Mera huffed feverishly. The annoying ticking clock in some far corner she couldn't see gonged, announcing the start of the sixth consecutive hour in her marathon frigging session. Hot, sweaty, she kept pounding away at her slit with the help of her body's natural lube.
None of it mattered. The orgasms stopped coming a good hour ago. By now, she was stewing in a giant wet spot and smearing it on her crotch for the hell of it. Well, not really for the hell of it. She still knew who to blame for this disgrace, and every extra second she spent staring at giant bronze boobs made her rage boil hotter.
"Rragh!" Mera growled. "I am the queen of Atlantis! I deserve dignity! Respect!"
Her chest heaved high as her anger pushed her whole body into overdrive. First came the labored breaths. Then, her pussy burned with lust she knew would never bring the release she craved. Finally, her eyes crossed and her jaw clenched when the full force of her frigging hand came hammering down on her sore, sore G-spot.
Her hand had entered the worst phase of all: ragefuck mode. Any time she came close to flying off the handle, her body punished her with rougher, harder motions until she couldn't think straight. Like any other time she went into this state, she managed to hang onto only one important detail: she hated the stench of Bill Baxter's dried cum on her face.
"Who does this man think he is?"
As much as her muscles ached and her cunt throbbed from overuse, neither of these sensations got under her skin any worse than knowing the bastard didn't even care. Why should he? Every time she swore vengeance, hurled insults and dressed him down, Bill Baxter got a front row seat to another round of Mera ragefucking herself quiet.
***
After years devoted to academic study, with his nose buried in dry texts and his hands dirtied from sifting through ruins, the sensation of sliding a woman's panties down her legs was an odd one for Bill Baxter. The fact it was a famous beauty like Zatanna Zatara made it more surreal. With a single gesture, Zatanna lifted one leg, then the other, stepping out and leaving her panties in his capable hands.
"Isn't that more comfortable? None of that bunched up cloth to chafe," Bill whispered in her ear.
He took his prize with him and plopped down on the dressing room loveseat. Twirling the garment on the end of his finger brought a stunningly miffed look in the magician's eyes, a look he truly admired as Zatanna unbuttoned her blouse and loosened her bow tie into a trail leading to her newly bared cleavage.
"Present," he ordered, and Zatanna didn't disappoint. She turned, bent over and flipped up the tails of her coat to reveal the marvelous view of her fishnets clinging tightly to her pussy lips and big fat ass. From high heels to calves, calves to thighs, thighs to glutes, the tone and definition made Zatanna's gams look like they were made for showing off her juicy rear.
"Nice. Very nice," Bill complimented. "I can see why you wear that costume. All you need is the illusion of a chance to see some extra cheek to get men in those front row seats."
"Mmm-mmm. Mmph," Zatanna mumbled into her closed mouth.
"Yes, I would be honored to serve as your patron, thank you for asking. Of course, you know this means I must have complete creative control. That is the cost of patronage. I provide you with stable luxuries and necessities, and in exchange, you live up to the standards I demand from you. Do you still accept?"
Zatanna's neck strained to resist Bill Baxter's manipulations, but in the end, she found herself nodding.
Bill Baxter grinned. "Then it's settled. As your patron, I think my first order of business is to provide you with a little... moral... support."
***
"And then Catwoman said, quote, 'Like, ohmigod, you totally caught me. I got this awesome scepter totally hidden in my slutty asshole,' end quote. Is that correct?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Are there any other details you can share?"
Vicki Vale would be lying if she didn't admit to a little satisfaction when she got the call. Ever since Catwoman threatened her in her own apartment, over a man no less, something inside her wanted to settle the score. Yet, month after month of digging through security camera footage and police reports gave her nothing. At least, not anything Catwoman would regret.
Imagine her surprise when one of her cop connections ringed her up at just past dawn with the scoop of a lifetime: the elusive Catwoman, expert thief, nabbed like a rank amateur and trying to screw her way out of jail time. She already had a headline ready to go with the story: "Catwoman, Princess of Plunder or Feline Fool?"
There was only one problem.
"She said she does this all the time with Batman and he lets her go free."
Batman would never do that. The brutal vigilante was known for a lot of things, and accused of many more, but going soft on crime in exchange for sex wasn't on the laundry list. As much as it pained her to admit it, she couldn't publish this story until she dug deeper for the truth.
At least the delay meant more chances for Catwoman to give her new humiliating anecdotes fit for print. From the sound of it, Catwoman was in the middle of a juicy one right this second.
"Excuse me, I need to take this," Vicki Vale said to the witness. "Thanks for your time."
She rushed over to the police blockade. By sheer luck, she raised her camera and snapped a photo right as a handcuffed Catwoman came through with two cops to keep her on a tight leash. The shot had everything a vengeful Vicki Vale could ask for: a dumb goofy grin, tits hanging out, all the cum and naughty bits carefully obscured by angle and lighting. She could print this in the Gotham Gazette and destroy Catwoman's reputation and image in one day.
Now for a quote to wrap up the whole package. "Catwoman! Do you have a statement for the press?"
"Like, this is so unfair! I fucked all those guys and they arrested me anyway!"
"Yeah, not all cops will let you off the hook for being a dumb, nasty skank."
"They should! They totally should! That's why I got these fake boobies!"
No offense to being called a skank? Catwoman's reaction wasn't what she expected. Her intrepid reporter sense was tingling. Vicki took one more photo of Catwoman looking out the cop car window before it drove off.
Next Chapters
Or add your own