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 11: The Last Roundup

"O'Hara and his men have just arrived outside, so I think it's time we took a look at this basement area," Batman informed his three companions, switching off his cellphone and placing it back in one of the compartments of his utility belt. "We don't want the ringtone to alert any of the security guards," he explained, seeing their puzzled expressions. "Barbara, you and Jenny better make your way back to the Mercedes and wait for us there."

Barbara's big green eyes widened in annoyance. "No way!" she vehemently retorted, placing both hands on her hips and shaking her glorious crown of Titian colored hair, unaware of the spectacular effect this had on her naked bouncing breasts. "There's no way that Jen and I are going to try to climb over that perimeter wall, wearing just a blanket and a thong. We're coming with you guys, to try to get our own clothes back. Right, Jen?" she added, turning to the blonde, seeking her support.

"Er, yeah, right Barbara," Jennifer agreed. She loved it when Barbara revealed the dominant side of her personality. Anyway, she knew exactly where she'd left her jeans and sweater and those cowgirl boots had always been a firm favorite of hers.

Batman stared at the stubborn set of the feisty redhead's jaw and gave an exasperated sigh. "Very well, but stay behind Robin and myself at all times. We could be ambushed at any time, and you girls aren't exactly dressed for the occasion."

Both girls nodded their agreement and, after the two unconscious security men had been securely trussed up and gagged, directed the Caped Crusaders to the elevator, further along the hallway.

They gained the interior of the compact elevator without further mishap and Barbara pushed the unmarked button for the basement. The Caped Crusaders both fidgeted, nervously, as the cage descended, both aware that their task was dangerous enough already, without them having to play nursemaid to two near naked females.

The elevator gave a slight lurch, as it came to an abrupt halt. "We're here!" Barbara announced, unnecessarily. The door slid open and she cautiously poked her head out into the narrow corridor. It was deserted. "Not a soul in sight," the near-naked damsel declared, confidently striding forward and leading the way toward the dressing room.

Batman shook his head and groaned under his breath. Barbara had totally ignored his instruction to stay behind Robin and himself.

The shapely redhead halted in front of a closed door situated on the right and tried the door handle. "Damn, it's locked!" she exclaimed, in obvious annoyance. "Janet must have finished her shift and gone home."

"Here, let me try?" Jenny suggested, elbowing her way to the front of the group. She shrugged off her bedsheet and handed it to the Boy Wonder, apparently unconcerned by her near nudity. As they all wondered what Jenny was going to do, she raised a shapely right leg high in the air, and slammed the heel of her bare foot against the door, close to the lock. There was a loud splintering sound, as the door gave around the lock mechanism and suddenly flew open, smacking the wall to the one side, with a resounding crash.

"No problem," she added with a grin, boldly striding into the room.

Batman rolled his eyes, as he followed Jennifer into the dressing room, with Barbara and Robin trailing behind him.

As the girls started searching through the numerous racks of costumes, looking for their clothes, Batman turned to his garishly attired partner. "Keep a watchful eye on the hallway, Robin, just in case all that noise has alerted someone to our presence."

The Boy Wonder nodded and took up a position just inside the doorway.

Jennifer gave a shriek of girlish delight, as she pulled out a clothes hanger containing her jeans, sweater and lacy white underwear. Moments later, she also found her cowgirl boots.

Barbara was having no such luck. "There's no sign of my red dress or panties," she groaned in obvious frustration. "The only thing I could find were these!" She held up a replica of the gossamer thin Batgirl costume that she'd been forced to wear earlier, including a replica Batcowl , together with a pair of platform-soled ankle boots with six-inch spiky heels.

Jenny, who had turned her back to the Dynamic Duo, while she slipped out of her thong and into her own clothes, looked across at her friend and giggled. "Well, that's got to be better than what you're currently wearing, but not a lot," she exclaimed. "Better let me help you on with that outfit, Barbara, or it could easily get damaged. I'm sure the boys will look the other way, while you're dressing?"

"What? Oh, yeah, sure!" agreed the Boy Wonder, a little reluctantly.

"Just get a move on," hissed Batman. "Someone may come along and stumble upon us, at any moment!"

After Jenny had carefully zipped up Barbara, from the tail to the top of her vertebrae, the redhead buckled on the yellow utility belt and slipped on the black Batcowl, before walking over to the full-length mirror to examine herself. She stood, with her hands on her hips, examining her sexy reflection. Although she could see just as much of her body as before, she now felt 'dressed' somehow?

"These high-heeled ankle boots might be a problem though, if I'm forced to make a sudden move," she thought, before doing a twirl, to check out her rear.

"Come on!" urged the Dark Knight, standing by the doorway.

As they all followed Batman down the corridor that led to the film studio, they heard a sharp THWACK, instantly followed by a shrill, high-pitched scream of pain. It had been a woman's scream. The crimefighting foursome all burst into an urgent trot.

-oOo-

As they burst onto the movie set, they observed that the one area of the studio was brightly illuminated by floodlights. A group of around about a dozen technicians and stagehands, were clustered about the figure of a near naked colored girl. The gorgeous large-breasted female, had been strung up by her wrists, between two fake stone columns, with her back turned toward a whip wielding masked man. The girl was clad in just a brief loincloth, which barely covered the tops of her shapely buttocks. The diminutive man who had just started administering her punishment, was wearing a close-fitting leather hood over his head, which hid his identity, together with a pair of worn leather cowboy chaps, over his otherwise nude body.

As he raised the stock of his bullwhip high above his head and the ten-feet long thong snaked out again, his large pale penis swayed, obscenely, between his widespread legs. The popper cracked, as the thong struck home and cut into the girl's naked back, producing a thin bloody streak between her shoulderblades, together with a further scream of pain from the helpless victim.

"Aaaaaaiiiiiieeeeee!"

The girl's sweat-filmed body jerked in agony, her spine arching, as she cried out in pain. Her blood-curdling scream, echoed around the large underground chamber. This whip was obviously no specially designed film prop, like the one that had been used earlier, on Barbara. This whip was the real thing.

"M-Mercy, Master, please have mercy on your worthless slave," the girl sobbed. She wasn't regurgitating any stock lines from a movie script, she was literally pleading for her young life.

"Miserable black whore!" snarled her torturer, a fanatical gleam in his eyes, ignoring the girl's blubbering plea for mercy. He had deliberately dispensed with her gag; he liked to hear his victims scream.

Just off to one side, Al Peterson, both director and cameraman, in this instance, was capturing all the sadistic action on the compact video camera that he rested on one shoulder.

As the small group of heroic crimefighters ran toward the group of men, Jennifer belatedly recognized the helpless female victim. "Oh my God," she gasped, in a horrified voice, "it's Annabel! YOU BASTARDS!" she yelled, increasing her pace.

The startled audience all turned to face them, as they heard Jenny's cry and the sound of pounding feet approaching.

"Desist from this sadistic foolishness and give yourselves up!" cried the Dark Destroyer, in a stern, authoritarian voice. Unfortunately, it did not have the desired effect.

"Get 'em, boys!" yelped the startled whip wielder, pausing, as he was about to lash out at his helpless victim, for a third time.

"BATMAN!" gasped the nearest thug, as he recognized the Caped Crusader, automatically dropping into a defensive crouch, as he prepared to engage with Gotham's Dark Knight. As he threw a wicked roundhouse blow, aimed at the Caped Crusader's cowled head, Batman easily blocked the cumbersome, telegraphed blow with his left forearm, then countered with the straightened edge of his gloved right hand, striking the man across his throat. The big man's head jerked back under the impact, and he went down, coughing up blood.

Robin charged, head first, into the midriff of another of the massive, muscular thugs, bowling him over, under the sheer force of the impact, before following up his advantage with a serious of vicious short armed jabs to the man's face and stomach.

Jenny swung a booted foot up between the open legs of a third man, as he lunged at her waist. The reinforced toecap of her cowgirl boot, smacking into his testicles, accompanied by a sickening squelching noise. The man sank to his knees, with a shrill squeal of pain, clutching at his damaged neither region. The shapely blonde spun out of the clutches of a second attacker, catching him in the face, with a defensive forearm, as she did so and loosening a couple of his teeth.

Barbara, who had lagged slightly behind her three companions, due to her high-heeled footwear, crouched down, facing her opponent, her big green eyes searching for an attacking opening. Suddenly, two muscular, hairy arms wrapped around her torso, from behind, pinning both her arms to her sides. Huge hands clutched at her spectacular breasts, pulling them apart. There was a tearing noise, as the sheer material covering her bosom, tore apart, under the sudden stress.

The man facing her, seized his opportunity and attacked, but Barbara twisted her hips and, raising her bent right leg high in the air, lashed out her foot, with all her might. Her booted foot caught the attacker high on his chest, stopping him dead in his tracks. This well executed maneuver, was accompanied by another ripping sound, as the crotch of her flimsy costume, gave way under the strain. But Barbara had other worries on her mind, as the man behind her, painfully dug his clawed fingers into her exposed boobs. Reaching over her head, she grabbed two handfuls of his hair and, dropping to one knee, hauled him over her right shoulder, forcing him to relinquish his painful grip on her tits. With a wild yell of surprise, her attacker flew through the air, into his fellow hoodlum and they both went down in a tangle of arms and legs.

-oOo-

Meanwhile, the GCPD officers were trawling through the three above ground levels of the mansion, and hauling in all the employees of the Hafnor organization that they encountered, for questioning. This included several scantily clad young females, who were guests of the multi-billionaire publishing magnate, who had been dragged out of their beds, after having retired for the evening. Only a couple of shots had been fired in anger, and the Chief of Police was pleased with the progress of the operation, despite there having been no sign, so far, of the two missing girls, or the Dynamic Duo. O'Hara had tried to contact the Caped Crusader on his cell phone, but without success.

The short, stocky policeman, walked over to the butler, who looked more like a nightclub bouncer than a conventional manservant. "Where is Lew Hafnor, boyo?" he snapped, in his rich Irish brogue, poking the man in the chest, with a gnarled and stiffened index finger.

"Go play with yourself, Taff!" the man retorted, giving him an ugly scowl.

O'Hara bristled and raised himself up to his full five-feet seven-inches in height. "Taff?" he thundered, his thick neck going a brick red. "TAFF? Do I sound like a bloody Welshman, you moron?"

The man flinched at the fury of this outburst, and took an involuntary step backward. This was an altogether more frightening sight. "He's, er, he's down in the basement," he muttered, fully expecting some rough stuff to be dished out by the enraged policeman.

Chief O'Hara calmed down a little, unclenched his balled-up fists, and forced a smile. "Now that wasn't so hard, was it, boyo?" he said, forcefully prodding the man in the chest, several more times.

The Chief of Police, peered around the ground floor, before taking off his uniform cap and scratching his thinning scalp. There were no obvious stairs leading down to a basement level. He walked over to the open elevator door and stuck his head inside, examining the elevator control panel. There was a line of four equi-spaced floor buttons, marked 3, 2, 1, reading downward, with an unmarked button at the bottom.

"This way, men!" he called, as he stepped into the elevator. A half dozen armed officers crammed in beside him and the Chief pressed the unmarked button. With a lurch, the elevator started to descend.

-oOo-

By this time, Batman, Robin and Jennifer, were engaged in a desperate, but ultimately loosing fight, as they were gradually overwhelmed by the sheer weight of numbers of their brawny opponents, despite their superior unarmed combat techniques. Barbara, who had managed to put paid to her first two opponents, now found herself forced to the ground by several other burly males, all eager to have a crafty feel, as they immobilized the plucky redhead, wearing the flimsy, disintigrating Batgirl costume.

Suddenly, a half dozen armed police officers burst into the large underground chamber, only to be confronted by a milling mass of struggling, cursing bodies. Chief O'Hara drew his service revolver and fired a shot into the air, causing all the sweating, cursing combatants to pause and look over toward the gate crashers.

"The whole place is crawling with heavily armed police officers," O'Hara yelled, once he had everyone's full attention. "Better give yourselves up and come quietly, if you boyos know what's good for you."

The thugs all scrambled to their feet and, realizing the futility of any further show of resistance, they all raised their hands in the air, in surrender, in the face of the superior police firepower.

Jenny leapt to her feet and rushed over to the whimpering bound form of her girlfriend, Annabel Brown. "You poor thing," she gasped, staring at the two deep cuts across the girl's naked back, before starting to unfasten the ropes from about her bound wrists.

"Jenny, thank God!"

As soon as her arms were free, the dusky beauty slumped against her blonde rescuer, who supported her weight in her arms. "Hafnor's insane, Jen," Annie sobbed, raising her face to look into Jennifer's big blue eyes. "He... He was g-going to kill m-me and film my death!"

"You're safe now, honey," Jenny soothed, kissing away the tears from the colored beauty's cheeks and stroking her curly black hair.

Jenny suddenly became aware of the girl's hard, erect nipples pressing against her chest, as she clung to her, and felt the heat starting to build between her thighs. She slid her hands down the girl's smooth, curvaceous sides and beneath her loincloth, resting them on her shapely asscheeks.

"Ouch!" Annie gasped, squirming slightly in the blonde's arms.

"Sorry, I forgot about those cuts on your back," Jenny apologized, pulling her hands away.

"No, no, it's not that," the colored girl explained, with a grimace. "I have this recent tattoo on the top of my left buttock and it hasn't had time to fully heal yet."

"Don't tell me... it's a butterfly!"

"Y-Yes. Lew insisted that I had it, if I was going to become one of his Bondage Girls. I wish I hadn't signed that contract now, it gave him carte blanche to do what he wanted with me."

Meanwhile, on the other side of the studio...

Robin brought the masked torturer down, with a flying football tackle, as he was trying to sneak around the darkened edges of the movie set, heading for the elevator and possible escape in the ensuing confusion. The Boy Wonder rolled him over onto his stomach and yanked the man's arms behind his back, before slapping the Batcuffs about his wrists. Then he reached out and yanked the leather hood from the man's head.

"Hafnor!" he exclaimed. "I might have known!"

November 20th, GCPD Headquarters, 12:15 pm

The Dynamic Duo plus Chief O'Hara, were stood in front of the Police Commissioner's desk in GCPD Headquarters, as Batman brought the grey-haired senior lawman up to speed.

"So, let me get this straight," said, the Commissioner, still looking a little perplexed. "Lew Hafnor was behind the asphyxiation murders, having tortured and filmed all three victims being punished, immediately prior to their deaths?"

The Dark Knight nodded. "Correct, Jim!"

"And my daughter, Barbara, and her young friend, Jennifer, having connected the butterfly tattoos on the dead girls, with the official logo of Hafnor Publications, were engaged in a little amateur sleuthing, when they managed to get themselves caught and thus fell into the clutches of this raving lunatic?"

"That IS essentially what happened, Commissioner," the Dark Knight confirmed, nodding his cowled head once more.

"And, during your rescue mission, you also managed to stop the torture and almost certain murder of this forth young woman, what's her name...?" He glanced at the interim report, lying open on the desk before him, which had hastily been produced by Chief O'Hara. "Annabel Brown?"

The Caped Crusader nodded. "With the invaluable help of Chief O'Hara here, and Gotham's finest, of course," he added, diplomatically.

"To be sure, I was only doing my duty, Batman," the Chief of Police protested, with a modest shrug of his shoulders, pleased by the compliment, nonetheless.

"But what was his motive? Why not simulate all these bondage and torture scenes, using paid models or actresses? Why whip those poor creatures for real, then have them murdered, to keep their mouths shut?"

"Realism, Jim!"

"REALISM?" the astounded policeman croaked, hardly able to believe his ears.

"That and a deep seated hatred of all women. Hafnor is a sadistic misogynist, Jim, as well as a masochist," Batman continued. "While he did not actually kill the girls himself... that was done by Al Peterson by the way, Hafnor did order their deaths, after their sadistic torture sessions. He couldn't afford to let them live."

"And, thanks to Peterson, we have extensive video evidence of all the victims being whipped or otherwise tortured, prior to their deaths," added the Boy Wonder, gleefully. "Edited footage was going to be used on Hafnor's websites and in his new magazine publication. They will both spend the rest of their miserable lives behind bars, although I expect Hafnor to end up in Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane."

Everyone nodded, soberly.

"I never realized that this BDSM thing was anything other than some sort of weird, but relatively harmless, kinky hobby," the Commissioner of Police muttered, shaking his head, sorrowfully.