Chapter 2: Chapter 2
The stale subway air still clung to Selina’s skin, a gritty counterpoint to the unnerving sterility of the secondary Batcave’s clean room. The harsh fluorescent lights overhead buzzed faintly, illuminating the sparse space: a reinforced metal table, a few chairs bolted to the floor, and a medical cot. Her wrists, freed from the intricate, punishing shibari of the subway pipes, now bore only faint red marks, throbbing dully. Her suit remained partially peeled down to her waist, the tactical fabric pooling around her hips. She sat on the edge of the cot, legs drawn up, trying to shield herself. The damp concrete scent was replaced by antiseptic and ozone, smells that promised nothing good.
Dick Grayson stood before her, arms crossed, his Nightwing suit gleaming under the lights. His gaze, sharp and analytical, pinned her. "Numbing cream, Selina?" His voice was deceptively calm, a low rumble in the sterile quiet. "That’s your story? After what we saw down there? After how you reacted?" He leaned in slightly, his presence crowding her despite the distance. "You weren't begging for relief. You were begging for more. You fucking thrived on it. The stretch, the ache, the pressure pushing you past sane limits. You didn't want it to stop; you wanted it to consume you."
Selina flinched, her green eyes flicking away. Her shoulders hunched further. "I don't... it was too much. I needed relief." The lie tasted like dust.
A scoff came from the doorway. Jason Todd leaned against the reinforced frame, a predatory stillness about him. His gaze wasn't on her face; it roamed over the exposed skin of her back and shoulders, then down to where her suit bunched at her waist. His eyes narrowed. "Bullshit," he growled. He pushed off the frame and stalked closer, his movements loose but radiating contained violence. He circled her slowly, his focus intense. "What’s with the lumps, Cat? Under the suit?" He gestured vaguely at her sides, just below her armpits. "Been smuggling kittens?"
Dick’s eyes followed Jason’s gesture, his brow furrowing. Selina instinctively tried to curl smaller, a low whimper escaping her. Jason didn’t wait. In one swift, brutal motion, he hooked his fingers under the edge of her partially removed suit top and yanked it down past her elbows, trapping her arms.
The sight that met them made Jason suck in a sharp breath. Dick’s analytical calm faltered for a split second. Selina’s breasts, large and pale, were crudely bound. Thick, industrial-looking straps of elasticated bandage wound tightly around her ribcage, compressing her flesh, pushing her tits upwards and together until they strained obscenely against the constricting material. The skin beneath the bands was flushed an angry red, the tops of her breasts swelling over the bindings, the nipples hard and dark against the compressed flesh. They looked painfully engorged, almost swollen, confined like dangerous, beautiful secrets.
"Fuck me sideways," Jason breathed, his voice thick. He reached out, calloused fingers tracing the edge of the topmost band, just brushing the flushed, straining curve. Selina gasped, a tremor running through her. "Look at these goddamn things," Jason murmured, his gaze ravenous. "Bound up like stolen jewels. Waste of fucking prime real estate." He looked up at Dick, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. "Vortas kol, Grayson?" he asked, his voice dropping into a guttural language Selina didn't recognize – Kryptonian, low dialect. "Taz klem, zeh vrek gultok vastim fek." Look at these, Grayson? Bound like this, they're begging to be set free... and made bigger.
Dick’s expression remained impassive, but his eyes flickered with understanding. He responded in the same harsh tongue, his voice lower, colder. "Zheht feht. Vrek vastim nor krem vusht. Zhahj lo kiv." Agreed. But the bindings are hurting her. They need to come off. First, the truth. He switched back to English, his gaze locking onto Selina’s. "Those come off. Now. You're hurting yourself." It wasn't a request.
"But—" Selina began, humiliation burning her cheeks.
"Now," Dick repeated, the command cracking through the room. Jason, with surprising efficiency but no gentleness, began unwinding the constricting bands. As each layer fell away, Selina’s breasts surged free, bouncing heavily. The sudden release sent jolts of sensation through her – a deep ache mingled with intense relief, the cool air hitting sweat-slicked, tender skin. She cried out softly, her hands instinctively flying up to cover herself, but Jason batted them away.
"Let 'em breathe, princess," he sneered, his eyes glued to the heavy, swaying weight now exposed, the pale skin deeply indented where the bands had bitten in, the nipples puckered and stiff. "Fuck, look at them. Like ripe fucking melons. Bet they'd look even better swollen full of milk... or something else." The raw hunger in his voice was terrifying.
Dick moved closer, his presence imposing. "The ropes in the subway were a game. One you seemed invested in. This?" He gestured at the discarded bindings. "This is different. This is shame. Hiding. Why, Selina? What were you really hoping to get from that contact? Why go through that elaborate interview?"
The dam broke. Shame, exhaustion, and the terrifying exposure overwhelmed her. Tea dockrs welled in her piercing green eyes, spilling over. Her body trembled violently. "I... I wanted the toys," she choked out, her voice raw. "All the devices... the fantasies he hinted at. The possibilities... the intensity."
"But?" Dick prompted, relentless.
"But... but nobody ever... fuck," she sobbed, dropping her head, her hair falling forward to curtain her face. "Partners... they tease. They play a little. Use a vibe. Maybe a light spank. They don't... they don't take. They don't..." She struggled for the words, the depth of her unfulfilled yearning spilling out in a ragged confession. "I wanted to be fucked. Truly, utterly, completely fucked. Possessed. Owned. Not played with. Taken apart. I wanted someone to push every goddamn button I have until I don't know my own name, until I'm nothing but a screaming, begging hole. I wanted to submit... completely. To be used for it." She lifted her tear-streaked face, defiance warring with vulnerability. "He promised. After the interview – hours of it, detailing every filthy craving, every dark corner – he promised I was perfect. That my... appetites... were matched. That he would make it happen. Arrange it. Deliver it." A bitter laugh escaped her. "Instead, I get ambushed in a fucking subway and tied to a pipe."
Silence descended, thick and heavy. Jason stared at her, his earlier predatory hunger tempered slightly by a flicker of something else – understanding? Recognition? Dick’s expression was granite, processing. He exchanged another look with Jason, a silent communication passing between them.
"Matched," Dick said flatly. "With whom?" He turned abruptly, heading for the reinforced door. "Stay with her," he ordered Jason without looking back. "Don't start anything. I need to talk to Oracle. See what records this 'contact' left behind." The door hissed open and slammed shut behind him with a heavy clang of finality, the automatic locks engaging with a series of solid thunks.
Selina was alone with Jason Todd.
She shivered, suddenly acutely aware of her nakedness from the waist up, the cool air on her sweat-damp skin, the lingering ache in her breasts and wrists, and the terrifyingly volatile man watching her from the doorway. Jason hadn't moved. His piercing gaze traveled slowly, deliberately, from her tear-filled eyes, down the vulnerable column of her throat, over the heavy, unbound swell of her breasts with their deep red pressure marks and tight, dark nipples, down to where her suit still covered her hips. He didn't smile. He didn't snarl. He just watched. The air crackled with unspoken threat and a dark, simmering promise. The buzzing fluorescent light was the only sound in the locked room. Selina held her breath, waiting for the storm to break. Jason remained perfectly still, a statue carved from shadow and violence, his eyes holding hers with unreadable intensity. The silence stretched, thin and sharp as a razor.
The silence stretched, thin and sharp as a razor. Jason didn't move, his lean frame a dark silhouette against the sterile white door, his eyes boring into Selina with unnerving stillness. The fluorescent light hummed, amplifying the frantic beat of her own heart against her ribs. She could smell her own fear, acrid and sour, mingling with the antiseptic tang of the room and the lingering scent of Jason’s leather and gun oil.
The heavy thunk-hiss of the door unlocking shattered the quiet. Dick Grayson strode back in, his expression grim, a sleek tablet clutched in his hand. He didn’t look at Selina, his focus entirely on the device. “Found it,” he stated flatly, his voice devoid of its earlier calm interrogation, replaced by cold efficiency. “Oracle cracked the encrypted files from your ‘contact’. Comprehensive. Very… detailed.”
He tapped the screen. Instantly, Selina’s own voice filled the small room, breathy, eager, stripped of its usual guarded confidence. "...and the inflators, yes, but deeper… deeper inside. Like I’m being opened up, forced open. Uncontrollably. Not just once, but over and over… forced orgasms until I can’t even scream, just drool…" The recorded Selina moaned, a desperate, needy sound. "I want to watch my tits bound so tight they bulge… watch them while I’m gagged… a clamp on my tongue, pulled down, connected to my collar… so I can’t even close my mouth…"
Selina flinched violently, squeezing her eyes shut, her face flaming crimson. Her hands twitched towards her lap. Hearing her own depraved wishes laid bare was a violation worse than any physical touch. Jason let out a low, dark chuckle, his gaze flicking from the tablet to Selina’s trembling form. “Fucking hell, Cat. Didn’t know you had it in you. Or rather,” his eyes raked over her bound-free, heavy breasts, “wanted it in you. Everywhere.”
The recording continued, Selina’s voice growing huskier, more desperate. "The bondage… so much… everywhere. Especially… especially there. Back there. Never been touched… virgin. But I want it… slow stretching… feeling every inch open me. Spanking my rosebud… making it clench… spanking my clit… oh god, spanking my clit hard…" Dick paused the playback, his eyes sharp as they snapped to Selina. “Highlights here,” he said, his tone analytical, dissecting. “Significant emphasis on clitoral stimulation. Repeated requests for intense, focused pain-pleasure on the glans. Described as… a ‘huge weakness’. Notes indicate extreme sensitivity and susceptibility to targeted torment.”
Click. The recording resumed. Selina’s voice was thick with tears now, a raw sob escaping. "...and he said… he said he’d tie my clit up… tie it tight… make it a little dicklet… make it throb… I cried… I fucking cried when he said it…" A choked gasp came from the cot, Selina’s hand unconsciously drifting towards her covered mound. "...but that night… in bed… I thought about it… his contacts… the futa ones… their big girl cocks…" Her recorded voice dissolved into a high-pitched, broken moan. "...stretching my throat… stretching my pussy… watching my stomach bulge… so full… my big tits hanging down… swinging… meeting in the middle as I hung there… impaled… just a fuckhole on their cocks… Ahegao… I ahegaoed just thinking about it…"
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jason breathed, his earlier predatory stillness dissolving into intense, focused arousal. He took a step towards the cot, his knuckles white where they gripped the edge of the medical table. Selina’s real-time reaction was visceral. A low whine escaped her throat. Her eyes, wide and glazed, were fixed on nothing. Drool glistened at the corner of her open mouth. Her free hand, the one not hovering near her cunt, was twisting the thin blanket beneath her. Then, like a marionette whose strings were cut by her own recorded confession, her trembling fingers pushed desperately under the waistband of her suit.
Dick watched dispassionately as Selina frantically rubbed at her clit through the fabric, her hips jerking in tiny, needy circles, her breath coming in ragged pants. Her eyes were squeezed shut again, lost in the echo of her own filthy desires. Jason moved suddenly, lightning fast, grabbing her wrist and yanking her hand away from her pussy with brutal force. “Oh no you fucking don’t, you greedy little thief,” he snarled, leaning down so his face was inches from hers. His breath was hot. “Not unless we say so. Not unless you earn it.” He held her captured wrist painfully tight.
His other hand reached out, not touching her, but hovering possessively over the heavy swell of her left breast, his gaze locked onto her tear-streaked, desperate face. “Listen to yourself, Selina. Listen to what you really want.” Dick tapped the tablet, letting the recording play a loop of her desperate fantasy: "...big tits hanging down… swinging… meet in the middle…" Jason’s voice dropped to a guttural, tempting growl, vibrating through the small space. “You want that? Right now? You want these gorgeous fucking udders swollen? Heavy? Hanging low? Filled up? Bulging like you wanted your stomach? So big they meet when we bend you over?” He squeezed the air above her flesh, emphasizing the obscene size he promised. “Do you want huge tits right fucking now, you filthy, desperate whore?”
Selina’s resistance shattered. The dam of shame, pride, and fear burst under the torrent of her exposed need and the terrifying, thrilling promise in his words. Her body arched involuntarily off the cot towards his hovering hand, a raw, guttural sound tearing from her throat. “Yes! Fuck! Please! Jason, please! Make them huge! Make them heavy! Make me… make me bulge!” Her voice was a broken sob of utter surrender, her free hand clawing at the blanket, her hips still jerking uselessly against the air, soaked and aching. “Please!”
Jason’s predatory grin widened, a flash of white teeth against the harsh light. "Begging already? Good fucking start." His hand abandoned its phantom grip above her breast and shot out, fingers tangling brutally in her dark hair. He yanked her head back, exposing the frantic pulse in her throat. "But 'please' ain't enough, thief." His other hand slammed down, pinning her wrist to the cot beside her hip, grinding bone against metal. "You want these tits swollen? You want to feel them pull? Feel them ache?" He leaned closer, his breath hot and smelling faintly of gunpowder and leather. "Then fucking earn it. Show us how bad you want it."
Selina gasped, pain and desperate arousal warring. Her free hand scrabbled uselessly at his forearm, nails scratching leather. "How?" The word was a choked sob. "Tell me!"
Jason kisses her temple. "Gotta tell us what you went for. All of it. Dick, play the rest of the tapes."
Dick’s thumb tapped the tablet screen. Selina’s recorded gasp echoed, thick with arousal. "Yes... god, yes, touch them... harder..." The real Selina whimpered, pinned beneath Jason’s iron grip on her wrist and hair. Her exposed breasts felt impossibly heavy, the air cool on sweat-slicked skin where the bindings had bitten deep. Jason’s free hand drifted lower, calloused fingertips brushing the swollen curve of her left breast, avoiding the nipple. A tremor ripped through her.
"Listen close, kitty," Jason murmured, his voice dangerously soft against her temple. His thumb circled the outer swell, a deceptive gentleness. On the recording, Selina’s voice hitched, breathless. "The interviewer... he asked... asked if I was wet... touching myself..." A ragged moan tore from the speakers. "...thinking about... being spread wide... legs hooked... ankles cuffed..." Jason’s circling thumb dipped inward, finding the stiff peak. Selina gasped. His fingertip traced the hard nub, then paused. "Pierced," he stated flatly, a dark approval in his tone. A tiny silver barbell pierced each dark nipple, glinting under the harsh light. He flicked one lightly with his nail.
Selina cried out, arching against his restraint. The recorded voice dissolved into panting affirmation. "...yes! Fucking myself... two fingers... picturing it... all of them... watching..." Jason pinched the pierced nipple between thumb and forefinger, rolling the barbell slowly. Pain lanced through her, sharp and bright, instantly followed by a flood of molten heat pooling low in her belly. Her hips bucked uselessly. "He told you how, didn't he?" Jason growled, twisting the barbell slightly. "How they'd train you. Every greedy fucking hole."
The tablet played the interviewer’s voice, coldly clinical yet dripping obscenity. "...primary vaginal entry will be dilated hourly... anal sphincter stretched progressively with inflatable plugs... urethral sounding twice daily... nipple clamps connected to electro-stimulation..." Jason’s hand slid down her trembling belly, fingers hooking into the waistband of her suit. Selina froze, eyes wide with terror and desperate need. The interviewer continued, relentless. "...and that engorged clitoris... we treat it as the tiny cock it aspires to be... bound at the base... teased... abused... until it pulses like a miniature erection... dripping..."
Jason ripped the suit down her hips and thighs in one brutal motion, exposing her completely. Her shaved cunt glistened, soaked, her tiny clit swollen and throbbing visibly, a dark, needy pearl. "There it is," Jason snarled, releasing her hair to roughly spread her thighs wider with his knee. "Your little cock? Not yet, baby girl. It's too little. She's a pretty clit." His thumb pressed down hard on the swollen bud, grinding in a cruel circle. Selina sighed, a raw sound of pleasure, her body convulsing. "Begging for abuse already," he spat, watching her clit pulse under his relentless pressure. "Just like you said. You want it big, kitty? A huge clit would look amazing." He leaned close, his breath hot on her ear as her recorded moans filled the room. "Time to start your fucking training." His thumb kept grinding, relentless, as Dick watched, his expression unreadable but his gaze fixed on her little shy clit. Selina’s world narrowed to that excruciating point of contact, the filthy promises on the tape, and the terrifying certainty that this was only the beginning. Her back arched off the cot, a strangled giggle escaping her clenched teeth. Jason’s cruel chuckle vibrated against her sweat-slicked skin. "Moan louder, kitty. Tell us how they were gonna train you to have a huge clit."