Batgirl: Sadist or Masochist

This story is the eighth in an ongoing series of Batgirl adventures and is easily my darkest offering yet, since it introduces our plucky heroine to the murky world of BDSM. As usual, it is mainly based on characters found in the early Batman comics and that wonderful '60s TV series, but with the timeline brought up to date.

Warning! This fictional story contains strictly ADULT content and is ONLY intended for mature readers and for personal consumption. No copyright infringement is intended.

The Adventures Of Batgirl

Batgirl: Sadist or Masochist

Chapter 7: Lew Hafnor's Mansion

November 18th, En-route to Lew Hafnor's Mansion

Jenny had to admit that she was quite excited at the prospect of meeting the great Lew Hafnor. The multi-millionaire playboy and publishing magnate was probably the most eligible bachelor in the whole of the state, with the possible exception of Bruce Wayne, even though he was quite a bit older than Annabel or herself.

Jennifer was wearing a sexy, black, off-the shoulder dress, held up by the thinnest of spaghetti shoulder straps, which had just cost her the best part of a month's salary. The tight-fitting gown hung down to her trim ankles and had a slit up the left side that reached almost to the top of her hip, giving frequent tantalizing glimpses of her lacy black underwear. The daring plunging neckline, had meant she'd had to forgo her usual bra and Jenny was acutely aware that she looked positively flat-chested compared to her dusky, big-breasted companion. Lacy topped hold-ups and four-inch high heels, completed her party-going ensemble.

Her shapely colored companion, wore a long, white, multi-tiered halter dress, with a neckline that plunged to her belted waist, barely managing to contain her shapely 38DD breasts, and contrasting brilliantly with her blemish free, honey colored complexion.

Annabel, sensing Jenny's covert inspection, glanced over at her front seat passenger. "Almost there," she informed her, with a smile, flashing her perfectly even white teeth.

Jennifer swallowed hard. "I-I hope I look alright?" she muttered, nervously running the palms of her hands down her thighs. "The place is bound to be teeming with some of the world's most beautiful women."

"Well, soon there will be two more of them," Annie replied, reaching over with her right hand and giving the blonde's knee a reassuring squeeze through the satin-smooth material of her dress.

As the compact saloon car rounded the next bend, Annabel swung it into a broad driveway to their left, then slowed to a halt, in front of a pair of large, imposing wrought-iron gates, set back a few yards off the highway. The perimeter of the extensive Hafnor estate, was surrounded by a twelve feet high stone built wall.

"Who are you and what do you want?" enquired a deep male voice. The voice appeared to be coming from a speaker set into one of the stone columns that supported the tall, sturdy entrance gates.

The colored driver leaned out of the open window and directed her voice at a metal grill set in one of the sandstone blocks. "Annabel Brown and friend. We're here at the invitation of Mr. Hafnor, to attend his party this evening," she informed the unseen security guard.

There was the sound of papers being shuffled. "Oh, yeah, your name is on the guest list! Drive up and park your vehicle in the designated area, to the left of the main building," the voice instructed, as the two gates began to slowly open inward, electronically.

"Thank you!" Annabel trilled, smiling up at the CCTV camera that was perched on the top of the tall stone column. The wide-angle lens appeared to be currently trained upon her spectacular cleavage. She shifted the transmission into 'drive', released the handbrake, and the car moved through the gates and along the long, winding driveway leading up to the palatial Hafnor residence.

As they passed through the wrought-iron gates, Jennifer did a double take, and her mouth fell open. The intricate design in the metalwork, incorporated a butterfly as its central motif, one that appeared to match the description of the tattoos found on all three dead girls, if she wasn't mistaken.

November 18th, Lew Hafnor's Mansion

Jennifer stared around the large crowded room, her big blue eyes wide open, at the sight of so many beautiful women congregating in one place, laughing and drinking the sparkling Dom Perignon champagne that was being freely distributed by the waiters who glided among them, with their trays held high. These were young, well muscled, handsome hunks, in tight-fitting tuxedos, obviously employed for their looks as much as for their serving talents. They were virtually the only guys present at this glitzy showbiz style bash. Most of the women guests, looked to be in their late teens or twenties and nearly all of them were wearing sexy, highly revealing outfits, designed to show off their superb physical attributes to maximum advantage.

Jennifer realized that many of them were probably photographic models who were employed by the Hafnor organization and she felt positively flat-chested and gawky, compared to these generous-bosomed examples of feminine loveliness. She even thought she recognized one or two of the more famous ones. Mood music was softly playing in the background, through hidden speakers, almost drowned out by the general hubbub.

She clung on, tightly, to Annabel's hand, as her friend tugged her through the glamorous clamoring throng, with the intention of introducing her to a few of her friends and acquaintances.

"Hi, Lin, honey!" Annabel greeted a big, buxom, platinum-blonde in her mid-twenties, who appeared to be the centre of attention of one small cluster of females.

The statuesque beauty's face lit up in a welcoming smile, at the sight of the lovely colored girl. "Annie, darling, how lovely to see you," the blonde bombshell gushed, leaning in and kissing the dusky brunette full on the lips, prolonging their clinch for far longer than was strictly necessary.

Jenny stared at the blonde's revealing outfit, in wide-eyed amazement. She was wearing a full-length, tight-fitting, green sequined dress with a plunging neckline, that completely revealed her large, round, pneumatic breasts. Her only sop to modesty, was a light dusting of glittering sequins, that seemed to have been sprayed over her prominent nipples and large areolas.

The blonde reluctantly broke their embrace and turned to weigh up Jennifer, from beneath her long false eyelashes. "And who's your young friend?" she murmured. A momentary flash of jealousy crossed her lovely features.

"This is another of my friends, Jenny," replied Annabel, taking Jennifer's hand and tugging her closer. "Jennifer Goodbody, meet Lindsay Hastings!"

The buxom blonde held out a limp-wristed hand. "Sooo glad to meet you, Jennifer, darling. Any friend of Annie's, is a friend of mine."

Jenny took the hand and firmly shook it, blushing slightly, as the girl's unrestrained bosom bounced up and down in synchronicity. "N-Nice to meet you too, Lindsay," she replied.

"Lin, please."

Jennifer smiled her thanks. "And you can call me Jenny. Do you work for Mr. Hafnor, Lin?"

"Not exclusively, but I have done several major photo shoots for Bitch Magazine. You must have seen my pictures in it? I was their March 2006 centerfold," the blonde bombshell replied, self-importantly.

Jennifer blushed again. "Sorry, I've never even browsed through a copy," she admitted, somewhat reticently.

Lin chuckled, throatily and her big boobs jiggled, captivatingly, dragging Jenny's eyes down to them. "Well, honey, if you're hoping to get some modeling work with Lew, don't let on to him, that you don't read his flagship publication," she advised, giving Jenny a knowing wink.

"But it's full of naked or near-naked pictures of GIRLS," Jen protested, looking back up to Lin's face, somewhat confused. "Why should I be interested in a magazine that's for guys?"

Lin raised a well-plucked eyebrow. "We all need to keep an eye on the competition, darling," she replied, a little surprised by the petite blonde's unashamed naivety.

"Oh, er, yes," Jenny mumbled, breaking eye contact and trying not to blush.

"Jenny's not here looking for work," Annie explained, stepping in and saving her friend from any further embarrassment. "She's just come along to keep me company for the evening."

"Sorry, I misunderstood," Lindsay said, reaching out and squeezing Jenny's hand. "Never mind, I still think you're absolutely delightful, darling."

-oOo-

After spending twenty minutes or so with Lindsay, while the two old friends caught up on the gossip since they'd last seen each other, Annabel and Jennifer excused themselves and proceeded to circulate, whilst helping themselves to glasses of champagne and nibbles, from the trays carried by the waiters. Jennifer even tried flirting with a couple of the younger, more handsome ones, but received no encouragement in return. It was more than their jobs were worth, apparently.

They paused on several occasions, while Annie introduced Jenny to various other gorgeous creatures, most of whom, were in the glamour modeling profession and turned out to have done some topless or nude modeling for the Lew Hafnor publishing empire.

Jenny had taken a number of photos, using the camera built into her cell phone, so that she could show them to Barbara, at work the following day. Without such proof, she doubted whether the redhead would believe her descriptions of the more revealing outfits, that some of the more adventurous female guests were 'almost' wearing.

Finally, the man himself, Lew Hafnor, put in an appearance, along with two gorgeous, scantily clad females clinging to his arms. These were constantly fawning over the publishing mogul, feuding for his undivided attention. Hafnor was comparatively short in stature, certainly shorter than Jennifer, maybe 5 feet 6 inches tall at most. He was in his fifties, with handsome, rugged features and just a hint of grey in his close-cropped hair. Jennifer correctly assumed that the two girls must be recent centerfolds from Bitch Magazine, or one of the other glossy soft porn publications that were part of the ever growing Hafnor publishing empire.

The threesome proceeded to circulate, with the multi-millionaire pausing to converse with a number of the beautiful, well-endowed models, appearing to treat them more like members of his own family, rather than as part-time employees. Eventually, he arrived at Annabel and his face broke into a broad smile, as he caught sight of the ravishing coffee-colored beauty.

"Annabel Brown, isn't it?" Lew greeted, stepping forward and kissing her on the cheek. Lew prided himself on remembering the names of all the glamorous women who worked for his organization.

The curly-haired negress nodded, delightedly. "Uh, huh! Nice to see you again, Mr. Hafnor. Thank you for inviting me to this delightful party. I was wandering when you wanted me for that modeling work on your new BDSM magazine that you offered me, at our recent meeting?"

Lew blinked, as he tried to recollect the event. "Ah, yes! Someone will be getting in touch with you, in a week or two's time, my dear. We already have your phone number, don't we?" Annie nodded. "Oh, and please call me Lew. All I ask, is that you don't get me mixed up with that other guy, and start calling me Hugh. The guy's at least twenty-five years older than I am, and nowhere near as good looking."

Annabel giggled, prettily. "I'll try not to, Lew and thanks! I'm looking forward to working with you on this new, exciting project."

"Anyway, 'Bitch' is now the second best selling men's magazine in the US, next to 'Playboy', shifting almost as many copies as 'Maxim' and 'FHM' combined," the publishing magnate continued, a little pompously. "Soon, we will be number one. 'Bitch' magazine is the only one that still caters for the true, red-blooded all-American male. All the rest have been watered down, thanks to the Women's Liberation movement and the Politically Correct crowd."

Both girls nodded, careful to keep the expressions on their faces neutral.

"Anyway, that's enough of my blowing my own trumpet," Lew continued, with a wide grin on his face. "Who is your lovely young friend, my dear?"

"This is my friend, Jennifer Goodbody!"

He reached out and shook the blue-eyed blonde's hand. "Hi there, Jenny. Are you a glamour model too?"

Jenny reddened and shook her head, vigorously. "N-No not really, Mr. Hafnor, but I was wondering if you might need some extras for one of your upcoming BDSM shoots? It's a subject that has always completely fascinated me."

His eyes widened, imperceptibly and he looked her up and down with renewed interest. "You're a very pretty girl, Jenny, but my models are usually a little more, um, 'well-blessed' up top. You're a little lacking in that department, if you don't mind me saying." He saw the look of disappointment cross the young blonde's face and sighed. "Do you have a number that we can contact you on?" he asked, in a resigned tone.

Jenny's eyes lit up and she nodded, eagerly, then started searching through her clutch purse. "Here's my business card. It's got my cell phone number on it," she said, handing it over.

"Thanks! Someone will get in touch with you, my dear, if a suitable vacancy arises."

"Thank you, Lew," Jenny replied, with a small, bashful smile of gratitude.

November 19th, Barbara Gordon's Apartment, 1:50 am

Barbara squirmed, uncomfortably, in her bed, fully stretching her long lithe legs, as she awoke from a fitful slumber. The vibrator that she had used to help send her off to sleep, was now silent within her sopping pussy, its rechargeable batteries having finally run down. She removed the device, with a regretful sigh, then stretched out and placed it on the bedside table, before squinting at the time displayed on the LED alarm clock.

"Not even two o'clock in the morning," she groaned, realizing that the insides of her thighs were uncomfortably sticky with the copious secretions she had produced while she slept. She threw back the sheets and sat up, preparing to go take a quick shower, to clean herself up. She was well aware of the reason for her troubled sleep. Something was nagging at the back of her mind, something to do with Annabel and Jenny's visit to the Lew Hafnor mansion, but she couldn't quite seem to put her finger on it.

She walked into the bathroom and switched on the shower and adjusted the temperature, before stepping under the jets of refreshing warm water.

-oOo-

Barbara was sitting on the edge of her bed, naked, vigorously drying her long red hair on a fluffy bathtowel, when a sudden thought struck her. She had a copy of 'Bitch Magazine' somewhere, which she had purchased on a whim, some months earlier. She got up and walked out into the living room and proceeded to search through all the cupboard drawers.

"Eureka!" she exclaimed, as her gaze alighted on the much thumbed edition, lying in a bottom drawer. A gorgeous blonde model stared out from the front cover of the mag, naked apart from a tiny pair of string-sided lacy red panties. The titles of various articles and pictorials within this particular edition, were printed about her shapely figure.

As Barbara pulled the magazine from the drawer, her eyes were drawn to an emblem that was printed immediately after the block letters 'BITCH', at the top of the front cover. Her blood froze. The logo was that of a butterfly, identical to the butterfly that had been tattooed on the left buttock of each of the three dead girls.

"This must've been what was troubling me?" she realized. "Does this mean that Lew Hafnor might have something to do with the murders of those three poor girls?" This seemed a little far-fetched, but she couldn't take any chances.

Picking up her cell phone, she tried to call Jen, but the blonde must have had her phone switched off. "Damn, damn, damn!" Barbara exclaimed, in obvious annoyance.

She hurried back into her bedroom. There was only one thing for it. She'd have to get over to the Hafnor place, as quickly as possible, to ensure that nothing untoward happened to her two young friends.

As she was reaching for the hidden button beneath the top of her dresser, which activated the secret panel, Barbara paused. "Perhaps this isn't something best done by Gotham's Dark Damsel?" she mused. "As Barbara Gordon, I should have a much better chance of slipping into the party, without being observed by the inevitable gaggle of security personnel."

She rushed over to her walk-in closet and hastily sorted out her most daring party dress, a long, red, backless number, the top held up by thin spaghetti straps, that clipped together at the nape of her neck. She slipped on a pair of lacy red panties then stepped into the dress and swiftly zipped it up at the back, before positioned the top over her shapely breasts and clipped the retaining straps together behind her neck, beneath her shock of wavy red hair. The long skirt was split up to her knees at the front, giving her legs a limited amount of movement. She hitched the skirt up, sat on the bed and rolled on a fresh pair of black, lacy-topped hold-ups, then pulled on a pair of red, four-inch stiletto heels.

She allowed herself five minutes to hastily apply her makeup, then rushed out of the apartment, collecting her clutch purse and the keys to the Mercedes, on the way.

November 19th, En-route To Jennifer's Apartment, 2:05 am

The two girls were safely on their way home from the Hafnor party, having departed a few minutes earlier, when things had started to wind down. Annabel was humming a little tune, as she drove back toward Gotham City, pleased that she was soon going to get some well paid modeling work from Lew Hafnor, that might even see her modeling career finally take off. Jenny was less impressed with her evening's work. She MIGHT end up with some work for the BDSM magazine, but it wasn't guaranteed. Also, any possible link between the Hafnor organization and the three dead girls, still had to be resolved.

"I'll give Barbara a call, and let her know we're on our way home," she announced.

"The poor girl will be fast asleep," Annie protested. "Leave it until the morning."

"Hmm, I suppose it is pretty late, even for Barbara. Okay, I'll leave it and bring her up to speed in the morning," Jenny reluctantly agreed.

November 19th, En-route To Lew Hafnor's Mansion, 2:15 am

Barbara had driven half way to the Hafnor mansion, before it dawned on her that she had left her cell phone behind in her apartment, in her hurry to get over to the party.

"Damn! Damn! Damn!" she muttered, banging a fist on the steering wheel in frustration, and almost loosing control of the vehicle in the darkness, in the process.

"Whoops! Idiot!" she castigated herself, under her breath, as she swerved back over to the right side of the highway. She was using the installed Satellite Navigation System, to direct her to the mansion.

As she turned the Merc into the driveway and stopped at the wrought-iron gates, a voice spoke to her, from a speaker grill set in a tall stone column. This column was supporting one of the two gates that gave access to the large, walled estate.

"Who are you and what do you want?" a gruff male voice demanded.

Barbara lowered the electric window and poked her head out. "My name is Barbara Gordon and I'm here for Mr. Hafnor's party," she brazened out, smiling.

"Oh, yeah? Well you've left it a little too late, lady, the party's over," the deep, male voice sneered.

"But..."

"Get lost, lady, you ain't even on the official guest list!" The speaker clicked off, their conversation at an abrupt end.

Barbara noted the CCTV camera, attached to the top of the stone column. It had a winking red light and seemed to be following her every movement. "Damn, it must have one of those infra-red lens," she muttered, under her breath. "I'll have to find some other way of getting into the place."