Chapter 1: Tell Me What You Want
The scent of beeswax and old velvet hung thick in the dungeon’s air, undercut by the faint, clean smell of leather restraints neatly coiled on a low table. Red light from dozens of flickering candles danced across stone walls, making the shadows writhe. Zatanna stood facing the antique, full-length mirror, her reflection a study in anticipation. Behind her, Bruce’s presence was a solid warmth, his hands resting lightly on her bare shoulders. She wore only a simple black slip, the silk whispering against her skin.
"Talk to me, Zee," Bruce murmured, his voice a low rasp that vibrated through her bones. His thumbs traced slow circles on her skin. "No stage tricks tonight. No illusions. Just you. And me. What do you really want?"
Zatanna’s gaze in the mirror dropped momentarily. A flush crept up her neck, blooming across her cheeks. Even after all this time, after the battles fought side-by-side, the secrets shared, the confessions whispered in the dark, this felt… raw. Exposed in a different way. "You know what I want," she deflected, her voice softer than usual, lacking its usual confident lilt. "The usual games. The restraints. You in control."
Bruce didn’t buy it. He shifted slightly, his chest pressing against her back, his arms sliding down to encircle her waist. He rested his chin on the crown of her head. "The usual is good," he conceded. "But tonight… I feel like there’s something else. Something you’ve been circling around. Writing in that little notebook you think I don’t know about." He felt her slight intake of breath. "Daydreaming about."
She shivered, not from cold. His perceptiveness was infuriating, exhilarating. "Bruce…"
"Shhh," he soothed, tightening his hold, grounding her. "No judgment here. Never from me. This room, this us… it’s safe. It’s sanctuary. Tell me. Use whatever words come. Vague, specific, filthy, poetic. I need to hear it from your lips." His hands slid lower, palming her hips, pulling her back firmly against the hard ridge already pressing against the thin silk of her slip. "What does that brilliant, magical mind crave?"
She swallowed hard, staring at their reflection – his intense focus, her own wide, dark eyes, the flush deepening. The candlelight caught the planes of his face, the familiar lines softened by the intimacy of the moment. "It… it’s about… that spot," she started, haltingly. "You know. The center."
"Your clit," Bruce supplied gently, his breath warm on her ear. His hands moved again, one sliding around to rest low on her belly, the other drifting upwards to cup a breast through the silk. His thumb grazed her nipple, making it peak instantly. "What about it, darling? Tell me."
The directness, the lack of hesitation in his voice, loosened something inside her. "I… I want it… more," she breathed, the words escaping almost as a sigh. "Not just sensitive. Not just… responsive. I want it… big. Swollen. Throbbing. Impossible to ignore. Like a little pearl, but… amplified. Prominent." She squeezed her eyes shut for a second, embarrassed by the sheer audacity of the desire. "Like you could see it pulsing, even from across the room."
Bruce’s hand on her belly moved lower, fingertips tracing the edge of the silk hem, dipping just slightly beneath it. He didn’t push further yet. "Bigger," he echoed, his voice thick with understanding, not shock. "So it catches the light. So it’s… undeniable." He kissed the side of her neck, a slow, tender press of lips. "And what do you want me to do with this… undeniable, swollen pearl once you have it?"
The dam began to crack. His acceptance, his encouragement, the sheer heat of him against her back… "Everything," she whispered, her voice gaining a thread of urgency. "Bruce, I want you to focus on it. Worship it. Tease it until I’m begging. Until I’m sobbing. I want your fingers… your tongue… your cock… all of it, relentlessly. I want to feel… owned by it. Controlled by the ache you build there." Her hips pushed back against his erection instinctively.
"Tell me how," he urged, his own breath catching. His fingers slipped fully beneath the slip now, finding the damp heat between her thighs. He didn’t touch her clit yet, just traced the swollen lips, feeling her tremble. "How do you want it teased?"
"Light," she gasped as his fingertip brushed a hypersensitive nerve near, but not on, her clit. "Feather-light. Barely there. Then… rougher. Pinching. Tugging. Like you’re playing with it." Her head fell back against his shoulder, exposing her throat. "I want to feel it stretch. Feel how big you’ve made it. Feel you stretch my lips wide open just to get to it. I want…" She hesitated, the next part feeling almost sacrilegious. "I want to feel like a slut for it. Degenerate. Just… lost in how good it feels, how overwhelming."
Bruce groaned low in his chest, the sound vibrating against her back. His finger finally found her clit, already engorged from her confession and his touch. He circled it slowly, firmly, feeling it swell further beneath his touch. "Fuck, Zee," he breathed. "Yes. Just like that. Let go. Be exactly what you need to be. My beautiful, degenerate, perfect wife. What else?"
"When you make me come," she rushed out, her hips circling against his hand, seeking more pressure, "I want to squirt. I want to lose control completely. Soak everything. You, me, the sheets. I want you to force it out of me. Over and over. Wring every single drop, every shudder, every scream." Her hand shot back, gripping his thigh. "Don’t stop. However many I have. However loud I get. Promise me, Bruce. Promise you won’t stop until I’m just… broken. Used. Loved."
"I promise," he vowed fiercely, his own control fraying. He pinched her clit lightly, then harder, drawing a sharp cry from her lips. "And then? After I’ve wrung you dry? After I’ve made you come on my tongue, my fingers, my cock? What then?"
"Then?" She opened her eyes, meeting his burning gaze in the mirror. A spark of her old mischief, mixed with raw need, flared. "Then… I want to see it. See me. See us. See what you did to me." She took a shaky breath. "I want you to film it, Bruce. Film you making my big, swollen clit pulse like that. Film you making me squirt like a fountain. Film me coming apart. So we can watch… so I can see how shameless you make me. How beautiful it is."
A slow, predatory smile spread across Bruce’s face. It wasn't the cold Batman grimace, but the look of a man utterly captivated, deeply aroused, and fiercely devoted. He kissed her neck again, lingering, before reaching past her towards the small table holding the restraints. But instead of leather, his fingers closed around a sleek, compact video camera. He held it up so she could see its blinking red light reflected in the mirror.
"Already rolling, my love," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "Since you said ‘bigger’." He set the camera down on a tripod near the foot of the large bed, angled perfectly towards the plush surface. Turning back to her, he gently spun her around to face him fully. His eyes, dark and intense, held hers. "No more hiding. No more shame. Tonight, you get everything you asked for. And then some."
His hands came up to frame her face, his touch impossibly tender despite the fire in his gaze. "You are magnificent," he stated, absolute conviction in every word. "Every fantasy. Every desire. Every unspoken, filthy, perfect need. They’re you. And I want all of them." He kissed her then, deep and claiming, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, mirroring the possession he planned for her body. His hands slid down her back, bunching the silk of her slip. "Let’s make you swell, darling," he breathed against her lips, his voice thick with lust and unwavering love. "Let’s make you scream." With deliberate slowness, he began to gather the hem of her slip, pulling it upwards, revealing inch by inch of dusky skin. The camera’s red light blinked steadily, recording the first tremulous moments of Zatanna surrendering completely to her deepest, most vulnerable desire, held safe in the arms of the man who cherished every part of her. Bruce's gaze never left hers, promising not just pleasure, but absolute acceptance. He lowered his head, his lips finding the hollow of her throat, then lower still, trailing fire down her sternum, his journey towards her ultimate focus just beginning. The velvet drapes seemed to hold their breath, the candle flames dancing higher as he murmured against her heated skin, "Show me how shameless you can be, Mrs. Wayne. Let me give you everything."
The velvet hem whispered higher. Bruce exposed the smooth plane of her belly, the dip of her navel, then paused just below her ribs. His lips followed the path his hands took, branding her skin with slow, open-mouthed kisses that made her gasp. The camera’s unblinking red eye watched it all.
He straightened, his gaze locking onto hers in the mirror. His expression was fierce tenderness. "Tell me, Zee," he murmured, his voice thick. His fingers traced the waistband of her silk panties, dipping beneath. "How big? 'As big as I can'... that leaves room for doubt. I need specifics. For the machine." His thumb pressed down, finding the swollen nub already peeking from her folds, making her jerk. "Clinical terms. Millimeters. How much do you really crave?"
Zatanna whimpered, her blush deepening to a fierce crimson that spread down her chest. She tried to look away, but he caught her chin, gently forcing her to meet his reflected eyes. The camera felt like a physical weight. "Bruce... it's... I..." Her voice was a strangled whisper.
He leaned in, kissing the pulse point at her temple, his hand retreating from her panties only to slide the silk down her hips in one smooth motion. She stepped out, naked now except for the candlelight and his intense focus. He guided her backwards until the edge of the plush bed pressed against her thighs.
"Ten millimeters?" he prompted softly, kneeling before her. His breath ghosted over her mound. "Like a plump little berry?" His tongue flicked out, lightning quick and devastating, licking straight up her slit, bypassing her clit entirely. She cried out, thighs trembling. "Or fifteen?" he continued, his voice rough against her skin. He sucked her inner labia gently into his mouth, one at a time, his eyes never leaving hers in the mirror. "A juicy raisin?"
"More," she gasped, her hips bucking involuntarily. "Please, Bruce. More than that."
"Twenty?" He traced the outline of her clit with the very tip of his nose, making her shudder. "A small grape?" He blew cool air over the wetness his tongue had left behind. "Or are we thinking bigger, darling? Tell me. Be greedy. This is your fantasy."
She squeezed her eyes shut, overwhelmed by sensation and shame and the desperate need clawing inside her. "I want... I want to feel it stretched. Feel it... huge. Like... like it belongs in a dirty magazine." The words tumbled out, harsh and raw. "Like I’m some kind of... of obscene showpiece." Tears pricked her eyes, not of sadness, but of overwhelming vulnerability.
"Beautiful," Bruce breathed, kissing the top of her pubic mound. "Exactly that. We'll make it perfect. A throbbing, glistening showpiece." He reached towards the low table laden with toys, his fingers bypassing the floggers and cuffs momentarily to retrieve a sleek, medical-grade cylinder pump with a soft silicone flange. "Twenty-five to start," he stated, his tone clinically detached yet radiating heat. "See how it swells. How it fills the tube. Then thirty. We’ll take it as far as your greedy little body can handle."
He positioned the flange, the cool silicone a shock against her overheated skin. He applied gentle suction. Zatanna gasped, a sharp intake of breath as her clit was drawn into the tube, the pressure intense, unfamiliar. He held it, watching her face in the mirror, watching the flicker of apprehension and intense arousal warring in her eyes. Her clit pulsed visibly within the clear plastic cylinder, already engorging beyond its usual state.
"Look, Zee," Bruce commanded softly, his own arousal a hard outline against his trousers. "Look at yourself. See how beautiful you are. How responsive." He released the pump, allowing her clit to retreat slightly before re-applying suction, stronger this time. "Bigger already. Just the beginning."
"Tie me," she blurted out, her voice trembling. Her hands clenched at her sides, wanting to push him away, wanting to pull him closer. "I... I need you to tie me, Bruce. Wrists. Ankles. To the bed. Please."
"Why?" he asked, his gaze locked on the swelling flesh in the pump. His free hand slid up her inner thigh, fingers finding her slick opening, pushing two inside with effortless ease. She cried out, arching onto his hand.
"Because I'll fight!" she gasped, her hips rocking against his pumping hand. Her clit throbbed painfully within the cylinder. "I'll try to pull away... when it gets too much... when it feels too good... when I feel like I'm going to... to explode. I need to be helpless. Just... just have to watch. Just feel. Let you do... whatever you want. However hard you want. Take it all the way." She was panting now, her reflection wide-eyed and flushed, her clit visibly engorging within the pump. "Make me take it. Make me take all of it."
Bruce groaned, the sound primal. He withdrew his fingers slowly, coated in her wetness, and brought them to his lips, sucking them clean while holding her gaze. "Fuck, yes," he rasped. "That's my girl. No hiding. No running." He released the pump briefly, her clit springing back, flushed dark and significantly larger, incredibly sensitive. A bead of moisture glistened at its tip. He leaned forward and licked it off slowly, deliberately, making her shriek.
He stood, his movements purposeful. He retrieved supple leather cuffs from the table – black, padded, gleaming faintly in the candlelight. He fastened one around her right wrist, then guided her arm up and back, securing the strap to a sturdy ring embedded in the heavy wooden bedpost behind her. She offered her left wrist without prompting, her breath coming in shallow gasps. He secured it just as firmly, then knelt again to buckle the cuffs around her ankles, spreading her legs wide, securing them to rings at the foot of the bed. She was spread open, utterly vulnerable, the swollen bud of her clit jutting out, impossibly large and sensitive, the camera capturing every inch of her exposed, trembling form.
He stood between her splayed legs, stripping off his shirt with swift efficiency, revealing the sculpted muscle honed by years of relentless discipline. His erection strained against his trousers. He unbuckled his belt, the metallic clink loud in the room. His eyes, dark and burning, roved over her bound body, lingering on her transformed clit.
"Look at it," he commanded, his voice low and rough. He traced the engorged, throbbing nub with a single fingertip, a feather-light touch that made her whole body convulse against the restraints. "Look at what your honesty did. Look at what you asked for." He applied firmer pressure, rubbing in tiny, deliberate circles. "It's magnificent. Utterly fucking obscene. And it's only going to get bigger."
He unzipped his trousers, freeing his thick, hard cock. He stroked himself slowly, his gaze fixed on her face, watching her reaction. "Now," he said, his voice thick with lust and possession. "Let's see how loud you scream when I make you squirt all over this perfect, swollen pearl." He reached for the pump again, the clear cylinder glinting in the candlelight, poised to apply even more intense suction to her already aching, engorged clit. His other hand wrapped around his cock, guiding the swollen head towards her glistening, open entrance. "Open wide, darling."
The cool silicone flange sealed tight against her flesh again. The pump hissed as Bruce squeezed the bulb, pulling her clit back into the clear cylinder. Zatanna gasped, the sudden, intense suction a shockwave radiating from her swollen core. Her hips strained against the leather cuffs binding her ankles to the footboard. "God, Bruce... it's so... much," she breathed, the sensation hovering between unbearable pleasure and sharp, demanding ache.
He held the pump steady, watching the engorged flesh pulse darkly within the tube. "Just like this," he murmured, his voice surprisingly gentle against the crackle of the candles. "No wider. No harder. Just... feel it. Own it. This is what you asked for, Zee. This beautiful, greedy little thing." He traced the edge of the flange with a fingertip, sending fresh tremors through her. "Get used to the stretch. The pull. How fucking sensitive it makes you."
He released the bulb, letting the vacuum hold. Her clit throbbed, captive and impossibly prominent. "Fuck," she whimpered, tilting her head back against the pillow, her bound wrists flexing. The constant, low-grade thrum was already winding her tighter, a live wire sparking directly in her center. Every breath felt like it vibrated through her swollen flesh.
Bruce didn't touch her cunt. Not yet. Instead, he stepped closer to the head of the bed, his hard cock jutting thick and flushed mere inches from her lips. He brushed the head against her cheek, a warm, velvety pressure. "You get the pump," he said, his voice dropping to that low, demanding rasp that went straight to her already soaked core, "only when you come. Every pulse, every scream I wring out of you... that's when you feel it pull. That’s your reward." He traced her lower lip with his thumb. "But right now, my beautiful magician... I need your mouth."
Zatanna moaned, the sound muffled against his thumb. Sucking him off was one of her purest pleasures, a way to worship him, to feel his power and his surrender all at once. The added intensity of the pump on her clit made the thought almost painfully erotic. She opened her mouth willingly, her tongue darting out to lick the salty bead of pre-cum glistening at his tip.
"Gently, darling," Bruce instructed, guiding himself slowly between her lips. "Easy. Just like you love to do. Take me in nice and slow." He fed himself to her, inch by thick inch, letting her warm, wet mouth envelop him. She moaned again, deeper this time, the vibration traveling down his shaft. Her eyes fluttered shut as she focused on the sensations: the familiar, beloved weight and heat of him on her tongue, the smooth glide, the faint tang of his skin. Simultaneously, the persistent, deep throb from her pumped clit echoed through her entire pelvis, a relentless counterpoint.
"Good girl," Bruce groaned, his hand tangling gently in her hair, not forcing, just holding. He held himself still for a moment, letting her adjust, letting the sheer fullness of him register. Her tongue swirled around the sensitive underside of his crown. "That's it. Just feel me. Taste me. Such a perfect fucking mouth."
She began to move, slowly at first, drawing him deeper, then pulling back, her lips tight around his girth. Each bob of her head sent a fresh wave of sensation cascading through her own body. The pump maintained its steady, demanding pull on her clit, the engorgement making every nerve ending scream. Her moans became constant, muffled hums around his cock, vibrations that made him hiss and tighten his grip in her hair.
Bruce watched her, his gaze intense, tracing the flush spreading down her neck, the way her bound body subtly writhed against the sheets, the obscene prominence of her swollen flesh trapped in the cylinder. "Look at you," he breathed, his voice thick. "Bound. Pumped. My cock in your throat. Taking it so beautifully. So fucking shameless, Zee." He thrust shallowly, pushing deeper with each glide, feeling the tight clench of her throat. "Do you feel it? How huge your clit is? How much it needs to come?"
She whimpered around his length, a desperate affirmative. The need was coiling like a spring inside her, amplified tenfold by the constant suction and the erotic submission of having him fill her mouth. Saliva slicked her chin. Her eyes opened, dark pools of pure, unfiltered lust meeting his in the mirror beside the bed. She saw herself: bound, exposed, her features slack with blissful desperation, his thick cock disappearing between her lips, the pump a blatant, humiliating crown between her splayed legs. The image, captured forever by the blinking red light of the camera, sent a jolt of pure, filthy heat straight to her core.
"That's it," Bruce growled, seeing the flare in her eyes. "Look at yourself. See how fucking perfect you look taking me. See that swollen, needy cunt just begging for it." He started fucking her mouth with slightly more insistence, not brutal, but deep and relentless, setting a rhythm that matched the throbbing ache between her thighs. "You gonna come for me like this, Zee? Gonna come sucking my cock while that greedy little clit gets pumped full?"
Her muffled cries escalated. Her hips bucked uselessly against the restraints as the twin sensations – the deep, claiming thrusts into her throat and the unyielding suction on her swollen pearl – collided, pushing her higher, faster. She felt the tell-tale tightening, the impossible coil winding to its breaking point. Her eyes rolled back slightly, her focus narrowing to the feel of him, the taste of him, the brutal, beautiful ache consuming her.
Bruce groaned, low and guttural. "Fuck, I can feel it. You're close, aren't you? My perfect little slut. Gonna swallow me while you shatter." He thrust harder, deeper, holding himself buried in her throat for a breathless moment. "Come on, Zee. Come for me. Let me feel it. Now."
He pulsed, thick and hot, the first surge hitting the back of her throat. The taste, the sudden warmth, the rhythmic spurting against her palate – it was the final detonator. The orgasm ripped through her like lightning. A ragged, choked scream tore from her clamped throat as her body convulsed violently against the restraints. Her cunt clenched around nothing, spasming wildly. Simultaneously, the pump flared – the vacuum intensifying sharply as the release triggered its mechanism, drawing her swollen clit impossibly deeper, stretching the engorged flesh to its screaming limit. Pleasure and a sharp, exquisite agony merged into an all-consuming white-hot crescendo.
Bruce held her head down, feeling her throat convulse around him as she swallowed, her body bucking and jerking through the cataclysmic release. He emptied himself into her in thick, pulsing jets, groaning her name as her muffled cries and the slick, desperate sounds of her swallowing filled the velvety silence of the dungeon, punctuated only by her ragged gasps as the pump finally released its grip, leaving her throbbing, swollen clit utterly exposed and hypersensitive in the cooling air. She collapsed back onto the bed, spent and trembling, his cock slipping wetly from her slack lips. Her eyes were glazed, her breath coming in shallow, shuddering gasps. The camera’s red light blinked steadily, capturing the aftermath: the sheen of sweat on both their bodies, the flushed, used perfection of her swollen sex, the dazed wonder in her eyes as she looked up at Bruce. He leaned down, pressing a kiss, surprisingly tender, to her sweat-dampened forehead. "Beautiful," he whispered, his voice rough yet filled with awe. "Absolutely fucking perfect." He reached down and carefully detached the pump, placing it aside. Her clit remained prominently swollen, glistening and pulsing faintly. He traced it lightly with a fingertip, making her whimper, a sound that held both residual bliss and the promise of renewed fire. "Get some rest, my love," he murmured, his thumb brushing her cheek. "We start fresh in the morning."