Batgirl Sadist Or Masochist Ch 08

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 8: Captured & Chloroformed

November 19th, Lew Hafnor's Mansion, 2:40 am

Barbara peered around in the darkness, checking that the coast was clear, before gently easing open the sash window. This was accompanied by the faintest of squeaks, as she raised it up and the shapely redhead froze, listening for a few seconds, worried that the sound might have carried to the ears of a patrolling security guard. Satisfied that the sound hadn't alerted anyone to her presence, she hiked her long red skirt up about her hips, hoisted her ass up onto the stone window ledge and swung first one shapely leg, then the other, through the open window, before lightly dropping to the floor within.

Barbara slipped on her heels and pushed her long dress back down over her thighs, as she peered around in the gloom. She appeared to be in some sort of small library, with book-filled shelves lining three of the four walls. It also contained a couple of comfortable-looking leather covered armchairs and a small reading table.

She crept toward a closed door, set in the center of the forth wall, directly opposite the window, carefully negotiating the furniture. She heaved a sigh of satisfaction, when the door proved to be unlocked. Gently easing it open, she peered out into a deserted corridor, dimly illuminated by emergency lighting. Barbara's heart was pounding like a drum. She knew she was taking one hell of a risk by breaking into this place. She possessed none of the sophisticated weaponry or crime-fighting paraphernalia that would have been available to her crime-fighting alter ego, Batgirl.

She eased her way out of the room and tip-toed her way along the hallway, careful to avoid the give-away clicking of high-heels on the wooden flooring. She didn't really know what she was looking for... possibly something that might link the Hafnor organization to the tragic deaths of the three girls?

She came to a large set of double doors and pushed them open slightly and peered through the gap between them. The doors gave access to a large room, with numerous tables and chairs spread about it, along with the remains of considerable quantities of food and drink, no doubt awaiting clearance by the domestic staff, the following morning.

"This must be where the party was held," she guessed, withdrawing her head. As she did so, she felt something cold, hard and metallic, press up against the base of her skull and heard the click of a safety catch being released. Barbara's eyes grew wide and she stiffened with surprise.

"Don't move a muscle, lady, or I will be forced to blow your beautiful brains out," snarled a deep threatening, male voice. This movie gangster-like threat, failed to amuse the plucky redhead, but she complied, nonetheless.

"Now, carefully hand me your purse, then place both your hands together, behind your back!" the voice further instructed. "Don't even THINK of trying anything foolish."

Barbara silently did as the man instructed. This was neither the time nor the place to voice any objections.

Hands roughly grabbed her wrists and she felt cold steel handcuffs being snapped tightly about them, securing both hands behind her back.

"Now, move your ass!" growled the voice, as the gun muzzle was repositioned and prodded into the small of her bare back, causing the red-haired beauty to stumble forward a couple of paces, on her high heels.

"You don't need to be quite so rough," she protested, turning her head slightly to one side, just sufficiently to identify her captors as two beefy uniformed male security guards.

"Shut your mouth, bitch, or I will be forced to shut it for you," warned the gun-totting security man, obviously a big fan of Al Capone movies.

Barbara wisely decided that discretion was the better part of valor, and said no more.

The glamorous redhead was roughly herded along several carpeted hallways and up a wide flight of stairs, before being pushed past a glass paneled door, into a small private office. Sitting behind a large, imposing mahogany desk, was none other than Lew Hafnor.

He looked up in surprise, as the door burst inward and Barbara was bundled in by her two minders. He had been deep in conversation with a long-haired man, who was wearing jeans and a grubby T-shirt.

"What have we here?" the publishing mogul queried, his eyes widening with surprise, followed by quickening interest, as he took in the girl's appearance.

"We caught this dame snooping around the ground floor, boss," revealed the thug wielding the automatic pistol. "She had accidentally set of one of the silent security alarms."

Lew Hafnor ran his gaze over the shapely female in the sexy red dress. The redhead certainly had a striking face and figure. "I don't remember seeing you at the party, my dear," he murmured, noting that the girl's hands had been securely cuffed behind her back. "I'm sure I would have remembered, if I..."

"She had this purse on her, boss," interrupted the burly security guard, tossing Barbara's clutch purse onto the top of the publishing mogul's desk.

Hafnor opened the clutch and dumped its contents out onto his desk, smiling at the crumpled pair of spare red panties. He picked up her plastic coated library parking permit. "Barbara Gordon, Assistant Head Librarian, Gotham City Central Library," he read out, aloud. "Well, well, well! What brings you skulking around my home, late at night, Ms. Gordon?"

Barbara thrust out her chest, indignantly. "I wasn't skulking," she snapped, hotly. "I was looking for my two friends, who were supposed to be attending your party tonight. I just got here a little late, that's all."

"The party ended some time ago and all my guests have left," Lew snapped, his eyes sparking, dangerously. "That still doesn't explain why you broke into these private premises. What were you really looking for?"

"I-I told you..." Barbara began to protest, lamely.

"Enough of this nonsense," he snapped, impatiently. His gaze moved to the man standing behind her. "Let's see what sort of catch we have here, Herman?"

The muscular guard grinned and nodded his understanding.

Barbara felt the short zip at the back of her dress, yanked down from her waist to the base of her spine.

"Hey, what the hell do you think..." she started to protest, as the guard's hands moved to the clasp behind her neck and unclipped the spaghetti straps holding up her top. "Nooooo!" she gasped, wide-eyed, as her top fell away, revealing her otherwise naked breasts.

A moment later, the silky dress slid off her hips, down about her trim ankles, leaving her clad in just her panties, dark hold-up stockings and high heels. She was unable to cover her breasts with her hands, since her wrists were still securely cuffed behind her back.

Hafnor stared at the shredded remains of the crotch of the prisoner's lacy panties, clearly revealing her pink, pouting pussy lips, together with her badly laddered and muddied hose. "You seem to have had some sort of accident, my dear," he observed, dryly.

Barbara blushed, furiously. "You... You don't have to keep staring at me like that, you... you pervert," she snapped, her eyes flashing, angrily.

"But you have such a gorgeous figure, my dear," Lew replied, slowly running his eyes over her near-naked body, taking in her magnificent pair of tits with their large areolas and prominent nipples, narrow waist, shapely flared hips and long, lithe legs. His eyes finally returned to her face and locked onto her big green eyes. He smiled at her. "In fact, you could be just what we've been looking for, don't you agree, Al?"

"She's the ideal person to play the role," agreed Al Peterson, his long-haired movie director and chief cameraman, enthusiastically. "Both her face and figure are absolutely perfect!"

Lew gave a curt nod to the man standing behind the redhead. Moments later, a foul smelling piece of cloth was clamped over the unsuspecting redhead's nose and mouth.

"Chloroform!" she realized, trying her best not to breath in the narcotic fumes, struggling in the man's powerful grip and tossing her head from side to side, in a futile attempt at shaking him off.

"I think you need a little sleep, to help you recover from your obvious ordeal," Hafnor continued, with an amused smirk.

The gorgeous redhead finally stopped struggling and her head slumped onto her impressive chest, as she drifted into unconsciousness, supported by the guard's arm around her slim waist.

November 19th, Stately Wayne Manor, 8:12 am

"Ms. Goodbody on the telephone for you, Sir!" Alfred Pennyworth informed his employer, Bruce Wayne.

"Thank you, Alfred," the handsome multi-millionaire replied, taking the telephone from his faithful old retainer's outstretched hand. "Hello, Jennifer, this is Bruce. What can I do for you?"

"Hi, Bruce! Have you heard from Barbara this morning?"

"No! Why, should I have?" he asked, frowning slightly.

"I've been trying to get hold of her, but she isn't answering the phone in her apartment, or her cell phone. I was wondering if Batgirl went out on patrol with you guys, last night?"

"No, she didn't, but she did come over earlier in the evening, to discuss the latest developments in the asphyxiation murders case. She must have left the Batcave shortly before eleven."

"Oh?" This was followed by a short silence.

"Look, if you're worried, Dick and I will pop over to her place and check that she's alright. I have a key that will get me into her apartment."

"Would you? I would be very grateful," Jenny said, in a relieved tone. "Thanks, Bruce!"

"No problem. Leave it with me."

November 19th, Barbara Gordon's Apartment, 9:25 am

Bruce Wayne let himself and his youthful ward, Dick Grayson, into Barbara's Apartment, situated in the tree-lined suburbs of the city. There were no sign of the red haired librarian, but her bed looked as if it had been recently slept in.

Dick picked up the nine-inch vibrator from the bedside table. "Looks like she didn't get a great deal of sleep last night," he observed, with an amused grin on his youthful features.

Bruce, ignoring his young companion's flippancy, felt under the dresser and pressed the hidden button that activated the entrance to the secret passage. When the dresser swung inward, he walked into the narrow passageway that had just been revealed.

"All of her Batgirl costumes appear to be here," he called out to Dick. "I'll just pop down to the garage and check on her Batgirlcycle."

He returned to the bedroom, a couple of minutes later. "Her motorbike is still here, and the exhaust is cold, so it hasn't been used recently. I did pop out back though, and her Mercedes appears to be missing from its usual parking slot."

Dick frowned. "It looks like she must've gone somewhere during the early hours of this morning?" he ventured.

Bruce nodded. "It looks like it, old chum. I'd better call Jennifer at the library, and let her know what we've found out." He took out his mobile phone and keyed in Jenny's cellphone number.

November 19th, Lew Hafnor's Mansion, 10:19 am

Barbara slowly returned to consciousness, her mind a sickening swirl of incoherent thoughts and images. As her thoughts gradually sorted themselves out into a vague semblance of logical order, she remembered her desperate struggle to avoid the cloying fumes of the chloroform soaked cloth that had been clamped over her lower face, and the evil, grinning features of Lew Hafnor. She was now convinced that the multi-millionaire publisher had had something to do with the BDSM murders.

She became aware that she was lying on a bed, on her stomach, her arms and legs tied behind her, with some sort of coarse rope. Her ankles and wrists were bound together, with a further length of rope wrapped about her upper arms, pulling her elbows close together. A further piece of rope was attached to her wrist and ankle bonds, pulling them together and forcing her to arch her spine and thrust her boobs out, in what's known as a strict hog-tie.

"Mmmph! Nnnngghh!" she groaned, immediately realizing that there was a tightly stretched cloth gag between her lips. Her current position was most uncomfortable, with her large breasts squashed against the firm mattress. So, with a supreme effort, she managed to roll over onto her back and arms, at the same time becoming aware that she was no longer wearing her red party dress. She still seemed to be wearing her red panties, stockings and heels, although she was uncomfortably aware that her panties were effectively crotchless, as she felt the cool air against her exposed, smooth shaven mons.

She peered around her, trying not to panic. She seemed to be in a strange windowless bedroom, with a single exit. Apart from the bed, the only items of furniture were a dresser and stool. With a thrill of fear, she noticed a miniature television camera, with a winking red light, pointing at her, in the far corner between the ceiling and walls. It looked like she was being kept under constant electronic surveillance.

She groaned into her saliva-soaked gag, once more, then struggled to roll back onto her stomach. She wasn't going to give these perverts any more thrills than was necessary, not if she could help it.

No sooner had she completed this exhausting maneuver, accompanied by considerable grunting and groaning, than she heard the door to her room open and the sound of approaching footsteps.

"Time for you to go to dreamland again," announced a no-nonsense sounding female voice.

Seconds later, Barbara felt a hand drag down the waistband of her panties and a sharp needle prick, as a hypodermic syringe was jabbed into her exposed asscheek, eliciting a muffled grunt of protest.

November 19th, GCPD Headquarters, 11:29 am

Police Commissioner Jim Gordon looked up from the mountain of paperwork on his desk, at the polite knock on his open office door. His rheumy old eyes lit up, at the sight that greeted them. "Batman, Robin, come in, come in. To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?"

The grim-faced Caped Crusaders strode over to his imposing desk, one befitting the most senor lawman in the whole of Gotham City. The Dark Knight stood facing the grey-haired policeman, with his gauntleted hands on his hips and booted feet planted firmly apart. "Bad news I'm afraid, Commissioner. Your daughter, Barbara seems to have disappeared without trace, vanished into thin air."

The cheerful expression was instantly wiped from the older man's face, to be replaced by one of deep fatherly anxiety. "My goodness, Caped Crusader, do you think that anything has happened to my little girl?" he gasped. The aging Police Commissioner still thought of his adopted daughter as his 'little girl' despite her being 26 years of age and in the full flower of womanhood.

Batman sought to calm his old friend's fears. "We have no reason to suspect foul play, at this moment in time, Jim, but she does seem to have disappeared, along with her Mercedes automobile. I would be grateful if you could arrange for all the local hospitals and medical clinics to be contacted, just in case she has been involved in some sort of traffic accident. Meanwhile, the Boy Wonder and myself, will contact all her known friends and acquaintances, to find out if they might be able to enlighten us, as to her current whereabouts."

"Right away, Caped Crusader," the Commissioner replied, pulling himself together and picking up the telephone, once more the very model of police professionalism. "And, while I'm at it, I'll arrange for all officers out on patrol, to keep an eye open for her Mercedes. I have the registration details written down, somewhere. Why does my darling daughter keep vanishing like this? Never become a father, Batman," he added, shaking his head, "it's too damned hard on the nerves!"

November 19th, Gotham City Public Library, 1:05 pm

Jennifer was sitting at her desk, staring off into space, her eyes unfocused, still worried about Barbara's apparent disappearance off the face of the planet, when her cellphone started to ring.

She took it from her purse and flipped it open, noting that the caller had withheld his or her name. "Jennifer Goodbody," she said, cautiously, wondering if this might be some sort of crank call. It wouldn't be the first time that she'd had a 'heavy breather' on the line.

"Ms. Goodbody? This is Lew Hafnor!" announced the caller.

"Mr. Hafnor?" she gasped, in both surprise and delight, her face lighting up. "This is an unexpected surprise."

"Are you still interested in that job vacancy we spoke about at my party, last night?"

"What? Er, yes, yes of course I am," she replied, experiencing a thrill of excitement.

"Well, we are about to shoot a scene for a BDSM movie that my organization currently has in production, and I thought of you, for the role of the Cruel Dominatrix. It's only a small part, but..."

"Cruel D-Dominatrix?" Jenny stammered, her big blue eyes growing even wider. "Are you sure it's ME you want for this part?"

"Yes. We're hoping to film the scene at my place this evening. Can you make it, at such short notice?"

"I, ah... I... Yes, yes I think so," she agreed, excitedly, quickly making up her mind. "What time would you need me to be there, sir?"

"About seven. We're hoping to film the scene about eight, and you would probably need to spend the best part of an hour in makeup and costume, beforehand. Oh, by the way, you don't have any hang-ups about nudity, do you?"

"N-Nudity?"

"Yes, this film is X-rated, honey. Tastefully done, of course. My organization is not in the business of producing pornography."

"Oh? Er, in that case, I have no problems with undressing, provide that it is totally necessary to the story line."

"Excellent! We can discuss your generous remuneration, when you get here. See you later!"

"But what does the part actually invol..." Jenny started to ask, but Lew had already broken the connection.