Chapter 2: Lady's choice
The harsh, sterile light of the Batcave lab pinned Zatanna in place. Suspension straps dug into her wrists and ankles, the complex harness lifting her hips high above her shoulders, the angle forcing her spine into a deep, vulnerable arch. Her bound breasts, swollen with pregnancy and cinched tightly beneath the ribs with wide, padded straps that accentuated their heavy fullness and pale skin, swayed heavily with her ragged breaths. Below, her sex was completely exposed, glistening and open to the cool air, the bright LEDs leaving nothing to the imagination. The blinking red eye of the camera felt like a brand.
Bruce stood beside the stainless-steel trolley, the tools of her surrender gleaming under the lights. He picked up the obsidian vibrator, its ridges catching glints of cold illumination. He coated it generously with slick, thick lubricant that smelled faintly of aloe and something metallic. Without preamble, he pressed the cool, blunt head against her weeping entrance.
"Deep," he commanded, his voice devoid of warmth, the voice of the Bat dissecting data. "For the G-spot."
He pushed it in slowly, the thick shaft stretching her walls deliberately. Zatanna gasped, her head pressing back against the suspension frame. The ridges were pronounced, dragging against her inner flesh with delicious friction. He sank it fully, the base nestling against her outer lips. A flick of his thumb on the heavy-duty remote. The device purred to life, a low, powerful thrum Zatanna felt deep in her bones. He adjusted the settings, focusing the ultrasonic pulses internally.
A choked cry tore from her throat. "Oh fuck! Bruce!" It wasn't just vibration; it was a targeted, insistent pressure deep inside, a relentless thudding against that spongy, nerve-dense area. Pleasure, sharp and almost painful in its intensity, radiated outwards, coiling low in her belly. Her toes curled in the ankle cuffs. The harness creaked as her body tensed. He watched the subtle contractions ripple across her lower abdomen, her internal muscles instinctively clenching the intruder.
"Feel it?" he asked, his gaze analytical, noting the flush spreading across her chest, the rapid flutter of her pulse in her throat. He increased the intensity fractionally.
"God! Yes! It's… it's too much!" she panted, her voice tight. The deep, focused stimulation was overwhelming, eroding her control faster than she’d anticipated. Each pulse felt like it was punching directly into her core. "Feels like… like you're fucking me with a jackhammer… deep inside!"
"Good." Bruce's hand moved to the chrome pump unit. He selected a small, bell-shaped silicone cup attached to flexible tubing. He squeezed lubricant directly onto her exposed clit, the cool gel making her jolt. With terrifying efficiency, he placed the cup over her clit and hood, creating a seal. The pump whirred softly as he activated it. Gentle suction pulled the sensitive bundle of nerves upwards into the cup.
Zatanna whimpered, a high-pitched sound. The combination was brutal: the deep, thudding assault inside and the sudden, insistent pull on her clit. Her hips jerked uselessly against the restraints. "Bruce… please…"
The suction intensified. He watched, fascinated, as the suction visibly drew more of her clit out, engorging it, turning the already swollen bud a deeper red, taut and hypersensitive within the transparent cup. "Sensitive," he murmured, more to himself than her. "Swelling nicely."
He adjusted the vibrator’s pulse pattern again. It shifted to a rapid, fluttering rhythm, still focused deep within. Zatanna screamed, her back arching impossibly further, the straps biting into her skin. Tears welled in her eyes. Her bound breasts heaved.
"Choice time, Magician," Bruce stated, his voice cutting through her ragged gasps. He gestured towards the gleaming, articulated spider machine on the trolley, its multiple arms ending in various attachments – probes, clamps, textured stimulators. "Option one: I activate the machine. Programmed thrust profile deep in your cunt. Simultaneous penetration in your ass. Clamps holding your labia wide open." He paused, letting the image sink in. "Or option two…" He tapped the pump's control, increasing the suction another notch. Zatanna cried out as the pull on her clit became almost intolerable, the engorged flesh pulsing violently. "...I keep this pump going. Make this little clit swell until it’s twice this size. Until the slightest touch is agony. Until you come just from the suction and the ache. Decide. Now."
Panic warred with desperate need in her eyes. The vibrator was pushing her towards the edge, the suction was a torment of building pressure. Both options promised excruciation. Both promised oblivion.
"The machine!" she blurted, the words ripped from her. "The machine, Bruce! Please! Stuff me! Just… stop the suction! Stop it!" She couldn't handle the focused intensity on her clit combined with the deep vibration. The promise of being filled, stretched, overtaken felt like the lesser of two agonies in that suspended, breathless moment.
He released the suction instantly. The sudden lack of pressure was its own shock, leaving her clit throbbing, exposed, hypersensitized. He deactivated the vibrator and withdrew it slowly, the ridges dragging obscenely against her sensitized walls, drawing another sharp gasp. He placed both devices back on the trolley.
"Machine it is." He moved to the spider device, his fingers dancing over the controls on its base. Servos whined softly as the arms unfolded, positioning themselves with lethal precision. One arm extended a thick, ridged dildo coated in lubricant towards her dripping cunt. Another arm, tipped with a slightly smaller, smooth probe, moved towards her tight, untouched asshole. A third arm branched into two delicate, articulated pincers designed to grip and hold.
The camera whirred softly, adjusting focus.
The dildo pressed insistently against her entrance. Bruce engaged the mechanism. It pushed forward steadily, relentlessly. Zatanna clenched her teeth, her knuckles white on the suspension grips. It was thicker than Bruce's cock, thicker than the vibrator, stretching her with an impersonal, mechanical inevitability. Inch by thick, ridged inch, it sank into her, filling her channel with brutal efficiency. She panted, her body instinctively fighting the invasion before yielding.
Before she could adjust, she felt the cool, blunt pressure at her other entrance. "No! Wait! Bruce, I'm not—" The protest died as the anal probe breached her, a sharp, burning stretch. The machine didn't hesitate, pushing both penetrations deeper in synchronized, measured strokes. Her cry was lost in the hum of the device. Her cunt was stuffed, her ass was stuffed, the dual fullness overwhelming. Her body strained against the suspension, trying to accommodate the impossible girth invading it from both ends.
The pincer arms moved in. Cold, hard metal touched her inner thighs, then delicately, firmly, gripped her outer labia, pulling them wide apart. Then, the inner pincers located her labia minora, gripping the delicate flesh and spreading her open even further. Zatanna felt horrifyingly exposed, her sex gaping obscenely, every fold, every glistening detail visible under the pitiless lights and to the unblinking camera. Tears tracked down her temples into her hairline.
"Look at you," Bruce breathed, circling the table, his eyes dark with a fierce, almost scientific hunger. "Look at this greedy little fuckhole. Demanding to be filled. Demanding to be stretched." He stopped near the trolley, picking up the set of graduated steel sounds. The smallest gleamed innocently; the largest was a brutal thickness.
He didn't use the small ones. He dipped the second largest sound in lubricant. Her eyes widened in genuine terror.
"Bruce… no… not that one… not yet…" she pleaded, her voice trembling, hoarse. The machine pistoned inside her, the dildo grinding against her sensitized G-spot with every inward thrust, the anal probe stretching her relentlessly.
"Yes," he stated, his voice flat. He positioned the cold, blunt tip of the thick steel rod against her already stretched and exposed entrance. "You chose the stretch. You’ll take it."
He pushed.
A guttural, animalistic scream tore from Zatanna's throat. It was a sound of pure, visceral shock and pain. The sound was thick, unyielding, forcing its way into her already occupied cunt alongside the machine's dildo. The pressure was immense, a white-hot agony of stretching beyond her perceived limit. Her body convulsed violently against the suspension straps, her bound breasts bouncing heavily. The machine continued its relentless thrusts, shoving the dildo and the invading steel rod deeper with each mechanical stroke. Her inner walls screamed in protest, stretched beyond capacity, the ridges of the dildo and the hard, unforgiving steel rod filling every crevice.
Bruce watched, his jaw tight, a muscle ticking in his cheek. He saw her tears, the strain in every muscle, the obscene distention at her core. He saw, too, the uncontrollable slickness gushing around the intruders, the frantic clenching of her inner muscles trying to expel the impossible fullness, the way her engorged clit pulsed violently against the air. It was agony, yes. But it was also undeniable, overwhelming arousal.
He pushed the sound deeper. Another brutal inch. Zatanna sobbed, her head thrashing. "Too big! Too fucking big! STOP! PLEASE BRUCE! MERCY!" The words were raw, ragged.
He leaned close, his lips brushing her sweat-dampened ear, his voice a low, dangerous rasp cutting through her cries and the machine's hum. "No mercy for greedy little sluts, Zee. You wanted stuffed? You wanted stretched? You wanted to ache?" He pushed again, seating the sound impossibly deep alongside the machine's thrusting arm, stretching her cervix. "You’ll take every inch. You’ll take it until this filthy, stretched-open cunt can’t hold another drop. Until you beg for the next size up." His hand slid down, his thumb finding her obscenely swollen, hypersensitive clit – engorged, exposed, throbbing with every beat of her frantic heart. He pressed down hard, grinding the pad of his thumb against the raw nerve bundle.
Zatanna’s scream shattered into a wail that dissolved into frantic, gulping sobs. The pain, the stretch, the relentless mechanical fucking, the brutal stimulation on her clit – it fused into a white-hot singularity of sensation that annihilated thought. Her body seized, back bowing like a drawn bowstring against the suspension frame, every muscle locking. An orgasm detonated within her, not with pleasure, but with pure, unadulterated neural overload. It ripped through her like shrapnel, violent convulsions wracking her frame, her saturated cunt spasming violently around the steel invaders, gushing fluid that slicked the chrome of the machine’s arm. The pincer arms held her labia wide open, displaying every tremor, every clench, every spurt of her agonizing, involuntary climax.
Bruce kept his thumb pressed hard against her clit throughout the devastating convulsions, intensifying the torturous peak, his eyes fixed on the ruin he’d made of her sex, stretched obscenely wide around metal, dripping, clenching helplessly, utterly possessed. Only when the violent spasms began to subside into shuddering aftershocks, when her screams had dissolved into shattered whimpers and she hung limp, utterly broken in the harness, tears streaming freely, did he slowly ease the pressure on her clit. His own breathing was harsh. He made a minute adjustment on the machine’s remote, reducing the thrust depth but maintaining the rhythm, keeping her filled. He didn’t touch the sound. It remained deep inside, stretching her, ensuring the ache was profound.
He stepped back, his gaze sweeping over her suspended, ravaged form – the tear-streaked face, the heaving, bound breasts, the gaping, stuffed sex held cruelly open. He met the camera's red eye, then looked back at his wife. The silence of the Cave was broken only by her ragged sobs, the low hum of technology, and the wet, rhythmic squelch of the machine continuing its methodical work deep inside her. The promise hung thick in the sterile air: this was only the beginning of the stuffing. The largest sound still gleamed on the trolley, waiting. The ache would deepen. The stretch would be tested to its absolute limit. And Zatanna, hovering on the edge of consciousness, knew there would be no reprieve. Only the relentless, mechanical fulfillment of her desperate, shattered plea.
The wet, rhythmic squelch of the machine pistoning inside her filled the sterile silence, a counterpoint to Zatanna’s shattered whimpers. Bruce watched, utterly still, his gaze fixed on the obscene distention where her cunt gaped wide around the thick steel sound and the spider’s thrusting arm, held open by the cold metal pincers. Her tears were drying on her cheeks, her bound breasts rising and falling rapidly with each shallow breath. The ache was profound, a deep, throbbing fullness radiating from her core, but beneath the stretched-to-burning sensation, a familiar, insistent heat coiled tighter. She loved this. Loved the brutal possession, the surrender, the way Bruce methodically dismantled her control.
He stepped forward, his movements precise, economical. His fingers brushed the slick, stretched rim of her cunt where it strained around the intrusions. "Look," he commanded, his voice low, rough with his own tightly leashed arousal. He gripped her hip, shifting her suspended body slightly, angling her pelvis towards the harsh light. "See how full you are? See how that greedy hole swallows steel?" His thumb traced the edge of the sound buried deep within her alongside the machine’s dildo. Zatanna’s breath hitched, her eyes fluttering open. Seeing herself like that – gaping, stuffed, utterly exposed – sent a fresh jolt of wetness seeping around the metal invaders. A low moan escaped her, half-pain, half-desire. "Fuck… Bruce…"
"Not yet," he murmured, reaching for the trolley. He selected a roll of wide, clear medical tape. With terrifying efficiency, ignoring her soft gasp, he began taping her labia minora wide open, adhering the delicate inner flesh directly to her outer thighs. The pincer arms retracted slightly, their job superseded. Now, nothing obscured the view. Her sex was a raw, glistening wound held cruelly agape, the thick sound and the ridged dildo pistoning obscenely within the stretched, pink-red tunnel. "Beautiful ruin," Bruce breathed, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the trolley edge. "A perfect, broken fuckhole."
He picked up the sound driver, a small, black box connected to the steel rod buried deep inside her. "Ready?" he asked, his thumb hovering over the activation switch. Zatanna’s eyes widened, her hips giving a tiny, involuntary jerk against the suspension straps. The memory of the deep vibration from earlier pulsed through her sensitized nerves. She managed a frantic nod, her throat too tight for words. Bruce pressed the switch. A low, powerful hum vibrated up the steel rod, transmitting directly into the deepest recesses of her cunt, buzzing against her cervix, resonating through her swollen G-spot still tender from the earlier assault.
"OHHHH GOD! FUCK!" Zatanna screamed, her body arching violently. The vibration wasn't surface-level; it was deep, bone-rattling, amplifying the already overwhelming fullness into a white-hot current of sensation. Her cunt spasmed wildly around the vibrating steel and the thrusting dildo, trying desperately to clench, to expel, but held mercilessly open by the tape. Incoherent sounds – guttural moans, choked sobs, sharp cries – poured from her lips. Her clit, already engorged and hypersensitive from the earlier suction, throbbed violently against the cool air, a bright point of agonizing need.
Bruce watched her convulse, his own cock straining painfully against his trousers. He traced a fingertip along the vibrating steel sound protruding from her taped-open cunt. "Stretched enough yet, Magician?" His voice was thick, strained. Zatanna shook her head frantically, tears springing fresh. "No… no… more… please… bigger…" The words were a desperate rasp. The vibration intensified, making her shriek, her toes curling in the ankle cuffs. The ache was glorious, unbearable, necessary.
"Good girl," Bruce growled. He withdrew the vibrating sound slowly, the thick steel dragging against her ravaged inner walls, drawing a shuddering gasp. He placed it aside and picked up the next size. It was significantly thicker, a brutal, gleaming cylinder. He coated it liberally with the thick, cool lubricant. The tip pressed against her impossibly stretched entrance. Zatanna whimpered, her body trembling, but she pushed her hips down slightly, offering herself. "Do it… stuff me deeper…"
He pushed. Slowly, relentlessly, the thicker sound breached her, forcing her open wider than she thought possible. The stretch was searing, a bright flare of pain that instantly morphed into deep, satisfying fullness. She groaned, long and low, her head falling back. Bruce seated it fully, burying the thick steel rod deep inside her alongside the spider’s relentless thrusts. Her cunt felt impossibly full, stretched to its absolute limit around the dual penetration. "Fuck… yes…" she breathed, the pain a sharp counterpoint to the building pressure deep within her core.
Bruce didn't pause. He reached for the glass cylinder pump. The bell-shaped cup was larger this time. He squeezed a generous dollop of lube directly onto her exposed, throbbing clit and the swollen hood. The cool gel made her flinch. He placed the cup over her clit, creating a tight seal. The pump whirred softly to life. Gentle suction pulled her engorged clit upwards into the clear glass chamber. Zatanna gasped, her hips jerking uselessly. The sensation was immediate, intense – a direct, insistent pull on her most sensitive nerve bundle.
"Watch," Bruce commanded, tilting her hips again so she could see the glass cylinder. Markings etched on the side measured the engorgement. Her clit was already visibly swelling, turning a deeper, angry red within the transparent chamber. The suction intensified. "See that?" Bruce pointed. "You're at the first mark. Remember Budapest? You took it past the third." His voice was a low, possessive rumble. The pump whirred louder. Her clit pulsed violently, stretching further, filling more of the glass tube. The second mark slid into view. The sensation was excruciating, exquisite – a building, unbearable pressure focused solely on that tiny, hypersensitive bud.
The spider machine whined. Bruce had remotely activated a program change. The arm penetrating her cunt retracted slightly, then plunged back in with a thicker attachment – a bulbous, textured plug designed to stretch her entrance wider with each thrust. Simultaneously, the anal probe increased its girth incrementally. Zatanna cried out, her body overwhelmed from both ends. The dual stretching, the relentless suction on her clit pulling it bigger, thicker, more exposed… it was too much. Her vision blurred. The vibrations from the earlier device seemed to echo in her bones.
"Bruce… I can't… it's too…" she choked out, her voice ragged. The glass cylinder showed her clit nearing the third mark, swollen obscenely, the hood stretched taut. The spider pistoned, the thicker plug stretching her cunt entrance with every inward thrust, the anal probe relentlessly expanding. The suction on her clit became a vice, a white-hot brand of pure sensation. The coiled pressure deep inside her, amplified by the brutal fullness and the torturous pull on her clit, snapped.
She came with a soundless scream, her body seizing like a live wire. Her taped-open cunt convulsed violently around the thick sound and the stretching plug, gushing a torrent of fluid that slicked the spider’s arm and pooled beneath her. Her ass clenched rhythmically around the expanding probe. Her swollen clit pulsed like a frantic heart within the glass cylinder, visibly throbbing against the relentless suction. It wasn't pleasure; it was annihilation, a raw, brutal expulsion of tension forced from her overstimulated body. She creamed and squirted simultaneously, her vision whiting out, her consciousness narrowing to the agonizing, ecstatic pulse centered on her ruined, stretched, utterly possessed sex.
Bruce watched, transfixed, his own release held back by sheer will. He kept the pump going, intensifying the suction slightly as she convulsed, forcing her engorged clit to endure the peak. The spider continued its methodical work, stretching her holes wider even as she spasmed. Only when the violent tremors subsided into weak shudders, when she hung limp and utterly spent, her clit a dark, engorged mound in the glass, her cunt gaping obscenely around the thick sound and plug, did he finally release the suction. The sudden absence was a shock. Her clit throbbed violently, hypersensitive and huge. He withdrew the sound slowly, the thick steel dragging against her sensitized walls. The spider retracted its attachments, leaving her gaping, dripping, utterly broken.
Bruce leaned close, his breath hot on her ear. "Look at this wrecked cunt," he rasped, tracing the swollen, puffy lips held open by the tape. "Look at this fat, swollen clit." His finger brushed the engorged bud. Zatanna flinched violently, a sharp cry escaping her. "Still hungry?" he asked, his voice dangerously soft. He picked up the largest sound from the trolley, its thickness brutal. "Think you can take this monster? Think this greedy hole can stretch that wide?" He pressed the cold tip against her stretched, tender entrance. Zatanna whimpered, her exhausted body trembling, but a fresh trickle of wetness seeped from her ruined cunt. The promise of more stretch, more ache, more annihilation shimmered in the sterile air. Bruce smiled, a predator’s smile. The night was far from over.