the Siren as soon as she showed up in court the judges all seemed to side with her. Bruce told them he wanted an all-female legal crew to come up with an effective strategy by end of business tomorrow.
On the path to straighten out his personal affairs, Bruce now headed to the study to reacquaint himself with his civic duties as Batman. He pulled the head back on the bust and activated the secret sliding door to the Batcave. Dressing on the costume mezzanine, he went over the series of events that made him so vulnerable to the Siren’s charms. First, her music had hypnotic powers that made the victim susceptible to her commands. He could fight that with Bat-earplugs. There seemed to be different degrees of control she had. If she actually had sex with the victims the effects seemed to be stronger and last longer. He needed to avoid contact with her at all costs. It would require super human control but he felt confident the uniform gave him that power. Noting the earplugs were down in the cave he headed down the pole with his cowl in his hand.
Hitting the cushioned landing, he burst toward the supply cabinet like a sprinter out of the blocks. He stopped in mid step when he saw the Siren and her remaining entourage standing at one of the Bat-computers, waiting for him.
“Well, for once in my life I am speechless,” cooed the Siren. Indeed, she was so shocked she could not even muster a note.
Batman stood in place, calm, and canvassing the room for the number of thugs accompanying her. He was determined not to make his revealed identity a problem in rounding these criminals up.
“To think, all this time I was trying to capture Batman, I thought it would give me absolute control of Gotham City, and all along I had him. It’s a good thing I didn’t have you kill yourself as I had planned.”
“So what will it be, Lorelei?” Batman asked. He wanted to start a conversation so he could ease his way inconspicuously to the Bat-cabinet.
“Well, Batman, this becomes much simpler. You see, I really don’t want to sleep with every millionaire in Gotham City. So now all I have to do is sleep with the ones I like and have you take the things I want from the rest.”
“It won’t work. People will know something is up,” Batman challenged.
“I have judges and newspapers on my side. I become the enchanted and you become the hated criminal.”
“The police will never allow it.” Batman made a dash for the cabinet. Just as he reached it, the Siren hit a single note, two octaves above high C and froze Batman in his tracks. Holding the note, Batman stepped away and said, “Yes, Siren?”
“Batman I want you to start your evil ways immediately. I have Commissioner Gordon waiting for me in the van. He thinks I am going to screw him again - men, they fuck you once and think you want them all the time. Anyway, I want you to go in there and kill him. I don’t really care how but after doing it you will call the Police Chief and confess your crime. Understand?”
“Yes, Siren.” Batman began to walk zombie like to the van. However, his superior will power began to fight off the Siren’s command and he stopped his path and transferred her command to one of her henchmen and took a swing at him.
“Batman, stop!” and again the Siren hit the high C and forced Batman to cease. She held the note longer and walked up to him forcing him to backtrack until his back was pressed up against a cave wall. “It appears I will have to give you the special treatment, Batman. Stay against the wall.” She sang a most erotic song that seemed by facial appearances to have him but when she looked to his outfit she saw no evidence of excitement. She began again but still no reaction. Finally, she instructed him to pull his pants to his knees and doing so he released the massive bat-pole. “There, that is what I am used to.”
Batman stood there waiting instruction. The Siren continued, “You know if I have to fuck you I want to enjoy the total fantasy. Put your mask back on. I will vanquish the Caped Crusader.
Responding immediately to her command Batman took the cowl still tight in his hand and pulled it over his head adjusting the position of the eyeholes to the perfect fit. He tried to fight the urge to succumb but the pulsing of his erection was winning the feud. He secured the mask under his chin and said, “I am ready, Siren.”
“Right,” the Siren responded distantly in acknowledgement. She approached him gingerly, eyeing him up and down, wowed by the larger than life spectacle of this hooded man in sleek battle-wear. His costume and storied reputation were worthy of any of the great operas. She paced back and forth several times soaking in his power. The power she was about to control. Abruptly, she stopped in front of him and grabbed his cock just below the head. She pushed and pulled it vigorously a few strokes while looking into his face. She wanted to just see Batman and his mystery, not the man under the mask. Each stroke of her hand increased the rock-hard readiness of his dick. She could feel it surging with power. She let her toga slip from her shoulders to the floor. “Are you ready to fuck me, Batman?”
Before Batman could answer they was a small explosion followed by a commotion near the entrance of the cave. The Siren turned her head and saw Batgirl and Robin quickly dispatch with her two designated keepers of the gate with synchronized body blows and knock out punches. The skirmish barely broke their collective stride and they advanced toward the wall where she had Batman compromised.
“Marathon, Ulysses get them!” she ordered. “Girls do what you can to help!” She knew that despite the advantage in numbers her strongest and most able warriors were at the theatre where they were supposed to have eliminated Batgirl. Now here she was ruining her moment again. “Why must these skinny girls always ruin my fun.”
She wondered if she could screw Batman quick enough to enlist his aid but remembering the sex she had had with Bruce, she knew he could fuck from the beginning to the end of a symphony. Panicking, she hoped her crew could somehow hold them off so she could escape. Wondering what to do she realized through all this action she was still standing next to Batman and stroking his engorged lance. As Batgirl and Robin approached with determined looks. Marathon and Ulysses braced to handle the Boy Wonder and the four nymphs made a mad dash at Batgirl.
Fighting people who are used to a good fracas is easier than the unpredictable charge of teenage girls with no set plan. They reached Batgirl all at the same time so she was not able to position them for her best defense. The momentum of the four bodies made Batgirl fall out of control on her back. The scratching, slapping, and pulling at her costume made it difficult to fend off the attack from her disadvantaged position. She tried pushing the girls off her with her hands and legs but their lithe bodies twisted and slipped out of Batgirl’s grasp. Rolling didn’t work either as she was surrounded laterally. She finally grabbed one girl’s hair but that only served to make all of them outraged at her and they increased their fury.
Robin took Ulysses out quickly and engaged in a drawn out fistfight with Marathon. Although the Boy Wonder easily was landing more blows the thug had incredible stamina and kept coming back at him. Robin couldn’t put him out. Every time he thought he had a clear upper hand, Ulysses would get back on his feet only to be knocked down again quickly. This diversion allowed Marathon to regroup. Without a lot of practice Robin began to worry about his own ability to keep up at this pace. He glanced over at Batgirl to see if she would be helping him soon only to discover the girls holding her down as they tore off the top of her Bat costume. The distraction was proving more difficult than the fight as Robin alternated punches with glances over at the catfight. Wrestling with Batgirl earlier was nice but seeing her on her back with those magnificent orbs recoiling back and forth as she struggled with all those luscious girls who were in various states of undress themselves made for the type of theatre college boys dream about. A surefire crushing shot whizzed by his chin returning him to his clash. Reacquainted with the seriousness of his struggle he was now handicapped by the swelling lump in his briefs. The sight of his crime fighting partner’s all girl engagement put his dick on autopilot and he responded like a 19-year-old boy. His concentration was thwarted and Marathon moved in as he and Robin locked hands. Each tried to exert control by driving the other back through the strength of their legs.
“It must be difficult to fight when you’re thinking about your next blow job, huh Robin?” Marathon goaded him.
“Don’t worry, I can handle you and have my dick sucked at same time,” Robin charged back, furious that his boner was noticed.
“Think so? Last time you preferred me just to do the latter,” Marathon countered quipped.
“What are your talking about?” Robin did not understand his suggestive tone in the middle of an epic fight.
Suddenly, Marathon slipped his left hand out of Robin’s right hand and inserted it under the green briefs and directly on Robin’s hard tool. “Feel familiar, Robin? Or should I put my velvet gloves back on?” He pulled playfully on the young superhero’s meat.
The recognition of the touch shocked him and realization of his blindfolded encounter caused Robin’s temper to snap. He head butted Marathon squarely sending him back and stunned. He then took three steps and propelled himself airborne with his foot aimed to strike and crush his violator’s face.

Seeing young Robin’s hard-on while fighting Marathon, the Siren was reminded that she could control him and the sequestered Commissioner Gordon with one well pitched note. She let go of Batman’s waiting rocket and stood to position herself to sing. She inhaled deeply just as Robin connected with the kick to Marathon. The impact made Marathon’s body propelled him backwards, crashing into her and causing her to lose her balance. She spun but as she collapsed her mouth fell directly on to the stiff eleven-inch python of Batman. The angle in which she fell made him penetrate her mouth completely and despite his spell, Batman instinctively grabbed the back of her neck and refused to let the Siren pull away from sucking him off. The more she tried to push away the more he held her in place.

Robin landed on his feet and pirouetted back toward Ulysses. He saw the glass jawed thug on all fours struggling to rise but Robin sent him down for good with a sharp upper-cutting kick that snapped the hooligan’s head back and almost lifted him off the ground. Shattered and senseless, Ulysses hit the ground without any break to his fall. Robin was blind with fury and frustrated that he could not reverse what had happened. With a spin that whistled the wind he turned his focus to the struggle Batgirl was suffering through.

The skirmish Batgirl was enduring was more annoying than defeating. She hadn’t been gain control but she was not being pummeled either. Stripped of her top she lost important armor and the girls took advantage of her exposure by pulling and twisting her nipples (which had become quite erect by the ploy) and biting her on her arms, shoulders, and breasts. She tried to concentrate on one girl at a time but they moved so frenetically that her better strategy lay in holding them off until they lost their interest.
Suddenly, she saw one of the girls literally fly off of her as being sucked away. Through a clearance she saw that Robin had lifted her with one arm and thrown her back. Another one of the girls was soon airborne as well as Robing resembled a kid pulling off the wrapping paper of a highly anticipated gift. In no time he had discarded her tormentors leaving her still on her back and slightly breathless. Her chest heaved and arched up as she absorbed some oxygen. She straightened her mask that had gone askew as the girls tried to pull it off. Robin hovered over her and she thought he was going to extend a hand to help her up. Instead, he fell to his knees between her legs and began fumbling to get a grip on the waistband of her pants. He tried to pull them down forcibly. Thankfully, the clinging fabric and his inability to work them quickly around her butt gave Batgirl time to react. “Robin, what are you doing?” she screamed at him. He offered no reply and now had managed to lower her kevlar tights to the top of her thighs, exposing her stubbled mons pubis for the second time that night.
Robin reached into his briefs and pulled out his conditioned member. The tip was already lathered in pre-cum and he reached for Batgirl’s right breast and clutched it tightly, not romantically. “Robin, get the fuck off of me right now,” Batgirl commanded with a seething anger. She looked beyond his mask and into his eyes but they were vacant. She realized that he was not in control of his actions. It did not resemble the tranced look of the Siren’s victims. It was more demonic.
He wasn’t restraining her so she recoiled and let go with a jarring right to his jaw followed by a bruising slug near his temple. He fell sideways, over her leg, and she scrambled to retreat to a position of more defensive posture. However, Robin did not advance. He stood up, shook his head, and looked over at the Siren bent over and piping Batman. He walked over with his dick still hanging out at attention, and stood behind the Siren. He made some exaggerated gestures with his hands as if sizing up her big butt then placed his hands on her hips and plunged in.

The Siren’s plan was not working at all. In fact she had lost all control and was now in fearing the real danger of losing her weapon and her gift. She always was careful to avoid oral sex. Her livelihood was her voice and she protected it vigorously. She never took anyone deeper than the head of their penis and always in the beginning of foreplay to avoid any early ejaculators. Now, she was not only going deep but doing so on one of the largest cocks she could imagine. She felt each of his thrusts bruising the back of her throat and his penetration was stretching her air passageway. She thought about al the opportunities she had to practice fellatio in the past but had always been too eager to immerse dicks into her pussy. Suddenly, amidst her worrying, she felt the intrusion of a large dick entering her from behind. She had no idea who it was but the culprit was pumping into her fast and furiously. When the combined thrusts coincided she felt her vocal cords tearing. Tears welled in her eyes as her greed and revenge were revealing their shallow rewards.

Despite Robin’s above average girth he had trouble staying in the Siren. The syndication of his angle of penetration and the size of her butt made him keep slipping out. All he wanted to do was cum and prove that it was women that turned him on not men. After Batgirl rebuked him he chose to fuck the Siren instead of one of the nymphs because he also wanted to teach her a lesson for disgracing him so. Each time he entered her he tried to pump as quickly as his hips would move but each time he began to get to the point of exploding he fell out and was flopping in the air. Now he felt that he was in good enough and he was finally going to get off. But she shifted and out he popped again. This time he said enough and directed his dick into her anus whereby he immediately detonated his tonnage. The abrupt invasion of her ass made the Siren emit a shriek that shattered several computer screens despite it being muffled by Batman’s dick. As she yelped, Batman jettisoned his seed deep into her cavity filling her mouth and coating her throat. Both pulled out of her at the same time and she collapsed onto the floor. Batman and Robin looked at each other and swapped smirks. They acquainted themselves with a new level of bonding.
They pulled up their respective costumes and moved toward each other. They stood apart from each for a moment then Batman extended his hand, which Robin accepted with respect.
“Welcome home, chum,” Batman paternalistically entreated. He put his arm around Robin and walked toward Batgirl who had fully reassembled her costume and was brushing herself off. He wanted to say something meaningful to her but the look he was receiving from her told him to keep it official. “Why don’t you take your father back to Gotham City while Robin and I clean up the riff raff here.
“Her father?” Robin repeated. I thought Commissioner Gordon was in the van.”
“Come Robin,” Batman began as he turned the Boy Wonder around, “You and I have a lot of catching up to do.”

About a week later Barbara finally returned Bruce’s calls and agreed to meet him in the afternoon at Wayne Manor. She had spent the week in seclusion, not even seeing Lawrence, because she did not know how to explain the teeth marks in her bosoms and the rope burn on her neck. She had chosen the afternoon because she intended to go from Wayne Manor to Lawrence’s upper Eastside townhouse.
Thankfully, the conversation skipped the usual banal pleasantries. Bruce informed her that the Siren and crew were in jail and awaiting trial. In the struggle (his words) the Siren sustained permanent damage to her vocal chords that made her incapable of re-entering the world of crime. For good measure they made sure all memories of their revealed identities were erased. Robin had gone back to school.
“Are you sure Dick is all right?” Barbara interrupted, “that night - or was it morning by then - in the Batcave he was possessed.”
“Well, you have to understand he had been through a lot in a very short period and the revelation of what happened during his capture was a bit overwhelming.”
“What I do understand, thank you very much, is that I have had to deal with many rapists in my brief career either fending them off or pursuing them and, let me tell you, he had the same look in his eyes as they do.”
“Barbara, I think that opinion is a bit extreme. Afterall, he is not the same product of the streets as the scum you and I have dealt with.”
Without pausing, Bruce continued, “Barbara, I want you back in my life. I know that these past few months have been difficult but I still think we belong together. And, I think you know it, too. I miss you. You represent the best relationship I ever had.”
His words and delivery were sincere. Maybe with the most sincerity she ever heard come from his mouth. “Bruce…I still love you, probably I always will. But this is not a good time for us to be together. There is still too much hurt and anger in me to be with you right now. Besides, I have started seeing someone else.”
Bruce had prepared for many of her potential objections but the revelation that someone else was in the picture took him by surprise. “You are? I can’t believe it. Whom may I ask are you seeing?”
“Lawrence Pierce, I met him the day after I caught you screwing the Siren.”
“But Barbara, that’s not fair. I was under her spell. I can’t be accountable for my actions with her.”
“I’m not so sure about that, Bruce. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I like him and I want to be with him right now.”
“Larry is an egghead. Couldn’t you come up with someone wimpier? What does he have that I don’t? Let me guess. Barbara, you are selling out for more money.”
“Don’t be ridiculous or cruel. It doesn’t become you. I care for him, Bruce. All this money - mine, yours, his - has never meant much to me. And his name is Lawrence, he doesn’t like ‘Larry’.”
“Well, I hope you and Larry are happy. Thanks for stopping by. I really thought you were different, Barbara Gordon.”
She did not want to fight him. He was wrong but he was wrong because he was hurt and she could not help him in that regard. He had to come to terms with their relationship by himself. She stood up and said a meek good-bye.

The ride from Wayne Manor to Lawrence’s townhouse was like two different trips. She left the estate sad and unsure. However, as the car maneuvered its way back into the City she began to feel a budding excitement at seeing Lawrence again. She liked the way he referred to her as his ‘Downtown girl’. She needed his embrace and to share a bed all night long with him. Barbara flung open the car door and ran up the stoop to ring his bell. He answered himself and let her into the entrance. Suitcases and computer bags were aligned.
“Lawrence, where are you going? I thought we were going to spend the night together.” Her heart was sinking.
“I know, Barbara darling, but something has come up unexpectedly on the coast and I must attend to it personally.”
“Can’t it wait? Can’t I came with you?” She sounded like a pouting child and she knew it, but tonight she needed to be selfish.
“I’m sorry but I can’t accommodate you on either front. It’s terribly pressing and my jet is waiting for me.”
“But you were going to show me your library.” She knew her little girl act would wear thin soon but she couldn’t mask her disappointment. Her spirit thirsted for affirmation after the difficult afternoon with Bruce. “Are you leaving me?”
“Hey Downtown girl, I will return and, when I shall, it will be memorable.” The driver let himself in and grabbed some bags. Lawrence grabbed the rest of the luggage and turned to her as he was slipping out the door, “I promise: your uptown affair has more chapters to follow.”

(How far uptown will Batgirl venture? What surprises does Lawrence have in store for her? Stay tuned. Part 2 to be released in the real new millennium…)

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