Nightwing Bonus Issue #1: Ambush! (Part 2)

Nightwing twisted in the air as she vaulted over Stranglehold's fist, the momentum of the blow carrying the (figurative) amazon all the way through the wall behind where the black- and blue-clad heroine had been crouching a moment before - but not before delivering a parting slap to the Gothamite's colossal caboose as she ploughed through the drywall. The extra momentum ruined her landing, turning what should have been another poised crouch into something far more lascivious; ramrod-straight legs spread wide as Ricarda's arms stretched out in front of her, leaving her in a face-down, ass-up pose more suited to a twerking stripper than a fighting superheroine.

"Fucking cheapskate contra- Ooh, Mamá wants," Stranglehold's tone melted from irritated grumbling to a sultry, lilting purr as she laid eyes on Nightwing's ASS in its intended state. Ricarda tried to rise, but it was like she was pinned down by some invisible **** - more precisely, by a **** she'd felt an uncomfortable number of times before. The air coiled around her body like a constrictor snake as a leggy, blue-skinned redhead in nothing but high-heeled thigh boots and a slingshot bikini strutted into her field of view, before the invisible bonds coalesced into recognisable textures with a flex of the woman's will; a high-heeled boot pressed down insistently on Nightwing's back as fuzzy cuffs bound her wrists to each other and the floor, while her legs were held taut by the embrace of two lithe, strong-limbed women.

"And what my Papi wants," Breathtaker hissed, expression flickering between seething contempt and slavish adoration as her eyes darted back and forth between her prisoner and her partner, "My Papi gets." Ricarda rolled her eyes at the blatant sucking up, clearly intended to get the aerokinetic a fraction of the attention she could feel Stranglehold giving her. Ordinarily, this would be the perfect position from which to hit the approaching femme with a kick or ten, but with Breathtaker pinning her down like this, all her struggles were capable of was making the immense amount of junk in her trunk jiggle, bounce and clap-clap-clap! Against a femme of more sophisticated tastes like the Penguin, the Riddler, or even Two-Face when Harriet was in charge, seeing such an ASS-quake occurring might have brought them up short for a moment, taken aback by the contrast between Nightwing's usual demeanour and the obscenity of her body. But it was like Stranglehold was made to be her worst nightmare, the Puerto Rican powerhouse's sexual tastes exactly as direct and blatant as her body implied.

No class, just ASS.

WHAP-CLAP!

Ricarda's head shot up, her glossed-up lips forming an almost comical 'o' of surprise as a super-strong spank slammed into her ASS and sent one head-engulfing haunch crashing against the other. Stranglehold outright moaned in pleasure at the sight, an audible creak of straining leather letting everyone within earshot know exactly what she thought of Nightwing's wobblewagon. "Diosa mía," she breathed, before Ricarda's head swam as the villainess's voice took on a buzzing, humming undercurrent "Que rrrrrrico!" The femme practically growled her 'r's, the vibrations going straight to Ricarda's - and, from what she could see, Breathtaker's - nipples and pussy. The aerokinetic's grip slackened slightly; not enough to actually help her victim, but enough that the bottom-heavy babes struggles abruptly had enough range of movement to resemble a raunchy, frantic twerk show.

Goddess, Ricarda cursed internally, how does she even manage to humiliate me when she's losing?! She fancied that she heard the world give a low, contralto chuckle in reply, but put the bitter flight of fancy from her mind as-

WHAP-CLAP!

WHAP-CLAP!

WHAP-CLAP!

WHAP-CLAP!

-a barrage of spanks struck her ASS from every angle, setting up a feedback loop of cheek-on-cheek impacts that practically left that whooty in charge of Ricarda's every (limited, admittedly) move. Her hips jerked and swung this way and that, pulled along by the wagon they were normally dragging; though to an outsider it would appear that this was all her own doing, and that every gyration, swing and buck of her hips was precisely choreographed to grab attention and then stuff it into a jiggling, rippling prison of bootymeat. "That's more like it," Stranglehold grinned. "You know, I was going to fuck you through the floorboards and take you home," she mused, "but I think I ought to do a little couples' counselling first. Wipe that sneer off your face, cariño-" Breathtaker's expression of contempt wavered, though there was clearly still hatred in her eyes as she glared down at Ricarda. "-because I like my girls to get along while they're getting me off. So it's time to kiss and make up, girls~"

The words 'my girls', and 'my' in particular, drove a white-hot spike of fear and shameful anticipation into Nightwing's hindbrain. Shit, she's actually going to do it, she thought, mind awhirl, she's actually going to cram that fat fuckin' femme cock in my ass and break me! The Bat had made sure to train her as thoroughly as anyone could, both through regular sessions of 'resistance training' and her own contingency orders inserted into Nightwing's subconcious mind whenever that resistance inevitably collapsed; but there was nothing either of them could do to change the fact that, the moment a femme's fat fuckpillar sheathed itself in her asshole, her mind would be rendered a hot, gooey, pliable mess - and doubly so since she wasn't a femme herself!

So caught up in her totally-not-fantasies was she, that Nightwing barely paid attention to the way Breathtaker's resistance crumbled as she processed her Papi's order, her hatred of the Titans melting away before the supernova that was her love for being Stranglehold's slutty slamdoll. The pressure on Nightwing's shoulders eased just enough for Breathtaker to tilt the Gothamite's head up with a sharp tug on her black locks, as she herself dropped into a side split and leaned her body forwards until her tits were nearly touching the floor. "You little tramp," she murmured, voice dripping with scorn, "I bet you've been building this ASS ever since you first saw what my Papi's packing in her shorts." Ricarda opened her mouth to protest that no, her booty had always been this bodacious - but Breathtaker's lips, slathered in shiny purple lip gloss, clamped over her own the moment she did so.

Even lips as plush as Breathtaker's couldn't properly smother Nightwing's black-painted cockwrappers - they weren't the peer of, for instance, Zatanna's absurd smoochers - but that didn't stop the other woman from trying. Her tongue dove into the trapped heroine's mouth, prodding and teasing at its counterpart until Nightwing managed to muster up the will for a feeble 'counterattack' that left her wide open for the villainess to exploit. Wet smooches and smacks spilled from their kiss, barely audible over the relentless WHAP-CLAP-WHAP-PLAP of Nightwing's ASS as spit ran down the pair's chins and dripped onto the floor beneath them.

"Mwuh~ Teasing hussy," Breathtaker mumbled as she pulled back, briefly sucking on Nightwing's outstretched tongue as the dark-haired woman struggled to refill her lungs, "trying to steal my Papi with all that absurd ASS..." Again, she dove in and silenced her panting prisoner with a sloppy, slurping, sucking kiss. "You look ridiculous, carting all that meat around." Again. "Going for the 'music video skank' look, were you?" Again. "Fucking homewrecker, I bet femmes can't keep their eyes off of you when you walk by." Again. "Gawdess, and neither can their wives - I mean just look at you!" AGAIN. "Such a hot piece of ASS, no wonder Papi wants to pound your outline into our mattress."

WHAP-CLAP-WHAP-PLAP-WHAP-CLAP-WHAP-PLAP-WHAP-CLAP-WHAP-PLAP-WHAP-CLAP-WHAP-PLAP-WHAP-CLAP-WHAP-PLAP-WAHP-CLAP-WHAP

Nightwing's head swam, each breath only drawing in a fraction of the air it should - and less by the minute! She's... She's so gorgeous, Ricarda thought, both babes staring at each other with near-identical blushing, panting expressions, when she's furstatid... No, frastarted... Futsra... Fusta... M-Mad... Darkness was creeping in at the edges of her vision as she felt the pressure on her back reintensify, squishing her tits against the floor and threatening to smother the last embers of worry that guttered in the back of her oxygen-starved mind. Worse, she was starting to hallucinate! A doppelganger of President Catwoman in a purple leopard-print bodysuit draped her arms across Breathtaker's shoulders and across her chest, tugging and teasing the redhead's nipples into diamond-hard tents in her bikini as she stood back up on shaking legs.

The imaginary woman teased the tip of her tongue into Breathtaker's ear for a moment, then whispered something that Ricarda couldn't make out, and suddenly the heel pressing down on her back had become the thick, meaty weight of a juicy ASS. Nightwing's chest burned with the effort of sucking in each meagre breath almost as hot as her asshole burned with the need to be stuffed, the delirium sending what little energy she could muster into throwing her ASS around, even in the face of unconsciousness and inevitable domination. In fact, it was so effective that - as Ricarda closed her eyes, clenched her jaw and tried her best to ride out both the focus-shredding pulses of pleasure being shot up the length of her spine by the humiliating act and the arousing helplessness of being smothered by nothing - it took a good few seconds for any of the trio to notice when Breathtaker's self-control fully snapped.

Not that Stranglehold was complaining as the oblivious heroine's body abruptly spread its legs wider into a proper set of splits and slammed that booty down with a meaty WHAP of kevlar-lined polymer on laminate floor. The impact of her plump, puffy cameltoe against the unyielding surface dragged Nightwing's mind back to reality as a miniature orgasm wracked her. The sheer amount of bounce in her body - and the nonexistent purple-gloved hands that definitely weren't gripping her ankles - rocketed her back up into a handstand, and she took advantage of the momentum to swing one leg down onto each of Breathtaker's shoulders in a strike that would definitely put her out of commission. Or she would have, if she'd had the mental capacity to do more than suck in an achingly deep breath of relief.

Why the hell did that work so well, she lamented incredulously in the privacy of her own head. There's no way she went down so easily to something like... like... like part of a goddess-damned twerk show routine!

Fortunately for the heroine's odds of breaking out before Breathtaker recovered from her orgasm, Nightwing's ASS had other ideas. Her legs wrapped tightly around the blue-skinned bitch's head and pulled her close, pinning her face against the superhero's spandex-clad crotch. With her face full of (albeit covered) pussy, a pair of thick, meaty thighs wrapped around her head and a monumental ASS pressing down on her tits, Breathtaker did what any sane woman or femme would do in that situation - she came so hard she passed out. Sticky-sweet juices exploded all over the insides of her thighs as Ricarda pushed off the floor and rode the spasming, moaning crook down to the ground, leaving Breathtaker flat on her back in front of her stunned partner, Nightwing slut-squatting on the villainess's face for a moment before the reality of her situation hit her and she sprung up to take a fighting stance once more.

"Daaaaamn, chica," Stranglehold crowed, eyeing the crime-fighter with a new air of respect, "didn't think you knew how to use that culo gordo jugoso on you for anything except dancing!" It's not meant to be like this, Ricarda wanted to wail to the world, I'm not supposed to do my best crime-fighting with my ASS! But she kept quiet, putting up a front of confident focus to quell the small, sultry voice in the back of her head that told her it would be a lie to say her ASS wasn't her greatest asset, regardless of what she was doing. It did little, however, to quiet the much bigger sultry voice that was pointing out the way Stranglehold's bulge had swelled - to the point that the waistband of her booty shorts was being visibly pulled away from her waist by so much hot, thick femme cock, even while she was flaccid! "I'm gonna have fun," the brawler continued, wrapping a hand partway around the now-exposed base of her cock and giving it a quick squeeze for emphasis, "breaking you in now you don't have anyone around to bail you out."

The mercenary blurred as she lunged for Nightwing, super-strong legs enabling her to kick off the floor and leap far faster than her opponent could track. Ricarda was the Bat's protégé, though, and knew from bitter experience that foes too fast for even the best-trained human to properly perceive were a dime a dozen; instead, she was already moving the instant she saw Stranglehold's legs tensing, twisting to one side-

wobble

-so quickly that her disobedient ASS swung too fast to stop, the extra half-turn leaving her facing away from her femme foe. Stranglehold, unable to alter her course and seize Nightwing like she planned, still managed to seize the moment by delivering a punishing slap across both of the caked-up crimefighter's globes as she passed by. Ricarda moaned and arched her back, paralysed by the intensity of the pleasure exploding through each cheek. Gawdess, she thought deliriously, as she tried to get her body moving instead of wasting precious seconds quivering in place, I, like, so can't afford to have a slut-brain attack right now! She'll totally have my ASS on lock if I do! Stranglehold slid to a stop, shifted her feet, and yelped as her next leap was turned into an awkward sprawl by a sudden yank on one shoulder and the sound of splintering wood.

"The fuck?!"

A dark chuckle answered her, as another tug at her ankle nearly pulled her legs out from under her entirely. She looked back over her shoulder to see a thin, pale string of something tying her shoulder to a torn-out chunk of supporting timber, and another leading along the floor to...

Who the hell, both Nightwing and Stranglehold thought incredulously, is she? The chunky platform soles of a pair of reinforced boots clopped against the floor, the harsh fluorescent light making the approaching femme's black latex pants glisten wetly - especially where they were distorted by a bulge easily the equal of Stranglehold's. A tight orange bandeau bore the image a stylised black spider, visibly straining across a bust that'd look more at home on a Starrwear lingerie model, even as her bare arms and midriff showed off a body positively packed with rock-hard muscle. Wait, I recognise that gun, Ricarda realised, staring at the still-dripping nozzle of the pistol holstered on the femme's hip, but she's been retired for years, hasn't she? "Didn't realise Tarantula still had fans," Stranglehold growled, hooking a finger under each of the nylon nooses around her limbs and snapping them - though not without obvious effort. "You may have been smart enough to use a better formula in that shibari-shooter of yours, but you're gonna feel real stupid once I crater your asshole, perra."

"Ooh, scary," the new femme drawled, "I'll get a good laugh out of remembering that line while I'm making you squeal." Nightwing nibbled her bottom lip nervously, as the air seemed to grow thick and oppressive in the presence of two riled-up, territorial femmes. At least I've got a plan now, she reassured herself, I just need to let them work out their differences DPing my ASS and- No! She resolutely pushed the thought down and ignored the teasing tongue probing her ear, even as the hot breath tickling the side of her face sent a shiver up her spine. I just need to help this new gal beat down Stranglehold, and then I can get some hot and wild buttfuc- Answers! Then I can get some answers. This time, she swore she could hear a low, sultry purr of amusement behind her. Goddess, I must be more worked up by that spank than I thought!