Batwoman

Black latex clung to a shapely breast, red curls poured out of the cowl, and pale, bare legs were spread wide, gloved hands held apart her labia to expose herself to her audience.

The spyhole was only about five feet off the floor, and situated right before a bed shaped roughly like the famous signal, with her poised right on the outthrust tip of the tail. The size of the hole did not allow Lois to get much sense of the room, but she could see the woman who was on the bed, her bottom half exposed, knees splayed wide for her audience.

There were at least ten or twenty men in the room. They were in various stages of undress, and many wore masks, but all of them were stroking their erections. Front in center, only a few feet from the edge of the bed, was a cameraman, and beside him in a director's chair was a man in a green and black suit, he was the only one; question marks shimmered across the material. He raised a cane with a golden question mark at the tip. "Action!"

The first man, holding his trembling erection in one hand, staggered forward. The Batwoman did nothing as he pointed her erection at her pussy and...came. Shots of white splurted out, some of it catching in the bright red crotch hair. In a few seconds, it was over, and the shooter wiped his dick on the Batwoman's naked thigh as the next man stepped forward. His stroking increased in speed as he approached her, and within seconds he erupted, spattering a little on her scarlet gloves. The line shuffled on, and Lois gave up on looking at the men, or the woman, and focused on the director.

The Riddler was entranced. Consumed, obsessed. He didn't look away, not even for a moment.

"He says it's a preview." Maria whispered in her ear. "Or catharsis, or something. But me, I think about the girl. Because even if it doesn't all go inside...except it will, he's got this funnel, for later...and the guys are all clean and she's on the pill, but you know that's never a hundred percent effective. I think about being there, all exposed and ****, and dressed up like her... and she's choosing to be there, ain't nobody forcing her. You can't see it from here, but she's getting off on it. She can't play with herself, not on camera, but I know when it's all done she doesn't even wash off or get out of the costume right away...likes to stick those latex fingers in and push it in deep as she gets off..."

Lois felt herself huff, then pulled her eye away from the spyhole. "Let's keep going," she whispered.