Lois Lane Wants To Fuck Batgirl

The bank's siren howled. Harley Quinn emerged from the vault a bag over the counter, the straps digging into her shoulders. Ever dollar bill weighs a gram. A million dollars, in hundreds, is a hundred kilograms. The Clown Princess of Crime, an Olympic-level athlete in her prime, could haul her own body weight in stolen money—but it slowed her down.

Even so, Harley was stuffing the last bag into the back of the stolen van when a batarang embedded itself into the metal frame of the door.

"Stop right there, Harley!"

Batgirl didn't pause to shout her warning. Cape and flame-red hair flying behind her, the Caped Crusader seemed to fly out of nowhere. Their eyes met. Harley grinned. They had done this dance before, so many times. As friends and as foes, ever since Batgirl was the teenaged sidekick and Harley the Joker's chief henchwoman. Things were different now. The redhead was an adult, a heroine in her own right, and Harley was acting alone.

Batgirl came in expecting a fight. She didn't expect Harley Quinn to drop suddenly to the ground and roll under the van. Nor did Batgirl anticipate the woody vines to explode out of the back of the van to wrap around her limbs. The heroine grabbed at the sides of the door, to battle for time...and then a pair of hands pushed hard from behind, and the heroine went tumbling into the back of the van, surrounded by bags of money, narcotic plants, and Poison Ivy.

"Took three banks for you to take the bait," Ivy said. The redhead held a protective hand over her stomach. Batgirl twisted her body to stare out the door...and her mouth gaped as she saw Lois Lane, grinning like the cat that caught the canary, slam the van's door shut. Then the narcotic blossoms twisted on their stems, pressed in against her face...and Batgirl knew no more.

"So she is a natural redhead," Lois Lane said.

Warm, damp air, redolent with floral scents, greeted Barbara Gordon as consciousness returned to her. Yet underneath there was a harsh, chemical odor, a bit like Joker's characteristic toxin. The Caped Crusader did not give any outward sign of having awakened; she kept her eyes closed, breathing steady as she took stock of where she was.

The air moved on her naked skin. They'd removed her costume, even her gloves and boots, leaving the heroine in only her cape and cowl. The redhead's arms and legs were bound, and her back and buttocks pressed against an X-shaped tree or wooden frame—she could feel the grain of wood, the roughness of bark, against her bare skin. Her head hung down, but there was no gag, no cloth impregnated with chemicals, nothing about her neck that might affect her breathing.

A finger slipped into her pussy.

The suddenness, the casualness of the intrusion, almost shocked Batgirl into giving the game away. Just like that, all the unwritten rules of superheroines and villains were tossed out the window. Capturing each other was part of the game, but sexual molestation could be a **** sentence if word got out.

Harley and Ivy knew that.

Which meant word wouldn't get out. A knot of fear formed in Batgirl's stomach. If they were planning to kill her...

"You're not going to die," Lois Lane's voice broke into Batgirl's thoughts.

The finger pushed in a little deeper until the knuckles pressed against Barbara's labia. Then it curled, as if it sought her g-spot. Instead, it caught the rim of the spiked diaphragm that Batgirl kept inside her during patrols, just in case someone did try to **** her.

"I bet you taste so good..." the reporter's voice said.

Batgirl chanced opening her eyes, just a little. Lois Lane was there, smiling. One eye was violet, the other was green. There was something wrong with the sclera too. Barbara repressed a shudder. She was reminded of the Joker during one of his maniac periods. When he rode the crest of whatever drove him to his most grandiloquent acts of crime and perversion. The heroine could almost smell the crazy waft off of Lois Lane...and the reporter, for her part, could feel and taste the repressed arousal in the slim, athletic redhead crucified before her.

"Let's find out," Lois said, as she pulled the finger out, and dragged the diaphragm out with it. Batgirl held her breath as her last defense hit the floor with a wet plap, and Lois Lane sucked on her finger.