MY LIFE OF CRIME

Part 3

by

FLEXMAN

Please send comments to flexman3@hotmail.com

The characters in this story, with the exception Riley Parkin and Kitty, all belong to DC comics. This is a not for profit story. No one under eighteen should read it.

I like to thank the following people for their ideas and contributions to this story: Blinkmanx, Lastdracon and special thanks to Raven for allowing me to use the dialogue from one of his “Comics That Never Were” on The Wizard’s Lair website.

          Her name is Miranda Herrera. Her nickname is Kitty; it was given to her by her former boss and lover, Selina Kyle, the Catwoman. At the time Miranda thought it was stupid, but it stuck and now it’s what anyone calls her. Since she left Selina, a year ago, with a cool million dollars in an overseas bank account, things have gone well. She went back to school and finished her masters in software engineering. Her new degree, along with her years of experience as a programer, got her a good job at a consulting firm. She

found the work challenging and it beat sitting in an office all day writing code. Her life was good, until today, when it took a turn for the worse. At the moment, she’s not sure if she should be scared or annoyed. She was walking back to her car, a new red Porsche, when it happened. Apparently, she was kidnaped. Apparently, because she couldn’t remember how it happen. One minute she was walking out of the client’s office building, on to the parking lot. Someone, a woman she thinks, wearing a big overcoat, walked up behind her. Kitty remembered turning around to look at her, then everything went black. Next thing she knew she woke up in this empty warehouse with her.

          “What do you want?” Kitty asks.

          “We need your help with a database,” she answered with an annoying giggle. “And we’re willing to pay you for your services.”

          “You fucking idiot!” Kitty screams. “Why didn’t you just hire me? It’s how I make my living. You didn’t have to kidnap me.”

          “Well, it’s not that simply. You see, we need you to break in to a database, some else’s database and we can’t take no for an answer.”

          Kitty was about to say this would not be the first time she broke in to some else’s network, but held her tongue, thinking it would not be a good idea to reveal that little tidbit to Harley Quinn. Yes, Kitty knew who she was, Selina spoke of her often, with a great deal of disdain and even venom. She clearly hated this bitch. Her real name is Doctor Harlene Quinzel. She use to be a shrink until she hooked up with Joker and literally went mad. Kitty use to think Selina was exaggerating, now she could see she wasn’t. The bitch looks like a lunatic. Aside from the way Harley was dressed, she has this perpetual moronic smile on her face, she talks with an annoying childish glee and that fucking giggle grades on Kitty’s nerves. She gives the impression she’d giggle at the wind. To make matters worst, these two big, fearsome, ugly dogs sat by her feet, on either side of her. Kitty isn’t sure what kind of dogs they are, but they are ugly. They’re sitting there glaring at her with a stone cold look on their faces.  

          “Whose database?” Kitty inquires.

          “Lex-Corps.”

          “Forget it! You’re insane. Lex-Corps spends more on their computer security then both of us will ever make in three life times. There’s no way I can hack in to it.”

          One of the dogs growled at her. “You should try,” Harley suggests.

          “Look, you don’t know what you’re talking about. The second I get anywhere near their network, they’ll know it and trace it back here. Lex Luthor doesn’t call the cops, he’ll send his own security force and he doesn’t use five dollar an hour rent a cops. Those guys are storm trooper, their philosophy is shoot first, shoot second, keep shooting until you’re out of bullets and if there’s anybody left alive and you really, really feel like it, ask a question. It’s plain suicide.”

          That obnoxious smile again. “Oh, how disappointing,” Harley says. “This is very important to my friend and she hates being disappointed. If I were you I’d try.”

          “I can’t do it, it’s too sophisticated,” Kitty argues. “I’d be in over my head.”

          Harley walks closer. The two dogs stand up and follow at her heels. She stops less then a foot from Kitty, her smile grows ever wider and now both dogs growl.

          “I don’t think I made myself clear, so I’ll try again. This is really important to my friend. If my friend is disappointed, then I’m disappointed, and if I’m disappointed then my two babies here get upset, usually at what I’m disappointed at. Do you really want Bud and Lou here upset at you?”

          Kitty realizes she’s scared and isn’t sure what to do. As if reading her mind Harley continues. “I know, you’re a consultant, why don’t you make a recommendation? If you can’t do it, you must know someone who can. You’re in the business, you been around, make a suggestion.”

          For a moment Kitty’s mind is blank, then a name pops in. She resists, but her fear wins out. “I know someone who might be able to do it. He’s the best hacker I know.”

          “Where can we find him?

          “I don’t know where he hangs out, but I can call him.”

          Harley produces Kitty’s cell phone. “Well, give the boy a call, have him come over. By the way, what’s his name?”

          “Riley Parkin.”

          After that fucking bitch trashed my truck I was pissed. After I arranged to have my truck towed and got an estimate on the repairs, it got up to rage. Good thing I had nothing to drive, the way I was feeling, I would have ploughed in to someone and killed them. Fortunately, I didn’t, so I had to walk back to Bat’s apartment. The thirty-five minute walk gave me a chance to cool off. By the time I got there the anger died down and I was thinking again.

          I wanted Bruce Wayne to make a mistake and give me an opening. After I cooled down and got over my anger I realized Black Canary had made that mistake for him. Aside from making it personal by trashing my truck, she also revealed she knew I was sleeping with both Batgirl and Huntress. She should never have opened her mouth, no pun intended. Before I ran in to her today, the only thing I was worried about was Wayne suspecting Cats and I were behind getting Luthor the La Chiron’s bid to the middle east project. Now, thanks to Black Canary, I know Wayne knows more about me. The big question is how does he know? If I can figure that out I might be able to do something about it.

          The first thing I did when I got back to Bat’s apartment was sweep the place for bugs, there were none. Then I checked the computers for spyware, still nothing. So the question is still how do they know? I didn’t tell anyone and I know neither Bats or Hunty did either. I plan to sweep Hunty’s place tomorrow, but I’m not holding my breath. So, I’m back to square one, how do they know? I’m missing something. I’m missing a lot actually, but I have to concentrate on one step at a time. Ok, wait a minute, turn it around, how would I do it? Well, first I’d bug the place and hack in to their computer, but they haven’t done that, so what else is there? After a couple of minutes it hits me. I walk to the window and look out at the street. Surveillance! that’s it, I’d put the place under surveillance. It’s perfect, both Bats and Hunty’s buildings have certain things in common, neither has a build in garage, there’s a parking structures a block away where the tenants of all the buildings on the block park their cars. Both buildings have service entrances for when people move in and out, but that’s the only time they’re used. That means if I wanted to observe who’s regularly comes in and out of these buildings all I have to do is watch the two entrances, the one in front and in the back. Two buildings, four entrances. Bruce Wayne can certainly afford to hire four teams to keep round the clock watch on those doors. In fact, now that I think about it, he doesn’t even have to involve so many people, he can use cameras. One trained on each door, then scan the footage periodically and makes a list of everyone who goes in and out, easy. Where would I set them up? A van on the street would do it, but that would be too conspicuous. The buildings across the street from each entrances? Yeah, but where? Not the roof, it’d have to be an apartment, third floor or higher would be best to get above the traffic.

          It’s a nice theory, now let’s see if it plays out. Showtime. The Gem Hadar government announced the winning bid six and half weeks ago, I have to assume this surveillance has been going on for at least that long. First I hack in to Gotham City Hall Of Records, bureau of records, wills and deeds, and find out who owns the apartment buildings, and who the management companies are that run them. Then I hack in to their records and find out how many apartments they rented out in the last six weeks, and more importantly, to whom. I narrow the process a bit by limiting the search to apartments that have a clear view of the entrances of the buildings. If Bruce Wayne rented these apartments, he’d cover his tracks by using aliases. Of course, that leads to the bigger question of how he even knows Bats and Hunty’s secret identities, but I’ll worry about that later. I’m just concentrating on what’s in front of me. The way this works is to do it one step at a time. It’s like a puzzle, the more pieces you put together, the more clearer the picture becomes. Anyway, once I have a list of the apartments rented, I check out the people who rented them. One of them is Bruce Wayne’s phony tenant. I determine which one by breaking down the alias. This is not as hard as it seems because land lords ask a lot of questions before they rent an apartment out to someone, including their social security number. They want to know if a potential tenant has a job and can pay their rent on time, do they have a history being an assholes to their neighbors, do they have a history of trashing apartments, shit like that, so I have a lot of material to work with. Give me enough data on someone and I’ll break any alias, I don’t care how well it’s been set up. The process is not difficult, it’s just methodical and time consuming. I expect to be at it all night and well in to tomorrow.

          Imagine my surprise when I stumble on to the whole deal in less then fifteen minutes. What I found is that the owner and management company of the four buildings are all the same, Wayne Reality, a subdivision of Wayne Industries. Holy shit, Bruce Wayne doesn’t have to cover his tracks, he owns the fucking buildings, he can do whatever he wants. In fact, after checking the hall of records database, it’s obvious Bruce Wayne may be the biggest landlord in Gotham City. That makes me uncomfortable because it gives me a nasty idea. I check it out and I’m right, Bruce Wayne also owns the buildings where Bats and Hunty live.

          Shit, that explains how Bruce Wayne knows Bats and Hunty’s secret identities. Some genius I am, I been going out with them and hanging out in their apartments for a year, and it never occurred to me to ask how they both got secret rooms for their uniforms and equipment and garages, with hidden street doors, for their cycles. What was I thinking, every building has an apartment with hidden rooms, the super heroine suite? Bruce Wayne had those things built in for them. Bats and Hunty must work for him? Black Canary works for him, that’s for sure. How about Batman and Robin? Does Bruce Wayne run every super hero in Gotham City? What a set up. I remember last year when I was blackmailing Bats, I got a hold of her diary. She never mention Bruce Wayne, but she did write a lot about Batman. She was always going on about how he never treated Hunty and her as equals, about how he always used them as errant girls and they always felt like he was holding them back. He kept control of them because he was their sole provider of intelligence and equipment. Now, thanks to me, that’s no longer true, but I’m thinking maybe Batman is just a front man for Wayne, passing along his orders to Bats, Hunty and all the other heros and keeping them in line for him. Wait a sec, he deals with Black Canary directly, why her and not Bats and Hunty? Maybe he’s fucking her. Maybe he goes for long legged blonds, who knows? I still have to figure out which apartments they have the cameras set up in, that’s important. I hack in to Wayne Realty’s database and find them. Each of the four buildings have an apartment, with the right view, that was taken off the market four weeks ago, by order of management. I note their numbers, get my equipment and I’m on my way.

          First I stop at the local Dunkin Donuts and pick up two boxes of donuts. If a neighbor looks out their peep hole and sees me hanging around the hallway, they’re less likely to get suspicious if they see me carrying boxes of donuts. They’ll think I’m visiting someone. I go to the building across the street of the front entrance of Bats’ apartment building first. I pick the front door lock and I’m in. The apartment is on the fifth floor, I take the stairs up. The apartment number is 5H, it dead center. Earlier this year I came up with this wall mike for Bats and Hunty. It helps them listen through walls. It’s capable of listening through up to twenty inches of solid concrete. It’s super sensitive, it’ll pick up any sound. I use it to listen for several minutes, there are no sounds coming from inside, no talking, no movement, nothing. Now comes the hard part, I gently knock. No answer, knock again, still no response. Ok, I pick the lock and slowly open the door. It’s dark inside. I’m wearing gloves and I have my pen light with me. I put the box of donuts down on the floor and check the door for any signs of an alarm system, I don’t see any. I go in and shut the door behind me. I walk through the place, I’m alone. There’s no furniture, the apartment is vacant, but I do find what I came here for. In the living room, next to the large picture window, pointing down at entrance to Bat’s apartment building, across the street, is the surveillance camera. I even recognize the make, it’s a model 3600, right out of the Wayne Electronics catalogue. Nice equipment, I’m tempted to take it with me, but I’m here to look, not touch. I don’t want them to know I’ve been here. I see what I need to know, the camera is sending it’s feed through the broadband lines to another location. Black Canary never even has to come here. She can review the camera’s feed any time she feels like it from the comfort of wherever her secret hideout is. Sweet, that means I can trace it. Take my word for it, I don’t care if it’s dial-up, cable connection, high speed or broadband, it can be traced if you know how, and I know how. This is the opening I need.

          I’m about to leave when my cell phone starts vibrating.

          “Riley? It’s Kitty.”

          “Hey babe. Listen, you caught me at a bad time. Can I call you back later.”

          “Riley, I need your help. It very important. Can you meet me?”

          “Now? It’s almost nine.”

          “It’s really important. It’s a rush job. I’m setting up a new warehouse inventory system. I need your help modifying the software.”

          “Sorry, I’m in the middle of something. I can’t get away right now.”

          “I really need your help. I’m in a little over my head and there’s a deadline. Just meet me at 2914 Hamilton Avenue.”

          I know that address, it’s familiar. Where have I heard it before? Then it hits me. That’s one of Joker’s hideouts I traced for Bats last week. What did she say? She had information Harley Quinn was using them and now Kitty wants me to go there late at night. Now isn’t that strange?

          “Riley, are you still there?”

          “Yeah, who’s the client?”

          “Some Japanese company. Can you come?”

          I don’t believe in coincidences.

          “Sorry Kitty, I really am busy. I can’t get away.”

          “Riley please I’m begging you. It’s very important to me.”

          I sat down on the floor, my back against the wall, reach over to one of the donut boxes and pulled out a chocolate frosted cruller. I took a bite.

          “Kitty, you sound almost scared.”

          “Ah, no. Nothing like that. I’m just....a little desperate. I really need your help on this job.”

          “Can I ask you a personal question? Are you really scared of some half-wit who dresses up like what Hollywood envisions a medieval court jester would have look like?”

          There was a moment of silence. I take another bite of my cruller. I love these things, too bad I forgot the latte. “No, I’m not scared of the little bitch freak,” she finally answers. “I’m actually scared of her really big gun and these two ugly dogs she has with her. How did you know?”

          “Not important and they’re not dogs, they’re hyenas.”

          “They’re hyenas?”

          “You didn’t know they’re hyenas?”

          “No, how the hell would I, do I look like fucking an animal trainer?”

          “You never been to the zoo?”

          “Yeah, when I was a little girl. I went to see the lions and tiger and bears, oh my. Who the hell ever pays attention to the hyenas, they look like ugly, mangy dogs.”

          “Not too loud, you might give them a complex. So can I talk to Harley?”

          I could hear talking in the background. Then the most annoying voice I ever heard came on the line. “So, you’re the master hacker.”

          “And you use to be a shrink. Tell me doc, I have this irrational desire to fuck women who get dressed up in skin tight costumes and go off and fight crime. What’s wrong with me?”

          “You have a super heroine fetish. I wouldn’t worry about it. One study says it’s a sure sign of genius. This fetish is what distinguishes men of great imagination and taste from the rest of the riff raft. ”

          “Wow, you’re good. I never thought of that. I feel better already. So what can I do for you?”

          She giggles. Good, she finds me amusing. “I need someone who can get in to a certain database and since I have your friend here, I guess that’s you.”

          “Oh, my friend, right. Listen I want you to know I’m really worried about Miranda and I’m scared what you might do to her, but.... what’s in it for me?”

          The line is silent for minute. Then she says, “Did I mention I have your friend here?”

          “Yeah, you did. What’s in it for me.”

          “Well, I’ll pay you for your services.”

          “Cool, how much?”

          “A thousand dollars.”

          “Hey, you are the Joker’s girlfriend. It’s rubbing off on you, cause you’re funny too. Listen babe, I don’t know how to break this to you, but a thousand dollars does not get you the services of a top line hacker, it gets you a twelve year old kid with a Gameboy who’ll be happy to show you how to win at Donkey Kong. Now try again, how much?”

          “No, you give me a number. What’s it going to take to get your services?”

          “A third.”

          “A third of what?”

          “You tell me. What’re you after?”

          “I don’t want to discuss it over the phone. You come down here and I’ll tell you all about it.”

          Yeah, right. She must think I’m as brain dead as all her patients, but I do have to stall for time. “Sure, I’ll be down in a couple of hours. That OK with you?”

          “Fine, now don’t keep me waiting too long.”

          I’m sitting there on the floor, in the dark, munching away at my second cruller and trying to remember how far down the list, I gave Bats, is the warehouse on Hamilton Avenue. I gave her the list last week, I wonder how far she’s gotten on it. It doesn’t really matter. Needless to say, I have no intention of going anywhere near the place. My plan is to get back to Bats’ apartment, call her on the radio, tell her where Harley is and that she has a hostage. Bats will go over there, kick Harley’s ass and rescue Kitty. Easy. Yeah, right.

          Harley closed Kitty’s cell phone and smiled at her. “You should have warned me, he’s a real piece of work. He has some interesting issues going on in his head. The doctor in me would love the challenge of analyzing that devious little mind of his. You think he’ll show up?” Kitty did not respond. “Well, I guess there’s nothing to do but wait.” Harley continued. “We’ll see how much he values your friendship. I’ll tell you Miranda, based on my conversation with him just now, you don’t rate very high on his list of priorities.”

          The two hyenas straighten up and begin looking around. Then they suddenly run off to another section of the warehouse. Harley smiles. “Rats,” she said. “They’re such a distractions for my babies, keeps them entertained.”

          Strange sounds come from the direction the hyenas ran off to.

          “Lou, Bud?” Harley calls. No sound. Harley draws her gun, a revolver with the biggest barrel Kitty had ever seen. What kind of bullets does a gun like that fire she wonders? Harley takes several steps forward. Again she calls out. “Lou, Bud? Come here babies.” Still nothing. Another sound draws her attention to her left, she raises her gun up and looks for a target. It’s a distraction, from her right a whirring object flies through the air, directly at her. It hits Harley in the back of the neck, knocking her down. Batgirl swings out from behind a large group of crates and lands by Harley’s prone body. Harley reaches for the gun, which land a couple of feet from her, but Batgirl plants her foot on Harley’s arm, pinning it to the floor.

          “Batcunt! What did you do, take a wrong turn on your way to work in Batman’s whorehouse?”

          “Yeah, this is coming from Joker’s favorite fucktoy. Tell me Harley, since Batman sent your boyfriend to the banana farm has your finger been getting a heavy workout or did you finally buy a dildo?”

          “Bite me bitch,” Harley answers. “What did you do to my babies?”

          “Oh, just some gas canisters. Those hyenas will sleep just like babies until animal control gets here.”

          “Never happen,” Harley yelled. She grabbed Batgirl’s ankle with her other hand and violently shifted her weight. Batgirl lost her balance and goes down. Harley rapidly gets on her feet and charges Batgirl, who is even faster then Harley in getting back on her feet. She sidesteps Harley’s charge, then lands a perfect uppercut, staggering the villain back. She quickly follows up with a right to Harley’s gut and a left jab to her face. Harley goes down.

          “Don’t even think about it,” Batgirl laughs. “You can’t take me on your best days.” She reaches for the handcuffs in her utility belt, but pauses when she hears someone clearing their throat behind her. Batgirl quickly spins around, but immediately something is sprayed in her face. She begins violently coughing, having trouble breathing or seeing. Her vision is blurred. It goes on for several minutes, Batgirl taking deep breaths and coughing them out again. She feels dizzying, fighting to maintain her balance and stay upright. Her vision clears a little, she sees Poison Ivy standing there laughing at her. Then bright spots appear before her eyes again clouding her vision.

          “Hello Bat Slut,” Ivy says. “I leave for only a few minutes and Harley develops a rodent problem. How do you like my new sleep inducing pollen? Very potent, wouldn’t you say?”

          Batgirl could not make out what she’s saying. The dizziness increases. She finally collapses on her hands and knees, her mind clouding up, she continues to cough and her vision fails. Then blackness.

          Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy stand triumphantly over Batgirl’s unconscious body. The glee and giggling is back in Harley’s voice. “I’ve been dreaming of this since the last time she sent me up.”

          Ivy reaches down, unfastens Batgirl’s utility belt and flings it over her shoulder. “I take it you have something in mind for her?”

          “You bet your ass I do,” Harley answers. She bends down and unsnaps Batgirl’s cape and tosses it aside. Then removes her boots, socks and gloves throwing them on top of the cape. Then she began removing her bodysuit.

          “What are you doing?” Ivy asks.

          “You’ll see,” was the only answer Harley gave. When she removes the bodysuit she tosses it on the pile. Batgirl’s bra comes off next also adding to the growing pile of items Batgirl was wearing only moments ago. Harley them picked up the handcuffs Batgirl dropped when Poison Ivy surprised her and uses them to cuff Batgirl’s wrist behind her back. The finishing touch was using Batgirl’s own bra to gag her. When done she stands up proudly survey her work. Batgirl laid there dressed in only her mask and thong, with her hand behind her and her mouth gagged shut.

          “What about her mask?” Ivy asks with an amused look on her face.

          “Not just yet. I have a plan.” Both women now stood side by side, looking down at Batgirl.

          “So, we finally have her,” Ivy says. “Batgirl, bound, gagged, drugged and stripped down to her thong. What do you want to do to her?”

          “Well...” Harley responded. “Grope her, I guess.”

          “That’s it?!! You’ve got Batgirl helpless at your feet, and all you want to do is to grope her glistening, oiled, toned body?”

          “Yupe!...Well, that and record it all on video...”

          There’s a silent pause as Ivy considers the possibility. “You get the camera and I’ll get the herbal oils. I hope we have extra batteries.”

          “Yupe. It could be a long night.”

          Kitty had watched the whole thing. When Batgirl attacked she thought about helping her, but it quickly became apparent that Batgirl didn’t need her help, she could handle Harley on her own without any problems. When she saw Ivy get behind her she almost called out a warning, but Ivy announced her own presents and then took Batgirl down. She watched them strip Batgirl and wondered why they didn’t remove her mask. Kitty was always curious to know who’s behind that mask. Then she remembered, last year when Catwoman and her captured Batgirl, Catwoman had plans to do something similar. She was going to strip Batgirl on line using a webcam and put on a real show. Catwoman felt her audience would enjoy it more if it happen to Batgirl then to some ordinary citizen and that’s exactly what Batgirl would be when the mask comes off, so prolong the mystery until the very end.

          Unfortunately Kitty would not catch the show. Harley locked her in a side room. Her only hope now was if Riley would come and she wasn’t sure of that.

          Batgirl did not answer her radio. That means she’s either too busy or she’s not able to. Fortunately, I put a GPS tracker in her utility belt. I punched it up on the computer and it shows she’s on Hamilton Street, the warehouse. Great, did Harley get her? Now what? Hunty is out of town on teacher’s conference. So what do I do now, rescue her? I’m not an idiot superhero, what am I suppose to do about it? Last year I saved her from Cats, now I got to do it again? What is this, you sleep with a superheroine and you’re obligated to save her once a year? I never had to rescue Hunty, never had to rescue Cats, I never even had to bail her out of jail. Bats get caught a second time and I got to rescue her again. If the sex wasn’t so great I’d say fuck it, but what are you going to do? I grab the stun gun off the charger and check my equipment. I also get the keys to Bats’ car, a new Camero, since my truck is out of commission, and off I go. Last year, when I went in to Cats’ townhouse to rescue Bats, I figured I had to be insane to do it. I was amazed to realize what insanity feels like, I had always wondered. Now, a year later, I’m glad to see it hasn’t lost it’s novelty. I can’t believe I’m doing this.

          Harley set up the camera on a tripod, checked if it was working, adjusted the settings, checked the focus and inserted a new disk. Then she hooked up the mic so she could narrate the production. “Ready,” she announces. She begins by focusing on Batgirl’s face. “Ok guys,” she says. “You know you always wanted it, fantasied about it, well here it is, Batgirl denuded.”

          Harley then slowly moves the view to Batgirl’s breasts and stops. “Ok boys, here’s a real freeze frame shot for you. Look at those perfect tits, bat tits. Ok, lets have a survey, how many of you guys think we should tattoo a bat symbol across her chest? Or how about a smaller bat on each nipple? Cast your vote on Joker’s website, www.crownprinceofcrime.com.” Harley then scans down to Batgirl’s waist, centering it on her belly button. “Nice abs, for those of you guys who are in to that.” Leaves it there for a minute, then scans lower. “Oops, there’s a nasty thong covering the main attraction. Whatever will we do about that? Is this the end of your fantasy? Are you forever denied a look at the most famous pussy in Gotham City? Tune in next week for these answers and more, same bat time, same bat channel.”

          Ivy reaches down and pulls the thong down, slowly exposing Batgirl’s cunt. “No, wait boys and girls,” Harley announces. “Perhaps you will not have to wait until next week. Waits, what’s this? You seen it here first, now it can be told, Batgirl shaves her pussy!”

          Ivy pulls the black thong all the way down to Batgirl’s ankles, removes it and plays with, twirling it around her fingers and stretching it in sling shot fashion. Harley freezes the shot on Batgirl’s cunt for a few moments, then pans down, getting a wide shot of Batgirl’s legs. “Now for the all important ass shot. Will you do the honors,” she asks Ivy.

          Ivy flips Batgirl around exposing her ass for the camera. Harley zooms in, first on Batgirl’s upper back, the freeze frame on her ass and the again on her legs. Ivy lift Batgirl’s hips and shoves her legs underneath them, spreads her cheeks, exposing her anus to the camera.

          “Now here’s her good side,” Harley says as she zooms in on Bat’s asshole. “Now wouldn’t you boys like to stick in there?”

          “Speaking of sticking it in there,” Ivy says. She puts two fingers in Batgirl’s cunt and starts wiggling them around. “I never thought I have my fingers inside of Batbitch’s hole, feeling my way around in there,” she laughs.

          Harley pauses the camera. “How long before she regains consciousness?” She asks Ivy.

          “A few minutes.”

          “Good, it wouldn’t be much fun if she isn’t awake. I want her to know it’s me whose doing it to her.”

          “Oh, she’ll be awake and more. I’m applying another one of my discoveries, phermons. She’ll be very aroused, in spite of herself and it will keep her docile.”

          Harley laughed with glee. “Excellent! Everyone will get to see what a slut she really is.”

          Batgirl began stirring a couple of minutes later. Ivy slapped her ass to bring her about faster. It does. Batgirl became aware that she’s naked. She tried to move and realized her hands were cuffed behind her back and she’s gaged. She looked up and saw Harley smiling at her while pointing this camera.

          “Hey Batcunt, smile for the audience. This is you debut and you’re going to be a star.”

          Batgirl quickly turned to her side and curled up in a fetal position to use her legs to cover up her chest. Ivy gets her to straighten up again by goosing her ass and playfully shoved two finger in her cunt.

          “Now, now, mustn’t be shy on your big coming out,” Harley spoke. “Let the groping begin.”

          Ivy works the tits. She puts some oil on her hands and begins. She gropes, kneading, caressing, squeezing and pulling Batgirl’s tits and nipples hard, reshaping and squeezing her nipples to look larger. Batgirl tried to resist but something is wrong. She can’t explain it but Ivy’s touch is arousing her. What was wrong with her? She hated herself when she responded to Riley last year, but that was because she was lonely and in need of human contact. That wasn’t the case now. Riley kept her very satisfied, so there was no reason for her to lose control, but she was. Ivy’s touch was magic and she could feel herself getting wet. Wait a second, Poison Ivy, that’s it! Batgirl remembered, Ivy was infecting her with something to arouse her and it was working. Harley saw that too and wanted to get in on the action. She centered and locked the camera. Now she will participate in Batgirl’s downfall. While Ivy continued groping Batgirl’s breasts, Harley oils her hands and started massaging Batgirl’s inner thighs, stroking up and down and kneading her fingers gently in to her inner thigh muscles, just stopping short of touching the labia. The pair worked Batgirl patiently, allowing the tension to mount. It was driving Batgirl crazy, she moaned through her gag. Her nipples were hard and completely engorged, her cunt was wet, her clit was standing at attention, her eyes had glazed over and the camera was recording every single minute of it, as Harley and Ivy made sure they didn’t obstruct the view. It took almost five minutes for the first orgasm to hit. The gag prevented Batgirl from screaming, but her moans were almost as loud. Harley spread Batgirl’s legs wide and got back to the camera to zoom in on Batgirl’s cunt as the orgasm hit her.

          “See boys, this is how you get a heroine off. As you can all see, Mr. J was right, all heroines are all just horny sluts waiting to be taken.”

          Batgirl was breathing hard, her body was covered in sweat and she looked out of it, but Harley and Ivy were not giving her any rest. They removed the gag and went to work on her again. Ivy continued on her breasts, really enjoying them. Harley decided enough teasing and started directly on Batgirl’s cunt. She used the heel of her hand to massage the entire outside of Batgirl’s smooth, hairless cunt, smearing Batgirl’s cum all over between her legs and even on her ass. She then concentrates on Batgirl’s clit, stroking it between her fingers. Ivy starts using her tongue and teeth on Batgirl’s hard nipples. Another orgasm was building up in Batgirl. Without her gag, Batgirl’s moans were louder.

          “See boys, just like a common gutter whore, which is what she’s going to be when we get done with her. So save your pennies, she’ll be for sale soon.”

          Still working her clit with one hand, Harley the uses the other to put two fingers inside Batgirl’s cunt, quickly finding her spot. For the next ten minutes the two partners work Batgirl mercilessly, driving her mad, then like a bitch in heat, Batgirl explodes with her second orgasm. Kitty can hear her screams in the room she’s locked in, all the way on the on the other side of the warehouse.

          “So, I can’t beat you even on my best days?” Harley gloats. “Well, how do you like my best now, bitch?”

          It was going too well for Ivy and Harley to stop now. Both women are hedonists and getting revenge on one of their worst enemies in this manner was so much fun. Harley turned Batgirl on her side and went to work on her ass.

          “Remember when you asked me if I got a dildos? Why yes, I did, two of them and here they are, all ready for you.”

          She lubes both dildos with Batgirl’s own cum, spreads her cheeks and slowly inserts the first one in her anus. Batgirl’s moaned with unbridled delight. This reaction surprises both women ,who laugh hysterically.

          “She likes it!” Ivy comments. “Batgirl enjoys taking it up her ass. She really is a slut.”

          “I never would have imagined,” Harley adds. “Well, if this is what gets her off, we’ll here to oblige.”

          Harley insert the second dildo in to Batgirl’s cunt and starts alternately pushing each dildo in and out in synch. To add to Batgirl’s experience Ivy reaches down and begins using her mouth to tease Batgirl’s clit. Batgirl starts to moan immediately, as her breathing becomes labored and tears come out of her eyes. The next orgasm comes, it’s too much for Batgirl, she passes out. Ivy is delighted as she stands over the unconscious Batgirl. She reaches down and picks up Batgirl’s limp body by the scurf of her neck.

          “We’ll wait until she’s awake again for the unmasking. I can’t wait to see the look on her face when we pull her mask off.”

          “Yeah, we’ll tear her life apart and then we’ll sell her. A bitch like her will make some lucky pimp a lot of money.”

          Ivy didn’t answer, she was suddenly staring at the far corner of the warehouse. Harley saw the look on her face and followed her line of sight to where she was looking at. There standing in the corner was this guy. He was young, late teens, early twenties, tall, lean and dressed in jeans, light blue tee shirt and running sneakers. He had a backpack draped over his left shoulder and wore round, wire rim glasses. He had a neutral expression on his face and for a few moment he and both women stared at each other in silence. Then the guy’s expression softened and a pleasant, reserve smile appeared on his face.

          “Excuse me,” he said. “Anyone here send for a hacker?”

TO BE CONTINUED