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"Ahhh... This is life." Edgar Cizko said, squeezing his "armrests". Two formerly proud Amazon guards now knelt at this sides, arms folded behind their backs, leaning forward so their tits were level with the King's arms. A third guard was on her hands and knees, supporting his weight on her back. Completing the set, their former captain stood behind their sister, kneeling so her lord's head could rest against her huge mammaries. "Don't you agree, my lovelies?"
"Oh, yes, Your Majesty." the petite beauty slurping his left ball cooed "We couldn't ask for a great honor, Master." agreed her twin at his right side. The sisters, formerly Hippolyta's cupbearers, now tended to the king's scepter when he was recovering with the same zeal they once had served the Queen of Amazons.
"No, you couldn't. And you better be thankful for that." Psycho retorted, throwing his short legs over their shoulders with a sigh, as the pouty lips on his balls redoubled their efforts. "Like this. Good girls."
A peck on his toes shifted his attention to a trembling Circe. "Oh, you. I have no further use for you now, dear. You can go and take a bath. Women should always look pretty for their King, hmm?"
"Yes, Master, but..." she whispered, fearfully. "It's... The usurper. She's here, sir, and she wishes to speak with Your Magnificence."
Psycho raised his eyebrows, confused. Usurper? That would be...
A huge grin appeared on his face.
"Oh... Yeah. You can send her in, dear. And stay here. I want you to see this."
"Hey! Fucker! Get your damn car outta my way. I have a to get home, goddamnit!"
Fuming, the Gotham businessman got out of his car. "Just what the fuck is happening over there?"
A few meters ahead, the avenue was blocked. A crowd stood there, blocking his view of whatever it was that was causing the jam.
"Oh, fuck it. It's that cocksucker Batman again, isn't it?" Pushing and punching his way through the dumbstruck crowd, he finally got to the front, ready to give the damn vigilante a piece of his mind, before all coherent thought left his mind. He saw Her.
High-heeled, spiked boots covered Her feet, before giving way to the signature fishnets, the only piece that remained of her old costume. Instead of the old, cliche Magician suit and bow tie, Her body was now covered by a midnight black leather corset, a beautiful, forbidding thing covered in chains and locks that pushed Her breasts up and together, forever out of reach. Her arms were covered in black opera cloves, a fistful of leashes clenched in one hand (He didn't pay attention to the beauties crawling proudly in front of her. The catgirls, which would command the attention of every hot-blooded heterosexual male in any circumstances, now paled in comparison to Her dark majesty.), while the other held a bullwhip, seemingly made of sheer darkness, that promised pain and ecstasy to whatever (un)fortunate soul that caught Her attention. Completing the set, a black, thorny crown adorned Her head, a symbol of power and command much more appropriate than the old top hat.
She had once been Zatanna, he knew. He had seen one of her shows, even fantasized a bit about fucking her instead of his demanding shrew of a wife. But she was not Zatanna anymore. He was unworthy of even thinking about that name. She was The Mistress, now, striding through Gotham as if she owned the place.
Such a silly thought. Of course she owned the city. She owned him. She owned all.
His rage forgotten, his home forgotten, even his own name forgotten, the man joined the growing crowd in their wordless reverence of their Dark Lady, unaware, perhaps uncaring, of the way streets, building and even clothes warped in Her stride, to shapes more in accord to Her tastes.
"OHGODYESFUCKMEMASTERFUCKMEFUCKMEFUCKMEYEEEEEEEEESHHHH!" She Hulk orgasmed for what had to be the 100th time since Superman took her to the Fortress of Solitude. He had gone beyond her wildest dreams, roughing her up like no one else could, dumping load after load of hot supercum in her pussy, enough to get her pregnant ten times over, and he still keep going after that, switching from her sore pussy to her asshole and then back again.
"Well done, Jennifer Walters. You shall make for an adequate Head Concubine." Superman said, finally letting go of her tired body. She-Hulk could only moan incoherently in return, far too gone in La-La Land to care. "Rest now. Tomorrow, we have a mission carry on."
He walked over to where Titania rested against the walls, her unmoving hand still stuck in her pussy. Like She-Hulk, her stamina had abandoned her a long time ago, but she just couldn't sleep with such a great spectacle before her eyes.
"Whore. Clean me. And swallow all - Kryptonian seed is not to be wasted."
"Uuuugh, yesh, mashter..." She slurred, taking his 15-inch monster in her mouth. No rest for the wicked, as they say.
"Yes. Yes... I know... No... Look, Oracle, you know I have the utmost respect for you, and all you have done for the mutants and the superhero communities over the years, but you have to understand if I'm a bit reticent to believe that part of Gotham is becoming some sort of "Sexy Lesbian Mordor", as you put it... *sigh* No, I'm not calling you crazy..."
Ororo Munroe raised her eyes from the screen to see Emma Frost coming inside. Good, maybe with a telepath's help they could get Oracle to stop the senseless bullshit. She had too much on her plate now to care about what seemed to be a psychotic surge.
"Just a sec, Emma."
What? Fighting her body every second, Ororo closed the call and took her clothes off. Slowly. Sensually. Like a stripper.
"Uh! Big black titties!" White Tease giggled, running her crop up and down Ororo's body. "Just like Mr. Cobblepot likes 'em! He's going to love you, Stormie! And I'll make sure you know all about pleasing him." Swat! "Like a good girl!"
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