Babsy's Boobies on the Barbie

Copyright 2017 Matt Nicholson. All rights reserved.

Hard BDSM Warning! We're talking about the Batman family here, folks -- and Harley Quinn having her way with Batgirl is definitely going to get rough, at least in my book. So, if fairly extreme BDSM fantasy isn't your thing -- especially in a breast punishing sort of way -- you might want to go find a different story. On the other hand, if you

get the difference between real life and fantasy and enjoy such things, read on. Either way, I'd love to hear what you think. Best! ~Matt~

*

The war was not quite a month old. It started after Bruce had accidentally killed the Joker in the abandoned amusement park on Gotham's east side. Until that day, Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy had been mostly neutral in the ongoing conflict between Batman and Gotham's various villains. In fact, Batgirl and Harley Quinn had actually worked

together

a couple of times. But, when Barbara heard about Joker's death, she had worried that the loss of "Mistah. J" might push Harleen back over the edge.

She was right. Harley had always skirted the razor's edge, and -- though any relationship she'd had with the Joker had long since devolved into figments of her overly active imagination -- his passing at The Dark Knight's hands pushed her into waging war on the entire Bat-family. She not only brought her lover, Poison Ivy into the fight with her, but the rest of Batman's Rogue's Gallery seemed to have followed along just for kicks. Barbara felt it was her responsibility to bring the Joker's girlfriend in before someone else was killed.

But, everything about the bust had gone wrong. From Nightwing and Red Hood being delayed by an outbreak of mass panic that likely involved Scarecrow, to her own decision to start the surveillance without them, to Black Canary's insistence that they split up to cover more ground, to Huntress' backing Dinah's call.

It was supposed to have been Dick, Jason, Dinah, Helena, and Barbara working as a team. But Dick and Jason never showed, and -- now three hours in -- she had no idea what happened to Huntress and Canary. Considering the apparent effort that had gone into luring Barbara into the trap, she figured both women were in similar trouble. All Batgirl knew was her decision to chase Harley while the others went after Ivy was likely the worse mistake of them all.

It had been less then fifteen seconds since she'd walked into the trap. The hiss of gas was only getting louder while falling boxes and pallets still settled across the alley, obstructing her path. The decrepit balconies above her were likely to collapse under her weight, which ruled out moving up. And the brick wall blocking the alley behind her was going nowhere. With the green mist rising up around her, she reached desperately for the gas mask in her utility belt. She wished she'd have listened to her gut.

Barbara's fingers fumbled at the pocket's flap, but she couldn't make them grip. The ringing in her ears got louder in time with the growing number of white spots she saw. She didn't want to drop to her knees, but her legs made that choice for her.

Knowing it was her only chance, Batgirl dove face first to the ground and tried to hold her breath. Ignoring the pain from the dirty gravel grinding into her exposed breasts and belly, she hoped the light breeze would dissipate the gas drifting from wherever it was coming from before she passed out.

It was the second trap she'd fallen for since Harley had turned the hunt around. As flashbacks of the Joker, gun drawn and standing in her apartment's door, started messing with her mind, she prayed she wouldn't end up even worse off than she'd been after his killing joke had ended. There were worse things than being wheelchair bound.

She fought the ringing, white spots, and nightmare memories by trying to think through the events that brought her to the dirty alley in which she sprawled. They had almost caught her earlier. In fact, Harley and she had come face-to-face while Harley's henchmen held Barbara against a wall after catching her in another blind alley.

But face-to-face had been the break she needed. While beaming like a little girl with new toys, Harley had given Barbara a surprisingly passionate kiss while ripping the batsuit from her neck down to her pubic hair. Everyone's eyes, Harley's included, moved like a cartoon character's as they followed Batgirl's nipples up and down at the tips of her jiggling breasts. The Joker's girlfriend had no sooner giggled "Oooh, look at the pretties!" when Barbara head-butted her and twist free.

Moving quickly, she'd crippled one of Harley Quinn's lackeys with a foot to the back of the knee, and then she got a break when another minion lost his pistol while still ogling her swaying breasts. She took him out with an elbow to the jaw and then spun a batarang into the head of a scrawny tattooed kid with a limp.

When his pistol's hammer fell on an empty chamber, the last of that bunch rushed her. He managed to wrap a chain around her neck and take her back down, but the distraction of naked boobs only inches from his face was too much for him, too. Deciding she was beyond good-guy decorum, especially given her uniform's state, she ruptured his testicles with a heel.

While he hunched over, she pulled herself back up and watched him puke. Once she'd let him have a last eyeful of excitement-hardened nipples, she took him down with a two-by-four across the skull. By then, Harley had ducked around one corner or the other to rally the rest of her troops with promises of Batgirl body parts to whomever caught her.

Knowing she was in over her head, Barbara ran off to find her partners -- with a half dozen or more rabid henchman in pursuit. Probably figuring she'd hit the alley and then climb the falling chain link fence behind the abandoned Tom Thumb; Harley, Sam and Dean had flanked left and run down the south side of the building. Though they weren't quite as nice to look at their namesakes, Barbara liked putting names to faces, and visions of the Winchester brothers somehow made what the henchmen planned sound more enjoyable.

In any case, the others had gone right, leaving Barbara with no place to run. She started down the left side of the building and turned into a second dead end alley. It was then that the second trap had sprung.

Having rehashed the events until then, she was surprised to find that the gas was no longer lingering. The ringing in her ears was growing fainter, and her vision was good enough to risk standing again. Swearing to herself that she'd study this part of town better before her next outing, she climbed up onto shaky legs and looked at the pile of boxes in her way. Raucous cries and noisy tromping told her Harley's cannibal crew was getting closer.

There was no way she'd get away, she was still too woozy, and her options were too limited. She'd given them a good run. She considered using the environment to her benefit, stand her ground, and fight, but she was in no condition to win another fight. Still, she looked down at her grit encrusted, swaying breasts and thought about what might be in store for them -- and the rest of her -- if she got caught. There were worse things that could happen.

After years in a skin-tight batsuit dealing with the darkest examples of humanity known, even the wholesome Batgirl's sensibilities had grown somewhat dark. Though it hadn't yet become girl-talk in the Watchtower or the Batcave, sexual satisfaction for her, the other Birds of Prey, and many of the other women-in-spandex, often came with a dose of bondage and pain.

From what she'd seen, the same held true for the guys. Word had it that Jason Todd was all but brutal with the right girls. Even whitebread Dick Grayson enjoyed some

creativity

, as he euphemistically called it -- as she well knew. He certainly had his kinky side with her. Outside if her circle, some of the rumors that spread about Bruce and Selina and their breakfasts in bed made her toes curl. She'd even heard about a time when Superman and Wonder Woman had destroyed part of the Justice League's satellite during a sadomasochistic romp after he'd been dosed with red kryptonite.

In fact, the irony didn't escape her that it had been Dr. Harleen Quinzel herself who published an article in the

American Journal of Psychology

that suggested that many of the high profile vigilantes and villains who were part of the super-world were endorphin addicts. Harley believed endorphin addiction accounted for both a greater desire to engage in hands-on combat as well as a craving to be on the receiving side of the whip, as it were. Still operating as Oracle at the time she'd read it, Barbara had found the article fascinating -- and disturbingly on track.

In any case, work was violent, so play had become the same. If the heroes liked it rough, she only imagined what the villains enjoyed. Truthfully, Harley's henchmen might be pretty useful in that regard. Using a little masochistic fun as a lure to get them to lower their guard while the rest of the Bat-family swooped in sounded like just the ticket. Still, she'd have to make it look good. After ripping her top open a little more, she turned back to business.

Once she'd cleared her way through enough of the fallen debris to climb out of the alley, she took off again. She rounded the first corner on the right. A couple of Harley's henchmen almost ran smack into her. She stopped abruptly and spun to dash the other way, only to find Harley and the Winchesters behind her. She bit back a smile. It was time to make it look good.

As Sam reached for her arm, Barbara twisted and brought her knee up hard. A sickening thud echoed down the alley. He dropped with a muffled groan. It was a shame she had to take him out. He was the most handsome of the men, with dark, close-cropped hair and lots of muscle -- football jockesque in an unshaven sort of way. He'd probably be the best in bed, but he was also the most dangerously brutal. Sadistic was one thing. "Dangerously brutal" was another.

While Sam groped his balls and retched, Dean grabbed her cape and yanked her sideways by it. She was reaching up to snap it loose when he snagged a handful of her long, red hair. Pulling with that hand, he quickly twisted her arm until she lost her balance. Even then, he was gentler, as if he'd given up being an artist or poet and had recently chosen hunting super-heroines with Harley Quinn for sport. She still may have been able to get away, but several guns had found their way into the mix. Unfortunately, none of them were hers.

Harley waited until Batgirl was off-balance and then took her down with a surprisingly fast leg sweep. Barbara was face down, tits grinding on the pavement and her arms pinned behind her, before her first scream signaled to the rest of her pursuers that the hunt was over.

They quickly tied her wrists and feet and then rolled her over. Besides being dirty and scratched, Barbara knew she was nice enough to look at, probably distractingly so. At that point, her looks would be the only distraction she'd have that might help her out of her bind. Her torn suit covered her long, muscular legs and showed off a firm, round bottom, especially appealing through another big tear. Aside from the parts protected by her bikini, swimming at the Wayne Manor Olympic pool had left everything else an even, golden tan.

Ignoring her struggling and angry cries, Dean reached for Barbara's cowl. Harley frowned and slapped the henchman's hand. "That's no way to treat a lady! She'd be naked without her mask." She leaned close to Barbara's ear and whispered, "Us masked girls have got ta get each other's backs, huh, Babsy?"

With the matter of the cowl suddenly settled, Harley reached down into her own ample cleavage for a knife and giggled. "Mistah J always said 'The way to a girl's heart is through her cunt.'' Her grin got even wider. "And

baby

could he find my heart!" She dropped to her knees beside Barbara and trailed the knife's tip up the dark grey cloth covering her crotch. She pushed just hard enough that Barbara felt it. "I kinda think the same's true for boys, though through their cock... but, well, everyone else says the way to a boy's heart is through his belly..."

She paused and grabbed the long tear at its lowest point, running her fingers through Barbara's red pubic curls as she did. She bounced playfully on her knees like an excited little girl. "So, since we have so many boys and just a couple of us girls, I'm thinkin' we can do all three!"

The knife ripped down, splitting the bodysuit until Batgirl's pussy was as exposed as her breasts. Harley bounced on her knees some more. "Babsy, what do you think? Cunts, cocks and bellies?"

Reasoning with Harleen was like herding cats, but Barbara had to try for effect. "Harley, this isn't a good..."

With a brutal yank, Harley ripped a strip of cloth from the suit. "You can't say 'no,' Babs!" She twisted the strip into a makeshift gag and pressed it between Barbara's teeth. "We're going to have SO much fun!"

As Barbara struggled and griped into the gag, Harley made short work of the rest of the bottom half of Barbara's bodysuit, tearing it loose and tossing it aside as if the reinforced fabric was just a minor annoyance. Sam crawled nearer, angrily wrapping his fingers in the remains of what had covered Batgirl's left breast. With a vicious, flesh-burning tug, he ripped it off and stuffed it into his pocket as a souvenir.

While Dean tied the gag more securely, Harley went back to watching Barbara's breasts bounce. The tan lines drew even more attention to the mounds' whiteness, and the slight breeze made them tighten with goose pimples. It also pulled her areola into stiff, crinkled circles tipped with hard, pebbled, reddish-purple nipples. Barbara thought they looked a lot like ripe raspberries, though that was something she hoped none of her present company considered.

But, as if she had read Barbara's mind, Harley Quinn furrowed her brow and acted like she was listening to someone. "What was that? Looks like they'll taste great with whipped cream?" She winked at Barbara again and yelled, "Great idea, Babs! Someone go find some whipped cream... No! Wait! Make it honey! If you've never had raspberries with honey, you're missin' out."

One of the henchmen dashed off while Harley and the others stripped Barbara the rest of the way. Once Batgirl was completely naked, Harleen ran her palms up over Barbara's breasts. Then, as if suddenly inspired, she screamed at the figure growing smaller in the distance, "Get a lot of it!" She squeezed the full mounds hard and winked at Barbara while licking her lips. "Waste not, want not!"

Barbara knew that before they "wasted not," there were a few more entertaining things they would use her for first.

After tearing her gaze from Barbara's jiggling flesh. Harley let Dean start lifting their prey by the arms. Harley took Batgirl's cape as a trophy and wrapped its collar with a flourish around her neck. Then the red, black, white and now gold-clad woman helped in the lifting by snagging Barbara's nipples and pulling her to her feet with a brutal twisting tug.

"Upsy daisy!" She smiled when Batgirl let out a clipped squeal. "Sorry, Babs. No pain, no gain."

Once Barbara was up, Dean slung her over his shoulder like a sack of grain, exposing her bottom to the sun. When she started kicking, Sam took his first shot at getting even, slapping an open palm across her bare rear hard enough to leave a well-defined, beat red handprint.

After enduring another, even more painful, swat, Barbara stopped kicking. Since Sam had made it known during their chase that her ass was his -- literally -- when they won, she could only imagine what new plans he had in mind for it after having taken her knee to the testicles. She only hoped Dean's take, her pussy -- which bulged plump between his fingers as he closed a hand over it -- would fare a little better.

Looking back over her shoulder, Barbara saw Harley watch her tits flattened against Dean's back. The semi-crazy woman obviously enjoyed the fleshy shifts and bulges as their prey bounced against her captor's muscles. The look in Harley's eyes, and the very obvious thick points showing through the fronts of her skin-tight harlequin suit, told Barbara everything she needed to know. Harley was just nuts enough to mean more than just some enthusiastic sucking when she talked about honey-covered nipples.

Thirty minutes later, they were up on the roof of the abandoned county hospital they'd made into their base. Barbara hung horizontally by her wrists and ankles, stretched face up like a human "X" from an abandoned crane. Besides feeling the wind tickle her nipples hard, tease her pussy's wet folds, and blow her long, red hair beneath her, she had nothing to do but wait. Hanging waist-high and spread-eagle left everything easy to get to, which gave her something to look forward -- as long as she didn't pay attention to the low fire crackling only a few feet away.

Until then, they'd done an admirable job of keeping her occupied. They'd soaped her up and hosed her off, being especially careful to thoroughly clean her boobs, bottom, and pussy. She had no delusions that the thoroughness had much to do with being cleaned. Once she sparkled, they massaged her from neck to ankles with extra-virgin olive oil while making the obvious comments.

The banter about how much fun she was going to be to fuck and play with was all good. It even made her a little horny. If she weren't distracted by the fact that she was waiting on her partners to rescue her and take out Harley and the gang at any moment, it probably would have even made her a

lot

horny. It wouldn't be the first time that the bad guys had taken advantage of her -- though it had been several years since the rookie days when being taken advantage of wasn't always by choice.

Unfortunately, Harley's spirited banter had about how good Barbara's various parts were going to pair up with chianti tended to be a little unsettling, especially when she'd named the main course "Babsy's Boobies on the Barbie." While the cleaning and oiling had been enjoyable in its brutality, avoiding Harley's sudden fetish for Batgirl-baking while still enjoying the other fringe benefits was starting to sound like it might be a challenge.

For the moment, she had nothing else to do but enjoy the ride, so Barbara settled into doing just that. Dean was standing between her wide-spread thighs, removing the last of her curly red pussy hair to the sound of Harleen's slightly off-key singing. He'd also been getting off on toying with her slippery folds and fingering her clit. Apparently, he'd made something of a game of it, diddling, teasing and deep-fingering her until she'd gasp or moan, then going back to shaving while she hung in sexual frustration.

Barbara really didn't care if he was being nice, enjoying the power, or acting on the assumption that a horny, moaning victim was easier to tolerate than a struggling, screaming one. The fact that she'd come close to having an orgasm a couple of time was a little disturbing. The fact that she came even closer after Harley started "tenderized" her glistening body with a horsehair whip while singing Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody" was even more unsettling.

By the time Quinn began the third strain of the song, a myriad of livid, hair fine, red welts covered Barbara's front side. Especially well-prepped were her flat belly and her thighs. Only her well-washed breasts, bottom and labia -- the parts Harley should have enjoyed whipping the most, had been horsehair-deprived. If pressed, Barbara would have had to admit that she was a little disappointed about that deprivation.

As for the boys, though Dean seemed to be enjoying his day, Sam was still pissed as hell about getting cracked in the nuts. Barbara was a little pissed about that, too, given that Sam was one of the ones she'd really wanted to completely take out of the picture. In any case, Harley found a job that seemed to placate him a bit.