Claimed Sphinx

As chaos spread across Gotham, Michael decided it was time to end the "game" with the Sphinx. After reaching his climax inside Rachel, she swooned with an expression of ecstasy.

He no longer wanted riddles or strip-tease games. He wanted the total surrender of the woman who deemed herself superior in every way.

With a swift, commanding movement, Michael grabbed her by the waist, lifting her for a moment before pinning her against the cold, metallic surface of a stone table. The Sphinx gasped, her eyes gleaming with desire as she felt the man's raw strength upon her.

Giving her no time to react, Michael positioned himself between her legs, forcing them wide open. He pinned her in the missionary position.

"Got a riddle now?" he whispered, his voice husky, locking his gaze with hers.

The Sphinx tried to maintain her intellectual composure, but her breathing was shallow, and her hardened nipples betrayed her total submission to the moment. She wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him closer, desperate to feel every inch of that omnipotence.

Michael waited no longer. With a single, powerful thrust, he filled her completely.

The Sphinx let out a moan that echoed off the walls. It was not a cry of pain, but of pure ecstasy—the sensation of being possessed by someone who held the keys to the universe. Michael began to thrust with an unrelenting rhythm; every movement was like a divine decree, transforming the stone table into an altar of pleasure.

He held her wrists, pinning them above her head, as their hips collided with a rhythmic, wet sound. The Sphinx gasped, her head thrown back and her eyes rolling, as she felt the pressure of Michael’s body against hers. She was no longer the mistress of riddles; she was merely a woman—vulnerable and aroused—surrendering to the raw pleasure of a man who had become a God.

"Say it..." Michael groaned, quickening his pace as he felt the climax approaching. "Say you belong to me!"

"I... I belong..." she cried out, feeling a devastating orgasm wash over her like a wave just as Michael poured himself into her, sealing that moment of absolute dominance.

They remained there for a few moments, their bodies fused and their heavy breathing synchronized, while the silence of Gotham outside seemed, at last, to have been replaced by the sounds of conquered lust.

Michael smiled. The experiment was an absolute success.

"God," he thought, "really knows how to have a good time."

Slowly, he pulled away, leaving the Sphinx trembling and exhausted upon the stone, certain that from this day forward, no riddle in the world would matter more than his touch.

He stood up, adjusted his shirt, and gazed at the horizon.

"Now... who’s next?" he wondered, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Then he heard a moan—Harley Quinn, touching herself, clearly in the throes of an orgasm. It was time to claim his next prize.

(images created by Lawless)