Characters Appearing: Batgirl, Joker, and more if desired
Date: February 14
Time of Day: Late evening
Location(s): South Gotham, abandoned warehouse
Plot Summary: The Joker stumbles across Batgirl while out on the town. After capturing her, he decides to see how long she can hold her breath for.
The Joker exited from the Iceberg Lounge and climbed into his purple 1950 Lincoln Cosmopolitan. He sat in the car for a moment, considering the information he’d gotten from Cobblepot. While the man was definitely not trustworthy in everyday dealings, when it came to business, he would protect his reputation. That cut two ways, though, and the Joker knew Cobblepot was just audacious enough to try selling him out, if the profit were high enough. It made dealing with the fat little man interesting.
The Joker started up the monstrously large car, and it purred quietly to life, the gentle rumble belying the tremendous power that existed under the hood. Leaning back in the front seat with his left elbow out the open window, the car idled through the back alleys of Gotham at a comfortable thirty miles per hour. The fingers of his left hand grazed the steering wheel, applying more pressure as necessary, while a billiard ball played back and forth over the fingers of his right hand, seeming to defy gravity, going from the back of his fingers to the tips, then the palm of his hand and back again, without ever diverting his attention from the world outside his car.
When a scene to the left caught his attention, he snagged the billiard ball in his hand and bought the car to a silent stop. He turned the lights off before he backed up to see down the alleyway again, and sure enough, there she was: Batgirl!
She was beating up on some group of innocent thugs whose only real crime had been being careless. “Well,” he thought to himself, “stupidity is its own cure.”
The Joker stepped out of the car and walked down the alley, keeping to the shadows. Batgirl had assailants all around her, but was careful not to let any get behind her, which meant there were none between her and him. The thugs, on the other hand, were too frantic, too focused on trying to survive their battle with the Bat-Chick to even bother looking in his direction. He wasn’t even sure that staying in the shadows was necessary, but it was prudent.
He studied the battle as he made his way down the alley, reaffirming something he’d learned long ago: multiple opponents are easier to take down. They get in each other’s way, and they can’t coordinate. The thugs went from eight to three in almost no time, and down to two one well-placed kick later. Batgirl knew her stuff, but the Joker had already known that. When the number of opponents went down to one, Joker made his move.
He stepped out of the shadows, produced a razor-edged playing card, apparently from his sleeve, and threw it with deadly accuracy. The card arced around Batgirl and sliced the last thug’s throat open before returning to the Joker’s hand.
“Good evening, my dear!” the Joker greeted her. “Don’t say I never did anything for you!”
His laughter was cut off as he but a filter in his mouth, before she could hit him with any of her chemicals.
Batgirl had been so busy with the fight that she had not heard anyone else approaching until the blood sprayed from the last man's throat, ending the fight and his life in a minute. Turning at the sound of the all too familiar voice, Batgirl took a few steps back more to give herself room rather than show possible fear, but when one faced the Joker, fear was a hard thing to control. They had met more than once and they were about even on the win-loss score, with the last time having gone to Batgirl, but that might have been more luck than anything, as Harley had distracted the insanely evil jokester.
That he was here - now - and facing off against her, didn't make Batgirl feel any better than the last four times they had fought, as his presence made her wonder whether the goons she had been fighting were his or not. If his, they were only sent to tire her out and give him something to watch, but if they were not, then he was just in the area? It was possible, hell both were, but Batgirl wasn't one to believe in coincidences, but still, here he was and he had addressed her specifically.
"I won't, and you can count on that, Joker. Since you took out the last man, I will assume you grew tired of the fight and wanted to speed your plans for me along, but you will not get me without a fight."
Her stance relaxed if only just, Batgirl let her hands fall to her sides before they vanished under the folds of her cape. Her eyes were locked on the Joker's, knowing that he'd just as soon attack as talk, and in seconds her right hand was holding one of the sharper bat-a-rangs Batgirl had in her arsenal. If he did attack, and Batgirl knew that her would, then the rang would be used to slow him down, but either way, Batgirl knew she'd either have to gain reinforcements of get the hell out of there, for few faced off in a darkened alley against the Joker, and survived to tell about it.
"You do have plans for me, don't you Joker?
As Batgirl squared off against him, he remembered several hundred encounters with her. It didn’t bother him in the slightest that the details of most of his remembered encounters differed by only slight degrees, or that there had not possibly been time for all the encounters he remembers to have occurred. He remembered each vividly, and could relive each sensation of each one. In one encounter, they’d married and had a tribe of little kids with joker faces and bat cloaks. In another, she’d castrated him. In several, she ended up in a dungeon as his toy, and in a few, he’s taken a temporary vacation in Arkham. Here they were, doing the dance again, and she was as young and beautiful as ever. “How do you do that?” he asked around the filter, his voice slightly muffled.
“Never mind,” he said, clearing the cacophony of memories from his head and addressed himself to what she had said. “I was bored,” he answered her assumption, “and I would never expect to take you without a fight! Not that I wouldn’t, mind you, so don’t think you can use that as a defense . . . “
“Those damned capes!” he thought to himself. He told himself he hated those capes, but in truth, he loved them. Such lovely surprises came out from under them! And such lovely bodies as well! But first, he needed to catch her.
“Do I have plans for you? Oh, Bat-Chick! I sit up late at night designing special little plans for you! Big plans, little plans, plans that climb on rocks! Fat plans, skinny plans, even plans with chicken pocks!” He laughed raucously, spitting out the filter and catching it in his hand.
The Joker then produced a cigar and lighter from seemingly nowhere and raised them to his mouth. He bit off one end of the cigar and spit it to the ground, then proceeded to light that end, puffing on it as he did so, his eyes never leaving Batgirl.
"Fine, so it was a stupid question."
Batgirl watched every move Joker made, knowing one lapse of her guard could mean her death, or worse. The fact he had just brought out a cigar, though seemingly harmless in itself, brought Batgirl to a heightened level of alertness, so much so that she took a couple of steps back while placing the thin, clear membrane of the gas mask over her mouth and nose, just in case Joker meant to gas her, though Batgirl was well aware he could just shoot a dart her way, or just say the hell with it and kill her on the spot.
Death, as possible a thought as it was, might not be the worst that could happen to her though, as being captured by one such as Joker was – or could be – a living hell. The Joker might be a deadly lunatic, but he was well known for his extreme methods of torture that could leave one physically scarred as much as mentally. As ready as she could be, Batgirl kept her eyes on Joker, though she was very much aware of her surroundings. He seldom traveled alone, though that was not to say he needed them. Truth be known, the Joker tended to have his mood swings and he could just as easily kill one of his own men as he would one of Gotham’s innocents, and it was for this reason that Batgirl knew she had to bring the Joker in now.
“You do realize I have to take you down for the murder you just committed, Joker. "
The Joker didn’t allow a smile, nod, or blink to give anything away as he noted Batgirl’s nervousness. He loved that the nameless hordes of shadows that walked the Earth were terrorized of him and usually fled from his presence, wetting themselves as often as not. Then there were the few people in the world that actually had faces, the ones that remembered and, in some begrudging way, respected.
He hated respecting people. Batman, of course, was at the top of the list. He respected The Bat more than any other person on the face of the planet, which also meant that he despised, loathed, and hated him more than anyone on the planet. Batgirl was close to the top of the list, though the Joker didn’t bother keeping any kind of a ranking system after The Bat. Still, Batgirl's mask was a 'face' that he knew, a 'face' that he respected, and a 'face' that he hated.
He flicked the lighter closed and took a half step back, in mock deference to Batgirl’s own moves. The movement put him in a position to throw the lighter. In inhaled smoke, then blew rings into the air. As they dissipated in the air, he cocked an eyebrow, his eyes still on hers.
“Or, you could run for your life. But, that was never really an option for you, was it, Bat-Chick? I’ll never understand you heroes.” The last word came out with a loathing slur. “I mean, yeah, taking down scum for exercise I can see. Sure, it’s crude, but it beats tarnation out of running marathons. But why on Earth would you risk your life when someone kills that scum? Are you really afraid you’re going to run out of work-out partners? Dime-a-dozen, I promise.”
The Joker brought the cigar back to his mouth, inhaled once more, and then blew out through it violently. Two objects about the size and shape of 9mm handgun rounds came out the end of the cigar, connected by an ultra-thin wire filament. As they traveled through the cinders of the lit cigar end, tiny rockets in that rear of the projectiles lit, thrusting them toward Batgirl and leaving powder burns on the Jokers face, leaving him dazzled by the brilliance of the rockets.
“You’re just too wrapped up in your work, aren’t you, Bat-Chick?” the Joker asked, as he rubbed his eyes and finally broke out in his trademark laughter.
Despite her best efforts, the Joker had caught her unawares and in seconds her lithe body was being wrapped in the silk-like titanium fibers that could quite literally cut her in half if she but moved, and though her costume now had Kevlar within the latex weave, Batgirl stood still, but it was for another reason other than getting sliced into pieces.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...., uuuuuuuuuuuuuhhh."
She had come into contact with these strands before, a gift from the Catwoman early in her career, and back then her costume had no Kevlar. Her struggles had quite literally sliced the latex into shreds before they started to work on her flesh, and the more she struggled, the tighter the strands became…, and after only a few non-controllable twitches, Batgirl discovered these new strands too – contracted, most likely from her body heat as well.
In moments, Batgirl was as helpless as a new-born baby, and though she had the utility belt around her waist, there was simply no reaching it, not without running the risk of having the strands constrict so much that she would not be able to breathe, and though she glared at the Joker for doing what he had done, Batgirl knew her glare was about all she would be able to do – for now.
The Joker’s eyes adjusted from the glare of the rockets after a few seconds, and he saw that Batgirl was apparently familiar with his little snare. No matter. The fibers were diabolical, if not original, but it was the method of introducing them into the fray that had shown his particular genius. He dropped the lighter back into his pocket and flicked the remains of his cigar onto the pavement below.
“I suppose you’ll have to add littering to the list of crimes you’re hauling me in for, Bat-chick,” he adding mockingly as he approached her, beginning to count off crimes on his fingers. “Oh, and using fireworks without a permit!” Another finger ticked off. “Isn’t there a law against smoking in public now, or has that been rescinded? Honestly, I can’t keep up. Oh! Here’s a good one!”
He reached out and tweaked her nipple, pinching through her costume, pulling her slightly off balance before he righted her again. “Criminal sexual misconduct! I’d wait before filing that one, though. I’m sure the severity will increase before we’re done. Kidnapping, of course.”
He paused briefly to regard her. His hand slid gently away from her body as his face took on a peaceful, almost reverent mien. “Did anyone ever tell you that your eyes are absolutely beautiful when you’re angry? I’ve seen you look at me through those eyes with love in your heart and passion in your soul. I was happy then.”
His face shifted to sorrow and pain. “I’ve seen those eyes as you killed me. Not without regret: it was my death or tens of thousands of those faceless shades you so tirelessly fight to protect. Am I really worth so little?"
His face shifted to regret, confusion, and finally, wonder. “I’ve watched the light fade from those eyes as I choked the life from your body with my own to hands. At that time and place, it seemed to be important. So many different memories. So many different possibilities. And I have no idea how this life is going to end. How is that possible?”
Batgirl knew the Joker had ideas for her, and that some of them if not all, would be sexual in nature. Sexual assaults and rape went with the territory and Batgirl knew that long before she has slapped on the mask to become a super heroine. Still, the shock wave that went through her body as it radiated from her tweaked nipple caught Batgirl off guard enough that her eyes closed from the sensations that simple touch had given her body and that was what worried her now......, that Joker would have seen that reaction and would now capitalize on that advantage.
"You're right, Joker. The times I've thought of killing you are so numerous that I've lost count and I'm sure Batman - your hero and idle - has thought of that too, but that would make us like you, and I am 'nothing' like you."
It might have been a tactical error on her part to bring Batman into their conversation, but then Batgirl knew that history. The Joker had made Batman and Batman in turn had made the Joker. It was like the proverbial ying/yang of Chinese philosophy as each side tried to overpower the other, yet neither side could really bring themselves to actually do it. Neither Batman nor Joker could kill the other side of themselves, for without the Batman, Joker would be less, as would Batman without the Joker.
"Are you going to do something else or are we just going to stay here in this alley until the rest of these thugs wake up? I hear two of them moving already and frankly Joker, I'm getting bored."
“Hmmm,” the Joker replied, considering. “Yeah, all words, no action, I get it. We can fix that. But, business first.”
The Joker pulled a revolver from out of his coat. While not an extremely large weapon like he was famed for, it didn’t have to be. Lifting the barrel toward the fallen gang members, he double-tapped the barrel and hit the first gang member that had begun to stir. He laughed as the body twitched and a pool of darkness began to form around the victim head. He repeated the ritual with each of the remaining gang members, reloading as necessary, his shots never missing their mark. Finally, he turned back to face Batgirl.
“They served their purpose,” he said with a shrug. “If it matters, I have no recollections of sending them to attack you. Actually, I was chatting with an old friend tonight; you are a very happy distraction! However, while my plans for you abound, I have no intention of carrying you across town. Don’t go anywhere!”
Moments later, Joker returned with his purple Lincoln Cosmopolitan. He got out of the car, opened the passenger doors, and approached Batgirl. With a flourish and a bow, he presented the car. “Your chariot, mademoiselle, awaits.”
He stepped in front of her, taking one nipple in each hand and roughly fondling them until they responded with arousal. When they did, he smiled wickedly, gripping each hardened bit of heaven brutally between thumb and forefingers, then slowly began to push her over backwards. “Are we still bored?” he asked, before she hit the tipping point.
Her eyes wide the second her nipples were grabbed, Batgirl fought back the comments she was thinking, knowing what she said wouldn't matter in the least, and for all practical reasons aside, that they would most anger the Clown Prince of Crime. For seemingly long minutes, Batgirl endured the rough handling of her breasts as each movement only served to force the thin ropes to constrict around her body and she was already finding things hard to breathe.
All that changed - her efforts not to moan - her attempts to stay balanced, her desperate tries to keep the ropes somewhat loose around her chest, when the Joker grabbed her aroused nipples and began to grind them between his thumbs and index fingers. There was simply no way to fight such an erotic attack and Batgirl knew the Joker knew that as well, unless his growing smile was for another reason...., which Batgirl found out to her horror that it was.
"Joker...........no, I'm not bored..., please don't do this...don't.......aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh."
In moments, Batgirl felt her body falling backwards into the vintage car the Joker had pulled up in, and though her body did manage to land on the plush leather seat, the fact that she had bounced only served to tighten the already severely tight bonds that Batgirl found wound around her lithe form.
The Joker “helped” Batgirl into the car, settling her shoulders in the front seat with her head barely on the seat and her face positioned right under the door to the glove box. He moved down her body, not at all afraid of being cut by the wires. They were tight enough around her that they posed no threat to him unless he decided to try and pull them off from her. The wire dug in to her costume everywhere that wasn’t covered by the corset, from her ribcage to her knees. It was a testimony to the durability of her costume that her flesh hadn’t been flayed from her bones. The wires around Batgirl reminded him of the kitchen string used to hold a boned lamb together in preparation for a roast. As well, the sacrificial aspect of his comparison wasn’t lost on him.
His hands grabbed her ass, moving her more centrally into the seat/bed as he groped her. He seemed totally unaware of how his movements of her body affected the tightness of the wires that bound her.
“I don’t think I’ve ever held such a tight pair of buns, Bat-Chick,” he complemented in a back-handed manner, “and wrapped up so nice and tight! You must be keeping up on the Yoga. Or is it Pilates now? I can never keep all that straight.
“Now, where was I?” he asked as he placed her feet in the car. “Oh, yes! Bunz-o-steel! Or does that only apply to Supergirl? No matter. I can’t wait until yours are served up with a delicate sauce and heated to a bright, cherry red glow . . . Nummies!”
He began to close the doors, then stopped and knelt next to the car. “Boredom,” he said, simply, looking her over. It bothered him slightly that her filter was still in place, but at least she wouldn’t be biting him any time soon. “We can’t have boredom. Not again, and certainly not so soon! Pardon my reach.”
He reached over her and opened the glove compartment. He briefly contemplated letting it hit her in the face, but he didn’t want to damage the mask. At least, not quite yet. He pulled out an intricately carved and inlaid mahogany box, and then pushed the lid to the glove box closed. He intentionally listened for the latch to catch, though he had no idea what assurances, if any, that would give her. From the box, he pulled out what appeared to be a typical chromed vibrator. It was ordinary in shape, without any grooves of nodules marring its surface “for her pleasure.” It was a simple cylinder with one rounded end, and a dial that matched the profile of the cylinder on the other, both for replacing batteries and controlling the speed of vibration. The only outstanding feature of the device was that it had a luster that seemed deeper than that of chrome. The box went under the seat on her side.
He set the vibrator between her breasts while he pulled on a Kevlar glove and studied the wires crossing around her hips and over her core. He gave Batgirl a wink as he retrieved his toy. Adjusting a few of the wires, he slid the vibrator between them in such a way that held in tension against her core, with specific pressure against her hooded clit, then turned it on to a low hum.
“Not bad for a starter, eh?”
The Joker then closed the doors on the passenger side, climbed behind the wheel and fired up the monstrous 8-cylinder engine.
“Comfy?”
With every move he made in her regards, Batgirl felt the ropes constrict across her body. It was getting hard to breathe and though she wanted to tell the idiot that, Batgirl was sure her please would fall on deaf ears, or worse, that he'd simply do more damage that would go against her already difficult position. His groping of her ass didn't help matters much, scratch that, at all, as the ropes shrunk again, compressing her already flattened breasts as if they were nothing more than balloons under the costume.
"Glad....you think........so, Joker."
Her eyes closed for a minute to settle her nerves, Batgirl heard the comment about boredom and opened her eyes again. He had knelt beside her, which wasn't a good thing at all as it meant he had some deviously evil plan in mind for her, but then, there was nothing Batgirl could do about that, and there was no way she'd beg. Her eyes wide when she saw the vibrator, Batgirl resisted the urge to struggle - to try one last time to break free - knowing it would do no good, but by then the chrome number was resting between her nearly flattened breasts, though flattened was one's opinion of course.
what happened next didn't so much as take Batgirl by surprise as make her heart pound in her ears. Joker had placed the miniature yet from the initial feel of it, quite powerful vibe snugly between her tightly closed legs, letting the monstrous working end rest on her latex encased pussy, though what Batgirl felt after only seconds was the way it started to affect her clit, making Batgirl pull her head back toward the floor of the car, which only served to bring the ropes even tighter around her lithe form, before the two strategically wrapped wires pulled against the vibe to force it even deeper against her sex..., her words of reply to his question cut off only by Batgirl biting her lower lip.
The Joker adjusted the choke and then smiled down at his captive as Batgirl struggled with her predicament. He turned the intensity of the vibrator up, giving the Dark Angel a wink as he felt the powerful vibrations in his hand, sending vibrations all the way up to his elbow.
“How fun!” the Joker proclaimed as he revved the engine, making the entire car vibrate. “Do you fight the sensations, trying to hold back your orgasm until the dam eventually bursts, taking your breath away in one final moment? Or do you let the sensations ride over you, trying to trying to surf them without letting them crest too violently?”
He reached over and took the Dark Angel’s nipple between his finger and thumb, rolling over the taut, nerve-filled nub of flesh. “The question, my dear, is simple.” He squeezed her nipple hard as he altered his voice to imitate the Kurgan: “Is it better to burn out or fade away?”
It only took a few seconds, though, for Batgirl’s eyes to flutter closed.
"Party pooper!" the Joker proclaimed, angry with Batgirl for escaping his sadistic voyeurism. The ever-tightening wire had done its job, crushing the breath from the helpless defender of the night, allowing her to escape at least some of the tortures he’s had planned. That didn’t bother the Joker too much, though; new opportunities were always just around the corner.
Letting the engine idle, the Clown Prince of Crime climbed back out of the car and hauled Batgirl to the hood of his car. He watched as her chest barely moved, and felt the pulse in her neck go from a slow, steady pulse to slowly get faster and weaker as her body desperately fought for life. He briefly considered rolling her of the hood of his car and leaving her to die. It made sense, it was easy, and he had no idea how many ruffians would find and defile her body before she was found, but in the end, it just wasn't very entertaining.
“You’re just too damn fun to throw away,” he told her, wondering if she could breathe at all. "Besides, I'm far from done with you, my little Bat-Chick!"
He pulled a tuning fork from his jacket and struck it against the car, creating a resonance within the object. Starting at her knees, he began touching to fork to the wire, and everyplace it made contact caused the wire to relax and begin to uncoil. When she was free to her hips, he bound her legs wide open, a nylon rope going from each of her dainty feet to the front corners of the hood, catching under the wheel wells and eventually being tied off at the corners of the front bumper.
Once her feet were secured, he freed the rest of her body from the wire, noting the extensive damage absorbed by her corset. Removing it was almost too easy; it nearly fell from her body, revealing the abdomen wrapped in the latex second skin below. A faint smile crossed his lips when he saw her breath once more, and he knew she wouldn’t be out for too long.
Similar to her legs, he bound her arms wide, tying her wrists with more of the same rope and pulling them wide, each anchored to one of the side windows mounted to the car’s open doors. Leaving the mess of wire and ruined corset behind, he moved to the passenger side and closed the door, the levering action of the door pulling her arm tighter and causing her to slide slightly toward the passenger side of the hood. He removed her breathing mask, tucking it safely away, before he climbed into the driver’s side and closed the door, leveraging the last of any slack from her body and forcing her to back to the center of the hood.
He saw the Dark Angel’s head turn side to side, resting against the windshield, as she awoke and tried to understand her surroundings.
The tires on the old Lincoln squealed and the engine roared under Batgirl’s shapely ass and acrid smoke rose from the burning tired. Within seconds, the tires caught and the car launched itself from the alley. The Joker car quickly approached 90 as he slalomed around the light traffic on the road as he brought the car up to one of the city’s highways. . He ran one car off the edge of an overpass and clipping the rear end of another as he sped by. The struck car spun out of control, causing a multi-car collision; The Joker watched from the rearview mirror as the cars piled up with no concern for what was before them. When he looked back to the front of the car, there was no doubt in his mind that Batgirl was no very much awake.
Her first hint that she was in deeper trouble came as Batgirl opened her eyes so see what looked like people flying past her prone body. Pulling her head up off whatever it had been lying against, Batgirl quickly stared wide-eyed at where she was, at how the Joker had positioned her on the hood of the massive car, a vintage one from the way it looked, but a car none the less. One look to her wrists told Batgirl it would be all but impossible to escape and she was certain the same could be said for her ankles, though with the design of the car's enormous hood blocking any direct view of her lower legs, Batgirl couldn't even be sure how they were tied, let alone to what, though she had a pretty good idea - the front bumper.
"Joker...........you, you bastard. If I ever get out of this...., uuuuuuuugggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh."
Straining against the bonds to no avail when she saw the Joker, Batgirl's earlier thoughts were proved correct. The bindings were tight, almost as tight as the previous wires had been, but still tight enough, and one look at her torso told Batgirl the corset had been removed, showing off her well-toned, latex encased body for all the world to see. If the Joker heard her idle threat, he took no notice of it, hell he had been threatened by the Batman himself countless times and ignored them as well, or so Batgirl thought, but it wasn't until the car was moving that Batgirl felt the true evilness of Joker's plan.
With each mile per hour faster that the car moved, the hotter humid air of the night air struck her core, the winds funneled to her womanhood by her open legs, forcing the winds to literally whip her latex encased pussy before it traveled up her stomach to the undersides of her breasts. Her head falling back against the windshield while she tried to fight the intense, erotic sensations, Batgirl was suddenly attacked, when the windshield wipers started batting the sides of her head, slapping it to the left then the right then the left, back and forth, back and forth, keeping Batgirl both stimulated and preoccupied while the Joker drove on.
The Joker accelerated to 120 miles per hour, laughing until tears were streaming down his cheeks. As the antique car sliced through the sultry air, the wind shear across Batgirl’s lithe body not only tormented her sex, but pulled at her breasts as well, beating them and causing them to ripple under the tight Lycra. He could only imagine what she felt with the wind tearing at her body and rip her apart, but the Joker had a very good imagination!
The clown reached under the dashboard, but couldn’t find what he was looking for. Stretching farther didn’t help. He pouted momentarily while he tried to remember exactly where he’s put that thing, then lay down across the seat and started pulling on wires under the dash. When the cab suddenly lit up, Joker poked his head back up. The oncoming lights of a semi met him, and for the briefest of instants, he wondered if this was that the proverbial “deer in the headlights” felt like.
He turned the car slightly to the right, causing it to veer madly at the speed they were traveling, then cranked back hard to the left, causing the car to spin out of the oncoming path and spin a full 540 degrees before coming to a halt facing the rear of the tractor-trailer they’d just missed.
“Damned Sunday drivers!” Joker yelled at the truck, then felt something fall and hit if his foot. It was the joystick he’d been looking for!
The Joker scooted over to the middle of front seat as he took over the controls of the car with the controller, planted his feet against the dashboard, and smiled evilly. “Try to run me off the road, will ya? Well, we’ll just see about that!”
A few buttons later, and the Cosmopolitan’s hood ornament swiveled 180 degrees and slid up the hood. When it reached Batgirl’s core, it continued for another inch or so, pressing hard into her, and directly onto her clit. Then vibrations from the big V-8 ensured she wouldn’t be getting bored too quickly. A belt magazine fed up from the hole where the ornament has been, hooking into a Gatling gun that folded up and out of the car’s grill. As the barrel spun up to speed, the Joker revved the car, purposely altering the speed of the ornament that now served as a vibrator on Batgirl.
“No getting bored, now, Batchick,” he called out the window, then slid the car in gear and took off after the truck. When the weapon began firing, every shot was like a small concussing grenade going off just above the heroine’s spread-eagle form, pounding her relentlessly. The read tires of the truck exploded and, seconds afterward, the both rear axles came off the trucks trailer, bouncing along the road as the Joker weaved between the shrapnel. Not long after, the entire trailer came loose, bouncing over his car and pan-caking on the road behind them. A few more rounds and the cab of the truck exploded in a huge fireball.
“Now that’s what I call a show!” the Joker screamed into the night as the barrel stopped and gun stowed itself once more. The ornament, however, held its position, furthering Batgirl’s sexual torment as the clown brought the car back up to speed.
Oblivious to what Joker was doing with the other driver, Batgirl fought a desperate battle with her sexual self to keep from reaching what she knew would be an all-powerful orgasm, one that would leave her mind shattered and her body so weak as to allow the Joker to have his ways with her, not that he couldn't already. With each thump of the gun's recoil, Batgirl core was pounded, the non-working end of the weapon ramming the vibe deeper and deeper into her latex covered and stretched pussy, making it hard for Batgirl to even concentrate past the erotically powerful sensations that were building between her open legs.
The truck's eventual explosion mimicked her own as her body erupted into an orgasm the likes of which she had never experienced yet even as the first one subsided a second, equally powerful one came to the fore, forcing Batgirl to ride out wave after wave of orgasmic heat waves, each one leaving her mind just that much more destroyed. Though she wanted too, Batgirl just managed to keep from screaming out from the multiple climaxes, though the effort wasted her every bit as much as the repeated orgasms did...., leaving Batgirl utterly wasted in minutes.
The Joker looked at his watch as he waited for his damsel du jour to wake up again. “What’s taking so long?” he asked the unconscious Batgirl. “I mean, I like my car, but it isn’t that good. Then again, I never rode on the hood while it fucked me, so it might be . . .”
While she had been unconscious, the Joker had driven her to one of the many lairs he kept around the city. Like many of his warrens, this was dingy and forgotten. It had been a factory of some sort back when industry was king, and it had never been profitable to either tear it down or refurbish it. Girders and pipes ran overhead while strange devices were littered about the place, almost as though it had once been used by a mad scientist. It was that unknown aspect that had drawn Joker to the place to begin with. Also within was a car wash set up with all the brushes and everything to make a car all nice and squeaky clean, or drive a bound heroine insane while put through it, whichever may come first.
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