Batman Cyoa Gotham Buffet Pt 09

B. Fuck her while she talks.

Barbara couldn't rid herself of the warm, wet feeling that pervaded from the meeting of her thighs to the pit of her stomach as she twisted her chair away from Bruce and went back to her desk. With each turn of the wheels, she thought Bruce would seize her, mount her, fuck her with the insatiable lust he'd had for her a moment ago. The idea made her quiver. But Bruce held back, with the fathomless control that somehow went hand in hand with the endless passion she'd sampled. He let her sex stay sopping wet and wildly throbbing.

Barbara put on her headset, the earpieces and mouthpiece doing their best to block out the heat of the world, and only then did Bruce grab her, picking her up into a scorching kiss. He set her down on her own keyboard, facing him, running his gloved hands all over her body.

"Bruce, I've got to—"

"Yes," Bruce interrupted, his voice as harsh as his kiss, as his hands. "So do I."

Her hands ineffectually flailed in the air as he unzipped her blouse from the back. They settled on his broad shoulders. Then, as if they knew he couldn't be pushed away, they retreated. Now his mouth was on her neck, thrilling her with kiss after kiss. Soon, he had her bra opened. Barbara didn't know what she was doing when she touched the control of her headset, but she heard the ding of the comlink opening.

"Gorgeous breasts," Bruce panted, squeezing her chest, sucking hungrily on her nipples. "Anyone with tits like these should know she's getting fucked."

"Bruce, Christ, not here!" Barbara gasped, not trying to get away from his grasp, but trying and failing to resist hosting the pleasures of his clutch in her mind.

"Of course right here," Bruce said, at the same time as the voice on the comlink said: "What was that, Oracle?"

Barbara cleared her throat, pushing down her sensations, hoping like hell the distortion of her Oracle voice modulator would hide her reaction to how Bruce was molesting her. "Nothing. Bad connection. Report."

It was Zinda talking, her Southern accent coming in loud and clear enough that Barbara could only pray she wasn't hearing Barbara's heavy breathing and tiny moans with the same sharpness.

"It's no big hooey, but I'm here in the Batcave, going over some of the vee-hick-cules our sugar daddy's got in his collection. Just tightenin' a few screws, is all. But Dinah said she was gonna show up here so we could shoot the shit while we did our thing. Well, here I am, but she ain't shown, not hide or hair."

"

Ohhhh!"

Barbara cried, Bruce's mouth all over her throbbing breasts.

"What was that, O?" Zinda asked.

"B-bad connection, like I said. Mixed signals. You want me to find Dinah?"

"I could eat you alive," Bruce intoned, his mouth right at Barbara's ear now, and she could only clutch her mouthpiece in the hopes that it would block Zinda from hearing. "I could swallow you whole..."

He pulled her headset askew so that his tongue could lick into her ear. Barbara's green eyes crossed. She wanted to yield, to stop fighting him, but she couldn't. She trembled, her hands on Bruce's chest, not sure if she was pushing him away or feeling the muscle under his body armor. Zinda's voice pulled her through her haze.

"I think we have got mixed signals—that sounded like a man just now!"

"Such a man," Barbara breathed before fully coming back to herself. "I mean—a man—yes—I, I'll reboot the system later. That'll clear up... clear things up..."

Bruce was sucking her breasts again. Barbara's eyes rolled skyward as her wonderfully abused breasts ached and throbbed with the most exquisite of delights.

"And Dinah?" Zinda asked.

"Yes, mmm, Dinah too!" Barbara gasped, imagining in a turgid fantasy Bruce abandoning her like this, only to go fuck her friend, all while Barbara watched in this utterly rapturous state of lust. She didn't have that big a kink for voyeurism (she told herself) but something about the scenario seemed to perfectly suit Bruce. So much so that it could only be arousing.

Barbara wanted him to treat her like this, she realized. She wanted him to fuck her back into the good little girl with the go-go boots, even if it was only for a few orgasms.

His hands moved with certainty to the zipper of her pants. He unfastened it and dragged them down her legs. In a moment, he'd taken the waistband of her panties too. Barbara felt the chill of being bare—and the heat of it—in those parts of herself that could feel. They seemed deep inside her, at the core of her.

"Dinah and who else?" Zinda asked.

Barbara's jaw dropped, her eyes growing wide. It was all she could do to keep from vocalizing with two of Bruce's fingers dipping far into the wet blossom of her womanhood. "W-what?" she trebled out.

"I thought you said you found Dinah too, Dinah and someone else?" Zinda's tinny voice came over Barbara's earphones. "Who else were you looking for?"

Bruce slid down her half-naked body and pressed his mouth to the wetness, the needing throb, of her aroused pussy. His tongue slid inside her. Barbara's jaw muscles tensed—she tried to squeeze into place the incredible pleasure racing through her—but then it broke out: "Oh God, Bruce, fuck yes!"

"Bruce? Who's Bruce? Is he with Dinah?"

Barbara squeezed her mouthpiece inside both hands, trying to mute her end of the conversation. "She can hear everything we're doing!" she keened, panicked.

Bruce didn't heed her objection at all. He sucked and lapped at her simmering cunt while his hands slid under her ass, squeezing her smooth buttocks hard enough to send the reverberations into Barbara's already pulsing sex.

Barbara took away her hands from the mouthpiece. "Don't worry about it," she said breathily. "Let me double-check that first..."

And she picked up one of her keyboards to drop into her lap, amused despite herself with how it shared space with Bruce's sucking mouth. She angled another monitor, then quickly called up the locator on Dinah's individual communication unit. But while she did, Bruce jabbed his tongue quickly in and out of her; flicked her clit with his tongue until Barbara was shaking uncontrollably.

"Bruce! Oh God! You're going to make me come!"

"What was that?" Zinda asked. "Who's coming?"

Barbara was beyond answering. Her pupils dilated up at the tops of her eye sockets. Her breath come in fast, whirling pitches, jiggling her chest, making the muscles flex in her lean six-pack. She was out of control with orgiastic pleasure gripping her; all she was feeling was ecstasy and a need for more. Her lips moved soundlessly, begging Bruce not to stop feasting on her overflowing sex, and she'd entirely forgotten her fear of being discovered or overheard.

Eyes hazy, she watched Bruce stand, his stiff cock lancing out in front of him, both an offer and a demand to Barbara. She knew it would be hilted in her. She might be able to direct it to her mouth, but she didn't have the will to want it anyplace else than her pussy. She couldn't move her legs, but reaching down Barbara opened her labia lips—green eyes dancing with excitement to see the spread opening that Batman could slot himself into.

"Try not to cry out," he said, guiding his prick to her slippery folds, then grabbing both her hands in his. Pulling on her wrists like reins, he led his hips forward, pressing his erection deep inside her sizzling cunt.

Barbara swooned. She tried to cover her mouth or keep any sound from reaching her mouthpiece, but Bruce's grip on her arms was undeniable. Her long, shapely legs dangled, spread apart by his slowly thrusting loins. The more she felt of him inside her, the more fiery pleasures awakened inside her. Barbara couldn't keep herself from moaning, wanton, whorish, drool collecting in the corner of her lips as she came to know she was fucked and would only keep being fucked. Just like a slut should be.

Even Bruce had to grimace, feeling her tight sex close around his plunging cock, as though to retaliate against how vast it was and how it forced apart her narrow walls. "You're beautiful," he whispered through the enjoyable discomfort of her tightness. "I'm going to fuck you hard. Make you come over and over again. Leave you feeling like the dirty little bitch that you are..."

"Unh! HNNNH!" Barbara groaned, feeling him drive his ferocious erection into her inch by inch, taking up more of the intimate space inside her until all she could feel was him filling her. "Oh God, I can't get enough! I want you to fuck me harder!"

He crashed into her, his fierce hardness not stopping until it was all the way inside her, his bloated balls pressed up to her buttocks. Barbara crooned, eyes crossing, saliva drifting down her chin. Her hands reached past Bruce's armor, with its slick lack of purchase, and nestled in his cape, using it for handholds to try and pull him closer.

"Good girl, good girl!" Bruce grunted, pumping her again, making Barbara gurgle deep in her throat as she was impaled all over again. "You were meant for this, Barbara—meant to be my slut—I'll fuck you a thousand times, fuck you just like this..."

"Babs, are you getting your petals pushed in or have you just found the mother of all Chinese joints to eat at?" Zinda's tinny voice wanted to know, in the buzzing bee headset that was only halfway gripping Barbara's head at this point.

"I'm getting fucked, I'm getting fucked, I'M SO GETTING FUCKED!" Barbara cried deliriously, no longer caring if Zinda knew, in fact wanting her to know. Wanting to brag about how damn hard she was coming in a town where it was nearly impossible to find a good man. Now she was getting her brains fucked out. Now she was Batman's bitch.

They were locked in such a delicious writhing fuck that there was no stopping them. Bruce's fingers dug into Barbara's full buttocks as he pulled her, again and again, into his ramming prick. Barbara could only groan helplessly as her climax tore through her, claiming her even more ruthlessly than Bruce had.

"

Ohh! Unh! Aiiimmmmphh!"

Barbara moaned before her mouth was stuffed with Bruce's gloved fingers, obscuring all her screams. She gasped and groaned into the blockade while undulating wildly what portions of her body she could control. Even with the dead weight of her legs, her flesh felt electrified by the hot jolts Bruce's pumping cock gave her.

"Have to shut you up now, Babs," Bruce told her. "If Zinda wants to know how good it feels, she can lift that little skirt of hers herself."

With Barbara only able to suck desperately at his fingers, Bruce skewered himself into her again. He held his cock inside her, feeling the roiling pleasure of her surrounding folds. Flooding him with the wetness of her ecstasy. She was getting off just on having him inside her. Then, exhaling roughly, he stopped resisting. His prick thundered and spurted. Bruce let out a groan as he released, making Barbara feel the ropes of cum shooting into her. She sobbed and swallowed at the fingers in her mouth, overcome with the quivering shocks of too much bliss to bear.

When he was done, Bruce slowly pulled away from her. Barbara gasped as Bruce took his cock from her flaming pussy. Then she slumped over. Bruce directed her towards her chair, but she ended up doubled over an armrest, her head down in the chair's seat and her ass up in the air, cum leaking from her well-used ass. Bruce grunted and left her like that; she wouldn't appreciate him being so condescending as to think she needed his help.

He tucked his cock away and took a look at Barbara's workstation. It showed the missing Black Canary; her ID tag pinged alongside Batwoman's. Bruce supposed that should put Zinda's worries to rest—there was little those two formidable women couldn't handle when they were together. But just to be on the safe side, he would check in on the situation himself.

***

Kate landed on top of Dinah, her sex pressing down into Dinah's mouth, while her own mouth hovered above Dinah's juicy pussy. With a wild cry of passion, Kate buried her face between Dinah's open thighs, licking all she could with the crotch of Dinah's leotard pulled aside and her fishnets ripped open. At the same time, she felt Dinah's tongue snaking into her own cunt.

Their moans of passion filled the room; all their mouths could utter when they weren't busy with each other's delectable snatches. The warm juices of orgasmic delight flowed into hungrily sucking lips. It seemed as if neither woman could get enough; that if she could, the other woman would soon have her greedy for more anyway.

Bruce watched, surprised but not shocked by what he found. He knew Batwoman and Black Canary were as dutiful as humanly possible—but now he also knew the intoxicating prospects of sex. Was it fate or simple coincidence that they'd picked the same night as him to indulge themselves? Or maybe they were so much more sexual than him, so willing to seduce and be seduced, that it was inevitable he'd stumble on some of their love games eventually.

In either case, he couldn't let this pass without comment. He'd induce them into the ranks of his harem as easily as he had Barbara. It would be sheer folly to do anything less with this golden opportunity.

Kate was on top, her ass atop Dinah's face. She happened to be oriented away from where he'd entered the room. The unzipped crotch of her costume gave Dinah access, but it would also allow him to get at her—so long as he didn't mind Dinah having a front-row seat to how he penetrated her lover.

And Bruce didn't mind. He doubted Dinah would either. The woman had dated Green Arrow. Clearly, propriety wasn't high on her list of desirable traits.

The vision came to him as wholly as any strategy. With Kate lost in performing oral sex on Dinah, she would take being fucked from behind as just another part of her Sapphic affair with Dinah. By the time she realized it was no dildo being used on her, she'd long since have gone the way of Selina, Barbara, and the others.

Or he could wait, allowing them their private fun. When it was over, then he could step in—showing them things that each other's tongue could never be capable of.

But either way, this night wouldn't pass without one of these women being shown the satisfaction of being his bitch.

A. Bruce fucks Kate.

B. Bruce makes Dinah suck him off.

C. Bruce lets them sixty-nine.