Marry The Knight Ch 09

Zinda hadn't come in a week. She blamed society.

Back in the day, she'd had real men. So many real men that she could afford to be just friends with most of them, the boys of the Blackhawks. When she wanted something more, she just went to a watering hole and let one light her cigarette. That was that.

Nowadays, real men were light on the ground. All guys wanted to do was cry in public and wear tight jeans and diet. Oh, they called it being vegan, but it was dieting.

Big Barda

was more of a man than most of them, and she was all woman. Had a bigger cock too. Oh, she called it a Mega-Rod, but it was a cock.

Getting married to Grayson had seemed like a sweet deal for that. Sure, the boy had the hair of a greaser, but it was the perfect arrangement. When she wanted him, she had him, and when she didn't, the rest of the Birds of Prey could kick him around. She didn't even have to feel guilty about it; for most of the gals, Dick was just there for when they got tired of being sapphists.

She hadn't counted on just how lusty she could be. She considered herself to be far more interested in engine parts and joysticks than any male anatomy—a boy was just for when she couldn't get her hands on a good socket wrench. But she knew how chickadees were—ought to have, at least, being one herself.

Having Dick around got her motor running, and having a bunch of other wildcats just as hot and bothered as her after him just made her want him all the more. Especially when he was keen to reciprocate. She'd gotten used to having him thrice daily. And being watched by Babs, the big voyeur. And hearing when he was with Starfire, whose screams needed no translation from their original Tamaranese.

Now he'd been gone for more than a week, off on some secret mission for Batman, and it felt worse than when she'd given up ale. She needed to scratch that itch. And she had to admit, when it was Starfire and Troia, that big orange dame screamed just as loud as she did for Dick...

But that would only be a last resort. Zinda was into misters, not sisters, and though she was a big fan of gals helping gals, this was something she would feel better about doing on her own. Lucky for her, the 21

st

century was just as perverse about that as it was about everything else. She'd heard Kory screaming all on her lonesome, overheard Babs talking about taking matters into her own hands back when group marriage was something that only happened in Utah. As soon as she had the Watchtower to herself—Barbara and the others out dancing, probably going to have an orgy in a handicapped bathroom stall—she went to Barbara's room.

It took some searching, but when it came to hiding things, Barbara wasn't as thorough with her massager as she was when it came to her secrets, her emotions, and pretty much everything else. Zinda guessed that, being a bisexual nerd control freak with a voyeurism fetish and a bunch of ladies who worked under her and did everything she said, Barbara considered her masturbation an open secret. The dildo was in her nightstand.

Zinda laid in Barbara's bed, still smelling of lust while Zinda's only smelled of the crap she put in her hair before sleep. She laid the dildo beside her on the double mattress, like it were a man, and curled herself up into a little ball, facing it. Her skirt, short under any circumstances, had stroke up the curve of her ass. When her hand crept between her legs, it touched only silky skin, not fabric. She stroked herself with her knees drawn up, as if hiding her own selfish pleasure. She thought of Dick.

Later, Zinda would feel mollified about her own guilty stimulation, knowing that she'd blushed as her body opened up to the caress of her own fingers, clit growing and hardening for no one but herself. She felt a burgeoning warmth inside her pussy, inviting something to touch it. But it was answering no one, male or female.

Zinda could hardly believe she had these things inside her. It felt like she was flying, the roar of the engine and the wind screaming past and the chatter of her machine guns all swirling together, kicking against her cunt. She felt like a pervert, but she was undeniably aroused. And equipped to do something about it.

Zinda laid on her back, stretching her long stems down to the foot of the bed. She pulled her skirt up over her ass. Its hem straddled her belly, leaving her bare from the waist down. Her golden tuff of pubic hair was in the full light of day. She picked up the dildo. She hadn't come in a week, but she'd make up for it today.

She held the dildo up to the light, wondering how much of it she could fit inside herself—she was able to take Dick's manhood, after all, but the man got her so wet—when "I wondered where that had gotten to."

Barbara stood in the doorway, supporting herself on her cane, thumb rubbing at its head.

"I was just—" Zinda began. "Aww, hell, Babs, you know how I get! I have needs! And I can't just use a showerhead or a tongue like you other gals! I need something hard and fast and

you were the one

who got me used to Dick on a regular basis! Ain't right to get a girl hooked on that and then make her go cold turkey!"

"It's been hard on all of us," Barbara said, thoughtfully closing the door behind her so no one else could see Zinda's shame. "But I know you've been hit the hardest. Helena, Dinah, even Kory—they don't need Dick for a good time."

"Exactly!" Zinda cried. "It ain't fair!"

"So go on then. Stick that big thing in. You do know how to use it, right?"

"I... I..." Barbara was

watching

her, those coy eyes behind those chilly glasses, so damn curious.

"I can show you." The cane ambling across the floor, Barbara seeming to fly off its landings. She still wasn't a hundred percent after the operation to restore her spine; she would never be. But just like Zinda couldn't quite miss the forties, Barbara didn't seem to miss being Batgirl.

She shoved Zinda down onto her back, pulled her legs into the air, pushed her knees to her breasts. Zinda was splayed before her; the dildo ripped from her hand.

"Just so you know, skipper, I ain't no kiki. If I don't get much out of it, that's not on you."

"Bull," Barbara told her confidently. "It's just physics, really. Biology. Gender has nothing to do it. Just watch, okay—watch."

Zinda watched. Trying to remember this to do it to herself later. Trying not to think of doing it to herself right now. It was just because Barbara had surprised her while she was already so turned on thinking of Dick.

Barbara didn't take long to undress. She wasn't wearing panties. Before Zinda knew it, the dildo was slipping up and down Barbara's crotch.

"Don't think of it as a thing, a dildo," Barbara told her. "It's yours. It's your cock. And you're using it—uhhh." Her hips were jogging back and forth, pushing at the dildo as it pushed at her. She took a deep breath. "You're using it on another woman. A woman who looks just like you. A woman as horny as you." Barbara's voice coarsened. The dildo seemed smaller. Some of it—Zinda didn't know how much—was inside her. "You're fucking her just like you'd like to be fucked—that hot, juicy bitch with her hot, juicy cunt..."

Zinda felt something touch her cunt. It was her own hand, her own fingers. They felt good.

"I don't just like to watch, Zinda. I like being watched too. I loved putting on a tight spandex outfit, yellow high heels, cape too short to hide my ass, and having everyone

look

at me."

Barbara closed her eyes, her hips pounding the dildo, and Zinda saw Barbara fucking that beautiful redhead from the file footage. Her fingers touched her cunt again. She felt it, warm and wet. Juicy, like Barbara had said.

I'm watching you,

she thought, a little ashamed, a little liking being ashamed.

"If it makes it easier," Barbara chuckled. "Imagine Dick's here. He's watching us. He's taking his cock out and he's jerking it—oh!—and with his other hand—ah!—he's filming us! He's gonna make a movie!"

Zinda tried to fuck herself as hard as Barbara was, but she couldn't. Not without the dildo.

Barbara's eyes were still closed. "He's making a movie and he's gonna show it to Dinah, and to Helena, and to Kory, Donna—they're all gonna see it! They're gonna be looking at us and fucking themselves! They're all gonna see!"

Zinda moaned. She was wet. So wet. But she wasn't thinking of Dick. She was thinking of Barbara.

Barbara's eyes opened. Met Zinda's. "Did you know," she said, "that this is actually a double-ended dildo?"

Zinda spread her legs. She showed Barbara how wet she was.

Barbara liked watching her get even wetter.

She pressed her lips to Zinda's and the other end of the dildo to her cunt, waiting to put it in until she'd pulled back from the kiss so she could watch Zinda's face as the dildo rode into her. Zinda wrapped her legs around Barbara, pushed her pelvis into the thrusts Barbara gave her.

"Ride my cunt!" Zinda demanded. She expected the same top-of-the-line performance from a lover as she'd get from a finely-tuned engine. "Fuck my coot! That's what I want! Yee-

fucking

-haw!"

And Barbara fucked her frantically, embracing her, kissing her, her eyes shutting as she wished she'd set up a camera first. "Imagine Dick's standing over us—jacking off—coming—shooting all over my ass!"

"I like your behind just fine as is, skipper!" Zinda exclaimed, grabbing a handful of Barbara's seat. It'd toughened up from exercise, but was still chiefly big and soft from her years in the chair, the way Zinda's thought a woman should be.

"And I like your tits!" Barbara ripped Zinda's tunic open, buttons clacking apart to reveal Zinda's white bra. Here, at least, Zinda appreciated modern technology. Helena had gone shopping with her to buy a brassiere that was anything but military regulation. "Can't believe I've only seen these while Dick was fucking them!"

Zinda laughed as she looked down at her own breasts, watching them bounce the same as Barbara. With Barbara softly pistoning into her, her cleavage was steadily undulating, like the tide on a rockless shore. Zinda liked her tits. Nice and big, like a woman's should be. And they were on fire. She needed someone sucking them, like Dick had, but cripes, she couldn't tell the skipper something like that.

But they were so big...

As Barbara watched, Zinda leaned her head down, took her own stiff nipple inside her mouth, and sucked. And Barbara wrapped her lips around Zinda's other nipple, sucking it even harder as their hips waggled like two wings of the same jet, dildo between them.

The exhibitionist was sucking and moaning triumphantly, grabbing the pin-up figure ass that Zinda showed off with every swish of her skirt, and she sucked hard and she drove the dildo deep into Zinda, over and over again, until Zinda couldn't take it anymore, she screamed her way off her tit and threw her head back and as Barbara fucked her again, she said "Dick's seeing what a little whore you are!"

Barbara thrust again, the dildo dwindling between them until it was Zinda's wet cunt against Barbara's, Babs forcing Zinda to come with her, writhing on the bed together in an orgy of pleasure. They shoved and kissed and squirmed even closer, until their clits met, fingers clawed at each other's flesh, their simultaneous orgasm exploded, Zinda demanding ever more of her lover, just as she did from her rides, and she got it, just as she did from her rides.

"He's seeing us being whores together!" Barbara cried as she fucked Zinda like it was for the whole world to see. "You're going to help me, Zinda! We're going to find more women—heroines—villainesses—we're going to rehabilitate them—all the bad girls—we're going to make them watch—see how happy we are—and we're going to fuck them!"

"Yes, anything! Anything you want!" Zinda screamed, impaled, coming, imagining Helena seeing her like this, Helena and all the rest—

"Oh, shit—you can come just as hard as I can!" Barbara said in triumph. She shoved Zinda's end of the dildo in even deeper, pulling herself off her side of it.

"Don't leave!" Zinda pleaded. "It's no good without you!"

"It's even better with this," Barbara said, limping hurriedly into a neighboring room, one of many connected to her bedroom for the ease of her harem lifestyle. When she came back, Zinda was trying to fuck herself and Barbara had a strap-on, even longer and fatter than Dick's cock. It was the only thing she left on as she stripped her blouse and bra, her skirt, until she was all heels and hose and garters, black as the dildo protruding from her groin.

"I turned the hidden cameras on," Barbara said, pulling away the first dildo, putting a pillow under Zinda's ass. "It's live-streaming to the others' phones. Dinah's gonna watch me fuck you. She's gonna watch and she's gonna remember how I broke her in, how I broke Helena in, how I made them all my

bitch

just like you."

Zinda opened her legs so wide that her skirt fell back down around her thighs. She had to hold it out of the way as Barbara entered her. As much as Zinda winced, it still felt better than leaving her cunt burning as hot as it had been.

"O-h-h-h-h, Toledo, it's so big!"

"And that's only half!" Barbara chuckled, seeming to relax now that she was sharing this with her wives. She grabbed Zinda by the chin and made her look with Barbara at the blinking red light of one of the cameras. Somewhere on the other end of it was Dinah, Helena, Kory. All the women Zinda knew and loved, respected. Seeing her get fucked.

"Only half? I wish there was more!" Zinda grabbed Barbara in turn, forcing their eyes together. "Yes, I'll help you! I'll help you seduce more subs for your harem, you alpha bitch pervert. I'll fuck them for you to watch while you get off on it like the power dyke you are. But you're going to fuck me like this every night! I've got to have a cock like this one every night!

I need you to fuck me!"

Barbara showed her agreement with actions, not words. Driving Zinda right off the pillow with hard, powerful thrusts. Zinda had to pitch her hands against the headboard to keep from being smashed into it headfirst. She took Barbara's cock and begged for more, Barbara giving her all she had. Orgasms bursting inside her, only spurring her to fuck Zinda harder, not satisfying her. She was insatiable.

They rolled end over end on the bed, Barbara showing off all of Zinda's submitting body, her own physique sweating with effort. The cameras picked up a dozen views of Barbara's big black dildo plunging into Zinda's snatch, its base riding hard on Barbara's clit. Zinda screamed and shouted her climax. Barbara grunted and sweated hers.

She would've kept fucking Zinda until the others came home, to watch in person, to smell the sex in the air, to join in. Barbara's favorite afterglow: watching the young, hot bodies of her acolytes pick up where she had left off. But one of the straps on her dildo broke. The thing was meant only as a showpiece; a threat Barbara used while domming others. Even Kory had been cowed by it.

With the breakage, Barbara's momentum crashed, her exhaustion catching up with her all at once. She held the dildo in place for one last orgasm,

making

Zinda come as surely as she'd order her to do anything else. Then she rolled onto her back, Zinda panting at her side.

She turned the cameras off. This was hers alone. Zinda's surrender, and her pleasure in being used. It was a sacred thing, and though they'd all submitted to her—Dick, Dinah, willful Helena, even haughty Koriand'r—it was still private.

She held Zinda's hand as their breathing evened out. It took even longer for Zinda. She may have been in better shape than Barbara, but Dick hadn't halfway prepared her for being fucked so hard.

"Would you really want to do that?" Barbara asked. "A rehabilitation program for supervillains? Kory keeps telling me how—love might work where Arkham Asylum doesn't. And you saw what it did for Helena. That was kinda on accident, but—same principle." Barbara closed her eyes, gasping in more breath. This was why she liked having orgies. Always someone with enough energy to go get her some Gatorade. She felt like there was not one electrolyte in her body.

"Well, shit, I just found out I was bisexual the hard way!" Zinda smiled. "The very hard way! Ways I see it, I've got a lot of catching up to do!"

Barbara rolled over and kissed Zinda. "We're going to be doing plenty of that. Let Dick stay lost. Making a dyke out of you is going to be my number one priority."

"It'll have to wait. My cooch is so sore I can't hardly touch it."

"There's a lot more to it than that." Ignoring the twinges in her legs, Barbara worked the strap-on off. She stuck its length under Zinda's nose.

"Mm. Hope all the dames smell as good as I do."

"I'd settle for them tasting as good," Barbara said leadingly.

And, feeling Barbara's eyes on her, Zinda took the dildo between her lips and began to suck.

"And this is also good practice for when Dick gets back," Barbara said, leering victoriously as she slid the cock in and out of Zinda's smacking lips.

***

Bruce had returned to his room without another word and Harley had passed out, totally, completely, utterly spent. Leaving Ivy all alone, with the taste of cum in her mouth and a lump of Harley in her lap.

She stayed like that for a while, remembering the plan, reminding herself that this was all for the plan. An important step had been taken, with Bruce taking Harley as a lover, and that was worth any indignity.

Slowly, Harley faded back to consciousness. Ivy could tell by how she snuggled deeper into Ivy's body, smiling serenely, her body glowing from Bruce's usage of it. Which piqued Ivy. Only she loved Harl enough to give her the kind of pain that crossed over into pleasure, the tough love that left Harley feeling vines still rubbing inside her for days on end.

Still, Harley always had been a little idiot. Scatterbrained. Susceptible to any man who strutted around with his dick in the wind. Ivy didn't mind. The girl was a mammal, after all, and beholden to all her warm-blooded biology. Ivy could let her fall for the man, enjoy her dalliance with him. In time, she would be the responsible one and kill him.

First, though, they had to get Harley pregnant.

"That's enough dallying," Ivy said, shoving Harley off her lap. "You've had your rest. Go to Bruce, get him to come inside you. I want you knocked up before the day is out."

"But Red, don't you think—"

"

Now,

Harl!"

Harley obeyed, already too chastened by Bruce for any great defiance. She paused only to dress herself from the pair's communal clothes—a Save The Whales T-shirt from Pam's Greenpeace days that, on Harley's petite frame instead of Ivy's voluptuous one, traveled to mid-thigh. Thus semi-attired, she quickly pelted down the halls to Bruce's room.

The sun was only just coming up the horizon, trying out its colors for the day. The room was a sort of purple when she went inside, Bruce under the sheets, one hand cradling the back of his head, the other locked in the sheets on the other side of his voluminous bed. He was asleep, tangled sheets migrated to just below his waist, his morning hardness cutting across his thigh. Even through the silk sheet, Harley was transfixed by it. Not just by its size; now she knew how it felt inside her.

She went to him. Pulled back the sheet and there it was. It still smelled of her, like Ivy tasted after she'd gone down on Harley. Harley picked up its soft, substantial heft. A great big water balloon in her hand, half-full of blood, just waiting to go to a hundred percent and turn into the clenched rod that left her feeling like she'd just ridden a stallion across the Great Plains.