On the Watchtower, the amulet's self-pleasure effects take their toll.

Hawkgirl needed more training. There was no other explanation for why she would get winded just crossing the Watchtower, large as it was. If she had noticed that she was halfway to an orgasm from fondling her own breasts for several minutes, she might have realized the true cause, but as it was, she simply thought she was out of shape by the time she and Batgirl reached the cafeteria.

Black Canary, however, did notice, and she nearly choked on her sandwich when she saw the young superheroines stroll into the room, bouncing with every step. “Girls! Is—uh—is there something you want to explain?”

“Oh, this?” Batgirl pointed at her tits—or, rather, at the amulet resting atop them, but Black Canary only noticed it after a good, long look at Batgirl’s flushed, perky chest. “We’re just getting this to the vault.”

Black Canary sighed and shrugged off her jacket. “If it belongs in the vault, you shouldn’t be wearing it around.”

“What, like we’re worried about somebody stealing it from the Watchtower?”

“It’s…well…what does it do?”

“We don’t know yet,” Hawkgirl replied, even as she pinched her own nipples and hummed with simmering tension. “Batwoman’s checking it out.”

Huntress chose that moment to enter the cafeteria behind them, and her eyes fell upon the following stimuli, in order: Hawkgirl’s bare ass squirming as her thighs rubbed together, Batgirl’s legs slightly spread so she could pump two fingers in and out of her dripping pussy, Black Canary kicking off her boots so she could get her fishnet stockings over her ankles, and finally the amulet once Batgirl turned around. She blinked at the amulet, forgot everything else, and unzipped her bodysuit, parting the black material to reveal the bright skin beneath. “Nice bling.”

“Thanks.” Batgirl pushed her chest forward to show it off. “It was a gift for taking out some museum thieves. I think it goes great with my boots.”

It did, not least because the bright yellow boots were just about the only clothing on her, but Huntress saw no need to point it out. She pointed to scattered places on her own upper thighs, spots the same purple as her gloves. “And here all I get as a reward for crime-fighting is these lovely bruises.”

Black Canary sat in her chair, spread her legs, and started rubbing her pussy. “I still have a few of those on my legs from last week’s tangle with the Legion of Doom. At least you cover up your trophies with those leggings.”

Huntress nodded and dropped the first of those leggings behind her. The other stayed on for a moment as she rested her bare foot on a chair, lifted one knee high, and pushed two fingers into herself. “Well I can’t exactly go around naked, can I?”

Batgirl chuckled. “It’d be a hell of a distraction, though.”

Huntress’s free hand dislodged her cape, and she paused her masturbation only long enough to tug her gloves off, which left her in just a mask and a single thigh-high legging. “To men, maybe. And certain women. But it certainly wouldn’t help our reputation.”

The room vibrated slightly as Black Canary moaned. “I think we get enough attention from those creepy fansites. We don’t need to give the perverts any more fuel.”

“I hear that,” said Batgirl, and as she turned she showed her whole naked body to her teammates. “Gonna drop this off. We can trade stories about creeps in a minute.”

“And I have a hundred of them.” Black Canary thought about all the stares, all the comments, all the things she saw posted about her online, and a flare of anger rose in her chest. If only people would stop being such perverts… and as her knuckle circled her clit, only an extensively trained response kept her from letting a glass-shattering canary cry accompany her orgasm. Huntress had no such instinct, and as she cupped her own dangling breast and announced her release with an uncharacteristic stream of loud, filthy thanks, the security cameras continued to roll.