A Dockside mob stronghold.

Mikey "The Hammer" Gismondi groaned in delight, as he cock disappeared into the hooker's rear end. The boss had sent a car full of working girls over, as a token of his thanks for putting in a shift on New Year's. As the boss of his own little crew, Mikey had first pick. He'd taken it, selecting the thickest black broad with the fattest ass, and taking her up to his office for a private session.

All his guys were doing was sitting on various items Don Falcone needed protected, and was unwilling to put in a bank vault. This was a job that brought with it plenty of monotony. And to Mikey, nothing broke up the boredom more than driving his cock into a beautiful black bubble butt.

“You like that? You like that, babe?” Mikey moaned in the working girl's ear as he pounded her asshole, his muscular body hunched over her bodacious frame.

“Gawd, yes! Mistah Gismondi, you're huge!” she moaned. As hung as he was, she might've actually been genuine, streetwalker or not.

Feeling himself drawing close, Mikey pulled out and frantically jerked himself off, painting her chocolatey skin with hot white cum.

“If only that bitch of a wife a' mine could screw like that...” the mobster chuckled to himself, tucking his cock away.

“Here, toots.” Mikey said, reaching into his pocket and passing the hooker a few folded over hundred dollar bills. “Think of it as a... holiday bonus.”

The smile that got him was worth every cent. After she'd finished cleaning herself up, Mikey escorted her to the office door.

“Maybe we could do this again sometime?” he suggested. Of course he had a feeling she'd be amenable, as long as Don Carmine kept the green in his pocket.

“Happy New Year, Mistah Gismondi.” she smiled.

“And also to yous.” Mikey smiled, watching her saunter off.

“Aw, would you look at that? Big on the social niceties and a great tipper? Why, you're hardly mob scum at all!” Selina smirked, dropping down from her hiding spot in the shadows on the ceiling.

“What the hell! How long you been up there?!” Mikey exclaimed.

“Long enough to catch the show, loverboy.” the cat burglar informed him. “I guess I know why they call you the Hammer now, huh?”

“Boys, get in here! We got ourselves a visitor, and she ain't here to fuck!” the gangster cried out. From the other room, there was the sound of crashing, surprise, alarm, of men disappointedly pulling out of various orifices, before a small handful of Falcone thugs filed into Gismondi's office.

Selina couldn't help but chuckle inwardly. These guys didn't have a chance. Sure, back in the earliest days of career, taking on this much mafia muscle might've phased her. After going toe to toe with Riddler in a mech, not to mention an entire squadron of automatons, this would be a nice warm-up.

Catwoman started with Gismondi, loosing a bola right at the center of him. As the device constricted, pinning his arms to his chest, the boss' momentum brought him down.

As the next closest readied a punch, Selina assumed a defensive stance. She danced out of the way of the blow as it came. As the lucky winner tried to regain his balance, Selina darted close to him, planted a playful kiss on his lips, and then sent him crashing through a desk with an artful throw.

Continuing her momentum, Selina pounced on the next guy. With him dazed, the Cat's claws came out. She mercilessly sliced and diced him, until he hit the ground, out of commission.

She parried the next one as he tried to get some payback for his buddy. Springboarding off of him, Selina nimbly landed on the last man standing, coming down with him.

With practiced ease, Selina's catsuit-clad thighs wrapped around his neck, constricting the goon's airflow. Biting her lip, the thief rode his thrusts and gasps until he went out. Curiously, there hadn't been a whole lot of fight in him. Maybe she'd found the one actual submissive in this world of muscle, machismo and marinara.

The opposition quashed, Selina turned her attention back to Gismondi. The Falcones had a lot of loot stashed in this one warehouse. Looking for her prize would be like searching for a needle in a haystack of illicit, dangerous contraband. Not that that wouldn't delight Selina, but she was running to a schedule here.

A devious plan forming in her head, Selina hoisted the **** mobster out of the room...

-

When Mikey came to, he was naked, bound to a chair in the centre of the warehouse. As Selina sauntered into view, drinking him in, he couldn't help but grow a little hard.

“Ah, you're awake.” Selina noted. “So, as you can tell, I'm not here to ring in the new year. I'm looking for something.”

“What do I care?” Mikey replied. “I ain't gonna tell you dick, bitch!”

“I wouldn't be so sure about that, darling.” Selina smiled, playfully extending one of her claws. “I'll give you one last chance: The Foxtech plans your don boosted last month. Where are you keeping them?”

“And I'll give you one last chance to either sit on this!” Mikey thrust his hardening prick at her. “Or piss off, slut!”

Hmm, Selina thought. This walking cliché was proving to be a tougher nut to crack than she'd anticipated. Maybe it was time to try a different tack...

“Listen, baby.” Selina began, circling around the restrained mafioso. “I'm gonna make you talk.” She stopped close behind him, leaning over him.

“Only question is, are you gonna respond more to the carrot?” Selina made a fist with one gloved hand around Mikey's prick, giving him a few expert pumps. “Or the stick?” Drawing her fingers back, Selina extended her claws, and gingerly traced the head of Gismondi's sensitive prick with them. Not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to make him truly aware of her claws.