Batman

It was hot as a crotch when I stepped into Paddles. I half expected the whole club to stop and stare at me. It had, after all, been a year and a half since I'd been in the place. But no, nothing stopped. The music continued, Doms kept right on spanking subs. Maybe nobody recognized me since Id lost a hundred lbs. Maybe they didn't register it was me now that I'm sober (last time I'd been in here I reeked of bourbon so badly I might as well have marinated in it) but whatever. I was dressed in a Catholic school uniform, y'know, the plaid skirt, white blouse, knee socks, Mary Janes. Tonight could be the night I meet my new Daddy Dom.

"You look good enough to eat, darlin'," a burly, Old Guard-looking Leatherman announced, "y'wanna join my sub & me in the playroom?"

"No thanks, Daddy, I ain't into couples," I said, "maybe some other time when it's just you, OK?" He nodded.

I walked up to the bar and ordered a glass of milk. "Well aren't YOU a pretty little," the bartender said, putting my milk in front of me, "I haven't seen you here before."

"Yea you have, Larissa," I told her, "I used to come in here ALL the time. Only I was a hundred pounds heavier and always stinking drunk. Remember me now?"

"Holy FUCKING SHIT!" she screamed. "No fucking way, I haven't seen you in the longest. Last time I saw you, you were hooking up with that devastatingly good looking Greek guy-"

"Angelo," I nodded, "that relationship ended a year and a half ago. When I quit drinking and went on a massive diet."

"Well I knew he was trouble," she nodded, "fucker probably had a wife at home or something."

"Yeah," I sipped my milk, "he had a wife alright. And a tendency to violate hard limits. But enough about him. Who all is here tonight?"

"Take your pick, sweetie, EVERYBODY is here tonight. Men, women, all kinds of sexy creatures."

"Cheers to that," I raised my glass in salute to her, got off the barstool, and prepared to go get a sexy creature of my own. As I strolled around, scoping things and people out, I felt like having a cigarette. Yes, New York City is one of those places where it is illegal to smoke anywhere indoors, but Paddles is one of those places where that particular law is flouted. So I fished a cigarette out of my bag but couldn't find my lighter. Isn't THAT always the way. "Goddamn it," I said to nobody in particular, "ANYBODY GOT A LIGHT? ANYBODY?" From seemingly out of nowhere, a book of matches was shoved in my hand. I didn't see who handed it to me, but when I opened to get a match and light up, I saw that the following two words had been scrawled on the inside in black: BATHROOM NOW! Talk about a cryptic message. I lit up and headed for the toilets. There were no separate men's and ladies' rooms at Paddles, just a communal unisex bathroom with stalls and urinals. The club was packed, so there should have been people in there...Doms peeing on their subs, or watching their subs pee. But it was empty. Or it seemed empty. I went down the row of stalls, checking in each one. Maybe someone had just handed me a matchbook and the message hadn't been meant for me. I was checking the last stall more to be thorough than because I actually thought anyone waited for me by that point when a hand shot out, grabbed my arm, and pulled me into the stall in one fluid movement. Before I knew which end was up, another hand was around my throat, my face was pressed into the wall, and I heard the stall door being locked.

"Well look who came back," a familiar voice said as I felt Angelo's hot breath in my ear. I wanted to scream, to shout at him to get the fuck off me. But of course I could do no such thing. Could barely breathe with his hand around my throat. Why did he have to have such big hands, goddamn him. He squeezed my throat harder and I started to think I was done for.

Then I thought I heard something fluttering or flapping, or maybe I was starting to black out. Someone or something kicked in the stall door and Angelo's hand was somehow gone from around my throat. Not knowing what the FUCK was going on, I kept my face pressed against that wall.

Presently a gravelly voice said, "It's safe now, you can come out." I turned and looked even though every fiber of my being told me not to. And I saw Batman...Or rather a six foot two guy dressed in a pretty good replica of the Batsuit. Angelo was clear on the other side of the room, lying in a heap on the floor."It's all right," the Batman-thing said, holding out a gloved hand

"Wh..what ARE YOU?" I asked, my eyes wide.

"I'm Batman," he said.

I ignored his hand and stepped out of the stall. "No, really, Mister, what are you?" He didn't answer. "All right fine, you're Batman. I guess that makes me Catwoman." I laughed.

"Don't be absurd," he growled.

"What," I said, "I can't be Catwoman?"

"Catwoman could've kicked that joker's ass without my help."

"You've got me there," I said, "I'm not Catwoman." I heard someone coming towards the bathroom.

"People are coming," he said, "quick, we have to go out the window."

"Wait...what?" But before I could say another word, the man was boosting me up on his shoulders and out the bathroom window. Once we were out, and in the alley BEHIND Paddles (which, I assure you, is sooo not a sexy place to be) I said, "Well, anyway, "Thank you for being in the right place in the right time."

"No thanks necessary. It's my job."

"Your job?"

"I keep Gotham safe."

"Right. Because you're Batman." I rolled my eyes. "Y'know, a lot of people refer to New York as Gotham. People were doing that even before the Batman movies came out."

"Why is it so hard for you to believe I'm Batman?"

"If you ARE Batman," I sighed, "where's your Batmobile?"

He grabbed me by the hand, muttered something about "Everybody wants to see the car," led me down the alley and around a corner. And parked there was the Batmobile. Not a black Lamborghini, but the actual Batmobile.

"Fuck," I said, "you really are Batman." And then everything got unbalanced. I didn't feel so much that I was falling down as that the sidewalk came up to meet me.

I woke, or rather, I came to, on a pallet in a place I'd never been before. I was alone, covered by a blanket. I took a look at my surroundings. The room, if you can call it a room, was rough, unfinished. Maybe a basement. The walls, the ceiling, it was all concrete. What the fuck was this place. I peeked under the blanket to see my schoolgirl plaid skirt and white blouse were gone, they'd been replaced with a man's blue button down shirt. What. The. FUCK!!!!!!!

Frantically, I attempted to recall the events that led up to my waking up here, wherever here was. I remembered going to Paddles, having a glass of milk at the bar and chatting with Larissa. Larissa was a professional though, and would NEVER put something in my drink though. And I'm SOBER, have been for a year and a half, so it wasn't like I'd been sipping from a flask and blacked out to wake up in a strange place. No, in the bad old days when that had happened (and it had, admittedly) I'd never been surprised about it, just ashamed. THINK, I told myself. After I left Larissa, I wanted to smoke, but didn't have a light. Someone had handed me a matchbook with BATHROOM NOW!!!! scrawled inside. Yes, that's what had happened. I'd gone to the bathroom to see who passed me the note, and met up with my ex-bastard, Angelo, who choked me for my trouble. Then some crazy guy dressed as Batman kicked in the stall door and threw Angelo a beating and...

And that's when I realized what must've happened, and when I did, my mouth opened and my lungs gave birth to a scream that shook the very earth.

"Oh, good," a gravelly voice said as the Batman approached the bed, "you're awake. I was starting to think you'd sleep for ever."

"Yeah, I'm awake," I attempted to sit up, but found that my wrists were handcuffed to the bed posts, "and why the FUCK am I cuffed to the bed? WHO ARE YOU?!"

"I told you last night, I'm Batman. And I cuffed you to the bed because you were thrashing around and calling out in your sleep. I didn't want you to hurt yourself."

"Uncuff me, goddamn you."

"Ask nicely."

Well, you know me...I wanted to smart off at him, but I considered my position, and smarting off was probably a very bad idea. So I said, "Would you please be so good as to uncuff me? I'd like to sit up now." Without a word, he removed a key from his utility belt and uncuffed my right hand first, then the left. "Thank you," I said, sitting up.

"You're welcome," came the growl of an answer.

"And if you wouldn't mind, I'd also like to know where I am and what you've done with my clothes."

"I brought you here after you fainted last night," he said, "and I removed your clothes after you urinated on yourself."

"How do I know you didn't molest me while I was unconscious?" I asked indignantly.

"Maybe I did," came the answer, "I mean, we both know you were no virgin when you went into Paddles last night, and you've been unconscious a long time, so-"

"I wasn't a virgin when you found me, so that makes me fair game...You sick fuck, you-" I was going to tell the Batty bastard off some more, but interrupted me by giving me the back of his big right hand full across my face.

"That's not what I meant," he said, as I sat there, shocked that he FUCKING HIT ME, "I meant, you weren't a virgin last night, and you took a rather long winter's nap, so you have no real way of knowing whether or not I had relations with you while you were asleep. It is absolutely not 'fair game' as you put it. It never is, never will be. Understand?"

"Yes, I understand, and I'm sorry if I implied that you're the sort of man who would..."

"I'm sorry I hit you."

"I've been hit before," I said. "I won't die."

"You never should've been in that club," he continued, "place like that is no place for a nice girl."

"Yeah, see, that's just it. I'm NOT a nice girl. You think if I was a nice girl you would've found me in a public toilet with some guy's hand around my throat? Think men just hang 'round waiting to choke the shit out of nice girls? Well they don't."

"Whatever your history with that man, I assure you he won't be bothering you, or anyone else, ever again."

"And I assure you, Sir, I'm not a nice girl. I've done ugly things, I have made mistakes."

"You can put all that behind you," he insisted, "and go on to be a nice girl."

"You seem oddly sure of that for someone who just met me last night. But whatever, what you're oddly sure of is your own business. I'll just show myself out and we can both of us forget any of this ever happened."

"You're not going anywhere," he growled, "you're going to stay right here and I'm going to make you a nice girl."

"What?"

"You heard me, Missy," he growled. "And your training begins now. Stand up."

"The hell I will," I snorted, "you're not the boss of me. You're just some guy who lives in his parents' unfinished basement from the looks of it. And you wear a mask," I laughed, "you won't even show your face." At that, he delivered another sharp, stinging slap, this one right across my mouth.

"Let's try this again," he said, "Get up." Dazed, I stood up, my bare feet feeling cold against the concrete floor. "Good," he said, "and again, I'm sorry I had to hit you. Believe me, I take no joy in it, but it seems to be the only thing you respond to."

"Well I'm up, Mister Man. How exactly do you propose to train me to be a nice girl?"

"You've got quite a mouth on you. That's the first thing we're going to work on." He pulled a clothespin, a regular, run of the mill clothes pin, off his utility belt.

"A clothespin," I roared with laughter, "is the big, bad Batman gonna hang his laundry out to dry?"

He advanced towards me and gripped my jaw with his left hand, while holding the clothespin in his right. "Stick out your tongue, Missy," he commanded. So I stuck out my tongue, in a childish 'I fucking hate you' gesture, and he promptly clamped the clothespin down on the tip of my tongue. MOTHERFUCKER!!!!!!!! That hurt. And I hadn't been expecting the clothespin to be used that way. My eyes watered, my entire body shook. Was I in actual shock???? After what felt like an eternity, he removed the clothespin and said, "Now, I want you to consider your words carefully, Missy. If you cannot or will not speak nicely-" he gestured with the clothespin. "Understand?" I nodded. "Show me your tongue." I shook my head no. I wasn't sticking my tongue out for the clothespin AGAIN. "Not for the clothespin, I just want to make sure it didn't break the skin." Reluctantly, I stuck my tongue out again. He looked at it and took me by the hand, led me to a table and chairs. He sat me down in one of the chairs and then reached into the fridge, the freezer, for an ice cube. "Give me your tongue," he said rather than growled this time. So I gave my tongue again, and let him use the ice cube to put out the fire he'd only moments ago created with the clothespin. "You need to choose your words carefully, make an effort to speak nicely," he said, "so this doesn't happen again."

"I'll try and do better," I said, as soon as I regained feeling in my tongue.

"A willingness to work at it and improve is a good first step."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"ANY of this...why'd you pick me out of everybody else at the club, why'd you bring me back here, why are you training me to be 'a nice girl'? There's four million women in this city, you know."

"But there's only one of you."

"What if I'm not worth it?"

"Stand up," he growled again. I didn't wait to be slapped this time, I knew well enough to get up. He led me back to the bed. "Take the shirt off," he directed, "and don't be modest, "I undressed you last night, I already saw everything." I unbuttoned the shirt, took it off, dropped it at my feet, and stood there naked. "Face away from me," came the next order. I faced away from him and waited for what was to come next. I had to wait a good minute or two, but eventually I felt his left hand on my left shoulder and I heard him say, "OK, Missy, I've got a cat o'nine in my right hand, and what's going to happen now is I'm going to strike you across the buttocks with it. And each time I strike you, you are to shout out 'I AM WORTHY OF HAVING BEEN SELECTED BY YOU, SIR', do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand."

"Good girl." WIth that, he swung the cat o'nine and struck me across the buttocks.

I shouted out, "I AM WORTHY OF HAVING BEEN SELECTED BY YOU, SIR". He swung the cat o'nine fourteen additional times, and I shouted out the same thing each and every time. When he finished, he removed his left hand from my left shoulder, and I fell face first onto the bed, sobbing quietly. The next thing I felt was him rubbing soothing lotion on my ass. He didn't tell me to stop crying, or anything like that. He just rubbed lotion on my ass, and covered me with the blanket.

"You should rest," he announced.

"Stay with me," I begged like a helpless child, and in that moment, I felt like a helpless child. I'd felt like that many times before, but I usually ignored that feeling, or shoved it aside and pretended I didn't HAVE feelings. Now I was letting myself feel every inch of that helplessness. And it was terrifying. But he stayed. The creature in the replica of the Batsuit pulled back the covers and climbed in the bed with me, latex outfit and all. He held me like I was the edge of a cliff and he didn't want to go over. I slept again, while he held me. Only this time, I didn't wake up scared because I was in a strange place.

I woke up to him whispering in my ear, "I wanna make love with you, Missy. Turn over, on your hands and knees." I didn't ask to see his face, I just got on all fours...I LOVED that position anyway. It sounded like...sausage being removed from a latex glove, that's an odd sound, I know, but that's what it sounded like for a minute, and then he entered me. And he was magnificent. Gripping my breast with one hand and flicking the nipple, he simultaneously thrust his thickness into me deeper and harder each time.

"Ohhhhhhhhh my god," I moaned, "ohhhhhhhhh yes."

He made some sort of a guttural noise that I didn't recognize as an actual WORD and just kept thrusting. And just when I thought he was about to come, he flipped me over into a spread eagle position and started doing me from the front. This guy was a goddamn machine.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhmygod ohhhhhhhhhhhmygod ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh yes, YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!" I could not believe that I was actually having EPIC sex with a man who thought he was Batman. Or maybe he really IS Batman. Whatever, I was having EPIC sex. Did it matter who the man was or wasn't.

Anyway, this morning I awoke feeling sated. I licked my lips like the cat that swallowed the canary, called out, "SIR, I AM WORTHY OF HAVING BEEN SELECTED BY YOU!" but nobody answered me. I felt the bed next to me, but it was empty. I sat up and realized I was in my own goddamn bedroom at home. Had the Batman and his subterranean Gothic playroom all been a dream? I stood up and went to the full-length mirror. Well, if it had been a dream, it had been a pretty fucking vivid one, because there, across my buttocks, were the marks of the cat o'nine.