Batgirl Seeks A Solution

Author's Note

Welcome. I've wanted to complete a Batgirl piece for a long time, and here it is. I've finally achieved it.

This is very much a passion project. I intend to write a series of Batgirl adventures, and this is a test to see if there is any interest in this more damaged version of the character. Think of this story as almost a stand-alone trailer. This is an ambitious project for me, so If you've enjoyed this, and want to read more, then please drop me a message.

Batgirl Seeks a Solution.

"Ah fuck, fuck... that... fuck... what are you doing? You said he was too big," I gasped out as I gripped the bedsheets and tried to look behind me.

Steve turned to Emma and for a moment there was a look of uncertainty on his face. Emma laughed. "I said he was too big for most people... you're Batgirl. Surely you can take it, can't you?!"

Batgirl, yeah. You didn't read that wrong. At the time of this story I was indeed Batgirl. But not just dressed as Batgirl, or pretending to be Batgirl. I was the actual Batgirl, the protector of Gotham City. You see, my actual name, is Barbara Gordon. At that moment I was on my hands and knees, in just my boots, gloves and cowl. My batsuit, with it's protection, was lying discarded somewhere on the floor of this plush open plan warehouse apartment.

"Get... it... out," I growled, but I felt myself shiver as Steve went another inch deeper inside me.

"Fuck, your asshole feels incredible," Steve said, neither of them were reacting to me. It was as if I'd said nothing.

"Let me see," Emma said, moving closer and peering down. She could only have been attempting to get a look at my asshole as it was forced wide open.

I felt my body burn with shame and something deeper, an ache I couldn't place. This is what I wanted, wasn't it? No... I didn't ask for this. Or did I? I turned back into the pillow and then pressed my face deeper into it, and I let out a small sob of frustration before gritting my teeth.

"I never thought I'd see anyone able to take Steve in their ass." Emma cooed. "I think you've found your true calling. You are much better at this than being Batgirl."

Emma was beautiful in a way I would never be. She wore leather pants and a denim jacket that only hinted at the incredible hourglass figure that I knew was beneath, she had perfect skin and needed no make-up. She wore her natural blonde hair up and parted across her model's face, which had symmetrical, elf-like features and a strong chin. Steve was every bit her equal: tall, dark, with a chiselled jaw and intense blue eyes, and his body was a canvas of intricate tattoos. You could picture him in a Renaissance painting as Apollo or Adonis. As cute as I used to think I was, in a sort of young-girl-next-door sort of way, I knew that was out the window when I was next to these two.

As Emma spoke, she ran her hands over the small of my back like I was owned by her, like maybe I was her prize mare. The touch sent a shiver through me.

"Look, Steve, look how she's quivering!" she exclaimed, full of excitement. She leaned in closer to me and grabbed hold of my hand. Then she whispered in my ear, "I guess it must hurt pretty bad, huh? Poor baby."

"I love how heavy your tits are, Batgirl," she added before she dragged her nails slowly down the side of my exposed breast. "I knew they'd be big, but wow, your costume did a lot of heavy lifting."

I turned my head to look at her. I wanted to look into her eyes, to show how defiant I was, to show she couldn't break me. Instead, I felt my lip wobble, and tears started to form in my eyes. I felt seen.

I saw a glimmer of hesitation in Emma's eyes. For a split second, she almost looked moved. She opened her mouth to speak again, but Steve interrupted whatever mercy she was about to show me.

"Oh shit! Fuck, she's taking more, fuck yeah!" Steve groaned as I felt him force another inch inside me.

My instant reaction was a scream that tore from my throat, raw and desperate. My vision blurred as my body shook uncontrollably, each nerve set on fire as Steve forced his way deeper. I couldn't take it anymore. My mind fragmented, overwhelmed by the violent intensity. My hands scrabbled for purchase on the sheets. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't survive this.

Emma's eyes turned cold again as I screamed. The moment of sympathy had vanished in an instant as she realised she had me. I knew I'd unlocked something cruel inside her.

"Oh, she loves that!" She said back to Steve. "How far are you in?"

"Maybe a quarter of me?"

"Careful," Emma purred, her voice mocking. "Don't break her. Not so soon."

Steve didn't slow. Instead, he grunted and shoved harder. I felt even more of him plough into my ass like a burning tree trunk. My muscles clenched instinctively, trying to resist the invasion, but it was like trying to stop a freight train. I didn't stand a chance.

"Oh fuck, she's tight if I go any deeper, I might just rupture something inside her."

"Do it," she whispered. "She's Batgirl."

My eyes widened, and her words echoed in my mind: " Don't break her too soon." That meant my breaking was inevitable.

I thrashed against him, suddenly desperate to escape the searing pain as Steve's cock tore deeper inside my bowels. My body bucked as he held me in place, his fingers digging bruises into my hips. Each time he increased the pressure it felt like I was being ripped apart as his thick girth spread me impossibly wider.

My head sank into the pillows, but I clawed at the sheets, trying to push myself up, trying to escape; I was Batgirl, and these two were no match for me. In response, I was shoved back down into my place. Helpless.

"No, stop it!" I screamed, but my voice was swallowed by the mattress. I gasped for breath, my muscles trembling, betraying me. I knew this couldn't be happening to me. I couldn't be letting it happen. But, this is what I came here for wasn't it?

Steve and Emma couldn't hear what I said but laughed anyway. They were bonding over me, and they were finding humour in breaking my mind and body simultaneously.

"Look at you, Batgirl," Emma whispered, her breath hot against my ear. "You can fight off anyone in Gotham, but here? Right now? You are nothing. Just a body. Just a toy. No one can save you. No one knows you are here."

Her words sent a chill through me as Steve's hands tightened on my hips, pushing me down harder. I bit my lip until I tasted blood.

Emma slapped my ass with the palm of her hand. There was a harsh yet satisfying noise as her hand bounced off my reddened flesh. My pathetic sounds became more indignant for a moment, in shock as much as pain.

I lifted my head from the pillow. As my head came up, she grabbed the bat ears on my cowl and used them to twist my head. She leaned in and kissed me forcefully, her tongue invading me, and then she pulled back and spat into my open mouth. I gagged.

"That's so fucking hot," Steve said as he pressed his cock a little deeper.

I screamed out in anguish, a sickening noise of pain and humiliation and looked at Emma with big pleading eyes and a quivering lip. I had no pride left. They had broken me. I was willing to beg for mercy that I knew wouldn't come.

"That's what you deserve," she said and smiled, grabbing my chin in her hand. "You little whore."

I was silenced and as she stared into my eyes I felt my powerlessness. And there it was, the familiar stirring of unwanted pleasure. They'd unlocked it, the high that I was seeking. The word "whore" had snapped something inside me. My heart pounded in my ears at the realisation that Emma knew my truth. This is why I was here. This was what I needed. No safety net, no escape, without this, I couldn't feel alive.

She spat into my mouth and I let my eyes roll up and my mouth hang open. I savoured that sensation and swallowed. Emma forced two fingers into my mouth as soon as her spit reached my stomach and I closed my lips on them obediently. I thought that would make Emma happy. Instead, she looked at Steve.

"Let her have it all," she ordered.

I could feel Steve hesitate, breaking character for just a moment. "You sure?"

"Yeah... it's fucking Batgirl!" She said to Steve, who seemed unsure. "She fucking deserves this; look at that whore costume; this is what she's got coming. Serves her right."

"Wait..." I just managed to say before Emma clamped her hand around my throat and began tightening her grip to choke me. She nodded to Steve.

Steve forced the remaining half of his cock into my body with the strength of a god; my bowels didn't stand even a chance. My efforts were as futile as a man trying to stop a tank with nothing but an impotent placard.

They knew Steve was too big for full anal sex. They'd both said it. They'd both warned me. It had seemed like a line they were aware of and wouldn't cross. Yet suddenly Steve and Emma didn't seem to care about the internal damage they were about to cause. Something about me had inspired them to cross their lines. It was as if I was nothing more to them than a feelingless sex doll.

Though that wasn't quite right, they knew I had feelings because they thrived on them. It felt like they were both revelling in draining my emotions from me like succubuses.

It was so intense, so extreme, so over the boundary between pleasure, pain and torture that it was a long moment before I realised the screaming wail in the room was mine. Even then, it only stopped when Emma kissed me and swallowed my screams with bliss.

***

I saw the world in terms of cause and effect. For every action, there is always some sort of reaction. I analysed and looked and assessed things, and I've got to say I think I was pretty good at it. It's a huge part of what helped me as Batgirl. There is one thing I was not good at analysing, my one blind spot, if you will, and that was myself.

It's something I was never good at. it was always easier to work out how things effected other things, and then I was able to work out why other people did what they did, and then I worked out how to influence them. It was probably a defence mechanism, a way to stop me from having to confront or think about what was inside me.

And that's why I had no idea if my role as Batgirl changed me or if I'd always had the darkness inside me. There was a lot to unpack. If you don't know how things were before, then you can't make a comparison, and if you can't make a comparison, then you can't even begin to look at cause and effect. Which is why I'd tried so hard to not think of the darkness.

I had to play two roles, one, as Barbara Gordon, the shy, ignored, invisible daughter wasting away in a library full of books. The other as Batgirl, the champion of justice. The girl with the shiny black catsuit who flaunted her incredible curves in literally the worst villain's faces. The villains who live only in normal people's nightmares, the very worst people to flaunt yourself in front of. I was the Batgirl who dared them to try to take me on, in the arrogant belief that I could defeat them all. No matter how hard they tried, I believed I'd always get lucky. It was like my life depended on my getting at least a four on every roll of the dice.

Would I have taken on the role if I had known it would be like this? Would I have become Batgirl? The champion for a city that doesn't care? The champion who is loved and hated by probably the same proportion of the city's population?. I started with an idolised view, an arrogance that I was untouchable. By the time of this story I knew that was wrong; I'd lost, I'd been beaten, left for dead, been betrayed by those I trusted, and been the victim myself in the worst possible way. I'd found myself alone, fighting for the city, the last one standing. I'd suffered because I was Batgirl.

Would I have done that?

The answer is yes. Because I loved it. I loved it all. The danger, the thrill, the sense of purpose, the power, the sense of doing something that mattered.

You see, there was that darkness in me that I fought. I didn't know if that darkness had always been inside me or whether it had been created by the trauma of being Batgirl. Maybe it was a survival mechanism or a safety valve? I don't think I'll ever know the answer. But late at night, my mind would wander and I would remember that thrill when a fight was going badly, or the thrill when I was captured or when I was beaten, when I'm shown I'm not all-powerful and indestructible. When there was a chance it might be all over for me.

There's a thrill in having control, but there is another kind of thrill in being the final champion of justice and having it taken away from you. I knew I shouldn't want that. I knew with my whole being that it was wrong. But I think a part of me, a tiny part inside me acknowledged that I got off on losing.

I'd come to the conclusion that my life had gotten to the point where the darkness needed to be brought under control before I destroyed myself and possibly the whole city. What I needed was an outlet.

Steve and Emma both hated me. They were kinky sadists who I'd run across one night a year or so previously. I didn't know their back story or how they'd met, but they were a perfect combination, a perfect match for each other. Emma was a true switch, a woman who could equally enjoy being top or bottom and Steve was a powerful dominant who also enjoyed surrendering to Emma.

Steve had Emma tied up the first time I met them. I'd seen them through a skylight, and in my naivety, I'd assumed the worst. I genuinely thought Steve was going to kill her. I dropped through the skylight and judgmentally threw Steve across the room. I'd been a little heavy handed and knocked him out. Emma, after I released her, angrily tried to explain to me what they'd been doing, but I didn't listen and called the cops.

Steve spent the night in a cell but was released with an apology, and Captain James Gordon, who was still speaking to me at this point, gave me a slap on the wrist.

"They are swingers, Batgirl, and you need to be more careful before you just jump into things," he told me in his stern, fathererly tone. A tone that I ironically only heard whilst Batgirl. When I was Barbara, his actual daughter, I didn't get much interest from him.

I don't know why I sought Steve and Emma out, but one night I just couldn't control myself anymore. I found myself there, on their rooftop. It was as if my dark side had taken total possession of me and then abandoned me when I reached where it wanted me to go.

Their luxurious apartment took up the entire top floor of what had one hundred years ago been a warehouse in Gotham's thriving industrial heartland. It was one open space with undressed brick walls and elaborate cast iron pillars supporting the ceiling above.

They were both watching something on a laptop that sounded like porn when I entered through their balcony. They looked up in unison, they looked surprised but not afraid, which was unnerving. I was in my full Batgirl regalia, my cape billowing, my costume dark, shiny and imposing. They ought to have been intimidated, but they weren't.

"I'm sorry," I said. It was maybe a lame opener, but it was all I could come up with and it felt like it was a good place to start.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Steve said. Emma said nothing, but looked unimpressed.

I tried to focus on my breathing, reminding myself that I'd chosen to come here and that I had control. But the knot in my stomach wouldn't loosen. I'd faced down maniacs with guns and bombs, but somehow, walking up to Steve and Emma felt more dangerous. More unpredictable. As every second passed, I felt heavier like I was sinking deeper into something I wasn't sure I could climb back out of.

"Look, I'm sorry for what I did to you both. I was in the wrong; I didn't understand; trust me, I've learnt a lot." I cringed deep inside, that didn't sound any better than my opener. Why did I suck so badly at this?

Emma got to her feet with the poise of a stretching cat. "We've learned a lot too, Batgirl. What do you want with us?"

My mind raced. Why did that sound so intimidating? Was she implying that she'd learned a lot about me? I tried to think what they could possibly have learned, but my brain was so tired. There was so much about the last year that I wanted to forget, so I gave up and focused on Emma.

She smiled at me, but it didn't reach her eyes. There was something unsettling in the way she watched me, like a cat toying with its prey. Steve, for all his charm, barely glanced at me. He was focused, calculating, as if he were already one step ahead of whatever game I thought we were playing.

"Why are you here?" Steve asked, repeating Emma's unanswered question, "What do you want from us?"

I stared at them both, I said nothing. The apartment felt too warm, too close. My skin buzzed with a mixture of tension and anticipation, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd made a terrible mistake. Could I stop this if I wanted to? Or had I already surrendered without realising it?

I've heard that a true domme or sadist, I can't remember which, can tell their prey just by looking at them, by looking in their eyes. So I tried that, hoping my eyes could communicate my need in a way my words couldn't. I forced my green eyes to look into Emma's piercing blue eyes, and I fought every urge to look down.

She seemed to look into my soul for a moment. I could see her thoughts change. She went from irritation to confusion to interest to surprise and finally to a sort of victorious, excited satisfaction. A vast smirk crossed her face.

Emma took a step forward, closing the distance between us until she was only inches away. Her blue eyes seemed to pierce my soul, stripping away my armour and leaving me raw and exposed.

"Surely not Batgirl, surely not," she said in a playful voice.

"What?" Steve called from behind her.

"I think Batgirl has come to play," she purred, never taking her eyes off me.

***

I stood in front of them wearing my full costume feeling like a slave being valued. I stood with my arms folded in front of my chest. I knew that the pose tended to make my not-insignificant breasts look even bigger. I tried to look powerful and unimpressed, but I probably looked defensive and petulant. Steve and Emma had returned to the expensive leather couch. They both had a drink, him a whiskey, and I suspected she had a gin and tonic. They'd offered me nothing, not even water.

"So, Batgirl," Steve said in his rich voice, which had an element of patronisation to it. "Do you even know what you want?"

"I'm not here to play games, and I'm not here to beg," I said defiantly. "But I need something..."

"What on earth is going on in that pretty head of yours?" Emma said. "I'm confused. Is this maybe some sort of trap? But what for? Why would you trap us? With all the problems in Gotham City, I can't imagine that we or any of the people we know are at the top of any 'Bat-Wanted-List'."

I swear she did the air quotes on 'Bat-Wanted-List' just to taunt me.

"You need to tell us why you are here and what you want; please don't make us try and guess what you are thinking," she continued.

I sighed and turned around, away from them. I figured it would be easier to talk and open up if I faced the wall.

"Could I get a glass of water?"

"No," Emma said, very finally and very quickly. "We aren't your friends, we aren't your fans, we're not going to share drinks with you. So far you are more of an unwanted visitor."

I shouldn't have come here. Every instinct told me to leave, to go back to being Batgirl. But there was something in the way they looked at me, in the way Emma dissected me with her words. They made me feel very small, very powerless; but that's what I wanted; that's why I was here. It made me feel exposed and raw. And that thrill, that damn thrill kept me standing there