Why you should fear the dark (darkest_fate/Flassche)

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We follow the tale of the death and rebirth of the dark knight, the last remaining Wayne.
After having witnessed the embrace of death and deal with the passing of his father and friends, young Damian decides to make the finale sacrifice for Gotham, to give them a true Batman that it desperately needs. Using elements from the Lazarus pit, Damian Wayne restores his body to adult proportions and restores much of his fractured and tormented mind, in return sacrificing the oaths he had sworn to his father, Bruce. His rebirth is a young man at his prime with the collective knowledge of the first batman and Damian’s own background as a former assassin of the shadow realm. He now sets out to punish those who failed his father, failed to be there when he needed them most.


This would be a rp between darkest_fate and Flassche.




Portrayed by Flassche


Portrayed by darkest_fate

RE: Why you should fear the dark

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Life was fading from him, veins and flesh tearing itself apart, dripping the precious scarlet liquid of life within his lungs. His mind remembering things of the past, remembering the last time he wore the fabric that made him who he truly was, his brilliant mind recalling every detail. He watched with blue eyes how Gotham was burning, watched how he had failed it. He gazed down at his own figure crumpled lifeless at his father’s feet, displaying wounds that would never heal, body soaked in blood. The ma-, no! The father wore the black, turning away to seek revenge for his dying son, yet knowing he could not survive the attempt.


The boy woke with a start, fighting his way back into life, body slick with sweat and frame tensed. He could feel the tremors in his hands, feel the weakness in his limbs that had once held immeasurable strength and endurance. He forced himself upwards, swallowing the taste of dried up blood, ignoring the taste of iron now lingering in his mouth. Why could he not let death embrace him, let this attack on his heart be a kind gift from death. His eyes were wet with fresh tears, leaking unashamed down his face in steady streams. The once stone of a youth was now running with cracks, deep and unending. He was losing both his life and his father. He spoke his last words to his father, to Bruce, before he lost conscious.



He awoke with a start, hearing the death cry of a familiar voice; Alfred. He glanced around and noticed the Batcave was collapsing all around him, hearing explosions happen every few seconds. The servant of his father had apparently gone and fetched the dying boy, rushing him back home and trying to place him in the Lazarus pit, hoping it would save him. Alfred now lay buried under rubble, and from the sounds around him, so would he within a few seconds, if his heart did not give out before then.

He forced himself forwards, inside the tomb that held the life giving and corrupting essence. He had to linger for a few more seconds. He had to! He owed it to them, to those he had failed to protect, or live up to. He heard the voices again, telling him their last words. They weighed him down, threatening to engulf him in darkness, yet the last fragments that remained of the dark knight held on for just a second longer, closing the lid and letting go, feeling his body sinking deep within the unholy liquid that had belonged to his father’s arch enemy, his grandfather. He felt his heart give out, lungs filling with blood as he began to lose consciousness. The last thing he could hear was the corrupt jewel that was Gotham burn and collapse underneath its own twisted soul.

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“-And that is only in the recent weeks. It seems that another crime gang has decided to claim a piece of Gotham. In other news: A remarkable two point five percentage increase for Wayne industries, showing again the brilliant economical mind that is Damian Wayne. Numerous economist predict further growth on the stock market thanks to this latest revelation by Wayne industries. Some mi-“

The tall nineteen year old closed the television as he stopped in front of the large window, eyes scanning the diseased and corrupt city that was Gotham. His frame stood tall and powerful, shoulders broad and limbs trained and sculptured to brutal efficiency. His dark black hair was cut short and face shaven. He looked like a younger version of his father, were it not for the unnatural coloured eyes he now possessed. Those eyes were staring down on Gotham, taking it all in. From the archaic gothic style structures and statues to the technological marvels and steel masses that reach for the very skies itself. Gotham is a shy jewel of progress, economical might, yet deeply corrupted in its heart. Gangs, villains and the criminally insane roam and rule the underworld, controlling nearly a third of Gotham hostage.

At one time, many years ago, a man had risen from the edges of this darkness, risen against the darkness that had formed him. The dark knight, Batman, the crusader of the shadows, the individual went by many names, yet none could question the impact he had on the city. One man could somehow muster the strength to do what an entire city could not do themselves, stem the tide of pain and suffering and keeping the darkness at bay.

Now, three years later, something new would arise. Like a phoenix, a true heir would rise to defend Gotham. Instead of rising from the edges, this new rebirth was born in the very darkness itself, moulded by it so that it had no flaws. He would finish what he had started, former body now restored, better than before, carrying the accumulated knowledge of his father’s teaching and that of the league of shadows within the proud and unsheltered body of his reborn self. Bruce Wayne had died three years ago, leaving Damian to be his next heir, the Lazarus pit restoring and altering what had been damaged. The pit took something from a person each time they used it. For many months Damian Wayne had battled the bit, letting it restore and better him at the price of something. Long and excruciating months had been spend fighting it, only letting the pit take what Damian wanted it to take. In the end Damian Wanye had risen from the pits; a perfect warrior of justice that would take on the mantle once more, this time without restrictions.

But first, he had to settle on old grudge he had. He peered at the screen in front of him and grinned, watching the crooks he had tagged with a GPS tracker. They had started to move erratic all of a sudden, going into alleyways as if their lives depended on it. So the little pretender bat had taken the bait did she?

He grinned as he began to prepare himself.

RE: Why you should fear the dark

That day would haunt Barbara's memories for a lifetime. She'd been there, been so close. She'd been so young then; hell, she was still young now, in the grand scheme of things, not even an adult by society's standards. Things had just moved so fast, too fast, blurring before her vision. Or, rather, they had then, at the time. In Barbara's memories and nightmares, time moved painfully slow, crawling by as Bruce, as Damien, as Dick...

The Batgirl shook her head, feeling her long red hair slide over her shoulders. She still wore the symbol, still wore the bat, still protected the city. The entire weight of it had fallen on her shoulders. Well, that wasn't strictly true; Huntress still prowled the streets, and there were a handful of other caped crusaders. There had even been other pretenders to the cowl that had popped up from time to time. Batgirl had taken care of them, well, most of them. The Batwoman had proven to be impressive enough to be worth keeping around; that and the new Question had vouched for her, which was enough for Barbara. Still, the fight hadn't gotten any easier. If anything, things were worse than ever. The crooks knew that the Bat, the "real" Bat was gone now. Only the little Battette, as Joker had laughingly called Barbara once, prowled the streets now.

Well, the Battette's doing a damn good job of it Barbara thought as she followed the crooks moving in the streets below, her blue eyes tracing their movements. She could feel her skin prickling beneath the Kevlar enhanced bodysuit. Since Bruce had perished, Batgirl had elected to wear a slightly stronger version of her old uniform. She kept the colors, more or less. The cowl was still midnight blue as opposed to directly black, with her eyes looking out from beneath the armored hood. The weighted cape extended down to her ankles, fluttering around a pair of dark blue boots. Dark gray reinforced fabric crawled up her lean legs, wrapping tightly to her gymnast's body. A weighed belt, still yellow, hung on Batgirl's hips, weighted with all the tools of her trade. The uniform kept its uniformity as it crawled up her lithe torso, compressing her perky, youthful breasts. The bat was emblazoned upon her chest, still black, the only piece of her that was. The symbol would not die, not while there was someone to wear it.

Batgirl descended, instantly taking out one hood with her landing. A batarang flew from her belt, hooking another before he could react. Panic set in, the crooks scattering throughout the alleys. Batgirl melted into the shadows. This she could do in her sleep. The new Bat spent countless hours pouncing from the shadows, proving just as stealthy as the original, if not more so. Barbara would simply never be as strong as Bruce or Dick, or even Damien; she had to use what she had.

Damien, the young man's name hung in Barbara's mind as she dispatched another hoodlum. Rumors had swirled that he had come back, that he'd somehow been dragged to the pit. That wouldn't have surprised Barbara; Talia was always a possessive bitch. It was just as likely that the new Damien was a clone or something. Then again, people never seemed to stay dead around here. No matter, Barbara couldn't focus on Damien, not now. She had the problem in front of her to deal with.

"One left," she muttered into the dark of Gotham. Her eyes scanned the area, wondering where her last target had hidden himself.

RE: Why you should fear the dark

She would be able to hear a loud scream, one that could only be produced by someone who was in excruciating pain. The minute she turned the corner, see the dark alleyway, she would see nothing; pitch black shadows that stared back at her. Every bit of instinct in her body would be screaming at her that there was something wrong here, that something was off. All around her was silence, sheer mind clattering silence, then it happened;




A severed hand flew her way, landing a few feet in front of her. It still twitched now and again, some the last movements it would ever make. A steady stream of blood was pouring from it, followed by even more silence. The cuts were perfect, almost to perfect, one elegant cut through bone and flesh.

“Rodrigo Merche, did five years for armed robbery and is now wanted for first degree manslaughter. He is thirty nine years of age and is left handed, or should I say… was.. left handed.”

The voice was deep and rough, similar to the previous Batman, instilling fear and respect, even if you were allied to him. He did not speak afterwards, simply stay hidden within the shadows. No matter how good her eyesight was, she could not stare into darkness and see clearly, not when the streetlights were shining down upon her, ruining her night vision. A figure began to crawl towards her, using his remaining hand to drag himself forwards. The stump on his left arm had been burned closed, ensuring that he would live and not bleed out. This was justice, yet it was horribly brutal and harsh. The man called Rodrigo soon passed out, spread out on the dirty streets and looking pale.

Seconds later the woman would feel a sting on her neck, letting her know that something had punctured the skin there. If she would finger the area she would find out that it was a tranquilizer dart, one containing a perfectly measured dosses that was now coursing through her blood stream. It was a slow working one, so she would have a good solid five minutes before it would knock her out, yet with each minute she would lose a bit of her strength.



The man stepped out from the shadows, bearing every bit of resemblance as Batman, yet much younger and a bit more… regal. He carried himself differently; arrogant, prideful, lethal, feral. His eyes were bright yellow at first, like some demonic creature of the night, yet they slowly changed to blue when he neared her. His left hand was fingering a trigger, dismantling it and putting it back in his pouch. He carried little armour, even less than the previous batman, yet he had more knifes and blades on him, even two short swords. She could see from his outfit that he was a solid mass of rippling muscles.

“You should have left when you had the change, betrayer.”

The man said, voice deep and filled with hatred. He had planned this perfectly, hiding a small stationary rifle at the opposite corner and timing his shot. He had her where he wanted her to be, yet not without a fight. She had five minutes and he wasn’t going to be easy on her. She was trained by batman and so was he, so the fight would be mostly equal, yet he had something that she did not. He was the perfect heir; both assassin Dna and that of his father. He had learned how to kill and fight before he even knew how to talk properly. Bruce had demanded he did not use these skills and he had done so, yet Bruce wasn’t here anymore. The batgirl was going to feel revenge, all over her body.

RE: Why you should fear the dark

Shit, another one of those crazed vigilantes. They showed up from time to time, terrorizing Gotham and causing the Bat family nearly as much trouble as the villains they purported to be fighting. Batgirl was already mentally cursing the moment she heard the noises, and the cursing only increased when she saw the hand. Not just any vigilante, a trained vigilante. It took skill to cut someone's hand that cleanly, to deal with the bone and get such a clean cut. This was likely someone from the League of Shadows, or perhaps Red Hood risen again.

Then the voice, a gravelly one that froze Barbara's blood. It sounded so familiar, so very, very familiar, so very much like his. Yet it wasn't; there was something just a little off. It was odd though; Barbara could have sworn she heard something familiar in the voice, as though it were someone from the past. Dick? No, Dick wouldn't have done this, even a transformed Dick. He'd always been the light one, so much lighter than Bruce, lighter at times than Barbara herself.

The victim, for Barbara could think of him as nothing else, began crawling out of the alley. She ducked down, already reaching into her belt, ready to help however she could. A medic pack released from the belt with a hiss, and soon she was moving to spray. The wound had been prepped, but there was still blood, still... Batgirl hissed as she felt something prick her neck. Dammit, Barbara, you were supposed to be more alert than that! Batman would have... well, actually, this sort of thing had happened to Batman before too. When you focused on saving someone, you sometimes forgot about yourself. If there was one fatal flaw in the Bat family, it was that. Batgirl could already feel the chemical swimming through her blood, fogging her vision and making her move slower. Her hand darted sideways on her belt, looking for an antidote. But she doubted that she had anything that could help here. Her best bet was to stab herself with an adrenaline stim and hope to get away. She'd moved to do just that when he entered.

And Batgirl froze. She stared openmouthed up at the man who approached. He wore the cowl, wore it with confidence as though it belonged to him. In all Barbara's life she'd only known one man to wear it like that. Yet that man had always been older than the one before her now. He'd also never worn so many blades... which let Barbara know exactly who this was.

"Damien," she whispered. Her blue eyes widened and she rose to her feet, stim packs and poison momentarily forgotten. "You're alive... the rest...? Wait, it's me, Babs..."

Something felt off. Why would Damien be killing? Didn't they teach him better? Hadn't that been the whole point... Wait, things were getting fuzzy. The drug, the poison... Batgirl fumbled with the stim. She needed time, needed it desperately.

RE: Why you should fear the dark

He would let her have her moment, allowing her to use the simulant to her advantage. She was always the proud detective, yet she lacked Bruce’s knack for chemistry and anatomy. He watched as she stabbed herself with the object, hearing the click as a new substance would flood her system.

‘Two minutes left’

He told himself, knowing that her sped up heart rate would make the drug more effective. It was her choice, sacrificing time in order to get her strength and clarity back. He watched her chest rise faster and more powerful, her eyes sharpening a bit more and her posture looking more dangerous.

“They are were you left them to die, betrayer of family. You left my family to die. You left… father to die there.” He commented, voice cracking a bit at the end, filled to the brink with emotion and what not. He stepped closer towards her and let her see his powerful and tall frame. Had she time to observe his anatomy without the attire she would realise from his bone structure that he was still growing, no doubt getting a few more inches and pounds on his frame as he matured more.

He readied himself in a combat stance and waited for her to speak to him, ask her questions that she would no doubt wish to ask; The why and the where, the how and the when. He would not answer her, for she did not deserve it. She had betrayed those she had sworn to love and protect. It pained him to be right all along about the world, knowing in his heart that his father was to kind on the world, yet it was not a flaw. His father wanted the world to be better; have a chance at salvation. Damian knew the truth and the harsh reality that came with it.

“Your live is forfeit from now on, for I shall take from you what you took from me.” He stated calmly as he moved even closer, hands flexing and suddenly producing several throwing knifes, launching them all with a flick of his wrists, aiming them at her limbs. “EVERYTHING” He barked, launching at her with his swords drawn, becoming a whirlwind of sharp edges and aimed leg swipes.

RE: Why you should fear the dark

Barbara felt her heart racing, pounding in her ears, the stim taking effect. As the drug pumped through her veins, the Batgirl was aware that it might speed up the effects of whatever Damien had hit her with. It would also give her a burst, and she didn't need to get far. The Batmobile was parked just a few blocks away, and Batgirl had always been the best at flying through the city. Even Nightwing had been impressed by Babs' ability to fly through the air. It was simple: she'd been born there, and she didn't have Bruce's girth.

Damien didn't seem sorrowful at what he did; there was no regret in him, at least none in his voice. Batgirl mentally spat more curses, and her frustration only mounted as she heard his words. He blamed her? No, not quite blame, but he called her cowardly, as though she'd had a choice in the matter. She'd tried, but she hadn't been able, couldn't have been there when it mattered. The weight of that bore down on her even without Damien standing there announcing it to the night. Barbara felt anger rising in her chest, demanding that she seek retribution for it.

But no; Damien had always been the best fighter of the family. Only Bruce had been close; Tim had barely managed to survive his encounter with the assassin. Batgirl knew that she couldn't win an outright confrontation, especially while fighting a drug and Damien's personal demons. So when Damien moved forward, Batgirl didn't move to attack. She had minutes, and she fully intended to use them. If nothing else, she should be able to get away, to get somewhere where she could lick her wounds.

So when Damien drew swords, Batgirl drew a bathook. She fired it above and behind her, not even needing to look. It latched onto a gargoyle, yanking the much lighter female into the air and out of the leg swings. He'd hit only air, and his target would be whizzing through the air, far out of his reach. Batgirl could only hope to keep running and keep away.

How much time do I have? Five minutes? Three?

RE: Why you should fear the dark

Damian stopped his assault, calmly picking up his thrown blades and sheathing his weapons. He had given the woman a chance at going out with honour, yet even know she was running with her tail between her legs, similar as she had done then, or so he told himself. He made uploaded a link to the local police department and notified them that criminals had been sighted at his location. The link was untraceable and would dissolve the second it was uploaded, even then it was send from a unknown location.

He glanced at his left wrist and opened up one of his armguards, watching a small screen that displayed any vehicle that used Wayne tech. The girl might be smart, brilliant even, yet she would be hard pressed to reroute or rewrite every bit of tech in the vehicles that were frequently used by Batman and his associates. He traced the whereabouts of the nearest one and rushed towards it, staying within the shadows. He was shadow born and thus would claim it for his own, letting the woman have the rooftops and what not.

In his youth he would have easily taken her, simply lighter on his feet and better trained. He now had more bulk and weight on him, slowing him down. He was still the better sprinter due to his increased strength, yet a pursuit in the air or long-distance would be only in her favour.
He stalked the area and soon found the vehicle he was looking for, hiding underneath a thin cover that hid its heat signature. He was tempted to go near it, yet knew not what the woman had prepared there or if she was already there. If he didn’t find her within five minutes he would backtrack and stalk her tracks, no doubts finding her somewhere on the rooftops.

For now he simply was content with calming his anger and observing his surroundings, playing the waiting game.

RE: Why you should fear the dark

Batgirl flew through the air, darting from rooftop to rooftop as she'd been trained. Years of working alongside Batman and Nightwing had practically given Batgirl actual wings. She barely had to flare out her cape, almost didn't seem to need the line from the Bathook. Within minutes, she was back where she'd left the Batmobile, still idling and waiting for her. The Batgirl landed on a nearby fire escape, looking down at the vehicle that represented her best chance for salvation.

There hadn't been any reason to change the locks or wiring; why would Batgirl go through the effort when she was the only one who knew? That hadn't been the reason behind the downfall of the rest of her family. Still, Batgirl hesitated, panting and staring down at the vehicle. Surely she beat Damien here. Maybe if he'd been younger still, or more familiar with the city. But Damien had never been one to care for that side of crimefighting. He'd always been the fighter, nearly a weapon to be pointed at the enemy. He didn't know Gotham like she did, like most of the family. Plus, even at his best, Damien shouldn't have been able to keep up with Barbara.

Her pulse pounded in her ear, and Batgirl trembled. She didn't have time to sit and debate. Either Damien had beat her or he hadn't; the end result was likely to be very similar either way. Batgirl began stealthily dropping down. At least, she intended to be stealthy. Her tightened muscles meant a poor fall onto a trash bin. Batgirl hissed at the noise. It hadn't been a clatter, but it had been noticeable. In truth, she'd been lucky not to hurt herself; injured, she'd stand even less of a chance than she did now.

Batgirl hurried to the Batmobile, casting aside all hesitation and stealth for several seconds. She needed to get there, and she needed to get there now. Her pulse roared in her ears, reminding her that she had minutes at best, and likely much, much less. All this movement couldn't be helping the poison, and for all Barbara knew, the stim had accelerated the effects. The roof of the vehicle was already sliding open, the dim lights of the cockpit beckoning to Batgirl, promising safety from the night and the new terror that stalked her within it.

RE: Why you should fear the dark

Noise from afar, next up was movement from the vehicle. She herself was closer to the vehicle than he was, seeing as he liked to keep a distance between him and his prey. If he had tried to reach the vehicle she would have beaten him to it. Still, the second she neared it was the second he rushed towards it and her. He flashed from shadow to shadow, sprinting in a way only assassins could, not matter the bulk they had.

He watched her nearing the vehicle and almost display a relieved smile on her face, only to vanish quickly when the door to the vehicle closed once more, Damian pressing the device on his wrist again. The car still responded to the same frequency and the auto locking mechanism worked fine. It wasn’t something that would keep her out, seeing as she only had to push a button, yet it would cost her another couple of seconds before she opened the door. He ran as fast as he could, arms flinging knives at the door to force her to step away from them as he neared her, eyes wide and lips drawn into a feral snarl.

“HOW DARE YOU RUN!!”

He barked as he finally reached her, seeing her climb into the car and trying to close it. He grabbed the door with one hand and forced himself upon her, cramping the car with their combined weight and bulk. If she had strength left, now was the time to use it, force him out before she either passed out or he do something worse.

RE: Why you should fear the dark

{please be careful with controlling my characters. It's one thing to anticipate actions and reactions, but please don't write what my character is doing until I do it.}

The relief that Batgirl had felt bubbling up quickly diminished. It had been fleeting at best, a shot in the dark, but it had been what she had. Now Barbara knew she had to act and act quickly. Unfortunately, she could feel the drug swarming through her veins, dumping its toxic load into her as it went. Her quickened pulse had always been the enemy, and now it took advantage and struck.

This did not stop Batgirl from moving. She forced herself forward, spinning over the vehicle. The movement was noisy, clumsy for a member of the Bat family, but it worked, it put distance between Batgirl and this deranged mockery of the cowl. She heard the lock switch and she muttered curses. She reached to her own belt and it soon unlocked. Knives hit the door and she had to dodge around them. This gave Damien all the time he needed; soon he was near her, screaming at her.

"Well, you didn't seem like you wanted to talk," she shot back. At least her tongue still moved at the normal speed. She worked at the door, trying to duck into the car. He beat her to the distance, using his greater strength to press against the door and barrel her away. Batgirl hissed as she felt him push against her, and she knew she had to fight.

A batarang appeared in her hand and she tried to fling it. She had knockout gas, and she was already fumbling at her belt, trying to pull it free. Already her mind spun and her body felt sluggish. she could still move, still fight, and she intended to do so for as long as she still had breath.

Which Batgirl guessed was a minute, tops. She had to hope to catch him off balance enough to get into the car and pass out. That was her only hope at this point. Either that or that another cape would miraculously appear, and even then, Batgirl wasn't sure she wanted that. Something told her that Damien would have dealt with another person with cruel efficiency.

RE: Why you should fear the dark

He backed off, thinking she was getting a bit desperate and fighting like a cornered animal, more inclined to use thing at her disposal. He did not trust people who were cornered, seeing as they usually began to forget thing such as morality and code of conduct. He unsheathed his swords and slid both of them past the hinges in the door, making closing the door a hassle to say the least. This in itself was quite the easy task, yet not when you had a sharp object flying towards your face. He dodged her attack narrowly, taking a small graze on the side of his cowl, an insult to his lineage itself.

“What use is it to talk? You always run, like the coward you are.” He barked, kicking up dirt from the ground and backing of further, his own knives at the ready, his own anger rising like a typhoon. The Lazarus pit had a tendency to make men more ruthless, even berserk in some stages. He still remembered how he had destroyed nearly everything in the room when he resurfaced from the pits, beating against rocks and howling like a man possessed. He eyed her like a animal, staying away in case she threw the canister towards him.

“You left us to die! You killed our family and shattered any hope for Gotham!” He barked, throwing a blade between her and the car to keep her on her edge. It wouldn’t be long now, seconds at best. “But I managed to crawl out of the abyss of death; a spectre fuelled by revenge. I shall make you pay, traitor. I shall make you remember every last bit. Now stop running like a rat and face the inevitable.” He commented as he threw his own smoke-pellets and backed off, throwing some blades in random directions to create noise and distract her.

RE: Why you should fear the dark

At least Batgirl wasn't the only one fighting like an animal. She wasn't sure what Damien's issue was, what would make him so angry and so enraged. Well, beyond what he kept saying, that is, which was delusional. Somewhere in the back of Barbara's brain she dimly recalled something about the Lazarus Pit. She'd never really been in front of those missions, but she'd heard stories from Bruce and Dick, horror stories.

Blades in the way as always, with Batgirl barely twisted out of their path. She still felt them slicing at her, cutting tears in her uniform. He was barking insults at her, calling her a coward, and Batgirl had to laugh at that. "Run? I'm the one who's been protecting the city for the last few years. Where were... where were... you," gah, her brain felt foggier than ever, her body sluggish and ready to give in. Batgirl was certain that she was running on pure adrenaline now, likely on that stim. Stabbing herself with another would produce all kinds of side effects. No, she was going to lose, plain and simple.

Left him to die, shattered hope, more words that Batgirl half recognized as the sort that she would say herself in her darker moments. She'd moved toward the car only to find another blade there. It tore into her glove, meeting the fabric and bouncing, sparks flying everywhere. Climb out of the pit of death, yeah, that definitely meant Lazarus Pit. Batgirl should have figured: that was Talia's thing, wasn't it? Stop running.

Smoke-pellets, blades. Batgirl twisted, her cape fluttering, catching blades, ripping. She felt smoke fill her lungs and she collapsed, falling hard. The wind left her and the world spun. Still, she fumbled and fought, grasping at her belt. But the spinning world wasn't going to let her keep going. The last attempt wasn't even a weapon. Batgirl pushed an emergency beacon, hoping, praying that someone was paying attention.

Then darkness, likely the same darkness that Damien Wayne had climbed from, claimed Batgirl, claimed Barbara Gordon, crushing her light and thought.

RE: Why you should fear the dark

Damian rushed towards her when she reached for her emergency broadcasting device, yet sadly was too late. The smoke that surrounded her had made the fight easier, but also give her the opportunity to call for backup. He found the device and was tempted to deactivate it, yet thought better of it. If he were to destroy it now, cut off the signature, there would no doubt be help within the day, best if he made the broadcast erratic. He switched it on and off a few times, as if the activation was accidental, then throwing the device underneath a nearby dumpster.

It wouldn’t be the first time that an emergency broadcast was activated in a fight or pursuit, often ending up with a good laugh or a flick underneath the nose. Hopefully the erratic on and off would be interpreted as the device falling on the ground a few times before sliding underneath he dumpster. He would have a few days before they actively would start searching her, perhaps more or less depending on circumstance. He lifted her still frame and threw her in the backseat of the car, inspecting her wounds there, although there was little that needed treatment. He had sought out to kill her this evening, yet something inside of him decided to spare her, for now. He thought it was kindness that Bruce had instilled, yet in truth it was something much darker.

He cleared the crime scene to the best of his ability; removing all the blades, signs of struggle, broken smoke pellets, etc. He then drove off with his captive, mind still somewhat confused and enraged. He led her to Batman’s ‘safe house’, a storage room located underneath the bat cave that was reinforced with lead and steel, making it the perfect hiding place from a kryptonian, not to mention a tough baby to crack open. It wasn’t as specious, yet Damian did not require much room. He parked her car in the remains of the batcave, then carrying her through the hidden passage into the safe house. Batman had designed it to be safe from superman or to contain him within. There was also the last supply of kryptonite in there; numerous shapes and colours.

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“Wake up!”

He said with a bark, a hand slamming against her cheek, making it sting for another hour or so. The drugs would have mostly left her system by now, the counteractive substance already been injected. She would find herself on her side, arms tied behind her back with strong plastic bindings, holding her arms behind her back in a straight line, forcing her chest outwards. Each digit was spread apart by a small wedge of steel, removing her ability to grasp things or claw her way out. Her legs themselves were spread apart by a steel rod in a 90 degree angle, again tied in place with the plastic bindings. She would find herself still in her outfit, although she was properly searched. He had frisked her completely and removed every bit of lose armour from her, leaving just her suit that she wore underneath.

“Now, before we begin with the name calling and the why’s and how’s, let me ask you this;
How much do you truly know about my past, the time before Bruce took me in.” He asked her calmly, as if this was all normal and to be expected. He was in his suit, yet the cowl was removed, letting her see his young frame, yet much older than when she had seen him last. Once or twice she could see those brilliant blue eyes flaring up, getting a bright yellow hue.

RE: Why you should fear the dark

Consciousness came slowly to Barbara Gordon. True, she may be Batgirl, the only Bruce ordained wearer of the cowl still stalking the streets of Gotham, but Barbara had always been a lightweight when it came to certain things. Drugs had always hit her frail body harder than any of the other Bat family, and she'd always taken just a little longer to return from unconsciousness than the rest of them. Nightwing had often joked that it was because Barbara was so much more a creature of the day than the rest of the family. She was the commissioner's daughter, someone who belonged on the proper side of the law, not wearing a cape and stalking the night.

Those thoughts fluttered through Batgirl's mind as she felt the sting ringing in her cheek. Bruce or Dick wouldn't have fallen like this. Hell, even Tim probably would have prepared for a poison. He'd always been the one to think ahead. The ringing in Barbara's cheek nearly carried to her head. She forced her blue eyes upward, looking to the demented young man who had become her captor.

He'd been younger than her, Damien Wayne. Not by much, a few years, but he'd been younger. Now he looked decidedly older and bigger. Batgirl shifted and could feel the bonds holding her in place, even her fingers. The boy would know how to bind someone, wouldn't he? Batgirl fought against the panic that released a flock of bats into her insides. She licked her lips, listening as Damien spoke, trying to use his voice to better orient her still troubled mind.

"Not a whole lot," she admitted, turning back to look at him again. "He told me what he told most of us: you were his son, trained by the League of Shadows, and we were working to make sure that their influence didn't affect you too strongly. Guess we failed," this last had been shot like a barb. All Damien had left Barbara was her tongue, and she fully intended to use it. No belt, no gear; he'd even removed her spiked gloves. No, Barbara had her wits and her tongue and she intended to use both for as long as she could.

RE: Why you should fear the dark

“I see.” He simply commented before grabbing a small stool and placing it in front of her, his large hands gripping her by the shoulders and helping her sit on her knees, with the spreader bar holding her legs wide apart. “My mother tough me a great many things, things my father wished I would never even heard of, yet they make me who I am. I promised father that I would follow his creed, yet he failed because of you. It is because you were a cowered that I am forced to pick up my old habits once more.” He flashed her a small smile, similar as how he had done as a child years ago. He grabbed a small knife from his boot as he stood up again, letting her see the small, yet sharp blade. He began to walk around her body and stopped until he was behind her, holding one of her fingers and placing the blade gently against the skin in vertical way.

“There are so many ways of torturing someone; physically, mentally, social, financial, emotionally. My grandfather preferred physically; cutting large lines in fingers and toes, then using pliers to pull out the distal phalanges one by one, then switch on to the intermediate and proximal ones, reducing a person to simply flapping flesh. He would keep them alive for years, slowly reducing function until there was nothing more than sacks of flesh, swapping the bone parts with small jagged metal pieces, inflicting constant agony.” He pressed the blade against her skin, using his free hand to hold her finger in place, painfully. He did not cut, yet gave her quite the scare, if she was susceptible to such a thing. He simply pricked the tip of one of her digits, causing only a mild pain, yet it would no doubt serve as a reminder for a long time.

He released her finger and moved back towards her, sitting back onto his stool. “Combining his methods with the Lazarus pit I have in my possession, your torture could be centuries, all filled with brutal pain that would never lessen. Would you like that?” He asked, face calm and almost serene. Whatever she said, he would simply observe her and then continue. “My father preferred to use fear, yet sadly you are somewhat immune to that, having had his training and love.” He narrowed his eyes at that, nonverbally letting her know that it wasn’t right that she had received his father’s love, seeing as she had let him down in the end.

“That leaves my beloved mother, cursed be her name, yet she was effective at this type of thing. He placed a thick black bag over her face, blocking her sight, yet not her hearing and smell. “She preferred psychological warfare, removing the ability to see, smell or hear, just feel. Then.. when you least expect it…” He pricked a small needle against her lower lip, irritating the skin there. “she would hurt you, sometimes several times a day, sometimes leaving you alone for months. The only thing that was certain was the pain that would arrive, the one constant thing in your live. Each prick would feel more painful the next day, even worse the day afterwards.” He pricked her another time, this time in the finger that he had already pricked with the blade before. She wouldn’t have heard him move, he was too trained for that.

“I am not my grandfather, not my mother, and I will never be the man my father was… So, what would my method be, hmm?”

RE: Why you should fear the dark

Wow, so Damien had picked up his love of monologuing from his grandfather. Or maybe this was just a side effect of the Pit: you couldn't help but come out of it convinced of your own brilliance and simply dying to share it with the world. Batgirl couldn't say for certain; she hadn't met Ra'z all that often, and as far as she knew, Talia had never used the Pit. For a moment there though, she really thought that Damien's idea was to talk her to death.

He had to realize that she'd experienced this before. Not quite this, but so many situations that were virtually identical to this. Bruce put nearly every protege through an eerily similar situation, barking orders at them even as he tortured them, kept them awake for days at a time, or, Barbara's personal least favorite, kept them awake with the sound of barking dogs or loud music. A handful of villains had kidnapped Barbara in the same manner. Usually they wanted to keep her alive as bait for the Bat or the Bird. Which meant torture of some kind, often accompanied by leers or comments about the little Bat-wench.

Though she could have done without the name-calling. Batgirl was tempted to say so, to call out Damien for resorting to such a measure. But she knew it was better to remain silent, at least for now. Let him talk out his issues and pretend not to be bored or to be thinking of a way of escaping this whole mess. Torture methods, starting with the grandfather. The description did make Barbara wince; who wouldn't on hearing something like that? No noise came from her as he pricked her finger. Batgirl could feel a little trickle of blood welling at the contact side, barely more than a droplet. Though she'd be loathe to admit it, Barbara had been scared, for a moment there she honestly thought that he'd come up with some secret League torture technique that Bruce hadn't used during those grueling days.

But no, more talk. Talk about Batman's favorite method, as if the entire Bat family didn't know and use it. Even Damien knew that. Then on to his mother. This method, what Damien described now, actually set Barbara's heart racing. Her mind, like most of the family's, was analytical. She was able to handle things so well because she thought them through. A random pattern, random pain, it could wreck even her. Still, she made no noise as her lip was pricked, nor a sound as pain returned to her finger. Damien still spoke, still taunted, still monologued.

"I don't suppose your method would be to talk someone into submission?" Batgirl asked, turning to look at him, a smirk twisting her face for a moment. She didn't even bother to struggle, and she could certainly bury the fear that she felt welling up in her chest. If it was one thing a Bat could do well, it was bury fear.

RE: Why you should fear the dark

Damian smiled back, eyes flickering yellow for a few seconds before they returned to its sapphire blue. “You have to forgive my tedious long speeches, for how often is it within my grasp to take on the role of evil plotter, hmm?” He said, placing a hand underneath her jaw and forcing her to look at him. “Enjoy it while it last, for when I stop speaking, you wish will wish otherwise.” He showed her the knife again, placing the tip against her throat and slowly moving downwards, not painful enough to mark or scar the skin, yet ample enough pressure to be unpleasant. He stopped moving when he reached the line of outfit, teasing a little cut in the fabric there.

“I am going to do what Bruce would want me to do; not physically harm you. Instead, I am going to do something worse, much, much worse. You hate me, I hate you, you despise me, I despise you. You know how to steel yourself against pain, torture, scolding and trauma, yet not the reversal. I am going to make you feel so good that you feel hatred towards your own mind and body, let shame eat you up from within. I am going to break you with pleasure, reduce you to a whimpering hound in heat. Nothing is worse than craving the person that you hate.” He waited for her to speak, scold him or similar things, if not he would simply force her mouth open. The minute it opened, he forced his fingers against her cheeks, pushing them inwards and preventing her from closing them again, holding it open.



His free hand then placed the device inside her mouth, forcing the steel frame to keep it open permanently. She could still speak and communicate, yet it would be with a slurred tone. The gag prevented her from properly keeping all the saliva in her mouth, unless she forced herself to swallow more frequently. She was always so prim and proper, the neat one of the pack. How would she like being a drooling bat from no on?

He hooked it up behind her cowl and grinned at the sight, seeing a batgirl with a spider gag in her mouth. Mentally he scolded himself for not having made a bat design. He grabbed a small camera and began taping her, capturing every part of her kneeling frame and enjoying the sights. “A little something for your father, seeing as he is no doubt worried sick about you.” Damian said, using his other hand to slowly begin cutting the fabric in a straight line, exposing more and more of her flesh the more inches of fabric he removed. A full three minutes later he had cut a precise straight line in her outfit, moving from the tip of her neck down to crotch, exposing the woman that as underneath.

“Any last words before we begin?” He said in a more serious tone, placing the camera on the stool in front of her.

RE: Why you should fear the dark

Not physically harm her? Well, that was something, Batgirl supposed. Still, it left her confused, her mind whirling with possibilities. All she could think of were brainwashing techniques, of which Damien no doubt knew many. That was his plan, to brainwash her? But barely had Batgirl's mind landed on that when he kept going. She... hated him? Barbara didn't hate Damien. She certainly didn't like the creature that he had become, didn't appreciate the attack, but she didn't hate him. Never had. The words shocked as much as they stung, and she stared at him, confusion crossing her face for a moment.

Feel good? Pleasure? Suddenly Batgirl did hate him. "So you're going to brainwash me you sick fu--" she managed before something shoved between her lips. Batgirl let out a muffled yell, tried to bite and spit up, but only managed to leak more from her mouth. Soon the gag parted her lips, leaving her mouth in a permanent "O". Batgirl defiantly bit down, her muscles straining for several seconds. It didn't budge, not that she really expected it too.

The knife came again, trailing along her. Batgirl barely tensed as she felt it against her. Then it went down, cutting along the suit that held her body. This was technically her undergarment. That had often been a complaint of the Family. How the suits could cling to you, how Bruce apparently liked clinging bodysuits all too much. He'd suggested that they try and come up with something else that would be protective and thin, and when nobody had come up with something, the argument dropped.

Now though, now Batgirl wished she'd had another suit underneath. For the slice bared the lean body underneath. Barbara's flesh was pale, almost ghost white thanks to hours spent under the light of the moon. Her abs were tight though, tight as an athlete, tight as a gymnast, and now showed off to this perverse tormenter. Adding insult to injury was the claim that he recorded it, that he would show it to her father. Surely he wouldn't be that stupid. The commissioner wouldn't rest till his daughter was found if he knew about her. Damien would be fighting every officer in Gotham. No, it was a bluff, but a bluff that stung and brought water to Barbara's blue eyes nonetheless.

Even Batgirl's crotch was exposed, to some degree. The suit forced you to shave off much of your body hair, meaning that Barbara was nearly bare beneath. She took some solace in knowing that at least her nether lips hadn't been completely bared yet. Red would show on her pale cheeks though, emblazoned there by the knowledge that he knew her grooming habits. She spat venom at him, but it only came out as drool. The girl hurriedly swallowed, but still some of it dangled from her lips, as he no doubt intended.

Damn him. And damn that Pit.

RE: Why you should fear the dark

He smiled at her, placing the knife back in the holder on his boot and simply admiring her for a few minutes…. Very, very long minutes. Hid right index finger occasionally brushed aside the torn suit somewhat, exposing her flesh somewhat. “Little bat girl is still little I see.” He joked playfully, placing his index finger on her left nipple and teasing it, occasionally flicking his finger at it, causing some jolts of discomfort. “Now, here is the deal. I am going to pleasure you each and every day in multiple sessions, depending on my own schedule. You get a chance at shortening those sessions by telling me a safe code, and meaning it. For today it is ‘I feel good’.

He then grabbed her uniform and tore it further open, making the tear between her thighs widen even further, exposing her flesh and letting her folds come into contact with the outside air. He fastened the back of her spidergag with a chain, fastening it to the sealing. She was permanently pinned to that location, not able to lie down something similar. He then grabbed an item from underneath the stool and tied it around her waist, then fastening a smooth round object between her thighs, pressing the head against her womanhood.

“Now let’s read the manual, shall we?” He said with a boyish grin, grabbing a small paper and reading it out loud. Her brilliant mind would no doubt already have realised that it was a powerful vibrator, one aimed directly at her most sensitive areas.

“1- Low Steady
2- Medium Steady
3- High Steady
4- Escalating
5- Rapid Pulse
6- Slower Pulse
7- A series of pulses, a few fast then once extended pulse
8- A combination of the pulse and escalating patterns”

He whistled after that, reading it again and turning the page, letting her see it. He grabbed the small device that controlled it and programmed the setting, letting her see what he was programming. He set her to mode one; Low and steady for a duration of five minutes. He then counted down from five and pressed start, placing the device next to the camera that was monitoring her. If she wanted to see how long she had left, she would have to look in the camera. Damian left her field of sight when it began, stepping in a dark corner of the room where the camera and herself wouldn’t be able to see him. He wasn’t going to give her a clear way to hate him, in turn putting of a potential orgasm. He was using this mode just to see what he was dealing with.

RE: Why you should fear the dark

Ugh, that look, Barbara had seen that look before. She'd always been naturally pretty, and puberty had graced her well. True, she didn't have quite the voluptuous body of many of her cohorts. Even some of her fellow Teen Titans were better endowed than Barbara's modest bust. But she had that lean look that so many favored, some even preferring it to the busty alternative. Now Barbara felt to keep her breath steady, to prevent trembles from happening. Despite her best efforts, little goosebumps would appear on her flesh. Cold was a new sensation, though she'd adapt quickly.

Then his hand played with Batgirl's nipple. She hissed, trying to turn it into a swallow, sucking down more of her own spit. The little comment caused a flutter of anger, reminding her of precisely what she'd just been thinking. he already had her captive, gagged, and half stripped, now he had to make comments about how small her chest was? Clearly he actually wanted her to hate him as much as he hated her, which really only made Barbara pity him. That pity even stayed as he listed a safe code, and Barbara wondered if he'd ever even had a woman prior to this.

Probably, she told herself; he was handsome and it was entirely likely that he'd practiced, figuring that he'd have Batgirl like this some day. Batgirl shifted, trying to get into a better position. But he'd torn at her uniform, parting more of her body, more modest, perky breasts, more washboard abs, more of her bared sex, even her thighs: velvet smooth skin wrapped around hard muscle. Soon an object appeared between her legs, its head pressing against the thin slit. Barbara recognized it almost immediately and had to fight against a groan. She again turned it into a swallow. Soon she'd have too many fronts, and Damien knew it. Barbara already made the mental decision to start drooling before she showed any signs of pleasure. Better that than the alternative.

The manual, and the last, oh, that last sounded almost painful. Barbara had gotten a vibrator before. Nearly every superheroine she'd ever met had one and they sometimes talked. From what Barbara heard, Wonder Woman still had "Bruce" tucked away somewhere. Still, this had never been part of Barbara's play. Hell, she'd only had one man between her legs, and he was gone now. So when the vibration started she couldn't help but let out a small noise. She soon fought it down.

Damn, this would be a lot easier if it didn't actually feel good she thought, pinching her eyes shut for a moment. It had been ages since Barbara had taken care of her personal needs. She'd been too busy being Batgirl to tend to such petty matters. It had been even longer since, since she'd had a real lover between her legs. Still, she had training, oodles of it. There were a few strained seconds, but soon after, Barbara's breathing was steady. At this setting, she could even still keep her drool in her mouth. She sucked deep and stared defiantly at the camera. It was a challenge: Damien would have to try a hell of a lot harder than this if he expected to even make a dent in Batgirl's willpower. She wasn't even stressing this. The vibration almost made her relax, as though it were a massage wand instead of a pleasure toy. Yeah, Batgirl could do this all evening.

RE: Why you should fear the dark

For five minutes he simply let the device do its thing, let it buzz whilst the camera took it all in. When it finally beeped to demonstrate it was done, he moved, stepping back in front of her again. “Good girl. I figured you would be well practised in these sort of things. No doubt you had plenty of time to practise whilst we bleed and died.” He programmed the machine again, five minutes on medium steady. The vibrations would double in frequency and also feel more powerful. “And step two.” He commented, placing the device down again, next to the camera. What hit her next was double what she had slowly gotten used to.

Damian took his corner again, watching the young girl with a curious expression. Even on this stage she would no doubt be quite resilient, or at least try to be. He knew it was a fragile state of mind, something he could interrupt or shatter completely. So whilst the device entered the second minute he moved closer towards her, grabbing the bits of fabric and tearing a larger gap, revealing her rear and lower back to him. He knelt downwards and slowly squeezed her behind, feeling the tight muscles she kept within. He knew that she would probably loathe his touch, yet loathing would also require concentration. Could the girl manage to concentrate on two physical stimuli at the same time?

When the third minute began she would feel his hand leaving her, yet one index finger now began to trace a circle around her rectum, teasing the skin there and threatening to slip inside her tight rear at any moment.

RE: Why you should fear the dark

Five minutes, and they actually flew by. If anything, Barbara felt more relaxed, more confident by the time they passed. If she could, she would have smirked as Damien moved once more. The Batgirl barely even felt a tingle down below, and she certainly wasn't showing it outwardly. Okay, if you paid attention you'd see a slight flush, or that her little pink nipples, little eraser caps atop the pale snowballs, were slightly strained. Considering what she experienced, the Batgirl looked more as if she'd gone on a short run.

The maniac moved; the machine kicked up. Barbara stiffened as she felt the vibrations increase, rubbing along her sex. She kept that position, her muscles locked, a few sucking breaths coming from her, for several long seconds, over a minute. Then Batgirl got on top of the vibrations, though it took quite a bit. The redhead relaxed just slightly, moving back into position, letting her body take what it could. Once more she could fight against the arousal, not show this pervert even the slightest hint that this affected her. Again, Batgirl's confidence soared. So long as he kept going up by steps, kept adding just a little, she could keep up. Oh, it would strain her, especially as the number increased, but Batgirl could handle it. She'd handled much, much worse.

Then Damien moved. Batgirl's eyes followed him, the blue tracing his every movement. He moved behind her. She heard fabric, then felt it pull, then tear against her. The cool air touched her lower back, touched her rear. A hand descended, touching the tight steel of Barbara Gordon's ass. The redhead tightened again, her eyes going wide. Her hips rolled, shifting to try and accommodate the new sensation. She'd heard of playing with the back door before; Power Girl swore by it, but it had never interested Barbara, not in the slightest. Nonetheless, she could feel the hand now, playing with her butt, kneading the tight flesh there.

Then a finger teased Babs' asshole. She let out a sharp cry, her body arching. A little drool leaked from around her mouth and her sex spasmed a little. That new intrusion was most definitely not welcome. Batgirl pinched her eyes shut, sucking in several new breaths. He hadn't entered her, just teased. He probably wouldn't. Damien Wayne wouldn't dirty his finger. Barbara was freaking out for nothing. Batgirl could handle this. she took several trembling breaths, her breasts quaking with the effort. Then she relaxed again, releasing the tension, nearly falling in. Let him try; she was Batgirl, she wore the cowl for a reason.

RE: Why you should fear the dark

“Good girl.” He said, moving around her again and kneeling, making sure they were at eye level. She could see in his eyes that he did not care about her resistance, even enjoying it a fair bit. “I think you are all warmed up.” He said, moving towards the device and programming it for the next five minutes, setting it to rapid pulses and at 50% maximum power. So far she had handle 10 and 30%. The device was placed next to the camera. “You might want to say your last words to dear old daddy, seeing as the next few moments are going to be spend moaning like some bitch in heat.” He teased her, placing a small bowl underneath her gender and placing his own hand against her womanly folds. He spread them apart somewhat and made sure that the device was properly placed against her clitoris.

He dabbed as much fluid from her gender as he could, bringing the bowl to her mouth and letting her inhale her own scent. “What is that, you want a taste?” He said in a mocking way before gripping her head tightly and forcing her to look upwards, seconds later pouring the small amount of her fluid inside of her gaping mouth. He held her face like that en replaced the bowl again, placing it underneath her. She could then hear the device beeping, letting her know that it was about to begin.
So, with her own essence in her mouth and a machine that would be overwhelmingly powerful, how would the little bat react next?

Damian would simply hold her for a minute before stepping back again, hiding behind her back.
She did not know that he was going to break her in a much more subtle way.

RE: Why you should fear the dark

All warmed up? A jolt of fear hit Barbara's gut at that. But what else would he say? He had to taunt her, had to promise more. It was practically required of perverts like him. As was the promise of future, well, in this case pleasure, but still. Batgirl's eyes followed him as he set the device, likely increasing it by the next power increment. Honestly, this was almost funny, and Batgirl had to fight against the laugh. As Damien told her to say goodbye to her father, Barbara looked defiantly at the camera, as if promising it that she wouldn't break.

Of course, Damien had to move again. Batgirl gasped as she felt the hand playing with her sex. She could feel the moisture that had gathered upon her tight lips like dew upon the petals of a flower. The questing fingers acted the part of the bird, scooping up the nectar. Or perhaps they were a bee, parting the petals to bare the secret insides to the thrumming device. For soon the wand pressed against that most secret, most sensitive of areas, against that little button of nerves that lay beneath the folds of every woman, protected from such intrusion...

that button which Barbara had only had played with once. Dick had found it, but she'd never been able to locate it on her own, never needed to. So when the new fingers pressed on it, the new vibration, Batgirl couldn't fight. For a second, the defenses crumbled and she moaned the throaty moan of an aroused woman. Her body shook and trembled. Juices dribbled from those parted lips, falling into the container. Internal walls trembled and shook. The already hardening nipples went taut. Blood flowed to all Barbara's most sensitive areas.

The bowl raised, bringing a sweetly heavy aroma: her own juices. Batgirl felt her stomach retching at the thought. He wouldn't; no, no he most definitely would. Batigirl's head tilted back, her open mouth providing an easy tunnel. Juices slid down her throat, her own flavor filling her mouth. Batgirl sputtered and spat, a few juices leaking from around her gaping lips, drizzling down to mix with the drool. Her head's position meant that Batgirl had just allowed the juices to flow down her own body, trailing over her neck and onto her breasts, leaving glistening trails.

The bowl went beneath her trembling sex. The device beeped, and vibrations began, right upon her tender button. Batgirl's hips jerked, her body rotating. The vibrations seemed to be hitting all the way through her, ringing every pleasure bell they could along the way. The resonations of pleasure rocked through the trembling teen crimefighter. She pinched her eyes shut, groaning, desperately trying to fight it. Drool flowed as she gave up that fight, instead tightening her abs, forcing her sex to clamp down. Even with her greatest effort, however, Batgirl couldn't dim the arousal. She felt it mounting on the inside, building steadily toward what Damien wanted. her chest heaved with the effort, the will to not give him whatever he wanted. But she couldn't; it was a losing battle, she just knew it, just knew it...