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Running Rings Round Batman - the end of the caped crusader.

GenderBender

GenderBender

Star
Joined
May 29, 2017
Officer O’Hanlon who the one who rescued Batman.

It was the Batmobile that caught her attention. She had seen it before, but only at a distance. But this time, it was parked down an alley, under a light, almost (she thought later) as if to attract attention. Anyway, it attracted her attention and she went to take a closer look. And very impressed she was, because she liked high performance vehicles, although she didn’t dare touch it, afraid that she might set off an alarm. She did notice a sheet of paper on the driver’s seat, but she couldn’t read what it said and thought no more of it.

As she was leaving, she noticed a door ajar, and out of professional instinct she went to investigate. That was when she found a pile of clothing blocking the doorway and stopping the door from closing. But it was no ordinary clothing. It was all black and made of some high tech material. And, when she took it closer to the light, she recognised it as the sort of gear that Batman wore. Which naturally made her curious. So she went inside, lighting her path with her torch.

She heard a moaning from a room to her left, killed her light and cautiously slipped into the room before switching on her torch again. The beam picked up a figure on the floor. She swung the beam to pick up the light switch and flicked it on, flooding the room in harsh light that revealed a man, tied to rings set into the concrete, his arms stretched above his head and his legs spread wide. He was naked except for a black leather mask and a white silk thong. And his mouth was gagged.

Her first action was to remove the gag, which she tossed aside. ‘Thank you,’ the man croaked. ‘Get me out of this will you, officer.’

As O’Hanlon released his wrists, she asked the obvious question. ‘Are you really Batman or is some sort of fancy dress game?’

The man eased his aching shoulders as he released his ankles. ‘No, this isn’t a game. I really am Batman.’

O’Hanlon was now uncomfortably aware that she was kneeling next to an almost naked caped crusader, who had obviously come off the worse in his latest fight against some dastardly villain from Gotham’s underworld. ‘Who did this to you?’ she asked, almost in awe of anyone who could overcome the hero of all decent citizens of this crime infected metropolis.

But Batman did not answer. ‘Did you see my clothes anywhere?’ She nodded over her shoulder and added, ‘the Batmobile is outside.’

Batman scrambled to his feet only to stumble as his legs failed to take his weight. ‘I’ll get your clothes while you get yourself back on your feet,’ she told him. It was unsettling to see this man in such a state that he needed her to help him dress. Not that she minded.

‘Thank you,’ he said as he finally was able to stand unaided, now restored to his Batsuit. ‘It’s Officer O’Hanlon,’ his eyes were reading the badge on her chest and, possibly, the way it moved up and down as she breathed deeply. She nodded. ‘I won’t forget this,’ his eyes held hers now. She knew there was more to come, and come it did. ‘Officer, you won’t, eeerrr, mention this to anyone, will you.’ She shook her head and he was gone.

As he left, she picked up the gag and examined it. A pair of woman’s panties, satin with lace trim, electric blue in colour. And, she sniffed, yes, no doubt about it, they had been worn since they had last been washed. Recently too if she was any judge.

Batman would curse himself later for not taking the gag, but he had something else to think about when he got into the Batmobile. The sheet of paper on his seat contained a message: BE GRATEFUL I LEFT YOUR CLOTHES.

From the shadows further down the alley, a figure watched him drive away and, a few minutes later, the figure of Office O’Hanlon walking off to continue her patrol as she pushed the discarded panties into her pocket.
 
Batman lay soaking his aching muscles in the bath, cursing himself for being so stupid as to get trapped that easily. It was easy to see how it can be done, looking back. He would have to be more careful in future.

But the immediate problem was to find out who had done that to him. It had, he realised, been a long term plan, which had been set in motion months before. If he could understand why, that would lead him to the person behind this. But he had no idea why anyone would go to that much trouble. And there wasn’t much to help him find out who was doing it.

In fact, there were only two clues. One were those panties that had been used to gag him. He hadn’t got much of a look at them, but he knew from their feel that they were satin and lace, and from their taste that they were a woman’s and a woman who wanted him to know that. Why or why had he not picked them up? Probably because he wanted to get away from that police officer before she started asking awkward questions. And the other clue? That was the thong he had been dressed in. It wasn’t his, so his assailant had put it on him. Rather than leave him naked perhaps. There was something sexual about this, definitely.

Then another thought popped into his head. What was supposed to happen? Was it part of the plan that he would be found by a police officer, who could be relied on to be discreet? Or didn’t the person, whoever she was, and he was sure it was a she, care? Anyone could have come along and stolen his clothes or found him tied up and photographed him and sold the images or just posted them online or … Yes, that was it, she didn’t care. She just wanted to make a fool of him and let everyone know about it.

But no, that didn’t work, because of the note. She expected him to be reunited with his clothes. So she wanted him to be found at least, and before someone ran off with his clothes. But how could she arrange when the patrol officer would turn up? They kept to a schedule, so maybe that wasn’t too difficult. But anyone could have come along in the meanwhile and he had been there a long time. So that must mean that she was someone nearby to chase off anyone she didn’t want to find him.

This was all too complicated. What Batman needed was to clear his head. Which was why he went down to the Batcave to get into his gear and take the Batmobile for a long drive. Which was when he discovered that it was no longer there. Someone had stolen it. No prize for guessing who. The how was easy too – a tracker. But he had a tracker too. He opened his computer and there it was, the location beacon, somewhere in Gotham, and not so far from where he had been lured yesterday.

So he had to drive himself into Gotham, park his car, change and go pick up the Batmobile. And he arrived to see Officer O’Hanlon standing next to his vehicle. She looked at him sternly.

‘Surely, you know better than to park next to a fire hydrant. I could have had this towed.’

‘Sorry,’ he tried to sound apologetic rather than relieved to find it and annoyed to find her there, ‘I didn’t have a choice, it was an emergency.’ He turned and opened the door.

‘That’s not true.’

He spun and advanced on her, face reddening and fists clenched.

‘And just who are you calling a liar, Officer O’Hara?’

The officer stood her ground.

‘You, Batman, and it’s O’Hanlon, not O’Hara.’

Batman was speechless.

‘There was no emergency. Look, the street is empty. You could have parked anywhere.’

Again, Batman could not find any words.

‘This is connected with yesterday, isn’t it?’ she persisted. ‘Someone tracked you and stole your Batmobile. That’s the truth, isn’t it?’

Batman nodded.

‘Why don’t you move this vehicle away from the hydrant and then tell me what’s going on?’ They were still standing only inches apart, their eyes locked. In the end, he nodded.
 
Officer O’Hanlon listened intently to Batman’s theory of what was going on.

It’s not all bad, though, is it? She – and you must be right about that – left you with your mask on and that thong. So she preserved your identity and your, er, modesty, not that you’ve got anything to be embarrassed about.’ Her eyes dropped to the prominent codpiece that protected Batman’s crotch.

Batman smiled, but did not respond to her remark.

‘And,’ the Officer continued, ‘I have got to be part of this somehow. She wanted you to be found and set it up for me to find you, probably watching close by to fend off anyone else. And parking here, where people seldom pass and no one would report your Batmobile for obstructing a hydrant, except for me on patrol. She wants, how can I put it, she wants to let you know what she is capable of – after all, she overpowered you and tracked you and then drove off in your vehicle – and for the police to know what a fool she is making of you.’

Batman nodded.

‘What worries me,’ he said hesitantly, ‘is what she is planning next. I’ve been lucky so far that you haven’t mentioned this to anyone. Is that what she expected? If so, I don’t know why and if not, what is she making of your silence, assuming she knows about it.’

‘And,’ O’Hanlon added, ‘is she watching us now?’

They turned and scanned the blank windows of the warehouses around them, but failed to see the directional microphone across the street.

‘Look’, Batman broke the silence, ‘why don’t we exchange numbers. You give your cell phone number and I’ll give you the number for the Batalarm, so that we can contact each other whenever we need. What do you say?’

‘I say,’ replied O’Hanlon, ‘how do you know that I am not the one behind this?’

‘I don’t,’ Batman’s reply came after a lot of thought. ‘By the way, what happened to the panties that were used to gag me?’

‘I took them, they’re safely stored in my locker, although they are starting to smell rank, so they’ll need a wash soon.’

Having exchanged numbers they parted.

When Officer O’Hanlon finished her patrol and opened her locker, she found that the panties had gone, but there was a note in their place. I’VE SEEN BABIES WITH A BIGGER PRICK THAT BATMAN. So, someone had been listening.

As Batman got back to his cave, he rounded a bend and found himself staring at a billboard containing a huge photograph of him tied to the table in the warehouse with his mask in place by no thong. He skidded to a halt and tore down the poster, shredding it into tiny pieces that he scattered to the wind.

Then he picked up his phone and called Officer O’Hanlon.
 
Batman and Officer O’Hanlon, now off duty and wearing a leather skirt and jacket with ankle boots, met in a quiet country road.

She told him about the loss of the panties.

‘Damn,’ Batman thumped the bonnet of his Batmobile. ‘That means she must be a police officer.’

‘Or at least have access to the police headquarters and to the locker room,’ O’Hanlon added. ‘And there was this too.’ She had been unsure whether to mention the note, but had decided that Batman had to know all that was happening.

His face reddened as he read the note. He said nothing, but his hands shook.

‘And this is what the poster on the billboard showed, was it?’ the Officer prompted him.

Batman nodded.

‘But that is good, is a way,’ O’Hanlon tried to console him, ‘because it will narrow down who she could be.’

This time Batman shook his head.

‘No, it doesn’t narrow it down, because I don’t sleep around as Batman. No one who has seen me naked knows I am Batman. So, she has to be someone who knows who I really am.’

O’Hanlon thought for a while before disagreeing. ‘No, it doesn’t mean that at all. She may not have known until she stripped you in that warehouse. And anyway,’ another thought came to her, ‘most guys like tiny when they’re soft. So why worry about her seeing you like that?’

Batman reddened again.

‘Ah, actually, no, you see I was hard in the photo.’

His tone did not invite further discussion on the topic.

Time to change the subject.

‘So, tell me how you got enticed into the trap. It didn’t happen by chance.’

‘No,’ Batman took a deep breath, ‘it was carefully plotted. There were some thefts, silly things, street robberies, kids steeling candy from other kids, at least that is what everyone thought.’ O’Hanlon remembered the fuss there had been. ‘But they gradually escalated. They took cell phones, then watches and jewellery. Then wallets and purses. It was obvious this wasn’t just random attacks; they were being co-ordinated. So I took an interest. Mapped out the incidents. Triangulated the locations to find where their base might be. Narrowed it down. Set up surveillance. Finally filmed them entering that warehouse. So that is why I raided the place, expecting to find the mastermind, but instead I was caught from behind and knocked out with chloroform or something like that. Quick and simple. Caught like a fly in a web.’

‘Well, that is where we find out the culprit,’ O’Hanlon tried to sound positive. ‘Those attacks are still happening. I heard the guys talking about them as I was leaving work. We need to keep on her trail. I’ll try to learn as much as I can from the patrol officers and keep you posted.’

Batman smiled and thanked her.

As she was walking back to her car, she turned and called to him. ‘Size really doesn’t matter, you know. And believe me, I am speaking from experience.’’

But Batman did not look convinced.
 
Using the data for street crimes provided by Officer O’Hanlon, Batman was able to plot their pattern and frequency, using his sophisticated software to predict where the criminals might be based. After a week, he had narrowed down the likely locations sufficiently to venture out, taking precautions against any surveillance his adversary might be using to keep track of him.

He kept a low profile, moving across roof tops, up and down fire escapes, along deserted alleys. Occasionally, he caught sight of a tall figure in a long black coat with short wavy blonde hair. This couldn’t be a coincidence. He was sure she was coordinating the crimes and meeting her confederates along the river that ran through the old warehouse district. He was so close that he felt confident that he would have the exact location very soon. That was he let himself off the roof of an abandoned riverside warehouse using his grappling hook and watched the few passers by who were enjoying the sunshine on their lunch break. His view further along was hampered by a bend in the river, so he moved out of cover to move along the front of the building.

The attack when it came was swift. He had just stepped out from the front of the warehouse, when two workmen coming towards him parted as if to pass on either side, but instead grabbed him by his arms, while others emerged from the building and whisked him off his feet. They ran to the edge of the quay and tossed him into the murky water, where he belly flopped with a loud splash.

Onlookers gathered and lights flashed as they filmed and photographed the sight of the famous Batman floundering towards the bank, hampered by his leather cape. At last a hand reached out to help him ashore. It was no surprise to find Officer O’Hanlon, off duty and wearing denim shorts, white t-shirt and cork wedges.

‘Let’s get you of sight and dried off,’ her words did not permit disagreement.

Together they hurried to her car and, after a short drive, into her apartment.

‘Get out of those clothes, while I find a towel,’ again he felt compelled to obey.

When she returned, he was naked except for his mask but standing with his hands strategically placed in front of his groin. She tossed him the towel and, instinctively, he reached for it, exposing himself to her.

‘I’m going to be a laughing stock,’ Batman voice was flat and miserable, ‘when those photos of me in the river get onto Twitter, I mean,’ he added as he let the towel hang in front of him.

‘They already are.’ O’Hanlon showed him her cell phone, where the soaking Batman had got was already trending. ‘Here,’ she whisked the towel out of his hands, ‘you look at the comments while I dry you off.’
 
Officer O’Hanlon worked the towel over Batman from behind, careful not to venture onto his groin or to move into a position where she could see the cock that he was so shy about. Even with her standing behind him, his body tensed as her hands reached his lower belly and later as they worked up his inner thighs. And she could feel his body quivering as she dried him off.

‘Don’t go away,’ she told him with a laugh, ‘I’ll get you a robe.’

When she returned, he was facing her, but with the towel strategically dangling in front of him. She passed him the robe and turned away. When he was modestly covered, he finally thanked her.

‘My pleasure,’ she beamed, ‘and look on the bright side,’ she added in an attempt to reassure him, ‘at least it wasn’t sexual this time.’

But Batman was not to be consoled.

‘All humiliation is sexual.’ There was a catch in his throat as he spoke. ‘It’s so unfair,’ he seemed close to tears. ‘In the past, the bad guys always understood there were rules and they kept to them. But not now, not any more. I’m not equipped to cope with an attack from a mob.’ O’Hanlon refrained from pointing out that there had only been four and that she had had to fend out larger number on her own. ‘The press will slaughter me,’ was his final comment.

The officer threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. He slowly relaxed and wrapped his arms round her.

He turned out to be right. The press did slaughter him. They all carried pictures of him floundering in the river and of his rescue. The text varied. For the serious press, the story was of the fall of a hero, who could now be dumped unceremoniously into the river by a handful of passing hoodlums. For the less serious dailies, the story was about the stunning redhead who had rescued him and whisked him to safety.

Later that morning, Batman got a message from the Mayor and the Police Commissioner. He chose to speak to them by Skype rather than travel into Gotham. The message was clear. They had consulted and decided that it would be best for Batman to keep a low profile until he could re-establish his credibility. And there was no better way of doing that then getting on top of this wave of street crime. Quite how he was to do that while maintaining a low profile, they did not say.

Batman ended the call, sure of one thing. He had to find the woman behind this. He was sure she had flaunted herself for him to catch glimpses of her. She was drawing him to her. And he would have to let that happen if he was going to get a chance to capture her. He needed to be careful, though. She had got the better of their encounters so far. But a plan was beginning to form in his mind. And this time, it would not involve Officer O’Hanlon.
 
In the end, Batman had to venture into Gotham. He toyed with the idea of going as his real self, but abandoned it for fear that he would somehow inadvertently reveal his true identity. Things were bad enough already, without that happening.

He slipped quietly into Gotham using the least frequented routes and travelling at the quietest times of day. Even then, he could not avoid all contact with the population. He heard laughter behind, and was convinced that it was directed at him. Stones ricocheted off walls close to this head; they could have been thrown up by passing vehicles, but he did not believe it. Rude remarks echoed from alleyways as he passed, which he ignored. And when he got back to the Batmobile, he found it smothered in mud. People, or some people, no longer feared him or respected him.

But the trips were, he felt, worthwhile. He had successfully triangulated the centre of the street crime and the base to which the thugs returned each day. He had even managed to set up camera surveillance of the old building just to the north of the busiest part of the city. To his delight, it had captured a shadowy image of a tall figure in a long black coat with curly blonde hair. This, he was sure, was the cause of his troubles.

He chose a Sunday night, the quietest in Gotham and in the area around the gang’s HQ, as well as the least active for the crime wave. He parked a good distance away in the dark corner of an abandoned car park and reached the building without being observed. The door was not locked and the hinges were well-oiled, so he was able to slip in silently. He made his way cautiously across the floor, feeling with his feet for any obstacles before taking a step forward. He heard noises. The sound of a bolt being thrown, an occasional footstep, and felt a draught of air as if a window or door had been opened and immediately closed. All the activity was behind him. He paused to take stock. His first thought was that his adversary was behind him and trying to attract his attention to prevent him penetrating too far into her lair. But then, recalling how he had been out thought so far, he decided that that was just a ploy to prevent him turning back, so the obvious thing to do was just that. And that is what he did. He retreated soundlessly and turned into a doorway to be met with a fist that caught him on the point of his jaw like a pile driver and threw him backwards, stumbling over an obstacle that he was sure had not been there a minute before, and landing on his ass with a jolt that jarred every vertebra in his spine.

Dazed and sore, he was barely able to put up any resistance as his hands were shackled. Then there was a whirring noise and he was first dragged across the floor and then hoist into the air. When the light came on, he was hanging from his wrists and spinning with his feet clear of the floor. As he spun, he saw a stage and lighting gantries, as if in a venue for theatre or music.

A hoarse laugh from behind him made him turn his head. There he saw the figure, just in the shadows. As he spun slowly, the figure advanced, hands reached up and, with a few deft movements, his pants were hanging over his ankles. He still wore his jacket, cape and mask, but he was naked from the waist down. Another hoarse laugh.

The figure strode across the floor to the doorway, called out ‘Enjoy the show, Batman,’ and slammed the door.

Batman calmed himself and considered his predicament. He tried to swing himself up so that he could get his feet around the chains from which he was hanging, in the hope that he might release the shackles. But his pants hampered him, and his boots prevented him kicking them off. He tried pulling his legs up so that he could use his teeth to release himself from his boots, but his pants prevented him reaching the catches that held them secure.

Half an hour later, he was no further forward, aching and dripping with sweat, and cursing himself for not telling Officer O’Hanlon where he was going. It was perhaps another hour before he heard voices. Outside and distant at first, but then closer, and finally entering the building. And, to his dismay, all of them female.

‘So where’s this surprise , then?’ The voice was shrill but slightly slurred. As was the voice that replied, ‘Yea, come on Cheryl, you promised us some fun. What is it?’ ‘Strippers,’ another girl suggested. ‘I don’t know,’ that must have been Cheryl, and she sounded drunker than the others. ‘I was just told that it was going to be special and that no one had ever had a birthday surprise like it.’

It was then that the door was thrown back and a gang of about 20 inebriated women spilled into the room and froze at the sight in front of them. Before, slowly, one at a time, they began to laugh, laugh so much that they had to hold on to each other to stop themselves falling over.
 
Batman wasn’t sure how to cope with the situation he found himself in. Being the object of ridicule was not something he had experienced before. But there was no doubt that the girls were laughing at him.

‘Is he one of those stripper-gram guys who pretend to be policeman and get all stern until they strip off?’ One asked.

Some of the girls thought that he was, but it was Cheryl who pointed out the flaw.

‘Nah, he can’t be. Those guys are all hung like a horse. Just look at this guy’s little willy. He’s got to be the real thing.’

Another, who seemed to be called Vanessa, agreed. ‘You’re right Cheryl love. I was always suspicious of that guys cod piece. Boasting, like all men.’

That set the girls off giggling again. Then they came up with a game. Some of them set him swinging like a pendulum, while others jumped up and tried to hang on to his cock as it passed. While Vanessa, who quickly got bored with this, took off her belt and began flicking his ass until both cheeks were red and sore.

Finally, Batman tried to appeal to their better instincts, hoping that they might resurface as the effects of the alcohol wore off.

‘Ladies, please, show me some respect.’

They stopped the game, but only to laugh uproariously. ‘Respect, right, yea, like those guys who tossed you in the river.’ That was Vanessa again, who was fast taking on the role of ring leader.

‘Let’s take some photos,’ Cheryl shouted above the din and in turn the girls posed beside Batman as their friends snapped pic after pic. Within minutes, the images were appearing on Facebook and Instagram.

Needless to say, it was Vanessa who found the winch and started playing with the switches. This sent Batman rocketing towards the ceiling and then plummeting towards the floor until she got the hang of the controls, at which point it became another game as she hoist Batman out of range as the girls tried to grab hold of his cock or balls. By the end, his tackle was as sore as his ass. And the end came, inevitably, when Vanessa pressed the wrong button and Batman was deposited from a great height into a heap on the floor.

He was now able to release the shackles that held his wrists and restore his dignity by pulling up his pants, although not before the girls had all planted lipstick kisses on his balls and cheeks. Finally, he was able to make his escape, leaving the girls to their own devices.

Out in the street, he sank against a wall with relief, before setting off for his vehicle. He had to take it slowly on account of his sore cock chafing in his pants, and he almost shot out of his seat when he sat on his nearly raw cheeks. He felt like weeping.

Meanwhile on their way to find a bar, the girls were comparing photos. ‘Did you notice,’ Cheryl asked, ‘how he got hard when Van was whipping his ass?’ ‘How could you tell with such a small willy?’ another girl asked, which set them off giggling again. But looking at the photos, Cheryl had been right, there was it, only a couple of inches long, but stiff, very definitely stiff. ‘The guy got off on pain, I should have known,’ was Vanessa’s final comment before she passed out.
 
The crisis meeting was held in the Mayor’s conference room. The Mayor was present with his senior officials and the Police Commissioner with his most senior officers. Also present was a tall blonde woman with a mannish figure and wavy hair, who sat at the far end of the table from the Mayor.

The Mayor became by stating the obvious, that they has all seen the photos posted by the girls, the comments in the media, the cartoons, and the lampoons on the late night TV shows. All the officials expressed their views in turn. There was a common theme to the language used. Batman was described for belittling himself – this raised a titter among the females present, with the exception of the blonde – as a laughing stock, as undermining his credibility, loosing his grip – this led to more female tittering and a few stifled remarks. The general tone was depressed.

When all the others had spoken, the Mayor introduced the blonde woman. ‘Colleagues, we are fortunate to have with us today Amanda-Jayne Moore of A-JM Consulting. We have been working together recently on ways to improve community relations. I’d like to hear her perspective on what has happened. Amanda-Jayne.’

The woman rose and looked around the room, making eye contact with each person in turn. When she spoke her voice was husky.
‘Thank you, Mr Mayor. Recent events, of which yesterday’s was the latest, have of course been a professional and now a personal humiliation for Batman. But looking at this from the perspective of community relations, we need to see as an opportunity. As I have been saying to the Mayor recently, we have relied too heavily on Batman. There were reasons for that,’ she added hastily to quell the murmur of disagreement, ‘but they are past and the effect has been that the public has lost confidence in the City institutions, most importantly in its police. They think, wrongly, that they can’t cope, and expect, unrealistically, that Batman will step in and solve all our problems. This is our chance to re-establish the citizens’ confidence in the most aspect of any community – its safety.’

‘Here, here.’ The intervention came from the City Treasurer whose wife had been the victim of a mugging, during which she had been handled roughly and, by her account, groped.

‘Which is why I am recommending that the police should take the lead from now on and begin by making a concerted effort to get on top of this latest crime wave. And that of course means more resources. Not only, but importantly, more officers. I have spoken to the Commissioner,’ she smiled in his direction, ‘and he has given me some preliminary ideas about the cost of overtime and, as soon as they can be recruited, more officers. I have also spoken to the Treasurer,’ another smile in his direction, ‘about the cost and the impact on revenue.’

She paused and looked slowly around the room, letting the implications of what she had said sink in.

‘With your permission, Mr Mayor,’ she asserted her authority once more, ‘I would now like you to hear from the Commissioner about measures he can take immediately to flood the streets with officers to reassure the public and from the Treasurer about what this will mean for the City finances.’

She sat down and listened to the presentations. It quickly became apparent that Amanda-Jayne had got the key officials on her side and the rest had been thoroughly stitched up.
 
Amanda-Jayne lay next to the Commissioner, floppy as a rag doll, her hair matted, her body glistening with sweat.

‘Fuck, Andy, that was spectacular.’

She always made a point of complimenting her lovers, at least at first, but this time it was true. She normally favoured technique over brute power, but this time power had won out.

The Commissioner’s hairy body was sodden after his exertion, but he managed to roll over onto his side and playfully bite Amanda-Jayne’s small nipple.

‘Yes, it was, wasn’t it. I’ve not felt so powerful for years.’ He propped himself up and became serious. ‘It’s because for once I actually feel good about myself and my profession. I didn’t come into police work to play second fiddle to an oddball in fancy dress. He’s done a good job with the psychos, there’s no denying that, but he overshadowed all the good police work that kept the ordinary villains in check and the citizens safe. It was an inspiration to exploit Batman like you have. Hopefully, that will be the last we see of him.’

A-J was sure it wouldn’t, but that was for her to know. In the meantime, she had better things to do that talk about Batman. She pushed the Commissioner onto his back and climbed astride. ‘Now, Andy, just how soon will it be before that nuclear missile you’re packing is ready for launch.’ Andy grinned; that was exactly the expression his wife used, or used to anyway. He lay back as A-J slid down his body and began sucking at his cock.

Batman was not enjoying himself. He had plucked up courage to search social media to see how many photos had been posted. He soon lost count, and didn’t even attempt to estimate how many times they had been retweeted. But there was no mistaking the common themes. His diminutive member and its reaction to being beaten by the girls. Either would have been embarrassing enough, but both was more than he would ever live down.

He had expected another urgent meeting with the town dignitaries, but no message had come. Instead, the media was flooded with news of new police tactics and extra funding, with lots of speculation about what that meant for taxes. It did not take a genius to realise that he was being side-lined.

But there was worse to come. When he descended to the Batcave, he found a single sheet on paper on the seat of the Batmobile. When it turned it over, he found a drawing depicting a man wearing a mask who was being whipped by a woman in a long black coat. And when he checked his security cameras, he found that they had all been disabled.

There was only one person he could turn to, Officer O’Hanlon. It was in the early hours of the morning when he arrived, under cover of darkness, to find her about to go to bed after a late shift.

‘You’ve seen,’ was his first comment. She nodded. There was no point in denying it. ‘Will you help me?’ Again she nodded. ‘I just can’t think straight. Please, tell me what you make of what’s happening.’

The officer watched as Batman eased himself onto the sofa, sitting gingerly on his inflamed rump. The she settled next to him, stifling a yawn. This was the last thing she needed at this time of night, but the man was desperate and she felt involved.

‘OK, well the first think any detective would do is ask who benefits. But that’s the problem, as we don’t know who is behind this or what her ultimate objective is. In fact, the only person we know who has benefited is me, the police I mean,’ she added quickly. Batman sat upright. ‘That’s right, O’Hanlon. You get more funding, more officers, and the credit if you stop these robberies.’

‘And,’ O’Hanlon interrupted, ‘the Commissioner is rid of you, because that must be the ultimate aim of all this, to put you out of the picture.’

‘But,’ Batman slumped back, ‘I’ve known the Commissioner for a long time, this just isn’t his style, not his style at all.’

‘No, that’s right, it’s not, he is too straightforward a guy to think up anything subtle like this. But, he’s been seen around with a woman and rumour has it that she is the one who persuaded the Mayor to put extra funding into the police force.’

Batman was alert now, almost his old self.

‘Woman? What is she like, where does she live, do you know?’

‘Tall, blonde, wavy hair, wears a long black coat. Someone said she sounded like a man.’

Batman thumped the arm of the sofa. ‘That’s her, it’s got to be. She’s orchestrated the whole thing. All I need to do is find her.’

O’Hanlon knew that that wasn’t all he had to do. He had to catch her red-handed or prove what she was up to. And even then there was no way he could erase the damage she had already done to him.

‘And one way to do that is to follow the Commissioner and he will lead us to her,’ O’Hanlon went along with Batman’s thinking for the moment. ‘Unless we use you as bait. Don’t let her run you round in circles. Lead her to you.’

Batman was thoughtful for a while before nodding in agreement. ‘It’s a risk, but one I am willing to take for the good of Gotham.’

‘Good,’ O’Hanlon stood up, ‘that’s agreed. Now why don’t you let me do something about that sore ass of yours. I’ve got some cream that will cool the inflammation and soothe the pain.’

Batman rose to his feet, but made for the door. O’Hanlon rushed to block his bath, her robe dislodging as she did so. The pair stood barely an inch apart, their bodies touching as they breathed.

‘Come on,’ she chided him, ‘there’s no need to be shy now. The whole of Gotham knows what you look like.’

Still Batman hesitated, until the robe finally fell away revealing two small breasts.

A few minutes later, Batman had removed his pants and was lying face down on O’Hanlon’s bed.
 
O’Hanlon’s plan was simplicity itself. Do what the mysterious woman had done. She had led Batman to her trap. Now he would lead her to his. He knew from his counter-surveillance measures that she had a tracker on the Batmobile, so she would always know where he was driving to. And he detected cameras set up near the entrance to the Batcave, so she would always know when he left and returned, even if he went out on foot. Perfect.

Next to find the suitable location. He set up in a vacant building near the epicentre of the street robberies. Just where he would have his HQ if he were trying to track her down. He only visited under cover of darkness, knowing full well that she would know and, in due course, he spotted some concealed cameras watching the entrance. Perfect again.

She even showed herself once or twice nearby, as if she was unaware of his presence. What more could he ask?

Finally, he laid the trap and waited. It was hot and strenuous work but, with O’Hanlon’s help, he constructed an apparatus that, when triggered, would drop a net and scoop up his adversary as she entered the building. She would have no chance to escape once she was entangled in the mesh. And, remembering how she had disabled him, he obtained some chloroform and padding to disable her before releasing her and questioning her.

Everything was ready. All he had to do was wait for her to visit. Her tracking and cameras would alert her when he was on the way, and his cameras would tell him that she was in the building snared in this trap.

O’Hanlon used her free evenings to keep a close eye on the Commissioner, arguing that the woman would not be far away. And she was right. The Commissioner had a discreet love nest tucked away in a quiet neighbourhood, not too far from Batman’s trap. And judging by the grin on his face when he slipped away to return to his wife, she was keeping him amused when he was off duty.

She always left a little after him, making sure that the pair were never seen together. It was on the third night after the trap was complete, that O’Hanlon alerted Batman that she was heading in his direction. She left her to her fate and turned for home to get some sleep before her early shift in the morning.

Batman sat around the corner, squatting out of the wind in a doorway as he watched the woman approach on his watch camera. She let herself in and he counted, wanting to be sure that the trap had sprung before moving in. After a count of 100, he judged that it was safe to approach. He dashed across the street and burst through the door. As the door swung behind him, a net fell over his head and whisked him off his feet. The last thing he remembered was a hoarse laugh and a wad of padding being pressed through the net and over his mouth and nose.

When he came round, he was dangling by his ankles from a beam naked except for his mask.
 
Batman shook his head as he swung round and round from the beam, catching glimpses of a tall woman with wavy blonde hair in a long black coat.

‘Hello, Batman,’ the voice was deep and hoarse. ‘We meet again, but we have not been properly introduced. I am Amanda-Jayne and it’s a pleasure to meet you.’

‘Likewise,’ Batman’s reply didn’t sound entirely sincere.

A-J approached him and unbuttoned her coat.

‘Now, let’s see what we have in here.’ She pushed her hand in and drew out a whip, which she unfurled and cracked. Then, from the other side of the coat, she withdraw a thin cave, which she flicked in front of Batman’s face. ‘Toys,’ she grinned. ‘What do you think of my toys? Not tame silly stuff like those girls used no your ass. Serious stuff, don’t you think.’

Batman’s face was inscrutable.

A-J pushed her coat aside to stand with her hands on her hips to reveal a muscular body, with small breasts and broad hips. Then she turned her back and let the coat slide off her shoulders, to reveal a high tight ass consisting of rock hard muscle.

‘Like what you see, Batman?’ She turned to face him again. ‘Perhaps we could work out together sometime. In that private gym you’ve got attached to the Batcave.’

Batman ignored the suggestion, but took in the body. He did like what he was seeing, very much indeed.

‘So, what do you think? Shall we start with the whip or the cane?’

Receiving no answer, A-J picked up the whip and flicked it, apparently idly, but catching Batman’s right testicle with the tip. Another flick that landed on the left testicle. A third hit his right nipple, and the follow-up drew blood from the left. At the sight of the blood, she moved in quickly and sucked it away. Her face was now just inches away from the Bat’s. She straightened to bring her crotch close to his face. It was damp. Instinctively, he sniffed.

‘That’s the Police Commissioner’s spunk that you can smell, Batman. Would you like a taste?’

She wiped a finger along her pussy and rubbed it on his lips.

‘He’s a strong guy,’ she remarked casually. ‘Good sized cock, thick, just how I like them. When I’ve finished with him, he goes home and fucks his wife. Impressive. Very impressive.’

She was about to step back again, when Batman moved.
 
A-J had been prepared for Batman to react, but he was so fast that she was taken by surprise. His right hand grabbed hold of the whip and twisted it from her grasp, while his left pulled her towards him. She managed to squirm away, but he caught her ankle, pulled her off her feet and lashed at her with the whip, watching her across her chest.

She kicked out with her free foot, trying to dislodge Batman’s grip on her ankle, but he jerked her this way and that, constantly keeping her from maintaining her balance, all the time thrashing her chest with the whip, leaving multiple welts on her small tits and tight stomach. Inexorably, he pulled her closer to him, tearing the flesh of her back on the rough floor.

In the end, it was his success that led to his undoing. As she drew closer, she came with striking range of his head. Timing her attack to perfection, she lashed out with her heel, catching him on the side of his chin. He did not release her, but she felt his grip slacken momentarily, and that was enough. She twisted and used her hands to propel into a corkscrew motion that wrenched her free. She rolled quickly away, out of range of the whip and made for the cane.

Only now, as she was now standing again, did she notice the Bat crotch. His cock was stiff, but now it was growing, not a tiny match stick like before, but thicker, longer. Not yet the size to match the codpiece of his clothing, but heading there.

‘So,’ she exclaimed, ‘this is what turns you on is it, beating up on a woman. Well, let’s see how you take to being on the receiving end.’

A-J circled, her eyes always on the Bat’s right hand and arm, watching for any sign of movement, circling to get a chance to dart in with a quick lash from her cane, laying row upon row of red marks across his back and buttocks, sometimes avoiding his retaliatory attacks with the whip, sometimes receiving worse blows than she was landing.

And all the time, his cock was growing, slowly growing, steadily becoming fatter. Time to change her attack. Now she concentrated on his groin, bringing the can down between his heavy thighs to cut across his balls that were now pulled tight into his pelvis. Only now, did Batman show any signs of the pain he was suffering. Twisting to avoid the blows altogether or divert them to somewhere less tender.

But her tactic forced her to come close in the danger zone from his whip, taking lash after lash without flinching until, by accident or design, the point of the whip caught her on the tip of her clit. Her whole body convulsed and she let out a long gasp as the orgasm that had been growing inside her began to break. Sensing his advantage. Batman struck again and again, while A-J stood unable or unwilling to move out of danger, taking every blow as it landed.
 
A-J’s eyes were staring now, straight at Batman, but her gaze was not fixed on me. She was focused beyond him, beyond the room. She was living now not in Gotham, but in the world of her orgasm.

She did not flinch as the whip lashed at her shoulders. Her arms fell to her sides, her hand released the cane, and she slowly dropped to her haunches. Squatting with her back straight, she opened and closed her legs, rhythmically, letting out a sigh each time her thighs met. Each sigh was slightly shorter than the last. Each squeeze of her thighs was longer and tighter than the last. Until she was snapping her legs tight shut and gasping louder and louder.

Batman had long ago let the whip hang loose in his hand, feeling like a voyeur as he watched his tormentor begin to shudder and shake. He expected a loud explosion of passion and release, but none came. Instead, she closed her eyes and dropped her head. For minutes, the room was silent.

Eventually, she reached out to retrieve her cane and rose elegantly to her feet. She walked round Batman as if examining a specimen in a laboratory. Then on her second circuit, she raised her arm and lashed him, deliberate placed strokes that covered his back and chest. And now, at last, her passion exploded. As she lashed harder and harder, she began to sweat, and she finally gave voice to a long scream.

YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

‘Fuck,’ she stepped back, her body glistening, her chest heaving, ‘that was good. Best ever. How are you doing, Batman?’
 
Since she asked, Batman wasn’t doing so good. He was aroused by the beating he had taken, and randy from watching A-J get off on the beatings she had given and received. The tip of his cock had now almost reached his navel and a steady stream of cum was dribbling onto his chest as he swung back and forth. If he had had to find a word for how he was doing, it would have been ‘desperate’, but that barely captured it.

‘Please,’ he gasped, ‘I want to fuck you, I need to, now, please let me down.’

A-J thought about his request, weighing the risk that she would run against the pleasure she might get and the control she would have over Batman. In the end, she relented and slowly lowered him to the floor before releasing the shackles that held him by his ankles.

‘You think you’re up to this,’ A-J teased him. She obviously was not asking if his cock was hard enough, because she could see that it was. It was a challenge and one that Batman was ready to accept. She stood her ground a few yards away from him and did not move as he advanced on her. Only when he was almost within reach of her did she retreat, edging towards her bag that lay in the corner. He lunged for her, but she sidestepped him, grabbed the bag, rummaged inside and produced a long dildo with thick straps. As he turned towards her, she moved in close and rammed her knee into his crotch. He grunted, staggered and then lunged again. She feinted to the left, then shifted the right, her foot trailing. He tripped over the foot and landed on his face. In an instant, A-J was on top of him, securing her dildo around her waist before she rammed it hard into Batman’s ass.

‘Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,’ she hollered as she pumped him.

‘Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,’ he screamed in reply as he came.

When his body went limp, A-J pulled out and stepped back.

‘Well, Batman, it looks like you were up for it after all.’

Batman rolled away and clambered to his feet.

‘Bitch,’ he spat.

‘No, Batman, I’m not a bitch. You are the one who is a bitch, my bitch.’
 
Amanda-Jayne stood in front of Batman, legs astride, hands on her hips, watching him swaying as he slowly recovered. His dick had lost nothing of its length and thickness, but was slowly sinking towards the floor. she was braced for an attack, although she knew he did not have the strength to launch one, even if he had the will.

‘Admit it, Batman, you’ve lost. I’ve out-thought you, out-fought you and now I’ve out-fucked you. I’ve made you a laughing stock. I own you now. Your career as a super hero in fancy dress is finished.’

She could feel his sperm spilling out of her and dripping between her thighs to land on the floor between her feet.

‘But it is not too late for you. Abandon that silly mask and join me. We can fight crime in this city together, in our own way, as a team. Come on, what do you say?’

Batman swallowed but said nothing.

‘What else is there left for you?’ A-J persisted. ‘Go and set up home with that cute police officer. She’ll whip you if you ask her nicely and she’ll be only too pleased to oblige when she sees what effect it has. Just take care not to rip open her tight little pussy.’

Finally, Batman spoke.

‘No way, A-J, no way. You set up this crime wave just to promote the Commissioner and his political ambitions. I don’t want any part of that. Just give me my gear and I’ll be on my way.’

But A-J was not finished humiliating him yet.

‘No, Batman, your clothes aren’t here. All you have is the mask. You’ll find a public phone just on the main street. Give O’Hanlon a call and she’ll come for you. I’ll drive the Batmobile back to the Cave for you. See how considerate I am.’

She whisked her coat off the floor, collected her whip and cane, and sauntered out of the room, giving Batman a final wiggle of her ass before she shut the door.

Batman had no choice but to sneak along the street in the darkness and, when the coast was clear, rush over to the phone and call Officer O’Hanlon collect. She was there in a matter of minutes, slowing down just long enough for Batman to jump in. They did not speak until he was lying on her bed having his cuts soothed with cold cream.

‘What on earth happened? How could anything go wrong after all that planning?’

So, haltingly at first, reluctantly, Batman told her what had happened, everything.

‘Sweet fuck,’ was all she could say when he had finished, ‘sweet dripping wet fuck.’
 
To O’Hanlon’s surprise, Batman refused her offer of soothing cream, but accepted a bath robe. As it was one of hers and he was somewhat larger, it barely covered the essentials. And as he recounted the details of what had happened to him, the officer could not miss the way that the robe at first shifted and rose and fell as he told her the details of what A-J had done to him.

‘So, what do you think?’ he asked after a lengthy pause.

‘I think,’ O’Hanlon was working out her ideas as she spoke, ticking them off on her fingers, ‘this A-J has shown her hand. We now know who she is and how to find her. She obviously doesn’t care that you know. Whatever she is planning, she wants you out of the way and, if she can manage it, she wants you on her side. She’s got the Police Commissioner in thrall to her and how she’s got her claws into you. And,’ she added almost as an afterthought, ‘we know she has an accomplice.’

‘Really?’ she had Batman’s attention now.

‘Of course. She couldn’t walk back from the Batcave after leaving your vehicle. Either she is getting a lift back or she has left her car there already. Either way, she has to have someone to drive for her.’

‘Unless,’ Batman added, ‘she isn’t coming back, but waiting for me.’

It was impossible to read his expression as he mentioned that possibility.

‘I’ll come with you.’ It was a statement, not an offer or a question.

She had no clothes to fit Batman, so he rushed downstairs to her car in her robe and lay on the back seat out of sight as she followed his instructions. When they arrived, the Batmobile was neatly parked in its usual place, but there were no signs of his clothes.

‘Do you have a spare suit?’ O’Hanlon asked.

‘Yes, as it happens, I do, but it’s old, the original one that didn’t fit so well, and I’ve put on some muscle since I last wore it.’

‘I have a question, before I leave, if you don’t mind.’ O’Hanlon was hesitant to ask, but it was important if they were going to get to the bottom of what his woman wanted and, more importantly, rescue Batman’s reputation.

‘Go ahead,’ he shrugged, ‘there’s not much you don’t know already.’

‘Well,’ the officer approached the topic as gently as she could, ‘you obviously have some very special needs, in the sex line I mean. I’ve not seen your hard-on, but from the way that robe has been flying, it’s got to be pretty spectacular. But you didn’t get hard with me at all, even when I was drying you after your dunking in the river, and your cock was very small when those girls were having fun with you. So, what I’m really asking is, how did this woman know what you needed? Was it just some instinct, or did she know already. And if she knew, how did she find out?’

Batman was silent for a long time, but then took a deep breath and answered.

‘She must have known already, like you said. It’s a rather unusual condition that I have and I get incredibly frustrated if I can’t cum. You have no idea how I felt when you were touching me, drying me, if I had been a normal man I would have thrown you onto the bed and fucked you. But I couldn’t. But there are places, clubs, discreet ones, not advertised, where you can almost any sort of help you need. So that’s where I go, not as Batman of course, although I’ve seen guys who get off wearing Batman outfits as they fuck. She must have learned about it from the girls there. That’s all I can think of. I mean, she isn’t one of them, I’d recognise them for sure.’

‘So that means,’ O’Hanlon realised what Batman must have worked out already, ‘that she knows who you are, who you really are I mean.’

Batman nodded.

‘I noticed,’ O’Hanlon took her courage in both hands, ‘couldn’t help it, but you’re getting hard when you tell me what happened, what she did and how you reacted. So, I’m thinking, if you were to tell me again, you’d get hard again, and then you might want to fuck me. How would that be?’

Batman smiled, dropped the bathrobe and walked towards O’Hanlon. She came towards him and drove her knee into his groin. He grunted but did not retreat as she scratched her nails down his raw chest and rammed her knee into him again.
 
All police officers in Gotham were taught self-defence techniques and some used them more than others. The men favoured pitting their strength against the villains they were arresting. The women, often smaller and less powerful, were more inclined to use their techniques against men. O’Hanlon had become expert at judging just the right amount of power to use and the exact place to land her knee in a guy’s crotch. It was rare for her to have to repeat the manoeuvre.

Knowing what Batman had told her about the treatment he had received from A-J and the evidence of the scars on his body, she judged that he could take a knee full power, and dead centre between his balls. He grunted but grinned at her.

‘That’s my girl, O’Hanlon, you’ve got the idea, but you’ll have to do more than that.’

So again she rammed him, getting in close, feeling his body against hers as her thigh pushed between his and crushed his balls, grinding them before releasing the pressure for another onslaught. Time and again, and slowly she felt his cock stiffening against her belly. Until, after the sixth blow – was it the sixth or the seventh? – he growled, grabbed her and threw her onto the hood of the Batmobile, ripping at her clothes and pushing her legs open.

And then she saw it, for the first time, the Bat erection, the tip reaching his navel, and a stalk to thick that she instinctively spread her legs wider to get him onboard. He landed on her, crushing her against the metal, ramming her, ferociously, screaming at the top of his voice.

O’Hanlon was not a woman who liked to lay back and be pleasured by a lover. She wanted to play her role, even a dominant role if the opportunity presented itself. She wanted to sit astride this man, ride him, take control, show him how much pleasure they could both have, but this was not the moment. Batman needed to show her his power and virility. Show himself that he was not yet totally emasculated by the woman who had run rings round him for weeks now. So, on this occasion, just this once, she lay back and let him finish, knowing she would not orgasm.

And then he came, suddenly, with no warning, just a hot yet of sperm crashing into her womb and a huge shudder as he ground to a halt.

As he held himself poised over her, his chest heaving from the effort of fucking her, she realised something that she have noticed right away.

‘Batman, this hood is warm. That woman must have returned the Batmobile just before we got here. We didn’t pass any cars,’ the thought struck her. ‘She might even, still be here.’

At which moment, a deep chuckle and a slow hand clapping echoed around the Batcave.
 
Well, well,’ the deep voice came closer. ‘Look who we have here, if it isn’t Batman and his little police officer.’

Batman was the first to recover, pushing himself off the Batmobile and turning to face the woman who emerged from the shadows.

‘Damn it, A-J,’ he cursed, ‘can’t a guy have any privacy?’

A-J’s response was a laugh. Her coat was unbuttoned and her hand was stroking her crotch.

‘That was hot, Batman, you really are a tough guy. And that officer has got the cutest ass. But I expect you’ve noticed that, haven’t you?’

Batman did not deny it, as A-J brushed past him, brshing against his cock on the way, and stood in front of O’Hanlon, who was still sprawled on the hood of the Batmobile.

‘So how was he, honey? Up to your expectations? What mark would you give him out of 10? 4? 5?’

O’Hanlon seemed to ignore the questions until A-J drew closer and she rocketed to her feet, drew back her fists and smashed the woman’s tits, one after the other, short, stabbing blows that made her stagger back. A-J moved forward again, only to be met by a swift kick between her thighs, hitting her hard on her wet pussy. As she doubled over, her chin met O’Hanlon’s knee rising to meet it, knocking her back onto her ass.

A-J stared up at her opponent, seemingly oblivious to the pain she must be feeling.

‘So, Batman, you need to a girl to protect you now. Well, honey, if you want to fight, I’m up for it.’ She rose unsteadily to her feet, not taking her eyes of O’Hanlon.
 
A-J shrugged her coat off her shoulders and let it fall onto the floor as she advanced towards O’Hanlon.

‘Looks like you need to be taught a lesson in manners,’ she spat at the officer, who backed slowly away in the direction of the Batmobile.

As A-J came within striking distance, O’Hanlon’s fist snaked out towards her opponent’s left breast. Instinctively, A-J raised an arm to block the blow, but it was a feint. Instead, O’Hanlon foot lashed into A-J’s groin, watching her clit with the rising arch and leaving her staggering and shaken cursing. O’Hanlon immediately followed up with a series of swift punches to stomach and tits, ending with a fast upper cut to the chin that threw her onto the floor.

A-J squatted on her haunches to recover for a while before launching herself forward, but the officer was ready, sidestepping and tripping A-J, before pushing her onto the Batmobile and instantly leaping onto her back, grabbing her by the hair, and slamming her head into the hood, again and again until blood was dripping from her nose and forehead.

The onslaught was only brought to an end when Batman stepped in and hauled O’Hanlon off, tossing her to one side. A-J slid onto the floor of the Batcave, no longer the proud, dominant figure who had laughed at them from the shadows a few minutes before.

‘Right,’ O’Hanlon gasped, ‘time to question this woman and find out what she is really up to. Let’s see how much punishment she can take.’
 
A-J lay slumped on the floor. No longer the elegant and composed woman she had been. Her hair was dishevelled, her make-up smudged, her face streaked with tears and her body covered in dirt and grease from the garage floor. She was trembling as O’Hanlon grabbed a handful of hair and pulled her upright before gripping her wrist and twisting her arm up between her shoulder blades.



‘Right, madam,’ she hissed in her ear, ‘no more games. You’re going to tell us who you are working for and what your plan is. And if you don’t, we are going to make a fool of you just like you’ve done to Batman here.’



She gave A-J’s arm a vicious twist, spun her round and rammed her into the wall, crushing her tits against the rough concrete. But in response, the woman just shook her head.



O’Hanlon glanced back at Batman and stared in surprise at his cock that was steadily growing longer and thicker as he watched his opponent’s humiliation. When he approached, she wondered whether he was going to fuck the prisoner, but instead he twisted her other arm so that both shoulders were being wrenched out of their sockets as the pair applied more and more pressure.



Finally, she cracked.



‘OK, OK, I’ll tell you, just stop, please, just stop.’



We both let go, but stood close over her to prevent any attempt to escape.



‘It’s the Police Commissioner. He came to me for advice and I suggested some of the tactics. You humiliate him all the time by coming in and sorting out any villains. His force is a laughing stock and the Mayor and his cronies think he is a waste of space. He just wants his pride back, that’s all. It’s not much to ask is it, Batman? You know how it feels to be made a fool now, don’t you? Well, that’s what you’ve been doing to him for years.’



Batman and O’Hanlon stared at each other, but there was more to come.



‘We set it up, the recent crimewave. We set it up so that he could show you couldn’t cope. He’s been paying local hoodlums using some corrupt cops to hand over the money and collect that loot.’
 
But Amanda-Jane hadn’t finished.



‘It doesn’t matter that you know, we were going to tell you anyway, so that you would know who had done this to you. There’s nothing you can do about it. You are still a laughing stock for failing to tackle a few hoodlums. Everyone has seen your pathetic cock and watched you beaten up by a punch of teenage girls on a drunken night out. They all know about your fetish. No one will ever forget that. You’re finished.’



And that was when he finally snapped. After all he had suffered, this final realisation that he had become irrelevant pushed him over the edge. He grabbed A-J by the hair, threw her onto the hood of the Batmobile and took her, hard, fast, and brutal. O’Hanlon tried to pull him off, but he pushed her aside. She tried to remonstrate with him, but he ignored her, intent on fucking this woman who had brought about his humiliation. And she didn’t resist or say a word, just lay there taking the fucking without complaint.



When Batman was finally spent and standing in front of her with his cock still dripping, she slid off the hood and stood before him, calm and confident.



‘Do you feel better now, Batman? Does that make you feel like a man again? In fact, it doesn’t make any difference, you are still washed up and wasted.’



And with that she walked out of the Batcave with dignity.



Batman and Officer O’Hanlon stared at each other for a long time. Finally, it was the officer who spoke.



‘She’s right, Batman. You are wasted. That was rape, pure and simple. You knew it and you enjoyed it. That makes you worse than all those villains you caught. They never did anything like this. By rights, I should arrest and charge you, but that woman won’t give evidence against you. I won’t help you any more.’



And with that, she too walked out of the Cave.



The crime wave was swiftly brought to an end as additional officers flooded the streets, financed by the additional resources that had been voted for the police. And the old corrupt officers retired on general terms with enhanced pensions. O’Hanlon resigned. Batman never appeared in Gotham again.
 
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