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- - -
Selina was driven by a need. A need for touch. A need to be fucked.
Carnal craving writhed deep in her belly, twisting and turning through that thick, gooey warmth. She was giggling as she crawled forth onto the bed. Every nerve was a livewire, every inch of bare skin buzzing with lurid want as she imagined hands that had yet to touch her.
She could hear Bruce approaching. Even without his boots, his footfalls were heavy thumps against the floor. A testament to his size.
Size. Weight. Heft. The words rang pleasantly through Selina's head. Her man, her lover, possessed all three.
Selina cast a look over her shoulder just in time to see Bruce climb onto the bed after her. It creaked under his presence - and God, did he have presence. Her eyes drifted down to his groin, seeing that thickened rod sway from even the slightest of movements. His length extended proudly outwards, hanging slightly under its own weight - same as his balls. Full, fuzzy things that she knew were boiling with a heavy helping of seed. She could still taste him on her tongue, his flavor lingering from the earlier worship given by her mouth.
The turning and twisting of Selina's insides had grown wild. Heat and need thrummed through her body, tingling just beneath the skin. Her belly was molten and blazing.
Breathing deeply, nearly shivering, Selina shook her behind. A little show of teasing, wiggling her perfect, tight ass in Bruce's face. He continued to close in, walking on his knees. The man made a sound, a low grunt of appreciation.
Selina felt two things next. First was the slap of Bruce's palm upon the swell of her buttocks. The sting pierced deep through the soft flesh and Selina hissed, her fingers curling tight through the sheets. Next was the feeling of something warm and hard brushing against the inner curves of her ass. She let out a tiny whimper - mostly for show, but partly from eager delight. Behind her, Bruce let out a groan as he slowly pushed his manhood against her pretty backside. Selina smiled, wiggling her aching rear against the man's rock-hard cock.
"Mmm… been too long…"
She heard Bruce give a short, dry chuckle. Another spank landed on her ass, only somewhat softer this time. Selina's breath caught in her throat. She cursed under her breath, but the heat in her belly only burned even more fiercely.
"We could do this more often if you went straight." That wonderful, deep voice rumbled - but there was the slightest hint of humor.
Selina hummed, pretending to consider Bruce's words. She pressed her ass back into his cock, grinding gently against him - goading him on, hoping to feel his palm slap against her poor buttocks again.
"But where's the fun in that?" Her words dripped with mock innocence.
Bruce didn't answer. But Selina knew he was smiling. Just as she craved, she felt the sting of his palm again. The cat thief shivered, sucking in a deep breath as her pussy clenched. His hand lingered this time, fingers pressing softly, possessively into the pliant flesh of her derriere. He swept his palm slowly over those lush swells, taking liberty with what he knew was his. Selina's belly was frothing hot, a boiling pot that threatened to spill over.
The Catwoman could never be tamed… except for those times when she wanted to be.
Both of his hands were upon her now. The one still groping her ass… and the other at the back of her neck, forcing her face down into the bed. Selina let out a little moan, squirming some against Bruce's firm hold.
"So rough… bet you'd love to teach me a lesson…" Selina spoke low and throaty.
"Not that it'd ever stick." Bruce was blunt as his cock slid against the crack of her buttocks - she could feel the heat coming off his shaft. She could feel the damn thing throbbing.
A soft whine came pouring from Selina's lips. She wiggled her bottom again, pressing back into her lover's groin, pushing his cock back up towards his waist. Bruce kept his hand on the back of her neck, his strength unwavering. It made her pussy ache.
"That's because I'm a very bad kitty." Selina said, feeling her slick folds grow ever more sodden. She turned her head so that her cheek pressed into the cushions, managing to throw a naughty smile back at Bruce. "But who knows? Maybe this time, if you teach me hard enough…"
Bruce's face was hard and set. The faint light of the master bedroom cast his stark features in shadow. He resembled a statue, towering and solid… save for the small grin that formed upon his lips. Stalwart guardian he may have been, but it was clear he liked what Catwoman was offering. He liked it very, very much.
His hand moved from her neck, joining the other in fondling her ass. His thick, rough fingers played upon the soft, yearning flesh. He groped her. Then he spread her. Selina whimpered as those thick fingers of his sought out her womanhood, exploring with intimate familiarity. Selina's breathing became heavy as little touches brought surging waves of delicious feeling.
"Soaking wet already." He noted, taunting.
His fingers stroked slowly at first, then faster, rougher, then slowly again. Teasing her and tormenting her to the point of madness. Soon she was whining, bucking back into those thick fucking fingers. She wanted more. More touching. More than just his fingers.
"What the fuck are you waiting for?" Selina demanded, sneering back over her shoulder.
"I don't reward very bad kitties." Bruce explained matter-of-factly - infuriatingly so. "Beg for it."
From any other man, Selina would have found this intolerable. But his hands, his touch, remained strong, unwavering. His twitching cock batted slightly against her bare buttocks - she could feel the warm shaft, feel his length and girth and even those fat, bulging veins. Bruce Wayne was a fortunate man to be so greatly blessed.
The things I do for cock…
This was her weakness. Not gold or jewels or cold, hard cash. Nor even the pleasure of robbing wealthy snobs blind. It was this. Stereotypes be damned. She craved it. The strong man with an unwavering conviction and a cock to match. The sort of man who could put her in her place and make her like it. The man who could hold her down, pin her to the bed, and make her scream.
"Fucker…" Selina cursed him under her breath. She sucked in a ragged breath as she felt his length slide against the mound of her pussy. Inches and inches of thick meat, teasing at her folds. "Please. Please teach me a lesson. Turn me into a good girl."
Bruce said nothing. Selina let out another whine as his hands felt up her ass again. He slid his cock against her weeping cunt a couple more times, drawing it out. Each agonizing stroke ripped trembling moans from her throat. Selina was damn near clawing at the sheets by then, exercising great restraint by not cursing out the son of a bitch. She was a good kitty. She had to be a good kitty. It was the only way she'd get fucked the way she wanted.
It came suddenly and without warning. That magnificent surge of sensation. Bruce took her by the hip and sank his cock into her sex. Skewered her in a single, solid thrust. By the time Selina even knew what had happened, he was many inches deep in her soaking cunt - and adding more by the second.
Selina suddenly felt a soreness in her throat. It wasn't until Bruce was balls-deep that the cat thief realized she'd been screaming.
- - -
At the same time, on the other side of Gotham, a show was winding down.
The Monarch Theater was packed full of smiling faces. Zatanna couldn't help but feel a bit proud. Not just by her talent at entertainment, but also because her show had drawn such a large crowd.
Who said magic shows were dead?
The raven-haired magician stood at the forefront of the stage, drinking in the applause. Rows and rows of thoroughly entertained Gothamites - the men especially, no doubt.
A cheering crowd, though… that always lifted her spirits.
"Thank you for coming out tonight, Gotham! There's no city that loves magic like you! And there's no city I love more than Gotham!"
That earned her another surge of cheers. Zatanna beamed with pride, giving a bow. There was a weightless feeling in her chest, a fluttering. It was the perfect time to close things out.
Time to end on a high note.
"Nruter ot gnisserd moor!" Zatanna spoke. And so it was.
In a flash of light and smoke, Zatanna was sitting back in her dressing room. Still she could hear the faint rumble of applause through the walls.
Another successful show. The fluttering feeling within her had only grown stronger. Her nerves were up with verve, with vitality. It was a high she couldn't let go to waste.
She began to pace through the dressing room, back and forth, weighing her options. On occasion, she'd glance towards the large vanity mirror. Even under the fluorescent lights, the soft waves of her raven hair shimmered brilliantly. Like magic, she noted with a smirk. Her lips were painted a deep, sensual red. Her eyeliner was black, the eye shadow dark purple, both bringing out the vibrant blue of her eyes. Below the neck, she was just as alluring.
She decided to go just a little daring with her outfit tonight, with a bottoms that cut just a little higher on her hips, leaving more of her thighs to be covered only by her fishnets. The blouse and showgirl bodice were a little more snug than normal as well, hugging her torso just a bit more tightly.
Zatanna knew she looked good. She liked looking good. If nothing else, it endeared audiences to her much quicker than if she decided to perform as Plain Jane. But at least part of the appeal for her was the attention. The magic was fun, certainly… but these people came to see her. They came for Zatanna.
It was nice to be wanted. To be desired.
Maybe that was why Zatanna had been feeling restless as of late. It'd been a year since her last relationship and some months since her last fling. A woman like herself, so spirited and charming, spending so long without intimate company? It just wasn't right.
"Could go to a club…" She said aloud, still pacing. "Might find a cute guy…"
It was an attractive prospect, ending the evening with a bang. But Zatanna shook her head. Clubs were fun… until they weren't. She'd have just as much chance at running into a sleaze as she did a stud.
But… on the topic of studs…
Zatanna tapped a finger to her lips, latching onto a very tantalizing idea.
An old friend of hers, one she hadn't seen in a while… Zatanna knew for a fact he almost never left town. The guy spent all of his time fighting for justice, cleaning up the streets. But there had been sparks - lots of sparks - the last time they'd met up. Maybe, just maybe, those sparks would fly again. Maybe she could help him relax - and they'd both get an evening of fun out of it.
Zatanna smirked at the thought. As rigid as he was, Bruce would never turn her away. Men like him needed a little magic in their lives anyway.
The young witch glanced at the vanity mirror again. Her showtime garb was a little sexy, sure. But a few alterations wouldn't hurt.
"A wen elyts!" She commanded. And thus it was so.
She looked her reflection over. The most obvious change was the hair. Her wavy locks had straightened out and she had some cute bangs to boot. Her top was quite different, her white blouse replaced with a strapless, lace-up corset that offered up much more cleavage. Her modest bosom was pushed up nice and snug and oh so eye-catching. No doubt the World's Greatest Detective would notice that first. Her bottoms were similarly changed - the black satin bottoms and fishnets that hugged her long, toned legs replaced with a pair of tight, black pants. And, of course, there were her heels - longer now, just to give a little something extra to her strut.
She looked killer. Bruce would be very, very happy to see her.
"I might even get him to smile this time… Ot Enyaw Ronam!"
Another flash of light and smoke. In an instant, Zatanna was on the other side of Gotham. She was outside now, the cool night air nipping at the bare skin offered up by her new outfit. The full moon shone in brilliant white, surrounded by glittering stars.
It was a good night to get laid.
Zatanna still felt that fluttering about her insides. It was giddiness and spirit and nerves. She could already imagine the look on Bruce's face when he answered the door.
If he's even home…
Before her was Wayne Manor. A behemoth of Gothic architecture rising from the musty earth. Three stories of brick, stone, and painted glass. For Zatanna, it had stopped being spooky years ago. The solemn air, however, never went away.
Zatanna aimed to make these grounds a bit more lively. At least for tonight.
Fallen leaves crunched under her heeled boots as she approached the massive, oaken front door. She took the heavy iron ring and knocked. She waited. And waited.
No answer came. No Alfred. No Bruce. Not even one of the Robins.
Zatanna pursed her lips.
Curious.
Just to be safe, she knocked again. She waited. And waited. And waited.
Still no answer.
The young witch frowned. She stepped back, cursing under her breath as she stared up at the big, silent mansion.
"Damn. Must be busy tonight."
Zatanna opened her mouth to utter another spell. But just as she began to speak the magic words…
A scream. A woman's scream. It was faint, but it cut clear through the crisp, evening air. It wasn't a scream of pain or panic or horror. This was born from something else entirely. It was a different sort of cry. And to Zatanna, quite familiar.
The disappointment she felt was gone - replaced instantly with keen interest.
She again looked at the windows high on the upper floors. One of them was open. How had she not noticed?
"Oh." Zatanna said aloud. Another cry came, longer this time. Then a shriek. That one almost made Zatanna jump, so stunning in its sheer passion. Zatanna continued to listen and her interest grew in turn. A smile spread across her face. "Guess I'm not the only visitor tonight. Naughty, naughty, Bruce."
She had a naughty idea herself, right then. Even naughtier than the prospect of making Bruce's night.
"Etativel!"
The witch floated up and up and up. Weightless, just like she felt on the inside. That wicked excitement continued to brew, the heat in her belly beginning to froth and bubble delightfully. She came to the open window… and peered inside.
Across the threshold was Wayne Manor's master bedroom. Zatanna saw Bruce. She saw all of Bruce. And all of his guest, as well.
A woman stripped naked, lithe and fit and alluring in the way women were. The sensual lines of her toned back were glistening with sweat. Her taut, pale ass was reddened but still succulent in the way its softness quaked and rippled under the savage thrusts of Bruce.
He was fucking her. Taking her from behind like a beast in rut. He held her down, pinning her by the back of her neck, his firm hips snapping forth. Driving that long, thick cock deep into her cunt. Again and again and again. The stamina, the endurance, the sound of her wailing…
The sight took Zatanna's breath away.
Then the woman turned her head. Zatanna recognized the face.
Selina Kyle. The Catwoman.
The witch swallowed, hovering still in the air. She didn't breathe. She didn't blink. She just watched.
Bruce swatted his palm over Selina's ass. The slap pierced even through the sound of her moaning. Even Zatanna felt a tremble - down her back and elsewhere.
Selina didn't squeal or scream that time, instead letting out a happy sigh. But then her eyes fluttered open… and her gaze locked with Zatanna's.
Oh.
Caught.