The Echoes of the Garden

Michael was returning to Gotham. He wanted to have more fun with Supergirl and Power Girl… well, maybe next time. Joe Chil was dead, according to Rachel. He had been captured by a group of women wearing owl masks. He wanted to capture Joe so Brianna could kill him and thus further increase her love for him. Obviously, he already knew about the Court of Owls; he needed to think of a fun way to subdue them. At the entrance to his mansion, he finds Rachel. Why not sleep with her?

Michael looked at Rachel. She stood there before the mansion gates with the rigid posture of someone trained by the world’s finest detective and most skilled combatant; yet, her eyes revealed an almost reverent admiration for him. The tension between them was no longer merely that of father and daughter; the new reality Michael had shaped had permeated the nuances of their world, and desire had become the dominant frequency.

He said nothing. He simply walked towards her, each step emanating the authority of someone who doesn't ask permission to exist. Michael said nothing. He simply walked toward her, each step emanating the authority of someone who doesn't ask permission to exist.

“You seem tense, Rachel,” she commented, her voice vibrating in a low tone that made the young woman's legs tremble. “Joe Chill's case seems to have been solved by the Owls. Why does he still carry that weight on his shoulders?”

Rachel swallowed hard. Michael's presence was like a gravitational field; she felt drawn in, sucked into the center of that absolute desire.

“I… I just wanted to capture them for you, they outnumbered me, I failed.”

Michael let out a nasal laugh, getting so close that Rachel could feel the heat emanating from his body. He brought his hand to her face, sliding his thumb along her lower lip, and she closed her eyes for a moment, surrendering to the touch.

“They think Gotham belongs to them because they haven’t yet understood that I am the only law in this city. And as for you...” Michael stepped closer, whispering against the skin of her neck, “...you are very dedicated to duty.”

In an instant, Michael transformed the atmosphere around him. The air grew heavy, thick with pheromones and an electric tension that made the hair on Rachel’s body stand on end. He didn't need words; she gazed at his cock with desire and then reached out to feel and caress it.

Rachel gasped, but didn’t try to cover herself. Michael’s rule was already etched in her mind: shame was an obsolete concept. She looked at him with a new hunger, a visceral need to be possessed by that power.

Michael grabbed her by the hair, guiding her face to his cock; the searing heat of Rachel’s lips against him drew a moan from her. She explored him with possessiveness, while he held her firmly, guiding her toward his already pulsing, wet intimacy. "Now, you belong only to me, and you need to relax."

Michael turned her around; with a simple thought, he stripped her naked, positioning her facing him and revealing the perfect curve of her hips. He didn't wait for an invitation. With a firm, commanding thrust, he penetrated her, feeling Rachel’s body shudder violently at the impact.

Her cry of pleasure echoed through the mansion’s gardens—a sound of liberation and total surrender. Michael possessed her with a relentless rhythm; every thrust was a reminder of who was in control. Rachel clung to the stone, her fingernails digging into the granite and her mind lost in ecstasy; she was no longer the daughter or the heroine, but merely a vessel for Michael’s divine pleasure.

Michael turned her around, forcing her onto all fours against the stone wall of the entrance, exposing the perfect curve of her hips. As he drove her to climax, Michael knew the Owls were watching, that the city’s shadows were still conspiring. But as he felt Rachel’s intense contractions around him, he smiled, withdrew his cock, and placed it in her mouth to clean off the semen.

He would not only subdue the Court of Owls. He would transform them into his own private harem, making each owl mask a symbol of absolute servitude to his desire.

When she finally reached her climax, flooding Rachel with her essence, she collapsed into his arms, exhausted and completely surrendered. Michael carried her inside the mansion.

(images created by Lawless)