Chapter 11: Conditioning Protocol
The cool silk sheets felt alien against her bare skin after the damp, metallic chill of the Cave. Gotham’s skyline glittered beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, a billion indifferent lights mirroring the frantic sparking in Zatanna’s nervous system. She hung suspended in a complex web of black nylon straps – Bruce’s latest design. The harness cradled her pregnant belly with surprising tenderness, but its primary function was undeniable: to position her hips high, legs splayed wide and bent at the knees, leaving her sex utterly exposed. A specially designed aperture in the sling’s crotch presented her monstrously enlarged clit like an obscene offering. The 40mm of saline-swollen flesh, still bearing faint indentations from the clamp’s earlier bite, pulsed visibly in the penthouse’s soft, golden light.
Bruce moved around her with the quiet efficiency of a surgeon preparing for a critical operation. The scent of his expensive cologne – sandalwood and something darkly metallic – was a familiar anchor, yet utterly at odds with the scene. He secured a final strap across her upper thighs, ensuring no escape, his knuckles brushing her inner thigh deliberately. She shivered, the air-conditioned room suddenly too warm.
"Comfortable?" he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the suspension rigging. It wasn’t really a question.
Zatanna swallowed, the movement tight in her throat. The vulnerability was absolute. Her power, her stage persona, felt galaxies away. Here, suspended over their own bed, she was reduced to sensation and obedience. "As much as possible," she managed, her voice hoarse. "The baby…?" The question was reflexive, a flicker of the mother beneath the submissive.
"Perfectly supported," he assured her, his hand briefly, possessively cupping the swell of her abdomen before sliding lower. His fingertips traced the outer edge of her labia, already slick. "All the tension," he said, his tone shifting, becoming darker, more focused, "is concentrated here." He tapped the swollen crown of her clit. The light contact sent a jolt straight to her womb.
He picked up the first device. It looked clinical: a clear, thick-walled suction cup attached to slender tubing leading to a small, silent pump unit placed beside the bed. "Clit pump," he stated, his eyes fixed on her face as he brought the cold rim of the cup to her flesh. "We need to encourage the growth, good circulation. Keep the tissues pliant. Can't let all that hard-earned size recede." He applied gentle pressure, sealing the cup over the entirety of her distended clit. Her breath hitched as the cool silicone conformed to the thick shaft and bulbous head. "Maintenance is crucial," he added, almost conversationally, as he flipped a switch on the pump.
A low hum filled the air. Instantly, a powerful suction gripped her clit. Not painful, yet intensely invasive. It pulled, drawing the hypersensitive flesh deep into the cup’s chamber, engorging it further, stretching the thin skin taut. She gasped, her hips straining instinctively against the harness. The sensation was a continuous, demanding pressure, mimicking the pull of the weights but constant, unrelenting. "Ohhh… f-fuck, Bruce…" she whimpered, the suction already making her cunt weep fresh slickness from her cunt that dripped audibly onto the protective sheet below.
"Good girl," he murmured, watching the trapped flesh swell and darken under the suction’s relentless pull. He picked up the second device: a small, black control box with digital readouts and twin leads terminating in silver electrode pads. "This," he said, his voice dropping to a predatory growl, "is the trainer." He peeled the backing from one electrode. "Tonight, we condition this fat, greedy clit." He pressed the cold pad firmly against the underside of the base of her shaft, where the clamp had sat. The second pad he placed directly on the hypersensitive tip, visible through the clear suction cup.
Zatanna’s eyes widened. "Bruce… electricity?" Panic flickered, quickly drowned by a dark surge of arousal. The vulnerability, the clinical control – it was terrifying and intoxicating.
"Low voltage. High precision," he stated, his thumb hovering over the dial on the control box. "Designed to stimulate specific nerve clusters. You'll be safe." He met her gaze, his own eyes burning with that familiar, focused intensity. The Batman assessing a target. The husband claiming his property. "Tonight, Zee, we’re going to train this fat slut-clit to squirt on command. Like the perfect fuck-toy you are." His thumb twisted the dial.
It started as a low thrum deep inside the core of her clit. A buzzing vibration that resonated in her bones. Then came the sharp, bright zaps. Not pain, but intense, startling jolts of pure sensation that raced along the engorged nerve bundle. They came in rapid, unpredictable bursts – zzzt-zzzt-ZAP! – synced with the relentless pull of the suction cup. Her entire body jerked in the harness with each pulse. "AH! Shit! Oh GOD!" Her cries weren't solely of distress; they were laced with raw, shocking pleasure. The dual assault short-circuited her thoughts. The suction stretched and filled, the electricity sparked and burned, a brutal symphony conducted on the most sensitive part of her body.
"Feel it?" Bruce demanded, his voice tight, watching her writhe. He adjusted the dial slightly. "Feel how deep it goes? Straight to your cunt, doesn't it?" Another cluster of zaps. ZAP-ZZAP-zzzt! Her hips bucked wildly, the straps creaking. Her cunt clenched violently around nothing, gushing more slickness. "Yes! FUCK! It… it burns! But it… oh god, it feels… wrong… good!" she babbled, tears pricking her eyes. The sensations were overwhelming, contradictory – agony laced with the sharpest edge of ecstasy.
Bruce circled her suspended form, observing the effects with clinical detachment tinged with dark admiration. The suction cup held her clit engorged, the electrodes making it visibly twitch and pulse under the clear plastic. He reached between her legs, his fingers sliding easily into her soaked, twitching cunt. "Soaking wet already," he growled, curling his fingers, finding her G-spot with unerring accuracy. He pressed hard, grinding the pad of his fingers against it. "Is it the machine, Zee? Or is it knowing you're hanging here, plugged in, waiting for me to make you spurt?"
"Both!" she screamed, arching her back as another volley of shocks hit her clit directly in sync with his brutal finger-fucking. The combined stimulation was catastrophic. Pleasure detonated along her nerves, white-hot and shattering. Her vision blurred. "Oh fuck! Oh fuck! I'm gonna… I'm gonna…!" She felt the pressure building not just in her clit, but beneath it, deep in her cunf, a hot, urgent pressure unlike any orgasm she'd known.
"Not yet," Bruce commanded, his voice like iron. He abruptly released her G-spot and pulled his fingers out, glistening. He tapped the control box, lowering the voltage slightly, shifting the pattern to a maddening, irregular pulse. The suction pump continued its relentless pull. "You don't cum until I say. You squirt when I command it." He picked up a thick, polished obsidian dildo from the bedside table, its surface cool and intimidating. It was shaped like his cock, but thicker. "This greedy hole needs filling while we work on your little clit."
He positioned the broad, slick head of the dildo against her dripping entrance. He didn't rush. He applied pressure, letting her feel the stretch, watching her face contort. "Beg for it, swollen slut."
"Please!" Zatanna gasped, desperate for the fullness, anything to ground the electric storm in her clit. "Please, Bruce! Stuff me! Shove that fat fake cock into your greedy cunt! Stretch me wide! I need it! PLEASE!" The words spilled out, filthy and automatic, fueled by desperation and the electric current still buzzing through her core.
He drove it home with one powerful thrust. She cried out, the thick intrusion a counterpoint to the electric suction tormenting her clit. He held it deep, grinding the base against her, then began a slow, deliberate rhythm. Out. Deep. The thick shaft dragged against her swollen walls, stimulating everything. All the while, the pump sucked, the electrodes zapped. Buzz-zzzt! ZAP! Her senses were a kaleidoscope of overload. She felt stretched, filled, electrified, pulled apart.
Bruce watched her, his jaw tight, sweat beading on his own temple despite the cool air. He adjusted the dial again. The shocks became sharper, more focused, concentrating on the tip of her clit trapped in the cup. "Focus on the pulse, Zee," he ordered, his voice thick. "Feel where the pressure builds? Deep inside? Where it wants to burst?"
She nodded frantically, tears streaming freely now. The pressure was building again, a hot, urgent balloon expanding behind her pubic bone, intensified a hundredfold by the dildo's pressure on her front wall and the electric firestorm on her clit. "Yes! Oh god, yes! It… it aches! It needs… needs to…!"
"Hold it," Bruce commanded, his thrusts with the dildo becoming harder, faster. The wet slap of silicone against flesh joined the hum of the pump and the crackle of the electrodes. "Hold that pressure. Feel it grow. That’s your reward. That’s your purpose. To squirt for me. Break your cunt to squirt when your clit rules you." He leaned close, his breath hot on her ear. "My command. Understand?"
"Y-yes! Master!" The title slipped out, raw and desperate. "I'll hold it! I'll… try!" Her entire body trembled with the effort, muscles locked, fighting the primal urge to release. The pressure was immense, agonizingly pleasurable. She felt like a dam about to rupture. The suction pulled, the electricity sparked, the thick dildo pistoned, stoking the fire.
Bruce watched the digital readout, watched the frantic flutter of her eyelids, the tremors wracking her suspended form. He saw the exact moment the pressure reached its peak, the moment control became impossible. He twisted the dial to its highest setting.
"NOW, SLUT! SQUIRT FOR ME!" he roared.
ZZZZZZTTT-KRAK!
A blinding surge of electricity, sharper and hotter than anything before, blasted through the core of her clit. The suction amplified it, pulling the sensation deep. The command, barked with absolute authority, shattered the last vestige of her control.
Zatanna screamed, a raw, ragged sound that tore through the penthouse. Her body went rigid, then convulsed violently. The pressure exploded. Not just a gush, but a hot, powerful jet of fluid erupted from her pussy. It sprayed across Bruce’s chest, his abdomen, splattering onto the floor. The stream was forceful, sustained, fueled by the brutal electric stimulation and the sheer intensity of her release. Her cunt clenched and spasmed wildly around the buried dildo, milking it as if it were flesh. "FUCK! SQUIRTING! I'M S-SQUIRTING! OH GOD! More! IT'S TOO MUCH! BRUCE! MASTER!" She gushed again, another hot arc from her cunt, her body betraying her, emptying itself helplessly under the relentless machine and his command.
Bruce groaned, a deep, guttural sound of triumph and arousal. He held the dildo deep, grinding it as she spasmed, watching her spray his skin, her monstrous clit throbbing violently under the suction and fading electric pulses. "Yes! That's it! Let it fucking go! Soak me, you perfect, beautiful slut to your clit! Gush!" He kept the voltage up slightly, prolonging the squirting spasms until she was trembling uncontrollably, the stream finally subsiding to weak dribbles, her breath coming in ragged, broken sobs.
He flicked off the power. The pump fell silent. The electrodes went dead. The sudden cessation of sensation was almost as shocking as the stimulation itself. Zatanna slumped in the harness, utterly spent, drenched in sweat and her own release, her body twitching with aftershocks. Bruce carefully removed the suction cup and peeled off the electrodes. Her clit stood out, huge, glistening, impossibly sensitive, visibly pulsing.
He gently withdrew the dildo. Leaned in, kissing her deeply, possessively, tasting salt and desperation. His hand cradled her belly again. "Good girl," he murmured against her lips, the ferocity gone, replaced by a dark, satisfied tenderness. He unfastened the harness buckles, lowering her slowly, carefully, onto the silk sheets. She sank into them, boneless. He stretched out beside her, pulling her close. His fingers traced the outline of her still-throbbing clit. "We'll run the protocol twice daily. Consistency is key." He squeezed it gently, making her whimper. "Soon, my perfect fuck-toy, all I'll need is a word."