Chapter 1: Pumping Iron Between Her Thighs
The air in the abandoned Blüdhaven station clung thick and damp, tasting of aged concrete, forgotten metal, and something vaguely fungal. Distant rumbles vibrated through the stone floor – not the comforting rhythm of active trains, but the ghostly echo of what once was. Rotating beams of sickly yellow emergency lighting cut through the cavernous space, illuminating patches of peeling paint, cracked tiles, and the intricate network of rust-streaked pipes overhead. The shadows between those beams were deep, swallowing sound and shape.
“Fuck! Fucking stop!”
Selina Kyle’s scream tore through the thick silence, raw and desperate. Naked, suspended several feet off the grimy platform floor, her lithe body was a canvas of tension and sweat. Dick Grayson’s meticulous shibari work bound her wrists high above her head to a thick, corroded pipe, the rough hemp biting into her skin. More ropes cinched her ankles wide apart, secured to other pipes jutting from the wall, pulling her taut. Her muscles trembled violently with the strain, every flex and shiver highlighted by the stark lighting and the sheen on her dusky gold skin. Her long black hair, plastered to her neck and shoulders, couldn't hide the fierce defiance blazing in her piercing green eyes, even as they squeezed shut against a fresh wave of sensation.
Jason Todd stood before her, a shadow given form. Dressed in dark tactical gear that seemed to absorb the weak light, his gaze was fixed not on her face, but lower. In one gloved hand, he held a small, black rubber bulb connected by a thin tube to the base of the thick, silicone plug buried deep inside her. The base itself pulsed faintly with an internal light, a grotesque, modern intrusion against the ancient decay surrounding them.
“It’s too—” Selina gasped, her voice cracking.
His free hand snapped out, lightning-fast. Not a slap, but a hard, open-palmed crack right across her exposed, swollen clit. The sound echoed sharply.
“You wanted to play thief?” Jason snarled, his voice a low growl that vibrated with barely contained fury. The raw edge in it wasn't just anger; it was recognition. He saw the predator in her, the restless drive that mirrored his own darkness, and it ignited something primal. “Sneaking through my city? Lifting shit that wasn’t yours?”
He squeezed the bulb again. Hard. A deliberate, cruel compression.
Inside her, the inflatable segment near the tip of the plug swelled rapidly, stretching her inner walls with relentless pressure. Selina’s entire body arched violently against the ropes, a choked cry tearing from her throat. Her head thrashed back, tendons straining in her neck. The obscene bulge forced by the expanding silicone was visible just above the plug’s flared base, distending her lower abdomen in a way that was both beautiful and undeniably sexual. Her inner muscles clenched desperately, involuntarily, trying to grip the intruder, but it only pulsed harder against the resistance, the internal mechanism emitting a faint, insistent whine.
“Now you’re our stolen fucking property,” Jason breathed, stepping closer. The heat radiating off his body mixed with the cold damp of the station. He dropped the bulb, letting it dangle. His gloved fingers trailed down the sweat-slick plane of her stomach, over the quivering bulge, tracing the outline of the plug stretching her. He didn't touch her clit again. Not yet. This was about the violation, the ownership. “Dick’s ropes. My toy. My rules. You don’t get to tap out because it’s too much, kitty cat. You dove headfirst into the deep end when you crossed into Blüdhaven turf. You wanted danger? You wanted the thrill?” His fingers dipped lower, sliding through her soaking wetness, slick with her arousal despite the capture. They both know she loved it, being tied up. “Here it fucking is.”
He pressed the heel of his palm hard against the swollen mound above the plug’s base, grinding down. Selina bucked, a guttural moan escaping her lips – part want, part something else, something darker and more treacherous. Her inner muscles fluttered wildly around the unyielding silicone intrusion, the pulsing sensation a constant, maddening counterpoint to the pressure of his hand.
“Jason…” she gasped, her voice shredded. Her eyes flew open, locking onto his. That fierce defiance was still there, smoldering in the emerald depths, but fractured now, overlaid with a raw, desperate need for release – any release. Her chest heaved, breasts swaying with each ragged breath.
“What?” Jason demanded, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. His free hand slid up to cup her breast, calloused thumb scraping roughly over her taut nipple. “Gonna say please? Gonna beg? Or you gonna take what you fucking earned?”
His hips pressed forward, the thick, unmistakable ridge of his erection pressing against her thigh through his pants. He rocked against her, the friction deliberate, teasing. His fingers on her nipple pinched, hard, sending a sharp jolt through her.
The conflicting sensations were overwhelming. The relentless stretch and pulse inside her, the sharp pain of his grip, the rough friction of his clothed cock against her skin, the biting ropes holding her immobile – it was a sensory assault designed to break her. Her body was screaming for climax, a brutal, involuntary reaction to the sheer intensity, even as her mind rebelled.
“Please…” The word escaped, ragged and broken. Not a plea for mercy, but a demand for culmination. Her hips strained against the ropes, trying to grind against his hand, seeking the friction her bound position denied her. Her inner walls convulsed violently around the pulsing plug, slickness dripping down her inner thighs.
Jason’s laugh was a harsh bark that bounced off the cavernous walls. “There it is.” He released her nipple, his hand sliding down her trembling belly again. This time, his fingers found her clit, slick and engorged. He didn't tease. He pressed down with two fingers, hard circles against the hypersensitive nub, mirroring the brutal rhythm of the plug inside her. “C’mon, thief. Show me what you’re worth. Show me how you come when you’re owned.”
The command, the relentless stimulation, the sheer, debasing exposure in this forgotten place – it detonated the tension coiling inside her. Selina’s scream wasn't protest this time. It was a raw, animalistic cry of release that ripped from her throat, echoing through the desolate station like a lost siren. Her body went rigid, then shuddered violently against the ropes, inner muscles clamping down in powerful, rhythmic spasms around the invading plug. Her head fell back, her mouth open in a silent moan as the waves crashed over her, intense and brutal, leaving her gasping, trembling, utterly spent against her bonds, the silicone intruder still pulsing its relentless rhythm deep within her.
Jason watched her, his own breath coming faster now, his gaze predatory and satisfied. He didn’t stop the pulsing plug. He kept his fingers pressed firmly against her clit, prolonging the aftershocks, ensuring she felt every single wave, every involuntary twitch. The air crackled with spent energy and the low hum of the device inside her. Outside, the distant ghost-train rumbled again, shaking loose a fine shower of grit from the ceiling high above, dust motes dancing in the weak light like fallen stars over their tableau of possession and raw power. The game had just entered a new, far more dangerous phase.
The game had just entered a new, far more dangerous phase. Jason watched Selina’s body jerk and spasm, the aftershocks of the brutal orgasm still wracking her frame. Her head lolled, dark hair clinging to her sweat-slicked neck, the sharp angles of her face slack with temporary surrender. The plug inside her pulsed relentlessly, its faint hum a counterpoint to her ragged gasps. He kept his fingers pressed hard against her overstimulated clit, feeling the frantic flutter beneath his touch, prolonging the agony-pleasure until a choked sob escaped her lips.
“Fuck… fuck…” she whimpered, hips twitching weakly against the ropes, trying to grind down onto nothing but air and his unyielding hand. “God… please…”
Jason finally eased the pressure on her clit, but left his hand resting possessively on her mound, fingers splayed over the swollen flesh above the plug’s base. He leaned in, his breath hot and damp against her ear. “Good little thief. Took it like you wanted it.” His voice was rough gravel, satisfaction lacing the menace. He gave a final, deliberate squeeze to the bulge distending her lower belly, making her cry out sharply, before stepping back. Her green eyes snapped open, wide and glazed, fixing on him with a mixture of defiance and desperate need.
He turned away from that captivating, infuriating sight. Across the cavernous platform, leaning casually against a support pillar half-lost in shadow, Dick Grayson watched. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes, sharp even in the dim light, missed nothing. Jason stalked towards him, the heavy tread of his boots echoing unnaturally loud in the damp silence. He didn’t look back at Selina, though he could feel the heat of her stare burning into his back, hear the hitched, needy breaths she couldn’t stifle.
“She’s holding,” Jason muttered, stopping beside Dick. He kept his voice low, barely audible over the distant rumble and Selina’s ragged breathing. “Too fucking well. That wasn’t just the toy. She was riding it.” He pulled a crumpled piece of paper from a pouch on his belt, thrusting it towards Dick. It was a high-resolution surveillance still, Selina’s lithe figure clear despite the grainy night-vision filter. She was halfway through a skylight on the roof of the Gotham Museum of Antiquities. “Sentinel Protocol flagged her an hour before she even touched the glass. Knew she was coming for the Lionheart Sapphire. Knew she’d hit the secondary escape route through the old sewer access near the docks.”
Dick took the photo, his expression unreadable. He glanced towards Selina, suspended and trembling, then back to Jason. “The Sapphire was bait?” His voice was calm, analytical. “Oracle confirmed the exhibit’s security logs were tampered with… poorly. Deliberately poorly.”
“Like someone wanted her to get caught halfway,” Jason finished, his jaw tightening. “Who the fuck sets up Catwoman? And why? She’s careful. Paranoid. This feels… messy. Personal. Or a trap laid for someone else.” He gestured vaguely back towards Selina with his chin. “That wasn’t just interrogation. She was into it. Deep. Like she needed the fucking distraction. Or… like she knew we’d come.” His gaze was hard on Dick. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Dick met his stare evenly. “The tampering signature… it’s familiar. Echoes of old League tech. Modified, but… Ra’s?”
Jason’s hand clenched into a fist. “Fuck. Al Ghul playing games again? What’s his angle with her?” He glanced back at Selina. Her head was rolling slightly, a low, needy moan escaping her lips as she subtly strained her hips forward, seeking friction against the empty air. The sight sent a fresh jolt of frustrated heat through him, mixed with cold suspicion. “Why make it so easy for us to intercept her?”
Dick pocketed the photo. “To deliver a message? To draw us out? Or…” He trailed off, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Maybe she stole something else first. Something they want back, or something they didn’t want seen.”
Before Jason could respond, Dick pushed off the pillar. “Let me talk to her. Properly. After… this.” He gestured towards the bound woman, his expression softening fractionally. “She needs water. And a minute.” He picked up a canteen from a gear bag resting on a broken bench nearby.
Jason grunted, a non-committal sound. He watched Dick approach Selina like a man approaching a spooked, dangerous animal. He didn’t trust her sudden vulnerability, the raw need. It felt like another act, another layer of the game. He crossed his arms, leaning against the cold concrete wall, his gaze never leaving them, simmering with dark questions and banked fury.
Dick stopped just out of easy reach of Selina’s bound legs. Her eyes, glazed and feverish, tracked him. Her chest still heaved, the ropes creaking slightly as she shifted. “Selina,” he said, his voice calm, steadying. A stark contrast to Jason’s growl. “Easy.” He unscrewed the canteen cap.
“Dickie…” Her voice was a hoarse rasp, cracked with strain. Her gaze darted past him towards Jason’s shadowed figure, then back, a flicker of… something… beneath the haze of arousal. Fear? Calculation? “Water… Please…”
Dick stepped closer, carefully. He lifted the canteen to her lips. She drank greedily, water spilling down her chin, tracing paths through the sweat on her neck and chest, dripping onto her swaying breasts. The cool liquid seemed to bring a flicker of lucidity back into her eyes, momentarily pushing back the desperate heat. She gasped when he pulled the spout away.
“Better?” Dick asked, his tone gentle but firm. He wiped a stray droplet from her collarbone with his thumb. The touch was clinical, almost comforting, yet it made her shudder.
“The plug…” she whispered, her hips giving another involuntary little buck. Her inner muscles clenched visibly around the thick silicone intrusion, a fresh pulse of slickness glistening on her inner thighs. The insistent buzz of the toy vibrated faintly in the quiet. “Dick… it’s… Jason left it on… Please… make it stop… or make it… more.” The plea was raw, edged with a frustration that was purely physical, a hunger that the brutal orgasm hadn’t come close to sating. She wasn’t in pain; she was drowning in unfulfilled, amplified need. “I can’t… I need… fuck, I need to come again.” Her voice hitched, rising in pitch. “Please… please let me cum. Just… touch me… or turn it up… anything.”
Dick watched her, his blue eyes assessing. He saw the genuine, desperate arousal, the way her body strained towards an invisible source of relief, the way her focus was entirely consumed by the relentless stimulation trapped inside her. He saw the cunning thief momentarily reduced to pure, begging need.
He reached out, not to touch her sex, but to gently brush a strand of sweat-damp hair from her forehead. “Soon,” he murmured, his voice a low promise that held no comfort, only delayed intent. “We’re not done talking yet, Cat.” He capped the canteen.
Her eyes widened, a fresh wave of panic and furious desire washing over her features. “No! Dick, please! Don’t… don’t leave me like this! I’ll… I’ll tell you anything! Just make it stop or make me cum! Please!” Her plea dissolved into a wordless, frustrated groan as she thrust her hips futilely forward again, the ropes biting deep, her body a taut bowstring of denied release. “God… fuck… it’s too much… need it…”
Dick stepped back, his expression unreadable. He glanced at Jason, who still leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a dark silhouette radiating impatience and suspicion. Dick gave a slight nod, then turned fully, walking back towards Jason, leaving Selina suspended in the center of the weak light.
The moment they turned their backs, the begging intensified, raw and unfiltered. “Jason! Jason, you bastard! Turn it off! Or turn it up! Fucking do something! Dick! Don’t walk away! PLEASE!” Her voice echoed off the grimy tiles, desperate and furious. She strained violently against the ropes, not to escape, but to grind herself down onto the empty air, to find some friction, some relief from the maddening pulse deep inside her. Her hips pumped in short, frantic jerks, a lewd, involuntary dance of pure, agonizing need. “I’ll be good! I swear! Just… fuck… let me cum! I need to cum so fucking bad!” Tears of pure frustration welled in her green eyes, mixing with the sweat on her cheeks. The plug pulsed on, a cruel, unrelenting metronome counting the seconds of her torment, the hum its mocking soundtrack. They kept walking, leaving the sound of her raw, hungry desperation hanging thick in the damp, decaying air of the abandoned station.
Dick stopped walking ten paces away, his back stiff. Jason didn’t turn around, but his shoulders tensed beneath the dark fabric of his jacket. Selina’s pleas echoed behind them, raw and ragged, punctuated by the wet sounds of her grinding against nothing and the insistent, low hum of the plug.
“Jason! You fucking animal! Dick! Please! Make it stop or make it more! I can’t… I can’t think… God, I need to fucking cum!”
Her voice broke on a sob, choked and furious.
Dick let out a slow breath, audible even over her noises. He turned. Jason followed a second later, his expression unreadable in the gloom. They walked back towards the trembling figure suspended in the weak, sickly light.
“Enough,” Dick said, his voice cutting through her gasps. He reached the dangling bulb first, the one Jason had dropped. With a sharp twist, he disconnected the tube from the plug’s base. The faint pulsing light inside it died instantly. The relentless pressure ceased.
But the hum remained. The internal vibration mechanism was still active.
Dick moved behind Selina. His hands, steady and sure despite the tension, worked quickly on the intricate knots securing the ropes binding her ankles to the wall pipes. The hemp fell away. Her legs, trembling violently, sagged, but the ropes at her wrists held her upper body taut, preventing collapse. She whimpered, a high, desperate sound, as the shift made the still-vibrating plug shift deep within her.
“Hold still,” Dick murmured, his hands sliding around her hips to her front. He found the smooth, silicone base of the plug, slick with her arousal. Selina sucked in a sharp breath as his fingers pressed against the stretched, sensitive rim of her anus. “Breathe out.”
She whimpered again, but obeyed, exhaling in a shuddering gasp. Dick applied firm, steady pressure. The thick, bulbous plug, slick and still vibrating intensely, slid free with a wet, obscene pop. Selina cried out, her body jolting as the sudden emptiness warred with the lingering buzz in her nerves.
Before the shock could fully register, before the desperate need could surge again unfulfilled, Dick was there. He stepped around her side, one arm bracing her trembling waist while the other slid between her splayed legs. His fingers found her cunt, glistening, swollen, her clit a hard, protruding nub flushed deep red.
He didn’t tease. He didn’t build. His touch was deliberate, grounding. The flat of his palm pressed firmly against her mound, cushioning her clit. His fingers slid through her soaking folds, gathering slickness, and then pressed with firm, rhythmic circles against the swollen, hypersensitive bud itself. Not gentle, but purposeful. Not punishing, but controlling. Calming the storm.
“Shhh,” he breathed near her ear, his body a solid warmth against her side. “Breathe. Just breathe, Cat.”
Selina gasped, her body jerking against his hand. The intense vibration was gone, replaced by this focused, unrelenting pressure on her most excruciatingly sensitive spot. After the agonizing overstimulation, after the brutal orgasm that hadn’t been enough, this direct, demanding touch was a lifeline. It was all she could focus on. Her hips rolled weakly into his palm, seeking more of that anchoring sensation. The desperate screams died in her throat, replaced by ragged pants and low, shuddering moans. Her head lolled back against Dick’s shoulder, her eyes squeezed shut, tears still leaking from the corners. The trembling didn’t stop, but the frantic edge began to dull, replaced by a wave of exhausted, overwhelmed surrender. She was a bowstring slowly, agonizingly loosening.
Jason watched. He saw the raw, vulnerable state Dick’s touch induced. He saw the way her slick folds glistened, parted, her inner lips swollen and flushed. His gaze zeroed in on her clit. It wasn't just visible; it was peeking out, engorged, dark red, impossibly prominent against her slick skin, throbbing visibly even from where he stood. It looked painfully sensitive, a tiny, exposed nerve ending.
He watched her crumple. Not physically – Dick’s arms held her up – but internally. The fierce, defiant Catwoman facade dissolved completely under the relentless, grounding pressure and the sheer exhaustion of her ordeal. Her body went slack against Dick, her breath hitching in quiet, overwhelmed sobs. The fight was gone, replaced by a deep, shivering vulnerability. She looked broken. And Jason knew, with a cold certainty, that it wasn’t just the plug or Dick’s hand. Something else had cracked her open.
Dick felt the shift, the collapse. He kept the pressure steady, the circling motion constant, anchoring her in the sensation. “Selina,” he said, his voice low and calm, cutting through her ragged breathing. “Talk. Who set you up? Who were you meeting?”
Selina whimpered, her hips giving a feeble twitch against his fingers. Her eyelids fluttered open. They were dazed, unfocused, the green depths clouded with exhaustion and something else… a chemical looseness. Ra’s. Ra's al Ghul didn't just tamper with security logs. Whatever he’d dosed her with, slipped into her system during the museum heist, was stripping away her legendary control and caution. Her lips moved, forming words that felt thick and clumsy.
“Was… was supposed to meet… him…” Her voice was a husky rasp. “At the old tannery docks… after dawn…”
“Him who?” Jason demanded, his voice sharp, stepping closer. The sudden movement made her flinch against Dick.
“Didn’t… didn’t get a name…” she slurred, her head rolling slightly. “Just… instructions. Knew… knew my tastes.” A flush that had nothing to do with arousal crept up her neck. “Said… said he’d train me. Properly.”
“Train you?” Dick prompted, his thumb pressing a slow circle, keeping her tethered.
Selina squeezed her eyes shut again, humiliation warring with the lingering haze of arousal. “My… my clit. And my pussy.” The words tumbled out, raw and shameful. “Said… said he’d make me extra sensitive. Teach me to take… take overstimulation. Make me cum… just… just from being used… over and over…” She shuddered, a fresh wave of slickness coating Dick’s fingers as her body reacted traitorously to the memory, the idea. “Force me… to love it. To… to need it.”
Jason’s eyes narrowed. “In exchange for what?”
“The… the Sapphire,” she whispered. “And… and the others. The gems I lifted from the Gotham Trust last week. And… and the small Caravaggio. From the private collector in Bristol.” Her voice dropped even lower. “The one… the one nobody knows is missing yet.”
Dick and Jason exchanged a glance. The payment was significant. The target was specific. This wasn't just a pervert; this was someone leveraging Selina’s deepest, most private vulnerabilities for high-stakes theft.
“Training,” Jason pressed, his voice dangerously soft. He stepped right up to her, forcing her unfocused gaze to meet his. “What kind of training? Details, Selina. What were you walking into?”
She looked up at him, her green eyes wide, swimming with a potent mix of shame, lingering arousal, and that unnerving chemical candor. Her cheeks burned crimson.
“He… he said…” She swallowed hard. “Said he had… toys. Special ones. Worse than… than yours.” Her gaze flickered down to the discarded plug on the grimy floor. “Said… he’d start with numbing cream. So I… I couldn’t feel anything at first. Then… vibrations. Strong. Everywhere. Inside… outside… for hours. On my clit… all the time. Make it… make it so sensitive… just air would hurt.” She licked her dry lips. “Then… when I was begging… he’d start… fucking me. Hard. With… with things inside me. While the vibes… kept going. On my clit. Said… said he’d make me cum until… until I screamed. Until I passed out. And then… start again.” Her hips gave a weak, involuntary thrust against Dick’s hand as she described it, her breath catching. “Make me… take it. Make me… need it.”
She paused, trembling violently. The arousal radiating off her was palpable, thick in the damp air alongside the scent of her sweat and fear and the subterranean decay. She was humiliated, yes. Deeply. Utterly. But also… aroused. Terribly, dangerously aroused by the fantasy, by the promise of being pushed so far beyond her limits.
“But that’s not why,” she whispered, the words barely audible, thick with a deeper shame. Her eyes, clouded and desperate, locked onto Jason’s. “Not entirely…”
Her body tensed against Dick’s hold, a fresh wave of slick heat flooding over his fingers as she hovered on the edge of something else – confession, collapse, or another brutal peak forced by the combination of shame, chemicals, and Dick’s relentless pressure.