Batgirl: Sadist or Masochist Ch. 01

Chapter 1: The Hellfire Club

November 17th, Central Gotham City

The Yellow Cab cruised up to the front entrance of Gotham City's newest and probably its most controversial nightspot, The Hellfire Club, just as the clock on the nearby church steeple, was chiming 10:00 pm. The grey liveried doorman, stepped forward, smartly, and opened the nearside rear door for its two passengers, who quickly alighted onto the brightly lit sidewalk, in the heart of the city's entertainment district.

The man gallantly helped the woman from the vehicle, before turning to the cab driver and casually thrusting a small wad of cash into his outstretched hand. "Thank you, my good man!" he said, smiling. "This should more than cover our fare, old boy."

The driver chuckled and nodded his agreement, before checking his rearview mirror and pulling out into the traffic flow.

"Welcome to The Hellfire Club, Sir, Madam," said the doorman, smiling politely. "Please follow me."

The tall blond-haired man, nodded and, taking the woman's hand in his, followed the doorman up the four wide marble steps that led into the building.

At first glance, they looked much like any other opulent couple, out for a night on the town. The man was shrouded in a long black silk cloak, which reached almost to his booted feet and also wore a top hat, perched jauntily on his head. In his right hand, he carried a long silver walking cane, although he displayed no signs of any invalidity. His slightly shorter female companion appeared younger and was warmly wrapped up in a gorgeous silver fox fur coat, that reached down to almost mid-calf. Her feet were encased in some startlingly high, black stiletto-heeled pumps with platform soles. The integral hood of her fur coat, was raised, partially obscured her features from view, but long wisps of red hair escaped its confines, to whip about in the cold mid November wind. An observant onlooker may also have noticed that both the man and the woman wore glittering masks, that covered much of the upper parts of their faces.

Once out of the bitter chill of the wind, the man took off his hat and gloves and smoothed his disheveled hair back into place with a hand, before walking through the opulent décor of the foyer, toward the front desk and cloakroom. The doorman departed, to return to his outside vigil.

"Phil, I-I don't think I can go through with this," the girl hissed, shaking her head and hanging back, reluctantly. She had slipped the hood back from her head, to reveal a gorgeous green-eyed beauty, with a tangled crown of glorious red hair. Her makeup was a little on the tarty side, with too much rouge on her cheeks and dark green eyeshadow. Bright crimson lipstick and lip gloss coated her full, eminently kissable lips.

"Nonsense!" her handsome escort growled, out of the side of his mouth. "It's only natural that you should feel a bit nervous, darling."

"A BIT nervous," she protested, "I'm almost wetting my knickers."

"What knickers?" he retorted, with a roguish grin, squeezing her small hand.

The girl couldn't help but smile. His humor was infectious and it did help to sooth her jangled nerves. "But..." she began.

"C'mon, Barbara, you'll be just fine!" he insisted.

A large bull of a man, wearing an evening suit that barely contained his bulging muscular physique, stepped forward and blocked their progress. "Could I see your invitations, Sir?" he asked, politely.

"What? Oh, yes, sorry old boy!" Phil fished two embossed cards out of a pocket in his cloak, and handed them over.

The man scanned them, momentarily. "These seem to be in order, Sir," he said, smiling, as he returned them. "I hope you both have a most enjoyable evening."

"Er, thank you. I'm sure we will."

Taking Barbara's elbow in a firm grip, Phil dragged her over toward the cloakroom desk, where a mousey blonde girl, in a skimpy blue uniform, was apparently acting as the cloakroom attendant.

"Good evening, Sir," the hatcheck girl greeted, smiling at him and thrusting her chest forward, so that he could get a better look at her cleavage, which Phil had to admit, was well worth a closer inspection. "Can I take your cloak and hat please?"

"Er, yes, thank you." He handed over his hat, gloves and silver walking cane, then swiftly stripped off his cloak, with a theatrical flourish, before he had the chance to change his mind.

The blonde's eyes widened in appreciation, as she took in his outfit and his broad shouldered, muscular physique. Apart from his mask, he was wearing a tight-fitting pair of black leather boxer shorts, with an impressive bulge at the front, a black leather waistcoat, open at the front, to reveal his tanned muscular chest and mid-thigh length, tight-fitting black leather boots. He also wore a four-inch, black studded leather belt, tightly cinched about his narrow waist and matching leather , lace-up cuffs about his wrists. His only item of jewelry, was a gold-colored medallion, dangling from a chain about his neck.

"Do you approve?" he asked, noting the direction of the girl's gaze.

"I do indeed, Sir," she gushed, reluctantly raising her eyes to his face, then blushing, as she realized that he was aware of what she'd just been staring at.

She took the proffered cloak from his outstretched hand. "Thank you, Sir. Now, if the lady would be so kind..."

"C'mon, honey, give the lady your coat," Phil urged his reluctant companion, with a boyish grin of anticipation. Until he'd first seen Barbara in her outfit for the evening, even he hadn't appreciated just how sexy his girlfriend could look.

After a momentary hesitation, the red haired beauty heaved a loud sigh and nodded. "If Phil can go through with this, then so can I," she told herself. She opened her luxurious silver fox fur coat and slipped it from her bare shoulders, before removing it completely and handing it to her companion, to pass over to the attendant.

The redhead proved to be almost naked beneath the warm outer garment, thus explaining her initial reluctance to remove it. She was wearing a tightly stretched skimpy black thong, that plunged down at the front, barely covered her nicely padded mons and rode high on her shapely hips; lacy black hold-up stockings, that reached almost to her crotch; matching fingerless gloves, that reached up to her shaved armpits; and black six-inch heels, with platform soles. Around her trim waist, was a tightly cinched, eight-inch wide, black leather waspie, that matched the chunky studded dog collar fastened about her long slim neck. Short, 3-inch lengths of shiny chain, complete with clips, were attached to the bottom edge of the waspie, one on either hip and one positioned at the small of her back.

About her wrists and upper arms, just above the elbows, were tight fitting black leather cuffs and armbands, similar to the ones that her boyfriend wore, only smaller, with short lengths of chain attached to the armbands. Her gorgeous, rounded, size 36c breasts, were completely exposed. Half-inch diameter gold rings hung from her pierced nipples, with three strands of cultured pearls attached to them, that swayed, erotically, with every movement of her upper torso.

Barbara had protested, vehemently, when Phil had insisted she get her nipples pierced, but not half as much as when he'd insisted on a similar piercing 'down below'.

"At least he didn't insist on my having studs in my eyebrows, nose, or tongue," she thought, with some relief. She could remove her body jewelry, once this investigation was over, and none of her small circle of friends would be any the wiser.

She blushed, slightly, as she saw the hatcheck girl staring at her. "Is this alright?" she asked, anxiously, running the damp palms of her hands down the outer curves of her waist and hips.

"Lady, with that face and figure, your every guy's wet dream!" declared the wide-eyed cloakroom attendant. Barbara's vital statistics were normally 36c-23-36, but the tightly cinched waspie had easily taken another couple of inches off her waistline, giving her a spectacular hourglass figure.

Phil wasn't about to disagree with the hatcheck girl's assessment. His cock was already straining, painfully, at the front of his boxer shorts. He just hoped the full-length zip in the front, could take the increased strain. "You'll do," he croaked. "Turn around, honey, so I can add the finishing touches."

As Barbara complied, he roughly pulled her arms behind her back, forcing her elbows to almost touch. This produced a small grunt of protest from the girl. He clipped the two leather armbands together, using one of the short chains provided, thus holding her elbows in place. This forced the girl to arch her back and thrust her already prominent boobs, out even further. Taking each wrist in turn, Phil clipped the D-rings on the cuffs to the short side chains of her waspie, further restricting her arm movements.

Barbara felt a thrill of fear, or was it anticipation? She now felt totally defenseless and at the mercy of anyone who might decide to take advantage of her situation.

"Is this all really necessary?" she hissed, ensuring that she wasn't overheard by the hatcheck girl.

"Oh, yes, my love. We want to create a big impression, don't we?" Phil replied, with a wide grin. As Barbara snorted her derision, he took a chain dog leash from a pocket in his vest, and clipped one end to the metal D-ring in the front of her tightly buckled collar. He smirked at the dark scowl that appeared on her lovely face, before giving the leash an experimental tug. "C'mon, let's go, slave!" he commanded, in a loud voice.

Barbara's shapely breasts jiggled, enticingly, as she stumbled after her 'Master' and the three strands of pearls swayed from side to side, clicking against one another. She rolled her eyes to the heavens. "Why, oh why, did I ever let Phil talk me into this?" she groaned, under her breath. Although several guys and gals had seen her nude before, this would be the first time she'd ever appeared near-enough naked, in public. "At least my mask should keep anyone from recognizing me," she consoled herself.

The mousey-blonde stared at Barbara's taut but shapely, swaying ass, naked except for a tiny black triangle of material emerging from between the tops of her buttocks and, in turn, attached to the pencil-thin side straps that rode high over her flared hips.

"Go knock 'em dead, kiddo!" she called out after the receding couple, acutely aware of the damp patch that had developed in her panties.

Our story actually began some two weeks earlier...

November 3rd, 8:57 pm, The Rooftops of Gotham City, USA

Batgirl silently padded over to the edge of the high-rise apartment block and peered over the low parapet, at the brightly-lit city streets below. It was early evening, approaching 9:00 pm, so there were still plenty of citizens about, this close to the center of one of the largest metropolises on the Eastern seaboard. She had been alerted by the multiple wails of police patrol car sirens, whilst still a few blocks away and had hurried over, using her pneumatic pistol to project a steel grappling hook and line from building to building, before fearlessly swinging over the intervening spaces on the thin, high strength nylon cable, all that prevented her from plunging to an almost certain death. The Dynamic Daredoll flew through the cool night air, with the graceful ease of a professional trapeze artist.

A lot of police activity seemed to be going on directly below the Caped Cutie, and an ambulance had just screeched to a halt at the entrance to the narrow back alley. A metal fire-escape, conveniently led down into the gloom, but she decided to ignore it and take the shorter, quicker route to street level. Pulling a nylon cord from a special compartment on her utility belt, she clipped the attached aluminum karabiner to the top rail then, without a moment's hesitation, leapt into the void. As she plunged downward, the thin cable snapped taught, and her friction device took over, quickly arresting and controlling her rate of decent.

The Dark Angel landed in a crouch, her powerful muscular thighs absorbing the shock of impact. She swiftly unclipped the cable from her utility belt, with a smooth, well-practiced motion. In the darkness, she looked both a frightening and erotic sight. She was wearing the latest sexy variation of her much talked about Bat-costume. The clinging, purple stretch material was so sheer, you could just make out the nipples and dark surrounding areolas of her otherwise naked breasts, together with the black thong clinging to her hips, her only item of underwear. On her head, was a close-fitting combination Bat-cowl and mask and a short Batcape hung down from her shoulders. Electronic enhanced hearing was incorporated into the two pointed bat-like ears that rose up from the black cowl.

She slowly rose to her full five-feet nine-inches, excluding heels, placed both hands on her hips, thrust out her chest, and strode forward, toward the noise emanating from the small gathering of people, some twenty yards further along the alley. Behind her, she heard the sound of running feet, as the paramedics hurried to the scene, from the entrance to this narrow side street.

The Dark Angel strode up to a uniformed policeman, who had his back to her, and tapped him on the shoulder. The officer spun around, his right hand moving to the butt of his holstered service revolver.

"Batgirl!" he gasped, instantly recognizing the city's most famous heroine. "You scared the shi... er, the life out of me."

The Dynamic Daredoll gave him a sexy, reassuring smile. "Sorry about that, Officer, I didn't mean to startle you." She nodded toward the small crowd that had gathered. "What appears to be the trouble here?"

The young cop managed to stop staring at her impressive jugs and looked up at her masked face, a little flustered. "Oh, er, they've found the dead body of a young woman," he explained. "Looks like she was murdered."

The two paramedics arrived and the officer turned to address the new arrivals. "Hey, you guys, don't go touching the body until the forensic squad has had a chance to take a look at it!" he warned. "This is a major crime scene."

He received a nod of confirmation from the senior paramedic, before they pushed their way through to the front of the onlookers.

"Do you mind if I go take a look at her?" Batgirl asked, in her huskiest 'pretty please' voice, suggestively running the splayed fingers of one hand over his uniformed chest.

"I-I don't think I can allow that, Miss, not without the Police Commissioner's say so," the young cop replied, swallowing, nervously. There was the sound of more running feet. "Speaking of the Commissioner, here he is now," he added, the relief obvious in his voice, as he hurriedly yanking her hand away.

The white-haired Head of the Gotham City Police Department, who also happened to be her father, unbeknown to himself, ground to a halt, breathing, heavily, and placed both hands on his hips, as he recovered from his unaccustomed exertion.

"Batgirl?" he panted, with a surprised look on his face. "I didn't expect to see you here?"

"I've only just arrived at the scene, Commissioner. I heard all the racket down here, and came to investigate."

"Oh?" The aging Commissioner of Police, dragged his eyes away from the heroine's fabulous figure, and turned to address the young uniformed officer. "Where's the body?" he snapped, tersely.

"Over there, Sir, by the trashcans! Here, let me clear the way through the crowd for you."

The officer proceeded to shove and elbow aside the usual collection of ghouls, plus a couple of members of the media, who had somehow gotten wind of the killing, yelling, "Make way for Police Commissioner Gordon!" Batgirl took the opportunity to tag along behind her father.

They broke through the crowd, to see a young woman's body, sprawled out on the cobblestones, near some overflowing trashcans.

"Get these zombies out of here," snarled Gordon, to the sergeant who appeared to be in command. "They're trampling all over the damned crime scene!"

"Yes, Sir! Straight away, Sir!" The sergeant turned to the young uniformed officer. "Billings, get these civilians out of the goddamned alley!" he snapped.

"Yes Sarg!"

Meanwhile, Batgirl had walked over to the dead girl and squatted down beside her body, careful not to disturb anything. The victim had obviously been quite young with a shapely figure. She was partially unclothed and had her hands and feet tied behind her, in a strict hog-tie. The cause of death seemed fairly obvious; there was a clear plastic bag tied down over her head. It looked like she had been asphyxiated. Her only items of attire, were a dark pair of badly laddered stockings and a single high-heeled shoe.

Batgirl glanced around the alley. There was no sign of any bra or panties, or any other items of female clothing for that matter. Both the big-breasted girl's nipples were pierced, with large brass rings threaded through the erectile tissue. With a start, Batgirl realized that there was some form of dildo or vibrator still embedded in the girl's shapely ass, the rounded cheeks of which, were criss-crossed with dark red welts, obviously administered by a whip or a crop of some sort.

The Commissioner walked over and joined her. "Any thoughts, Girl Wonder?" he enquired, as he stared down at the corpse, with his familiar morose expression.

"Probably died of asphyxiation, Sir, but we won't be able to say for sure, until the police doctor takes a look at her. I suspect she was killed somewhere else and her body was dumped here. Probably some sort of BDSM scene that went badly wrong?"

"BDSM?" the aging policeman enquired, looking bemused.

"Bondage and Discipline, Sadism and Masochism," Batgirl clarified. "There are a lot of people into kinky sexual practices these days, Jim."

"Good grief!" he gasped, looking genuinely shocked.

"Look, there's not much else I can do here, before the forensics boys turn up, so I'll leave you to organize things, and get back on my crime patrol. I'll ring you later da... er, Commissioner, to learn what else you may have uncovered."

"Mmm? What? Oh, yes, yes you do that, Batgirl. Thanks for you input!" Jim replied, scratching his scalp. The Police Commissioner was still trying to get his head around the concept of BDSM.

The sultry crime-fighter rose to her high-heeled feet, turned, and jogged off down the narrow alley, her shapely breasts jiggling, sexily.

November 4th, Gotham City Central Library

The following day, during her lunch break, Barbara rang her father's secretary, Bonnie, at GCPD Headquarters, using her office phone, and asked to be put through to the Commissioner of Police.

"Hello, Police Commissioner Gordon here. Who am I speaking to?" enquired the familiar, gravely voice.

Barbara placed her handkerchief over the mouthpiece, to help disguise her voice, before answering. "Commissioner, this is Batgirl," she replied, in her huskiest voice. "Any news on the murdered girl?"

"Girl Wonder!" he exclaimed. "I'm glad you called. Yes there is. I can confirm that the girl did die of asphyxiation, as we both suspected, and that she was murdered. Also, she'd had sex with some man, shortly before her death. We've taken the usual DNA samples from the semen of course. Her buttocks and the back of her thighs, were covered with welts from some form of severe whipping, just prior to death. There was heavy bruising and considerable lacerations to the skin. We, ah, we also discovered a sex toy rammed up the girl's anus. It was a..." he paused to consult the preliminary autopsy report, "an 'Anal Exciter' I believe they call it."

"I'm already aware of that fact, Commissioner," she replied, coldly. "Any idea how long the victim had been dead, prior to the discovery of her corpse?"