Chapter 5 new bats

The sun beat down on Central City's grand boulevard, transformed into a BNWO spectacle under Marcus's iron rule. Banners of black spades ♠ fluttered from lampposts, proclaiming 'White Submission' and 'Black Supremacy' to the cheering crowds of enforcers and converted citizens. At the heart of the parade floated a massive open-air platform on hover-tech, Marcus enthroned in the center like a king, his muscular frame draped in a tailored black suit that did little to hide the bulge of his authority. Flanking him were his latest trophies: the feminized Nightwing and the new Batgirl, both leashed to his chair, their bodies on full display as slutty ornaments ready for any whim.

Dick Grayson, now rechristened 'Dixie,' knelt at Marcus's left, his once-agile form softened by hormone injections that swelled his chest into perky C-cup tits, pierced with silver barbells that glinted in the light. His new uniform was a mockery of his Nightwing suit—shiny blue latex cropped to expose his midriff, the emblem twisted into a spade ♠ over his left pec. The bottoms were a thong that barely contained his caged clit, the steel device locked tight around his shrunken dick, a small lock engraved with 'BNWO Property.' Fishnet arm sleeves and thigh-high boots completed the look, his ass plugged with a blue-jeweled tail that swayed as he shifted on his knees. A collar around his neck read 'Black Cock Only,' and his lips, painted slut-red, parted slightly in trained obedience, ready to serve as a urinal or hole.

To Marcus's right crouched the new Batgirl, formerly Barbara Gordon, broken and remade as 'Bambi.' Her uniform screamed BNWO devotion: a yellow-and-black latex batsuit slashed open at the crotch and chest, the bat symbol replaced by a bold spade ♠ tattooed across her shaved pussy lips. Her tits, enhanced to DDs, spilled out the top, nipples clamped with vibrating rings controlled by Marcus's app. The suit's cape was shortened to a teasing scarf, and her boots clicked against the platform as she posed on all fours, ass up, a remote plug buzzing in her hole to keep her dripping wet. Her red hair was pulled into pigtails, face smeared with yesterday's loads, eyes glazed from the **** that amplified her submission. She was his display doll, thighs spread to show off the 'Toilet Slut' brand on her inner thigh, available for piss or cum at a moment's notice.

Brianna trailed the platform on foot, leashed to a guard but moving with the exaggerated sway of her domina outfit, the black latex gleaming under the sun. The zipper strained over her marked tits, the spade ♠ emblems now crusted with dried cum from her earlier breaking. Her micro-skirt rode up to flash the cage on her clit, and the riding crop at her thigh felt heavy, a prop for show. She carried a silver tray laden with chilled drinks—dark rum neat for the black elite—and platters of finger foods: oysters, caviar, and phallic fruits sliced suggestively. Her heels clicked on the pavement, the shock collar humming a warning if she lagged, her face still streaked from Marcus's load, a badge of her role.

The parade rolled toward the opulent Central City Tower, where Lex Luthor awaited in a private summit suite overlooking the route. Marcus had summoned the bald billionaire for alliance talks—Lex's tech empire folding into BNWO control in exchange for 'perks.' As the platform docked at the tower's base, guards cleared the way, the crowd roaring approval at the sight of the leashed sluts. Brianna ascended the steps first, tray balanced, her voice a sultry murmur as she announced: 'Refreshments for the superior, Master.' Marcus nodded, snapping his fingers. She knelt beside his throne, pouring rum into a crystal glass, her tits brushing his knee as she offered it up.

Inside the suite, Lex Luthor stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his green suit impeccable, a smirk playing on his lips as he eyed the procession. 'Marcus, always the showman. These your latest acquisitions?' He gestured to Dixie and Bambi, who crawled forward on Marcus's command, positioning themselves at his feet like furniture. Dixie nuzzled Marcus's boot, tongue darting out to lick the leather clean, while Bambi arched her back, pussy lips parting to reveal the wetness pooling from her plug's vibrations.

'Parade pieces,' Marcus replied, settling into a leather armchair, his legs spread wide. 'Brianna, serve our guest. Drinks first—no white cock for you, remember? Keep it professional.' Brianna approached Lex with measured steps, her hips rolling in the latex, tray extended. She poured his scotch neat, bending low enough that her cleavage nearly spilled the glass, but her eyes flicked away from his crotch, obedience etched in her posture. 'For you, sir,' she said, voice husky from throat ****, then retreated to Marcus's side, refilling his glass while trailing fingers along his thigh.

Lex chuckled, sipping as he watched Dixie and Bambi. 'Impressive work. The cage on the boy—Nightwing, was it? Keeps him focused.' Marcus grinned, grabbing Dixie's hair and yanking his head back. 'Show Lex what a good doll does.' Dixie opened his mouth wide, tongue lolling, as Marcus unzipped and aimed his stream of piss directly into the waiting hole. Dixie swallowed greedily, gulps audible, excess dribbling down his chin onto his pierced tits. 'Good toilet,' Marcus praised, shaking off the last drops onto Dixie's face before tucking away.

Not to be outdone, Lex eyed Bambi. 'And the girl? Batgirl turned bat-toilet?' Marcus nodded, and Bambi shuffled forward on her knees, ass high, mouth agape beside Dixie. 'Use her if you like—BNWO courtesy for allies.' But Lex waved it off, intrigued more by the power play. Instead, he beckoned Brianna closer. 'The domina one—fetch me those oysters. And perhaps a demonstration of her... skills, minus the forbidden.' Brianna obeyed, plating the shellfish and kneeling to feed him one by hand, her lips brushing his fingers as she placed it in his mouth. The intimacy teased, but she pulled back, eyes on Marcus for approval.

The meeting delved into business—Lex offering Kryptonian tech blueprints for BNWO enforcement drones, Marcus countering with promises of unchallenged resource grabs. All the while, Dixie and Bambi remained at their posts: Dixie massaging Marcus's feet with his mouth, sucking toes through the shoe slits, while Bambi ground her plugged ass against Lex's calf like a needy pet, her clamps buzzing louder on Marcus's whim. Brianna circulated, serving snacks—feeding Marcus caviar from her fingers, letting him suck them clean—then refreshing drinks, her body a constant brush of latex against superior skin.

Tension built as talks heated. Marcus, aroused by the display, suddenly gripped Bambi's pigtails and **** her face into his lap. 'Earn your keep, doll.' She unzipped him eagerly, engulfing his thick black cock in her mouth, bobbing deep with slurping sucks, throat bulging as she took him to the hilt. Saliva coated his shaft, dripping onto the carpet as her head pistoned, tits jiggling with each thrust. Dixie watched, caged clit straining, then leaned in to lick Marcus's balls, tongue lapping the heavy sack while Bambi deepthroated above.

Lex leaned back, scotch in hand, as Brianna refilled it without spilling despite the wet sounds filling the room. 'Anything else, Master?' she whispered to Marcus between his grunts. He nodded toward Lex. 'Keep him comfortable—snack him.' She plated fruit, feeding Lex grapes one by one, her breath hot on his ear, but stopping short of anything below the belt. The air thickened with moans as Marcus face-fucked Bambi harder, her gags mixing with Dixie's ball-sucking slurps.

Climax neared; Marcus pulled Bambi off with a gasp, stroking his slick length. 'Dolls, present.' Dixie and Bambi knelt side by side, mouths open, tongues out. Ropes of cum shot across their faces—splattering Dixie's cage, filling Bambi's mouth—marking them as used property. They licked each other clean, tongues swapping the load in a messy kiss, while Brianna wiped Marcus's cock with a napkin from her tray, her domina facade cracking into submissive awe.

Lex applauded lightly, sealing the deal with a handshake. 'To alliances.' As the parade resumed outside, the sluts crawled back into position—Dixie and Bambi leashed tighter, faces glistening, Brianna trailing with her tray, ready for the next request. Central City bowed deeper to BNWO, one humiliated hero at a time.